Perkin Harold. The Origins of Modern English Society

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The poor laws form the great prop of wages; abolish them, and with your

redundant population wages will speedily fall by half. What will follow?

The body of your British labouring orders will be compelled to abandon

the consumption of taxed articles, to feed on potatoes and butchers’ offal,

and to wear rags. In their fall they must pull down with them not only the

small tradesmen, but to a great extent the larger ones…

The Blackwood’s economists took a far more realistic view than the Ricardians of

booms and slumps and the part played in them by government monetary policy:

Consumption and demand can become giants or dwarfs in a moment; but

protection and supply require some time for enlarging or diminishing

themselves.

The excessive boom of 1825 and the ensuing slump were explained in Keynesian

terms:

When the advance began in 1824, the Government, instead of draining

money out of the market, as it had long done by borrowing, was pouring

money into it, by reducing its debts; and this, with some other things,

caused money to be abundant for both speculation and regular trade…the

glut in the money market became excessive. Saving a glut in agricultural

produce and labour, no glut in a trading country can well be more

destructive…. The excess inevitably resolves itself into one of goods, and

destroys itself by ruining those who deal in them.

Like Attwood and the advocates of paper money, they blamed ‘Mr. Peel’s

darling folly of a metallic currency’ for much of this, and pointed out that the

restriction of note issue by country banks had actually destroyed wealth by

withdrawing this stimulus to production.

But unlike Attwood, they did not think

that paper currency alone would prevent economic fluctuations:

‘Once in every three or four years commerce and industry will have a fit of

suffering, let the currency be what it may, so long as this country shall be

[Robinson], ‘State Counsel, by the Statesmen of Cockaigne’, ibid., 1825, XVII,

34–44, and ‘Brougham on the Education of the People’, XVII. 534.

[Robinson], ‘The Condition of the Empire’, Blackwoods’, 1829, XXVI. 97, 103.

J.M.Keynes, Essays in Biography (1933), pp. 144–7, and General Theory of

Employment, Interest and Money (1960 ed.), pp. 321, 362–4, 369, 371.

Malthus, Principles, p. 471.

H.Lascelles, ‘On the Present State of Public Affairs at Home’, Blackwood’s, 1821,

X. 340.

204 STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS

reasonably wealthy. Production and consumption cannot possibly be kept

together; the powers of the former have been rendered gigantic by capital,

machinery and knowledge, and the market must be very frequently

overloaded with merchandise and manufactures.

The remedy lay in ‘the restrictive system’ in place of free trade, that is, in a

managed economy designed to maintain the aggregate national income available

for distribution between the classes in place of an unmanaged one which allowed

the aggregate to be diminished by competition both by foreigners and between

the classes. In contradiction of the Ricardian laws of diminishing returns and the

inverse relationship of profits and wages,

The circumstances that have a tendency to increase the productive power

of labour, and thus to occasion a simultaneous advance of wages and

profits, are much more numerous…than might, at first glance, be

imagined. They comprise…almost everything that can contribute to the

wealth and prosperity of a country, and will be found wherever that

prosperity is increasing.

Thus, in a protected economy,

the national income will be augmented, and each of the three classes into

which society is divided, may, without injuring the others, receive for its

share a greater portion of the annual growth of necessaries and comforts

than it enjoyed before.

All these arguments, many of them from his own pen, were drawn together by

the most brilliant of the Blackwood’s economists, David Robinson, in a series of

articles on ‘Political Economy’ by ‘One of the Old School’ in 1829–30. In these

he at least glimpsed the Keynesian roles of money—‘the uncouth and stupendous

fictions’ of the Ricardians ‘destroy money altogether’; of the constant need for

fresh investment—to keep wages and profits at their proper height it was

essential not only to keep up manufactures but continually to extend them; and

the self-defeating tendency of the propensity to save—‘It is…utterly impossible

for any country to have generally a high rate of profit, because such a rate must

cause capital to increase much more rapidly than profitable employment for

[Robinson], ‘The Poor Laws’, ibid., 1828, XXIII. 923–36, and ‘The Condition of the

Empire’, ibid., 1829, XXVI. 104.

[Robinson], ‘Public Distress’, ibid., 1826, XIX, 429.

Ibid., 1829, XXVI, 472 [W.Johnstone] and 98–9 [Robinson].

Ibid., 1826, XIX, 444 [Robinson].

STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS 205

capital, and there-by soon destroy itself.’

He thoroughly grasped the potential

disequilibrium between productive capacity and effective demand, and used it to

counter Say’s law of the impossibility of gluts:

Capital, with a high rate of profit, increases infinitely more rapidly than

population; it enters very largely into production, and it continually operates in

various ways to make the same portion of labour produce a greater quantity of

commodities. In consequence, it increases the production of manufactured goods

much more on the one hand than the consumption of them on the other; and its

general tendency is, to cause a glut in all…. If production rise above the

aggregate sum expended by the labourers and capitalists, in their maintenance, it

will be excessive; it must rise or fall with this sum. The population of the world,

like the labourers, can only consume goods in proportion to its income, no matter

what abundance of them may be in the market. Thus a high rate of profit must

inevitably create an excess of capital, and this must create an excess of goods;

such competition must follow as will bring down the rate, and probably for a

time wholly destroy profits…. All this has its natural effect on wages. The

capitalist reduces them, as his only means of protecting himself from loss…. The

reduction diminishes consumption, and makes the glut greater, and more general.

He also used it to counter Mal thus:

The means of subsistence to population are to be found in employment.

Whenever they are deficient, it arises not from dearness of food caused by

the cultivation of inferior land, but from the want of employment to buy

food with…. It is because the increase of population does not consume as

much as it can produce, that it diminishes the general means of

subsistence.

And he saw as the central aim of economic policy the maintenance of full

employment:

The grand essential…is, EMPLOYMENT FOR CAPITAL AND

LABOUR. Comparative cheapness is a national scourge, in so far as it

diminishes such employment.

None of this means that Robinson was a Keynes a century before his time. He

lacked the essential mathematical formulation of the relations between national

income, saving and investment, between effective demand, the marginal

efficiency of capital, and the rate of interest, and between all these and the volume

of employment. But, in marked contrast to the Ricardians, he was at least aware

Ibid., 1819, V. 172.

‘One of the Old School’ [Robinson], ‘Political Economy’, ibid., 1829, XXVI, 518, 674;

1830, XXVII. 32.

206 STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS

of the problem, and he was groping after the very concepts in which Keynes was

to express it. He rather than Malthus deserves the credit for wrestling a hundred

years before Keynes with ‘the great puzzle of Effective Demand’.

And he

certainly anticipated Keynes in considering that the maintenance of full

employment was within the government’s responsibility and capacity, and even

in many of the remedies for depression which he, like most of the Blackwood’s

economists, urged: a reflationary monetary policy (through the increased issue of

small bank notes), increased public expenditure (on poor relief and the

cultivation of waste lands, etc.) and a controlled economy (through protective

tariffs and taxation).

The implications of his proto-Keynesian economics for his theory of society

are obvious. He believed in the old harmonious relations between the interests,

maintained not by the ‘invisible hand’ of competition, but by the visible hand of

paternalism:

The landowners, farmers and working classes, husbandry, manufactures,

and trading, must thus prosper and suffer together; their interests cannot be

separated.

This harmony and prosperity had been undermined by the ‘abdication on the part

of the governors’—the government’s acceptance of the laissez-faire philosophy—

which he ascribed to ‘the appalling degeneracy of the Aristocracy’.

This view of a paternal society betrayed by its aristocratic governors was

common to Blackwood’s in the late 1820’s. In 1829 in reply to ‘new Tory’ critics

it set out

‘our exposition of true Tory principles—of principles which, while they

maintain the due order and proportion of each separate rank in society,

maintain also that protection and support are the right of all, so long as

there are the means, within the state, of affording them. In opposition to

those cold and heartless politicians, who, with the words liberty and

liberality ever in their mouths, look with composure upon a people’s

sufferings, we would say, govern the people, and govern them strictly, but

see that they are fed…. As Tories, we maintain that it is the duty of the

people to pay obedience to those in authority over them: but it is also the

duty of those set in authority to protect those who are placed below them.

In accordance with these principles Blackwood’s consistently maintained that

‘the poor have a right to be cared for’ and the poor laws ought to be retained, not

Ibid., XXVI. 673, 678, 684, 804.

Keynes, General Theory, p. 32.

Blackwood’s, 1830, XXVII. 33–6.

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only to prevent revolution but to keep wages high and maintain demand, that

education and high living standards were the antidotes to improvident marriage

and overpopulation, and that cottages and gardens should be provided for the

rural labourer and home colonies on wastelands for the industrial unemployed.

In brief, it anticipated the spirit of the Bismarckian, if not the modern British

Welfare State:

Whoever…loves the institutions of his country, and sincerely desires that

they may survive unhurt the revolutionary contagion that prevails in the

political atmosphere of Europe, let him study how the common people may

be made comfortable.

Why did the attempt to revive the aristocratic ideal, so deeply rooted in the

traditional interests of the ruling class and so brilliantly argued in the most

widely read journal of the day, fail? For fail it did, despite the partial success of

Sadler and his followers in the factory reform agitation. It failed because the

revivalists were fighting for a cause already lost. Paternal discipline without

paternal responsibility was too attractive a principle for most of the landed class

to resist. The fact that it made them more vulnerable to the criticisms of the

entrepreneurial ideal merely weakened its hold on them still more: the attack on

paternalism as a whole had already gone too far for the revival of its better side

to save it.

Indeed, the revivalists themselves helped to undermine its defences. In their

disgust with the Parliament which had betrayed paternalism and embraced free

trade in commerce, labour, and religion, they denounced it more fiercely even

than the Radicals, and so, since there were more of them in the old Parliament

than there were Radicals, more effectively ensured the success of Reform. Because

of ‘the notorious incompetency of the present House of Commons,’ because the

close borough members had become mere tools and mercenaries of a tacit

coalition of renegade Tories and treacherous Whigs who had betrayed

paternalism and the Church, the High Tory opponents of Reform came to ‘feel

that no change could well give them a worse House of Commons than the

present system gives them, and that the elective franchise could not be in more

dangerous hands than those which now hold it.’

In the event it was the decision

of the High Tories, led by Sadler, to oppose Wellington’s Government and let in

the Whigs which decisively opened the doors to Reform, and to the new

Parliament which was to bury the aristocratic ideal.

The ideal did live to see a

Ibid., XXVII. 29, 43.

[Johnstone], ‘Our Domestic Policy, No. 1’, ibid., 1829, XXVI. 768.

[Robinson], ‘The Poor Laws’, ibid., 1828, XXVI. 923–36; [Edwards], ‘The Influence of

Free Trade upon the Condition of the Labouring Classes’, 1830, XXVII. 553–68.

[Johnstone], ‘The Present Crisis’, ibid., XXVIII. 692.

208 STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS

transfigured resurrection, in Victorian Oxford and Cambridge and, surprisingly,

in the East End of London.

But that is another story, which involves another

class ideal.

THE FORGOTTEN MIDDLE CLASS

The aristocratic, entrepreneurial and working-class ideals, then, were the three

major class ideals contending for supremacy in early nineteenth-century England.

Yet there was another class and another ideal, without analysing which it is still

not possible to understand the struggle between them. An extraordinary

proportion of the spokesmen of the first three ideals were members of none of

the three classes: James Mill, Henry Brougham, and Nassau Senior, for example,

of the entrepreneurial ideal; Charles Hall, Thomas Hodgskin, John Gray, and

Bronterre O’Brien, of the working-class ideal; T.R. Malthus, John Wilson (editor

of Blackwood’s), Coleridge and Southey, of the aristocratic ideal.

To what class

did this collection of lawyers, doctors, public officials, journalists, professors and

lecturers belong? To the middle class, certainly, but not to the capitalist middle

class. They belonged to the non-capitalist or professional middle class, a class

curiously neglected in the social theories of the age, but one which played a part

out of all proportion to its numbers in both the theory and the practice of class

conflict.

To treat them as a separate class seems at first sight to be perverse. Most

theorists have treated them as middle class, tout court. Marx, who was aware of

them to his own embarrassment, treated them in his criticism of their

unregenerative role in existing societies as a mere adjunct of the ruling class:

‘within this class one part appears as the thinkers of the class (its active

conceptualizing ideologists, who make it their chief livelihood to develop and

perfect the illusions of the class about itself)’; but in his hopes for their aid in

establishing the socialist society of the future, as ‘workers by brain’, or super-

proletarians.

All three views express an element of the truth about this Protean

class, which could assume the guise of any other class at will. Yet underlying

each disguise was Proteus himself, a class, sub-class, or socio-economic group

[Robinson], ‘A Dissolution of Parliament’, ibid., 1829, XXVI. 251–9; cf. [O’Sullivan],

‘Review of the last Session of Parliament’, XXVI. 224–37, and [Robinson], ‘The Reform

of the House of Commons’, 1830, XXVII. 640–58.

Seeley. op. cit., pp. 221–2.

Cf. chap. x, § 3, below.

Mill was an India Office official, Brougham a K.C., Senior a Master in Chancery, Hall

an M.D., Hodgskin a half-pay naval officer turned lecturer, Gray a commercial clerk

turned lecturer, O’Brien a lawyer turned journalist, Malthus and Wilson professors,

Coleridge and Southey professional authors.

STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS 209

whose members had enough in common to support a separate social ideal which

had a profound effect upon the rest of society.

Curiously enough, their existence as a separate class follows logically from

Marx’s own definition of class as determined principally by source of income.

Indeed, when Marx came to wrestle systematically with his definition, in the

abortive last chapter of Capital, he uncovered Proteus, and shied away:

what constitutes a class? …What constitutes wage-labourers, capitalists

and landlords as the three great social classes? At first glance it might seem

that the identity of revenues and of sources of revenue is responsible….

However, from this point of view, doctors and officials would also form two

distinct classes, for they belong to two different social groups, and the

revenues of the members of each group come from the same source.

And he tailed off in an infinite regression of different sub-classes of workers,

capitalists and landowners.

Doctors and officials do indeed belong to a distinct class. They receive

incomes which differ less from each other than they do from rent, profits and

wages. Though not altogether immune from market forces, their incomes are not

the direct result of bargaining in the market, but are in a sense set aside by

society according to the value set by it on their services, under their persuasion.

The first profession was that of the clergy, whose income, significantly, was

called a ‘living’: an income set aside by the laity, not as a reward for their service

—which, once incumbent in the living, they were free except in conscience to

supply or omit—but a guaranteed income to enable them to perform their office.

The second and third were those of law and medicine, in which fees might seem

to bear some relation in detail to piece-rates and in aggregate to profits. Yet fees,

too, were not (in theory) fixed by competition, but by the value set by the

profession, and accepted by society, on services which the client could not judge

and had therefore to take on trust. All ‘true’ professions stem from these three,

and are characterized by expert, esoteric service demanding integrity in the

purveyor and trust in the client and the community, and by non-competitive

reward in the form of a fixed salary or standard and unquestioned fee.

This is not, of course, to say that either the professional man or the community

always lived up to these high standards. In the old society there were always

plenty of ‘hedge priests’, ‘pettifogging attornies’, ‘dishonest apothecaries’, ‘fee-

snatching office-holders’, and ‘writers prostituted to Ministers’; and both clients

and society were apt to treat all but the very highest levels of the professions with

scant respect and scantier reward, viz. the underpaid curate, the apothecary at the

tradesman’s entrance, and the threadbare government clerk. The professional

Marx, German Ideology (1845–6), in Bottomore and Rubel, op. cit., p. 79.

Marx, Capital (Chicago, 1909), III, chap, xlii, pp. 1038–40.

210 STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS

man could then be anything from rich, respected savant through dependent

retainer or licensed jester to despised charlatan. Being by nature hierarchical

interests dependent on patronage, stretching from the aristocracy of office on the

bishops’ and judges’ benches down to the level of the petty tradesman, the

professions fitted snugly into the old dependency society.

The Industrial Revolution, however, which emancipated the entrepreneur and

the wage-earner, also emancipated the professional man. With urbanization and

the rise of living standards, doctors, lawyers, writers, and even the clergy

(including dissenting ministers) found an enlarged demand for their services,

which reduced their dependence on the few rich and increased that on the many

comfortable clients of their own social standing. The transition enabled them to

acquire a greater measure of self-respect, and to demand corresponding respect

from society. ‘Respectability’ was the conscious aim of the ‘gentlemen

practisers’ who set out to substitute for the eighteenth-century image of the

‘pettifogging attorney’ the nineteenth-century one of the ‘respectable solicitor’,

through the local societies which culminated in the Law Society of 1825.

The

surgeons and apothecaries, the general practitioners of the eighteenth century,

achieved enhanced status through the Royal College of Surgeons of 1800 and the

Apothecaries’ Act of 1815.

Even the Anglican clergy, the most dependent of

professions and the most consistent defenders of the aristocratic system, were

not immune. In raising the standards, self-respect and independence of the

profession the Evangelical and Oxford movements were for once on the same

side, the first by demanding a more sober standard of conduct, morality, speech

and dress than the average gentlemanly cleric of the eighteenth century, the

second by emphasising the sacerdotal character of the clerical office which

segregated them from the laity and freed them from lay control.

At the same time new professions proliferated, and organized themselves to

demand the same kind of status and independence as the old: the civil engineers

in 1818, the architects in 1837, the pharmacists in 1841, the mechanical

engineers in 1847, and so on—though many of these took some time to

differentiate themselves from the adjacent entrepreneurial occupations of

building and contract, shop-keeping, machine-making, and the like.

More significant than any of these particular developments, however, was the

general rise in the status of the professional intellectual in society. This can best

be seen in the most intellectual of professions, the profession of letters, at both

the mundane and sublime levels. At the mundane level, authorship at last became

a profession in the material sense. It was no longer mainly a pastime for

gentlemen like Dryden, Addison and Pope and a low-paid occupation for Grubb

Street hacks like Defoe or Johnson, but a regular profession at which a Walter

Scott, a Southey or a Cobbett could make a comfortable, sometimes a handsome

living.

Aristocratic clients like Thomas Moore might condemn the ‘lowering of

standards that must necessarily arise from extending the circle of judges; from

letting the mob in to vote, particularly at a time when the market is such an object

STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS 211

to authors,’ but they could not resist the rewards of the mass market for best-

sellers.

At the sublime level—whatever one thinks of the rise or fall of literary

standards—there is no doubt that inordinately higher claims were made in the

early nineteenth century for the importance and influence of authors. They were

no longer Adam Smith’s ‘unprosperous race of men, commonly called men of

letters’, but Shelley’s ‘unacknowledged legislators of the world’; Coleridge’s

‘men of genius’ whose imagination was ‘an echo in the finite mind of the eternal

act of creation in the infinite I am’; Carlyle’s ‘Man-of-Letters Hero…our most

important modern person…the light of the world; the world’s Priest:—guiding it

like a sacred Pillar of Fire in its dark pilgrimage through the waste of Time.’

The evolution of the romantic conception of genius deserves an unromantic

monograph, but meanwhile it can be said that the romantic movement represents

a social emancipation of the intellectual and the artist exactly parallel to the birth

of class.

What characterized the emancipated professional men as a class was their

comparative aloofness from the struggle for income. It was of course only

comparative. Individuals found the struggle only too real, while each profession

collectively knew that its value in the market could be increased by restricting entry

and ‘closing the shop’ like any skilled trade union. Nevertheless, there was a

sense in which professional incomes were only indirectly influenced by the

market, or rather, that it was implicit in the professional outlook to pretend that

the rewards demanded for their services were not to be questioned. At any rate,

once established, the professional man could generally rely on a steady income

not subject to the same mutual competition as rent, profits and wages. To a

certain extent, then, he was above the economic battle, with the same freedom to

take sides, to turn his thumbs up or down, as a spectator in the Roman

Colosseum. More often than not, no doubt, he went with the crowd, or the most

influential part of it, the middle tiers or the patrician boxes. But, not being involved,

R.Robson, The Attorney in 18th-Century England (Cambridge, 1959), esp. chap, x, ‘The

Road to Respectability’.

C.Newman, The Evolution of Medical Education in the 19th Century (1957), pp. 2, 73.

Cf., inter alia, M.M.Hennell, John Venn and the Clapham Sect (1958) and Geoffrey Faber,

Oxford Apostles (Penguin, 1954).

G.Millerson, The Qualifying Professions (1964), pp. 121, 126.

Cf. J.W.Saunders, The Profession of English Letters (1964), esp. chaps. viii and ix.

T.Moore, Memoirs, Journal and Correspondence (ed. Lord John Russell, 1853– 1856),

VII. 46; Murray, the publisher, was said to have paid Moore  3,000 for Lallah Rookh—

Saunders, op. cit., p. 177.

Smith, Wealth of Nations, 1.38 ; P.B.Shelley, A Defence of Poetry, in Essays and Letters

(ed. E.Rhys, 1886), p. 7; S.T.Coleridge, Table Talk (1835), II. 87; T. Carlyle, Heroes and

Hero-Worship (1893 ed.), pp. 144–6.

212 STRUGGLE BETWEEN THE IDEALS

he had the more freedom to choose on the merits of the contest. He was, in short,

a ready-made ‘social crank’, who could be relied upon to come to the aid of any

class but his own.

In any other class, to be a ‘social crank’ required great strength or at least

perversity of character. ‘No high-sounding maxims can influence the rich as a

body,’ that remarkable ‘social crank’, the Owenite landowner William

Thompson, pointed out. However, ‘a few individuals may rise above the

impulses of their class’; these few should be ‘numbered among the heroes and

philosophers of society.’

Professional men, once emancipated, did not need to

be heroes. They were the philosophers of society by inclination and training. It was

they who supplied the major part of the social analysis and terminology used by

the three major classes. It was Adam Smith and the Scottish historical school of

philosophy, academics all, who first systematized the language of class.

It was

the classical economists, all professional men except Ricardo, who, according to

their opponents, set the classes at loggerheads. Their professional opponents

thought in exactly the same terms of the tripartite class system: Carlyle of

‘Workers, Master Workers, and Master Un workers’, Matthew Arnold of

‘Barbarians, Philistines, and Populace’, F.D.Maurice of ‘the aristocracy, the

trading classes, and the working classes’.

Indeed, what J.S.Mill said of the

political economists could be applied to them all:

They revolve in their eternal circle of landlords, capitalists, and labourers,

until they seem to think of the distinction of society into those three

classes, as if it were one of God’s ordinances, not man’s, and as little under

human control as the division of day and night.

They were the forgotten middle class, in short, because they forgot themselves.

Except when postulating a place for their idealized selves in other classes’ ideal

societies, they generally left themselves out of their social analysis.

Nevertheless, professional men had a separate, if sometimes subconscious, social

ideal which underlay their versions of the other class ideals. Their ideal society

was a functional one based on expertise and selection by merit. For them trained

and qualified expertise rather than property, capital or labour, should be the chief

determinant and justification of status and power in society. For James Mill, for

example, it was ‘intellectual powers’, not birth or wealth, which alone fitted men

R.K.P.Pankhurst, William Thompson…1775–1833 (1954), pp. 21–2.

Cf. chap, ii, § 1, above.

Carlyle, Past and Present (1893 ed.), pp. 5–6; M.Arnold, Culture and Anarchy (1869),

chap. iii; F.D.Maurice, On the Reformation of Society (Southampton, 1851), pp. 10–13.

‘A’ [J.S.Mill], ‘On Miss Martineau’s Summary of Political Economy’, Monthly

Repository, 1834, VIII. 320; Briggs, ‘Language of Class’, loc. cit., p. 44.

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