Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 461

So it was in the rest of Europe, but not in England. The English bowman, or billman, who carried a large axe or bill, was a strong, healthy, well-fed man; and though he had not perfect freedom, according to our modern acceptation of the term, he had an existence worth struggling for, and not entirely at the command of an imperious lord. Hence he was sometimes not much inferior, as a combatant, to the mail-clad man-at-arms. Now, at the battle of Crecy, the French, though the wretched serfs were so numerous, had only about 8000 men-at-arms; and though the English had not a third of that number of the higher kind of warriors, yet they had nearly 30,000 sturdy bowmen and billmen. A characteristic illustration of the contempt with which the poor slaves were viewed occurred in that very battle. A party of cross-bowmen hesitated to advance—they felt tired, the fatigue of the march being beyond their strength. On this, the Count of Alençon cried out: 'Kill the lazy scoundrels!' A number of the men-at-arms rushed in among them, to chastise them, and this produced a confusion which assisted the English to their victory.

From these battles, and a multitude of other sources, we can see the great superiority, in freedom and condition of living, of the humbler class in England over that in France; and yet, at the same time, it is difficult in the nineteenth century to believe in the extent of tyranny exercised, down to a comparatively recent period, over the working-classes in Britain. We may judge of the tyrannical interference of the government with the freedom of labour by the Statute of Labourers, passed in 1349. One of the frightful famines of the middle ages had occurred, and labourers were scarce in comparison with the means of employment. It is said that the same phenomenon has now in some measure recurred in Ireland; but there is little chance of our statesmen treating it as those of the fourteenth century did. Justice says, that the labourer is entitled to obtain the value of his labour, be it much or little. Parliament, however, fixed the amount which it thought the reasonable price of labour—the rate at which the members of the legislature desired to have it; and endeavoured, by penalties and persecution, to obtain it at that rate. The statute commences by abusing the labourers for taking advantage of the scarcity of hands to demand high wages—as if there ever were human beings, employed in the ordinary affairs of life, who would not take what wages or profits they could obtain; and as if labourers were like missionaries, and other devotees, who are not led by any mercenary motive. The statute then enacts, that every person able in body, and under the age of sixty, not having means of maintaining himself, is bound to serve whoever shall be willing to employ him, at the wages which were usually paid during the six years preceding the plague; and if he refuses, and it is proved by two witnesses before the sheriff, bailiff, lord, or constable of the village where the refusal is given, he is to be committed to jail, and continue there till he finds surety to enter into service in terms of the act.

It is always observable, that laws interfering with freedom of trade go on increasing in strictness, because the confusion which the first attempt creates is always attributed to the deficiency of the law instead of its excess. The Statute of Labourers was of course insufficient to put everything right between employers and employed; and so, two years afterwards, another and stricter Statute of Labourers was passed (23 Ed. III., ch. 1-8.) This statute not only regulated the wages of husbandry, and the times when peasant-labourers were to work, but fixed the precise amount which each kind of artisan was bound to work for. The account given of it by Mr Daines Barrington, in his observations on the statutes, may be quoted as among the clearest and briefest. The reader will of course remember, that the coins mentioned by him bore a much higher value than coins of the same denomination at present. 'The common labourer in the hay-harvest is only to have 1d. a day, except a mower, who, if he mow by the acre, is to have 5d. per acre, or otherwise 5d. a day. A reaper is to have in time of corn-harvest 2d., the first week in August, and 3d. till the end of the month; and they are likewise neither to ask meat nor any other perquisite or indulgence. The law likewise requires that they shall repair to the next town or village, carrying their scythe or sickle openly in their hands, and shall there be hired in some public place.... The second chapter directs that no man in harvest—before settled to be in the month of August—shall leave the village in which he lived during the winter, except the inhabitants of Staffordshire, Derbyshire, Lancashire, Craven, and the marches of Wales and Scotland—the occasion of which is, that there are large tracts of mountain or moorland in all these counties and districts, where nothing can be raised but oats, which are not usually ripe till October; and, consequently, if they were not employed in more early harvest, they would be without employment during the months of August and September.'

But the English peasantry and artisans had now acquired too much real independence to submit silently to these arbitrary regulations. The celebrated insurrection of Wat Tyler, which took place thirty years afterwards, was a concentrated embodiment of popular discontent. However turbulent and dangerous might be the form in which the mob demanded redress, the demands themselves were in many respects very reasonable. Thus, the brief statement of them by Hume, the historian, is, that they 'required a general pardon, the abolition of slavery, freedom of commerce in market-towns without toll or impost, and a fixed rent on lands, instead of the services due by villenage'—that is to say, they desired that they should be tenants, paying rent in money or services, and not serfs bound to remain on the soil. The insurrection was crushed, and the insurgents obtained no immediate redress. Parliament, however, considered the whole circumstances before the conclusion of Richard II.'s reign. Wat Tyler's rebellion was nearly contemporary with several other risings throughout Europe of the enslaved working-classes against their tyrants. In France, they formed the dreaded bands of the Jacquerie, who desolated the most fruitful portions of that fine country. They committed great cruelties; but in the end they were crushed by the chivalry of the upper ranks. In the results of the two insurrections, however, there was a marked difference between England and France. Advance and improvement have ever, fortunately, characterised the legislation of this country. In France, and other parts of the continent, the insurgents were crushed with terrible slaughter, and then they were subjected to stricter and sterner laws, to prevent them from breaking out again—laws so strict and stern, that the French peasantry and working-classes were kept in chain by them till the Revolution of 1788. In England, on the other hand, the parliament which met after Tyler's insurrection was put down, took into consideration the state of the country; and the tyrannical and oppressive laws against the peasantry and working-classes were modified.

Still these classes remained for centuries in a condition so closely bordering on actual slavery, that a close, practical contemplation of it would certainly be sufficiently startling to the workmen of the present day. The celebrated statute of Elizabeth for the relief of the poor, passed in 1597, shews us, in sufficiently distinct terms, the position of the workman at that period. Various kinds of vagrants or impostors are, in the first place, enumerated, much resembling the same class at the present day—such as persons pretending to be shipwrecked sailors, fortune-tellers, players, bear-keepers, musicians, &c. And then we have 'all wandering persons and common labourers, being persons able in body, using loitering and refusing to work for such reasonable wages as is taxed or commonly given in such parts where such persons do or shall happen to dwell or abide, not having living otherwise to maintain themselves.' Among the punishments attached to this offence are, that the offender 'be stripped naked from the middle upward, and shall be openly whipped until his or her body be bloody.' In fact, the whole poor-law legislation which followed this enactment, down to the act of 1834, treated the peasant in a great measure as a slave. Doubtless the workhouse-test, which requires that the able-bodied man who gets relief shall give labour for it, involves slavery within the bounds of the workhouse. But this, fortunately, now only applies to a few. The evil of the old system was, that while it was less stringent in giving relief, and afforded much more assistance to the able-bodied class of workmen, it necessarily established a control over their motions, and this control made an unpleasantly near approach to slavery. Instead of workmen going with the eagerness of energy and hope to the employer who gave them most wages, they too often went to the employer to whom the parish sent them. The degrading spectacle of labourers set up to auction in the parish pound was frequently exhibited. Apart from the poor-law system, the actual feudal serfdom, which gave landowners great powers over the peasantry on their estates, was not abolished until the reign of Charles II.

We have a similar history of matters in Scotland. Thus, not to go further back, an act passed immediately on the restoration of the Stuarts, empowered justices of peace to fix the rate of wages to be paid to labourers, workmen, or servants; and if they refused to work at the legal wages so established, they might be imprisoned and scourged. It was not an uncommon thing, at the commencement of the last century, to see advertisements in the newspapers for the apprehension of runaway servants. The power of the higher over the working-classes was so great, that at one time, before the idea of a traffic in negroes was suggested, young people were kidnapped even in the streets of cities, and sent out as slaves to the plantations. Instances have been given where their parents have seen them driven in herds on board ship, yet dared not interfere. The power which the landholders in Scotland possessed over their vassals, down to the middle of the eighteenth century, was a condition of things necessary to the two rebellions. The humble clansmen were not properly rebels; they were paying obedience to their chiefs, who possessed power over them almost unlimited. The notorious Lovat had managed to seduce an English servant to the Highlands, and when once there, the poor fellow found that he was a slave, and could not possibly escape. It was not until the present century that two classes of workmen in Scotland were emancipated from a species of slavery—colliers and saltmakers. It is startling to read of them in the work which is still the principal law authority in Scotland—Erskine's Institute. He speaks of them as 'necessary servants,' and says: 'In this class of necessary servants may be reckoned colliers, coal-bearers, salters, and other workmen necessary for carrying on of collieries and salt-works. These are by law itself, without any paction, bound, merely by their entering upon work, in a colliery or salt-manufactory, to the perpetual service thereof; and if the owner sell or alienate the ground on which the works stand, the right of the service of these colliers, salters, &c., passes over to the purchaser.' What was this but modified slavery?—and the consideration that it actually existed within Great Britain until a recent period, and excited no sort of compassion, should temper any observations we might be inclined to make on the subject of slavery in distant countries.

We cannot but rejoice that in the present day there exists not the slightest relict of serfdom in any part of the United Kingdom. Every man is now his own master, and has his own responsibilities. We say, we are glad of this, because without such liberty of personal action, there can be no social progress. At the same time, it appears undeniable that the legislature, in emancipating the humbler classes, has strangely neglected to go one step further—that is, to make sure of their being educated, and so rendered capable of improving their condition to some purpose. It is in this great shortcoming that a blot rests on our institutions. When is that blot to be removed?

EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A TRAVELLER IN CHILI

So little is known of Chili, a country of considerable extent in South America, with a frontage to the Pacific, that latterly a distinguished man of science, Dr Ried of Ratisbon, went on an expedition to explore its physical character. From the notes which were sent by this enlightened traveller to the secretary of the Zoological-mineralogical Society of the above-named city, we are enabled to draw the following account of the wild interior of the Chilian territory:—

The land along the coast is unusually high, the mountains on the sea-board rising about 3000 feet above the water, for the greater part at an angle of 60 to 70 degrees. In their height, there is hardly any perceptible difference; the summits form long tracts of table-land, very uneven, however, and broken up in all directions by chasms, and the dried-up beds of cataracts and rapid rivers. For 400 leagues along the coast, all is one dreary waste. The entrance to this table-land is by the dry bed of a mountain torrent. Such channels, in which not a drop of moisture has been found within the memory of tradition, are everywhere to be seen actually ground away, and polished like the finest marble by the action of water. At the foot of the mountains, traces of the sea are discernible 100 or 150 feet higher up than at present. Huge masses of rock, too, bear traces of having been violently rent, where now there is never a storm.

The best entrance to the desert is from Cobija, where the ascent at once begins, and continues for a distance of about three leagues, including the dried-up bed of a torrent, formed in the steep surface of rock. About fifteen leagues from the coast, and parallel with it, a chain of higher mountains rises to a height of between 7000 and 8000 feet. From the summit of these—and it is no easy task to climb so far—one is enabled to form a slight idea of the desert of Atacama. To the east, you see the majestic Cordilleras, their bright peaks glittering in the distance through a golden mist; while on the north, south, and west, there is an unrelieved expanse without sign of life or hope, but everywhere silence: and what a silence! It is not the stillness of a summer night in the country, nor of a church, nor of a sickroom: it is the silence of death! As you gaze on the scene before you, you are oppressed—almost overwhelmed by its dreary sadness. No insect hum is heard; not even a bird is seen in the still air; the earth, and the atmosphere above it, is one vast region of death. The only link which connects the traveller with humanity, is a long row of the skeletons of mules and horses, which have here left their bones for a guide across the desert. The dead animals lie like mummies, dried and shrivelled; hair, eyes, muscles, all are there. Their appearance presents a remarkable peculiarity. One might suppose, that having been overtaken by death under similar circumstances, the last struggle over, their inanimate bodies would be marked by no characteristic and distinctive difference. But the case is otherwise. Both mule and horse have sunk from hunger, thirst, and exhaustion; yet the position of the two animals in their lifeless state is invariably unlike. The horse lies outstretched, the hoof in a straight line with the knee, the teeth half-closed—a picture of exhaustion and resignation. The mule, on the contrary, has always the limbs drawn up, as if from cramp; the knees are bent, and the hoofs drawn inward towards the body; the head is thrown back, the mouth awry, and the teeth firmly clenched. As they often lie side by side, this difference is striking. Whence it arises, it is difficult to say; but it would seem to denote, that the sufferings of the mule are more intense, and its tenacity of life greater, than those of the horse.

After traversing a distance of twenty-seven leagues, we arrive at the river. Travellers who are inured to fatigue, always make the journey in one ride. Dr Ried accomplished the whole distance without once dismounting. The stream is called Loa, and has its source in the snows of the mountain-tops. In the neighbourhood of a small Indian village called Chiuchiu, it is fed by a little volcanic stream, which contains a large quantity of salt in a state of dissolution, besides copper, arsenic, sulphur, and other matters. The quantity of the water is increased by this supply, but its quality by no means improved; yet the abominable mixture tastes on that spot like the choicest champagne! The stream is not perceived till you stand on the very edge. Its bed is between 300 and 400 yards broad, and is about 200 or 300 feet below the average surface of the table-land. The body of water which forms this river is very inconsiderable, and becomes more and more so as it nears the sea. Here Dr Reid saw some mosquitoes, as well as a small lizard; but the presence of the quick, bright-eyed creature in that dreary waste, rather added to the sense of loneliness. Its very name, too (Musca domestica), seemed a mockery, dwelling as it did in that vast solitude. In the water, no trace of life was to be found. 'From the stream, which has its source in the clouds,' writes Dr Ried to his friend, 'I took a bottleful, which I send you to analyse, and in order that you may say you have seen water from Atacama. I advise you, however, not to drink it.'

In the desert, it never rains. At the foot of the Cordilleras—and only at the foot—rain falls to a distance of about ten leagues westward, but never further; in Atacama, to a distance of about ten leagues from the mountains; in Chili, to far beyond the coast. Perhaps, however, the most extraordinary phenomenon of this strange land, is the sudden change of temperature which takes place over the whole desert. The heat at noon is oppressive—from 96 to 120 degrees Fahrenheit; and this continues till four p.m., when it begins to diminish. From ten a.m. till about sunset, there is a strong westerly wind, blowing from the sea towards the Cordilleras. It is always fierce, but sometimes so powerful, that it is impossible to advance against it. When the sun is down, the wind likewise subsides, and till nine or ten o'clock in the evening there is a perfect calm.

Sunset in these regions is a magnificent spectacle. The play of colours in the heavens is quite indescribable. When the moon rises, the same thing occurs. Opposite the orb, a huge pile of vapour rises in shadowy forms, on which the light is thrown, producing the most wonderful effects. In these chromatic displays, red is the colour that predominates. Towards midnight, the wind begins to blow from the east, at first gently, but icy cold, for it comes from the regions of perpetual frost and snow. The radiation of heat from such an extensive and almost glowing surface is naturally very great and rapid, and after midnight it begins to freeze. An hour before sunrise, all stagnant water is frozen over; and the thermometer falls sometimes to 28 degrees Fahrenheit—on an average it is at 32 degrees—to rise again at noon to 90 degrees.

THINGS TALKED OF IN LONDON

October 1852.

The death of the great Duke has for a time kept other subjects of conversation in abeyance; but by slow degrees the old hero slides into the past, and the tongues and pens of thousands are busily recalling the words, works, and exploits by which he won for himself 'imperishable renown.' His life presents itself to us in different aspects, wherein the lowliest as well as the loftiest may find something exemplary; and all may learn a lesson in that virtue of virtues—persevering straightforwardness. By and by, we shall have a magnificent funeral; and then, as new events follow, we shall find whether new men are to come capable of meeting them; whether there are to be heroes after Agamemnon as well as before.

The remains of the Great Exhibition building are fast disappearing from Hyde Park, under the busy hands of the troops of workmen engaged in the business of taking down and removal. Heavily-laden wagons are continually departing from each entrance, and every hour the prodigious mass of materials is diminished. The spectacle is a striking one in many respects, and would be a melancholy one were it not for the certainty of restoration. Already the grass is beginning to grow on the ground, worn bare by millions of feet; and before many months are over, the greensward will again cover the site of the world's Temple of Industry.

Among the objects of most interest to be comprised in the new Palace, are galleries of Classic and Mediæval Art, a Nineveh and Egyptian Court, Etruscan Restorations, Hall of the Alhambra, Court of Inventions, besides complete illustrations of the races of Man, to be arranged by Dr Latham, which will afford valuable aid to the student of ethnology; and of natural history and geology, all to be superintended by able professors. Seeing that there is talk of enlarging the British Museum, which is not half large enough for its purpose, might not some of its long-hidden contents be transferred, under proper regulations, to the Palace at Sydenham?

The present year has been as remarkable for storms as the last was for fine weather, and in parts of the world widely separated—the continent of Europe and the United States of America, as well as our own country. Meteorologists say, that the frequent atmospheric disturbances will furnish us with valuable facts for theoretical and practical use. In many places, the storms have been followed by destructive floods, particularly in France, the effects of which, it is said, are greatly aggravated by the spirit of modern improvement, leading to the cutting down of trees and forests; so that the more the land is cleared, the fiercer become the floods. It would be interesting to test this fact by what takes place under similar circumstances in America, where forest is in excess. The subject has been brought before the Geological Society by Mr Prestwich, as regards the Holmfirth flood, with a view to collect data as to the power of moving water, the height of the flood, the time in which the water ran off, together with exact measurements of the fall of the ground, and the amount of denudation. All these are questions of great scientific value in geology, because arguing from the effects produced by so small a body of water comparatively, we may arrive at satisfactory conclusions concerning the great floods of other ages. In the instance here referred to, from 40,000 to 50,000 tons were carried from the dam by the sudden rush, the greater part of which was deposited within the first 300 feet. Lower down, from one to two feet of deposit was laid over the meadows; rocks, weighing from five to twenty tons, were transported to a considerable distance; and at seven miles from the outbreak, near Huddersfield, a stratum of sand was laid over the fields. The mention of these facts may be of service to those who have had opportunities for observation elsewhere.

The Society have also had their attention called to disturbances of another sort—earthquakes; of which not a few have occurred of late in many parts of the world, our own island among them. The shocks appear to have been most severely felt in the south-west—Cornwall, for instance, and the neighbourhood of Bristol, where they extended over an area of more than thirty miles. The effects have now been accurately described: one of the shocks lasted two seconds; the other, from ten to twelve seconds, accompanied by a rumbling noise. The line of disturbance was from north to south, striking the Mendips, and traversing parts of the shires of Somerset and Gloucester. 'The chief focus of oscillation was at Cheddar, where the hill is said to have waved to and fro during several seconds; and in the alluvial flat or marsh below Cheddar, some houses had the plaster of the ceilings cracked; while in others, the clocks struck, doors slammed, bells rung, &c.' With such commotions taking place in the solid earth, geologists will not fail of sources of interest in their favourite study. There is yet another geological fact worth mentioning—the finding of footprints in what is called Potsdam sandstone, near Montreal, in Canada. This sandstone is the 'lowest member of the lowest Silurian rocks;' and the discovery is good evidence that there were living creatures walking on the land at the very oldest periods hitherto revealed by geology—thus carrying back the appearance of organic life to a time more remote than had been supposed. Professor Owen, who has examined the slabs and casts, says, that no idea of the creature that made the tracks can be formed from any animal at present existing, for instead of the prints being in successive pairs, an odd one is found to intervene. He considers it to have had three legs on each side, and to have been neither tortoise-like nor vertebrate; and after naming it Protichnites, adds: 'I incline to adopt, as the most probable hypothesis, that the creatures which have left their tracks and impressions on the most ancient of known sea-shores, belonged to an articulate and probably crustaceous genus.' The fact is an important one in a scientific point of view, and presents a new standpoint for inquirers.