Responses to the Industrial Revolution
Because of the Industrial Revolution, British society changed thoroughly, rapidly, and
permanently. Throughout the Revolution, workers, owners, and the government
responded differently to its negative effects. As we have seen, in the early years of the
Industrial Revolution, the government and the owners largely expected that the
marketplace would magically self-correct the worst ills. But it rarely did. When the
government finally did intervene, it did so usually on the side of owners, in the name of
public safety and order. For example, workers’ unions were rendered illegal through an
act of Parliament in 1799. And the House of Commons continually rejected minimum
wage laws put forward by workers (Thompson 278). With the government and owners
initially unwilling to enact reforms, workers, reformers, and critics responded in their
own creative ways, sometimes rebelling, and sometimes experimenting with new ways
to organize work and society. Decades into the Industrial Revolution, the British
government began considering gradual reforms of its own.
The Luddites
“Chant no more your old rhymes about bold Robin Hood
His feats I but little admire
I will sing the achievements of General Ludd,
Now the Hero of Nottinghamshire” (547).
The most dramatic uprising against the negative effects of the Industrial Revolution in
Britain began around what was left of the deforested Sherwood Forest, Nottinghamshire,
the land of the fabled Robin Hood. The rebels were skilled weavers and other preindustrial artisans who saw in the new textile machines the destruction of their
traditional craft, their livelihood, and their community. In 1811, when the uprising
began, about half the families in the Nottingham region were unable to support
themselves and were reduced to Poor Law charity (Sale 66). And because the
government had passed laws making it illegal for workers to meet, form a union, or go
on strike, this desperate group met covertly and swore secret oaths of allegiance to each
other. These rebellious artisans wrote anonymous letters to factory owners warning
them to close down or face the consequences. Then they raided factories at night and
destroyed the new textile machines that took away their jobs. Neither the sheriff of
Nottingham nor the new factory owners knew precisely who the secret members were.
But the rebels signed their first letter of
demands, “From Robin Hood’s Cave” (3).
These rebellious and skilled artisans became
known as the “Luddites” (pronounced “LUHDeyets”). Since the organization was so secret—
after all, swearing an oath of obedience to the
group was a crime in itself—there remain today
no surviving documents or testimonies that
clarify for certain the origin of the name. Some
evidence suggests the name is derived from an
old children’s story about a child, Ned Ludd, who
broke his knitting frame in anger to spite his
father. Some historians suggest the name refers
to the Celtic God, Lludd. Still others find
evidence of an ancient King Lud who ruled over a city that later came to be called
“Ludon” or “London” (78). In any case, the group often signed its letters as “King Lud”
or “Ned Ludd.” So, the group became known as the Luddites.
Read this primary source letter from the Luddites to a factory owner. What are the
Luddites demanding? If you were a skilled weaver who was worried about losing your
job to new weaving machines, would you consider joining up with the Luddites? Why or
why not? What would be your response to this letter if you were a factory owner who
had invested money in new power looms or spinning mules?
Gentlemen all,
Ned Ludd’s Compliments and hopes you will give a trifle toward supporting his Army as
he well understands the Art of breaking obnoxious frames [machines]. If you comply
with this it will be well, if not I shall come upon you myself.
Edward Ludd (80)
Read this primary source evidence of a Luddite secret oath. What do you think is the
purpose of this oath? What might the Luddites do with a fellow member who broke the
oath? Why do you think the British government made the giving or taking of this oath
illegal and even punishable by death? If you were a skilled weaver who was worried
about losing your job to new weaving machines, would you consider taking this Luddite
oath? Why or why not?
I, ___, of my own voluntary will, do declare, and solemnly swear, that I never will reveal
to any person or persons under the canopy of heaven, the names of the persons who
compose this Secret Committee, their proceedings, meeting, places of abode, dress,
features, connections, or anything else that might lead to a discovery of the same,
either by word or deed, or sign, under the penalty of being sent out of the world by the
first brother who shall meet me, and my name and character blotted out of existence,
and never to be remembered but with contempt and abhorrence; and I further now do
swear, that I will use my best endeavours to punish by death any traitor or traitors,
should any rise up amongst us, wherever I can find him or them, and though he may fly
to the verge of nature, I will pursue him with increasing vengeance. So help me God,
and bless me to keep this my oath inviolable.
(108)
The Luddites carried out their raids with such secrecy, discipline, and swiftness that they
initially caught factory owners, the police, and government officials by surprise. In one
factory, for example, Luddites quietly broke ten new textile machines and slipped out
into the night, despite the presence of a magistrate and his troops guarding ten yards
away (82). The Luddites succeeded in their work despite interrogations of local villagers,
large rewards offered to anyone who could supply information, and thousands of
British cavalry brought in to occupy key towns. In 1812, Parliament even passed a law,
aimed specifically at the Luddites, threatening the death penalty to anyone who
smashed industrial machines. The famous Romantic poet, Lord Byron, was appalled by
Parliament’s threat of death to Luddism and asked, “Are these the remedies for a
desperate and starving populace?” (97) Still the Luddites succeeded in destroying
100,000 British pounds worth of machines and
factories.
On the few occasions when Luddites were caught,
they would rarely reveal any information to the
authorities. After an attack on one factory in
1812, five injured Luddites were caught when the
owner defended his factory with cannons and
guns. The local constable refused water and aid to
the injured Luddites unless they divulged who
their leaders were, and evidence suggests that the
captives were tortured. Still they refused to reveal
information about their fellow Luddites. A
clergyman stayed with one young, dying Luddite
in an attempt to get information from him before
he died. The dying man reportedly said, “Father,
can you keep a secret?” The clergyman leaned
close eagerly and said, “Yes! Yes!” And the young
man replied, “So can I”—he died shortly
thereafter. (Thompson 562)
After initial Luddite successes in destroying
machines and intimidating factory owners to comply with Luddite demands, owners and
the government stepped up their efforts to stop the uprising. Mill owners increasingly
hired private security to defend their property. Having already sent in troops and made
membership to the Luddites a capital offense, the government then created
special tribunals tasked with finding—often through the use of spies and bribery—and
trying Luddites. A government official gave instructions to the tribunal to execute some
suspects to intimidate the Luddites: “Perhaps the guilt of the convicted was not of prime
importance as long as the violated laws were upheld and sacrificial victims could be
found as an example to the rest of society” (Sale 168). As a result, on June 12, 1812, in
Manchester, eight Luddites were hanged, including a 16-year-old boy, though there was
no evidence that they had done anything more than attend a food riot with hundreds of
others (169). Then, in January of 1813, again in Manchester, the special tribunal
executed 14 Luddites after a trial that lasted just one day. The average age of these
Luddites was 25 (181-182). These quick executions succeeded in deflating the uprising.
Sporadic attacks on machines continued through 1816, but the movement essentially
died with those 14 men executed in Manchester.
Though short-lived, the lost cause of the Luddites left many legacies for industrial
society. The reaction to the uprising helped form and strengthen an alliance between the
old aristocratic British government and the new industrialists. As one historian wrote,
the “prophets of progress” had won and would not face a serious challenge again in
Britain (200). In one sense, the Luddites were conservative rebels, raging against the
new industrial inventions, fighting futilely to stop the progress of the Industrial
Revolution. But, soon after the rebellion, legislative-reform movements took hold and
fulfilled some of the more progressive Luddite demands, such as minimum wage laws,
child and female labor laws, and the right to organize as workers. So, in this sense, the
Luddites were forward-looking progressives rather than conservatives. The Luddite
experience also reminds us that Industrialization, even while creating new industries and
fueling economic growth, was also a destructive process that alienates those most
negatively affected. The uprising dramatically reminds us to ask important questions,
even today, about progress and industrialization. Which groups in society benefit from
industrialization? Which do not? What should the government do, if anything, to help
workers in declining industries—such as manufacturing in the U.S. today—to transition
to growth industries?
The Luddites have also become a symbolic point of reference for critics of modern
industrial society. Contemporary essayist, poet, and neo-Luddite Wendell Berry reflected
in 1990 on the over-hyped march of industrial progress: “I do not see that computers
are bringing us one step closer to anything that does matter to me: peace, economic
justice, ecological health, political honesty, family and community stability, good work. .
. I am a Luddite” (258). And one historian recently commented on how the lost cause of
the Luddites remains with us because it still teaches us important lessons: “In some of
the lost causes of the people of the Industrial Revolution we may discover insights into
social evils which we have yet to cure” (Thompson 13). Which social evils from the
Industrial Revolution have yet to be cured? Who are the Luddites of today? Is there
cause today for another Robin Hood to rise up from Sherwood Forest?