DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.1311#0095
68 THE GREAT EXHIBITION
task is regulated with mathematical precision, and their arms make as many move-
ments as the break-wheels make revolutions. After some time the result is a species of
automatic life, a frightful monotony, from which the workman only escapes in his leisure
moments by strong and gross excitements, by intemperance, which leads to drunkenness,
and this drunkenness itself is of a gloomy and savage nature, like the drinks which have
produced it. The manufacturing system has likewise profoundly modified the character
of the English workman. He lives less in the midst of his family, and belongs much
more to his fellow-workmen than to his children. His existence has ceased to he
domestic. From the commencement he is enrolled in one of the thousands of societies
which abound throughout the country, and which, if need be, easily assume the attitude
of coalition. The workman's forum is the meeting-place of his trade's union; it is the
club of which he forms part, the economic or industrial association to which he is
affiliated. These associations are reckoned in England by thousands; they form veritable
tribes, which have their regulations, their prejudices, their exigencies—nay, even their
superstitions. The spinners and the printers of Manchester, the hosiers of Nottingham,
the cutlers of Sheffield, the smiths of Wolverhampton, the potters of Burslem, the colliers
of Newcastle, the ribbon weavers of Coventry, the cloth weavers of Leeds, form as many
industrial armies, obeying the voice of their chiefs, each ranged under his own banner,
and in reality distinguished by a kind of peculiar physiognomy easily recognisable.
The wives and children of these workmen generally follow the vocation of their hus-
bands and fathers. They thus get inured to them at an early age, at least in those
branches of industry which admit of the employment of women and children, and they
at last acquire faults, and physical and moral qualities, which are really characteristic.
Their costume never varies: a spinner, a mender, a collier, a smith, are always dressed
nearly in the same manner; and even their hair, particularly amongst the women, is
arranged according to their vocation with invariable regularity. Their minds, inces-
santly bent upon the same object, eventually acquire a gift of second sight, which often,
without instruction, leads them to discover improvements of important details. It is
seldom, however, that their thoughts travel beyond the regions of the factory and of
material enjoyments; and it is a distinctive trait in their character, that none of them
dream of making their fortunes as politicians, neither does ambition penetrate their souls.
They like labour for its own sake, and it is a great point of self-love with them to
devote themselves to it conscientiously and perseveringly. There is a good deal of affinity
between them and their machines. They have little initiative, of taste and ideas, and
they are infinitely less artistical than ours. The Erench workman is nearly in every
respect the opposite of the English one. His dependence, proud and haughty, always
resembles a concession, and he deems himself attached to a temporary yoke rather
than to a permanent workshop. His exactness and stability nowise partake of the Eng-
lish fatality and resignation; he would ever be ready to go, and to give notice rather than
receive it. He is more gay, more lively, more talkative, more of a reasoner; and, since
the contagion, of politics has entered our manufactories, he has become imperious,
cavilling, important, and rather occupies himself with the government of the state than
that of his looms. Among many, business is looked upon as an affair of circumstance
and of necessity; they occupy themselves with it because it is necessary to live, and
hitherto politics have not yet discovered the secret of supplying masses of men with a
livelihood without labour; but their minds are, in reality, elsewhere, and in quest of
perpetual and undefinable ameliorations. The real Erench workman is the workman of
art, and it must be said, whatever may be their faults, such are the Parisian workmen.
There are excellent workmen throughout France; there are only perfect ones in Paris.
Our weavers of cloth, and our spinners of cotton^ resemble, in many respects the English
task is regulated with mathematical precision, and their arms make as many move-
ments as the break-wheels make revolutions. After some time the result is a species of
automatic life, a frightful monotony, from which the workman only escapes in his leisure
moments by strong and gross excitements, by intemperance, which leads to drunkenness,
and this drunkenness itself is of a gloomy and savage nature, like the drinks which have
produced it. The manufacturing system has likewise profoundly modified the character
of the English workman. He lives less in the midst of his family, and belongs much
more to his fellow-workmen than to his children. His existence has ceased to he
domestic. From the commencement he is enrolled in one of the thousands of societies
which abound throughout the country, and which, if need be, easily assume the attitude
of coalition. The workman's forum is the meeting-place of his trade's union; it is the
club of which he forms part, the economic or industrial association to which he is
affiliated. These associations are reckoned in England by thousands; they form veritable
tribes, which have their regulations, their prejudices, their exigencies—nay, even their
superstitions. The spinners and the printers of Manchester, the hosiers of Nottingham,
the cutlers of Sheffield, the smiths of Wolverhampton, the potters of Burslem, the colliers
of Newcastle, the ribbon weavers of Coventry, the cloth weavers of Leeds, form as many
industrial armies, obeying the voice of their chiefs, each ranged under his own banner,
and in reality distinguished by a kind of peculiar physiognomy easily recognisable.
The wives and children of these workmen generally follow the vocation of their hus-
bands and fathers. They thus get inured to them at an early age, at least in those
branches of industry which admit of the employment of women and children, and they
at last acquire faults, and physical and moral qualities, which are really characteristic.
Their costume never varies: a spinner, a mender, a collier, a smith, are always dressed
nearly in the same manner; and even their hair, particularly amongst the women, is
arranged according to their vocation with invariable regularity. Their minds, inces-
santly bent upon the same object, eventually acquire a gift of second sight, which often,
without instruction, leads them to discover improvements of important details. It is
seldom, however, that their thoughts travel beyond the regions of the factory and of
material enjoyments; and it is a distinctive trait in their character, that none of them
dream of making their fortunes as politicians, neither does ambition penetrate their souls.
They like labour for its own sake, and it is a great point of self-love with them to
devote themselves to it conscientiously and perseveringly. There is a good deal of affinity
between them and their machines. They have little initiative, of taste and ideas, and
they are infinitely less artistical than ours. The Erench workman is nearly in every
respect the opposite of the English one. His dependence, proud and haughty, always
resembles a concession, and he deems himself attached to a temporary yoke rather
than to a permanent workshop. His exactness and stability nowise partake of the Eng-
lish fatality and resignation; he would ever be ready to go, and to give notice rather than
receive it. He is more gay, more lively, more talkative, more of a reasoner; and, since
the contagion, of politics has entered our manufactories, he has become imperious,
cavilling, important, and rather occupies himself with the government of the state than
that of his looms. Among many, business is looked upon as an affair of circumstance
and of necessity; they occupy themselves with it because it is necessary to live, and
hitherto politics have not yet discovered the secret of supplying masses of men with a
livelihood without labour; but their minds are, in reality, elsewhere, and in quest of
perpetual and undefinable ameliorations. The real Erench workman is the workman of
art, and it must be said, whatever may be their faults, such are the Parisian workmen.
There are excellent workmen throughout France; there are only perfect ones in Paris.
Our weavers of cloth, and our spinners of cotton^ resemble, in many respects the English