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Adventures in Financial Data Science: The Empirical Properties of Financial and Economic Data, 2nd Edition Graham L. Giller
Adventures in Financial Data Science: The Empirical Properties of Financial and Economic Data, 2nd Edition Graham L. Giller
Adventures in Financial Data Science: The Empirical Properties of Financial and Economic Data, 2nd Edition Graham L. Giller
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Advisory Editors:
Greg Connor (National University of Ireland, Maynooth, Ireland)
George Constantinides (University of Chicago, USA)
Espen Eckbo (Dartmouth College, USA)
Hans Foellmer (Humboldt University, Germany)
Christian Gollier (Toulouse School of Economics, France)
Thorsten Hens (University of Zurich, Switzerland)
Robert Jarrow (Cornell University, USA)
Hayne Leland (University of California, Berkeley, USA)
Haim Levy (The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel)
John Mulvey (Princeton University, USA)
Marti Subrahmanyam (New York University, USA)
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Printed in Singapore
In loving memory of
Jack and Lorna Baugh & Gordon and Alice Giller.
v
B1948 Governing Asia
Preface
vii
June 8, 2022 10:44 Adventures in Financial Data Science. . . 9in x 6in b4549-fm page viii
Many parts of this work can be viewed as a plea against the use
of the Normal distribution in places where it has no business being
used. Finance is one of them.
Graham L. Giller
Holmdel, NJ, 2021
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ix
B1948 Governing Asia
Contents
Preface vii
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xi
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Contents xiii
Epilogue 449
E.1 The Nature of Business . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 449
E.2 The Analysis of Data . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 450
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Bibliography 461
Index 469
B1948 Governing Asia
List of Figures
xv
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2.7 Scatter plot of squared daily return of the S&P 500 Index
(in percent) versus that quantity for the prior day, with
a fitted linear regression line. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
2.8 Distributions of innovations for a GARCH (1, 1) model
for the daily returns of the S&P 500 for 1957 to 2020
inclusive. A Normal distribution for the innovations is
used in the modeling. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
2.9 Distributions of innovations for a GARCH (1, 1) model
for the daily returns of the S&P 500 for 1957 to 2021
inclusive. A Generalized Error Distribution for the inno-
vations is used in the modeling. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
2.10 Time series of the estimated average daily return of the
S&P 500 Index by year from independent GARCH (1, 1)
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2.27 Scatter plots and regression lines for the model of Equa-
tion (2.48) with the final dates, T , taken to be the
settlement dates of the Eurodollar Futures. . . . . . . . 81
2.28 The test statistic, χ21 ,
for testing the hypothesis that
daily price changes for Eurodollar Futures are Normally
distributed. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
2.29 The estimated value of the kurtosis parameter, κ, when
a GARCH (1, 1) model for the daily price change of
Eurodollar Futures is estimated contract by contract. . 84
2.30 The test statistic, χ22 , for testing the hypothesis
that daily price changes for Eurodollar Futures are
homoskedastic. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
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3.40
model of the incremental “excitation” of the Sunspot
generating system. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222
3.41 In sample regression of the model onto observations for
a Markov(2) × AR(26) model of the incremental “exci-
tation” of the Sunspot generating system. . . . . . . . . 223
3.42 Out-of-sample predictions of a Markov(2) × AR(26)
model of the incremental “excitation” of the Sunspot
generating system. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224
4.1 Predictions and outcomes of a logistic regression model
of Presidential elections using height difference and
desire for change as independent variables. . . . . . . . . 234
4.2 Variation of precision, recall and F -score with the deci-
sion threshold, β, for predicting a Republican President
based on logistic regression. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235
4.3 Distribution of optimal decision threshold for 10,000
bootstraps of the use of a logistic regression model
to predict a Republican President based on candidate
heights and desire for change. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237
4.4 Variation of precision, recall and F -score with the deci-
sion threshold, β, for predicting a Republican President
based on a Naı̈ve Bayes classifier. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239
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List of Tables
xxxi
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2.8 Table of values for the t test for Zero Mean applied
to the heteroskedasticity parameters obtained when fit-
ting a PQ GARCH (1, 1) model to current members of
the S&P 500 Index that have at least 3 years of data
history. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
2.9 Robust linear regression results for fit of the square
of the VIX to the lead 1 variance predictor from a
PQ GARCH (1, 1) model for the daily returns of the
S&P 500 Index for 1990 to date. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
2.10 Robust linear regression results for fit of the daily change
in the VIX onto the daily return of the S&P 500 Index
for 1990 to date. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
3.1 Maximum likelihood regression results the fit of a GJR-
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6.4 Single factor ANOVA table for the estimated final val-
ues of R̂ dependent on the party of the Governor of the
States. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 362
Chapter 1
1
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I have found and discuss what I think they mean, and whether sci-
ence tells us they are believable. I will provide some links to the
public data sets I have accessed, some of which require small fees to
access. Financial data has never been free because people use it to
make a lot of money, and the data generators are well aware of that.
1.2. Family
1.2.1. About Me
I am English and grew up in the West Midlands. First in Coventry,
and later in a small village called Church Lawford. I now live in New
Jersey on my in-law’s family farm, just outside New York City on the
Jersey Shore. For the majority of my career I’ve been professionally
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involved in what is now called “data science,” but for me that started
much, much, earlier. I have a doctorate in Experimental Particle
Physics, from Oxford University, where I also did my undergraduate
work. My work featured very large scale (for the time) computer
based data analytics in the field of Cosmic Ray Astronomy. For some
reason both time-series analysis and statistics “clicked” for me, and
I’ve spent a lot of my professional career organically applying those
tools to data from more “social” sciences. I’ve worked in proprietary
trading at Morgan Stanley in London, as a “quant,” and in New York,
as a strategy developer and portfolio manager in the now famous and
very successful Process Driven Trading unit. I ran my own investment
fund for about a decade, a small effort for “friends and family,” not
some giant world shaping enterprise, and subsequently spent time
as a consultant data scientist before joining Bloomberg LP’s Global
Data unit as their first data science hire. I set up the data science
group there before joining J.P. Morgan as Chief Data Scientist in a
unit called New Product Development (N.P.D.). From there I moved
to take the role as Head of Primary Research at Deutsche Bank before
that firm decided it no longer wanted to be in the equity business. At
the time of writing, I am sitting at home, as the COVID-19 outbreak
appears to be entering a third wave.
Figure 1.1: The author at The Blue Coat School, Coventry, 1987.
Photo Credit Phillip Shipley.
oil tanker. My grandfather was Jack Baugh and he had a great effect
on me. I figured out that he didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my
Father, which I guess is not unusual, but generally we all got on and
spent many Christmases and Summers together. When I was a child
I knew that it was expected that one aspire to some kind of career,
and my choices followed the typical paths of children. The first thing
I announced I wanted to be was a professional cricketer. I am not very
good at sport, as everybody who knows me well can testify to, but
my Grandad was very keen on cricket, having played for his work’s
team, and that rubbed off on me. When I found out that only native
born Yorkshiremen were permitted to play for Geoff Boycott’s team
my aspirations crashed to the ground, and I was puzzled as to why
a professional sports team would have such a rule.
My second announced choice was “Chartered Accountant.” This,
again, was influenced by my Grandad. His official title was “Chief
Cashier of the South Yorkshire Passenger Transport Executive,” but
what he was was a management accountant and what he did was,
with his buddy, run the state owned bus company that provided
public transport to the city of Sheffield. In modern times his title
would have been Chief Financial Officer. I guess he could see that
his grandson was good at maths, so he would try to interest me in his
June 8, 2022 10:42 Adventures in Financial Data Science. . . 9in x 6in b4549-ch01 page 4
the second horizontal distance and the blip was the reflected signal
from an enemy plane. I was expecting the sweeping lines with linger-
ing dots that we are used to from images of air traffic control and
ship radar, but this was before that time.
Once he told me about the bus company having “too much money
to keep in the bank over the weekend,” and so they needed to figure
out what to do with it. I guess they had good insights as to what
was happening to oil prices, which would arise from running a bus
company and, presumably, being in receipt of regular phone calls
from commodities brokers, but I was startled when his response to
my question “so what are you going to do?” was “we’re going to
buy an oil tanker off the coast of South Africa and sell it back on
Monday morning.” I think this is what you tell your grandchild when
you want them to be interested in “high finance” when they grow up.
I don’t know when this transaction took place, but it was prob-
ably in the late 1970s or early 1980s. Periods in which inflation was
running hot in the United Kingdom and a time when the prices of
physical commodities appreciated in real terms. I now know that
that’s a fairly unusual circumstance, when spot prices for crude oil
are expected to appreciate due to the contango of the forward curve,
and that “normal backwardation” would make this a money losing
trade. On the other hand, in the 1970s, there was probably a lot
more value to being on the receiving end of brokers’ phone calls than
now, so likely the information they were receiving was more useful
in a less efficient market. Of course, I didn’t know at the time that
June 8, 2022 10:42 Adventures in Financial Data Science. . . 9in x 6in b4549-ch01 page 5
so over the long summer holidays, she made the picnics that we took
to watch cricket.
Crosswords, played a much more significant role in her life than
that of many people. While Jack was serving overseas in the R.A.F.,
Lorna was doing something altogether different at home. She told
me that one day, when she was in a Mathematics class at university,
a “man from the ministry” (as the English used to say) came into
the lecture theatre and asked if anybody in the room was good at
crosswords. She raised her hand and a few days later was no longer a
student but a codebreaker at Bletchley Park. There is a scene in the
movie The Imitation Game that refers directly to this recruitment
strategy [133]. The movie, very early on, also includes a scene where
people were sliding sheets of celluloid over each other looking for
a coinciding light patch. This is exactly what she told me she did.
To me, at the time, this sounded nothing like what “codebreaking”
ought to be, but I was impressed nonetheless.
My mother tells me that earlier on she was less forthcoming about
her work. In fact, everybody at Bletchley Park had been sworn to
secrecy and “signed the Official Secrets Act.” And, like many of her
peers, she kept those secrets. Later, when people finally started talk-
ing about what is probably Great Britain’s biggest contribution to
winning that war, and it was covered in the press and on televi-
sion, she apparently turned to her family after a feature on the
evening news and said “well now you all know what I did in the
war.”
June 8, 2022 10:42 Adventures in Financial Data Science. . . 9in x 6in b4549-ch01 page 6
Figure 1.2: Lorna Baugh with her Bletchley Park Service Medal.
Photo Credit Carole Baugh.
d2f
= −ω 2 f (1.2)
dt2
are sin ωt and cos ωt. Those are actually solutions, they tell you what
the form of the unknown function, f , actually is. At the time, I was
struggling to process what to do with such much more general solu-
tion, and then in walks Grandma with my parents, come to take me
to tea on a Saturday afternoon in Oxford.
“What are you doing?” ask Grandma, so I showed her my work.
“Oh, P.D.E.’s. I love them. I used to make them up and do them
for fun.” This succeeded in making me feel even more out of place.
My mother, who was a school teacher and history enthusiast and no
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form of scientist whatsoever, always told me her mother was “not the
best teacher,” due to her tendency to declare “Oh that’s easy, I don’t
understand why you don’t understand this!”
Figure 1.3: Gordon Pryce Giller (center), and his family, taken in London. It was
only after seeing this photo that I realized the origin of my somewhat unruly hair.
Photo via Susan Giller.
church, just reading the numbers of the hymns into the microphone
and being broadcast on the P.A. system.
We all have complicated relationships with our parents and I feel
that I get on much better with my father now, when I am 52 and he
is almost 81, than I did when I was a child. However, my most impor-
tant memory of him is only tangentially about me, and it dates from
when I was at home from college as a student. I woke, late at night,
to hear my father saying into the telephone “. . . and why do you
want to talk to Graham Giller?” It turned out that a schoolfriend’s
father had found a note, with my name and home phone number, in
his wife’s purse and was calling to challenge a suspected boyfriend.
That note must have been there for several years, for it dated from
when our schoolteachers were on strike and we had to leave school
at lunchtimes because the custodial staff were on strike. This was a
common occurrence in the 1980s. Every day, on the way from school
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“I know it, I know it,” she answered, in a tone of such sweet
humility, as made Esmond repent that he should ever have
dared to reproach her. “I know how wicked my heart has been;
and I have suffered too, my dear. I confessed to Mr. Atterbury—I
must not tell any more. He—I said I would not write to you or go
to you—and it was better even that, having parted, we should
part. But I knew you would come back—I own that. That is no
one’s fault. And to-day, Henry, in the anthem, when they sang it,
‘When the Lord turned the captivity of Zion, we were like them
that dream,’ I thought yes, like them that dream—them that
dream. And then it went, ‘They that sow in tears shall reap in joy;
and he that goeth forth and weepeth, shall doubtless come again
with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him;’ I looked up from
the book and saw you. I was not surprised when I saw you. I
knew you would come, my dear, and saw the gold sunshine
round your head.”
She smiled an almost wild smile as she looked up at him.
The moon was up by this time, glittering keen in the frosty sky.
He could see for the first time now clearly, her sweet careworn
face.
“Do you know what day it is?” she continued. “It is the 29th
of December—it is your birthday! But last year we did not drink it
—no, no. My lord was cold, and my Harry was likely to die: and
my brain was in a fever; and we had no wine. But now—now you
are come again, bringing your sheaves with you, my dear.” She
burst into a wild flood of weeping as she spoke: she laughed and
sobbed on the young man’s heart, crying out wildly, “bringing
your sheaves with you—your sheaves with you!”
So they fare to the lit house, and to the tragedy which is the tragedy
of all womankind; of beauty fading while desire endures, the passion
to be loved persists; most tragic of all when a mother meets in a
daughter her careless conquering rival.
I
I INTEND, in this and two following lectures, Gentlemen, taking my
illustrations in the main from Victorian times, to examine with you
how one and the same social question, urgent in our politics,
presented itself to several writers of imaginative genius, all of whom
found something intolerable in England and sought in their several
ways to amend it.
At the beginning of this enquiry let me disclaim any parti pris
about the duty of an imaginative writer towards the politics of his
age. Aristophanes has a political sense, Virgil a strong one even
when imitating Theocritus; Theocritus none: yet both are delightful:
Lucretius has no care for politics, Horace has any amount, and both
are delightful again: the evils of his time which oppress the author of
Piers Plowman, affect Chaucer not at all: Dante is intensely political,
Petrarch, far less sublime as a poet, disdains the business; Villon is
for life as it flies, Ronsard for verse and art (and the devil take the
rest); Spenser, with a sore enough political experience, casts it off
almost as absolutely as does Ariosto. Shakespeare has a strong
patriotic sense and a manly political sense: but he treats politics—let
us take King John and Coriolanus for examples—artistically, for their
dramatic value. He knows about
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely
and that they can be unendurable: but he does not use them for
propaganda (odious word!) whatever the minute of utterance. Milton
put all his religion into verse, his politics into prose; save for a
passage or two in Lycidas and Paradise Lost he excluded politics
from his high poetry. On the other hand Dryden had a high poetic
sense of politics, and it pervades the bulk of his original poetry, while
the opening of his famous Essay of Dramatic Poesy strikes an
introductory note as sure as Virgil’s, through whom a deep
undercurrent of politics runs from the first page of the Eclogues to
the last of the Æneid. Our poets of the eighteenth century were
social and political in the main: since if you once take Man for your
theme, you, or some one following you, must be drawn on irresistibly
to compare the position you assign him in the scheme of things with
his actual position in the body politic, to consider the “Rights of Man,”
“man’s inhumanity to man” and so forth. An Essay on Man (with the
philosophy Pope borrowed for it) leads on to The Deserted Village:
—on the pianola. Observe, pray, that I am not comparing the poetic
gift, in which (as in other gifts of the gods) Tennyson very greatly
outweighted Hood. I am merely setting some poets against others
and contrasting the degrees in which they exhibit social or political
sensitiveness. We should all allow, probably, that Robert Browning
was a greater poet and a stronger thinker than his wife: but probably
deny to him the acute indignation against human misery, social
wrong, political injustice, evinced by the authoress of The Cry of the
Children or Casa Guidi Windows. Of the two friends, Matthew Arnold
and Arthur Hugh Clough, we should as probably admit Arnold to be
the better poet as Clough to be the less occupied with his own soul,
the more in vain attempt to save other men. So again among the
Pre-Raphaelites Swinburne raves magnificently for the blood of
tyrants: but when it came to lifting the oppressed, to throwing himself
into the job, what a puff-ball was he beside William Morris who had
announced himself as no more than “the idle singer of an empty
day”!
II
So far we have spoken of poets—fairly selected, I trust—and
have found that there are poets and poets; and some are Olympian
in attitude, looking down deep below the surface from a great height
as a gannet spies his fish; but high aloof, concerned rather with
universal themes than with the woman of Canaan clamorous in the
street crying for her daughter, “Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the
crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.”
Now if we turn to our novelists, from Defoe to Scott, we find that
the novel from its first virtual beginning in our country and for a
century or more, has for social diseases in the body politic little
concern and practically no sense at all. Defoe has strong political
sense, but keeps it for his tracts and pamphlets: in Robinson Crusoe
(and specially in the third volume, The Serious Reflections of
Robinson Crusoe), in Moll Flanders, in Roxana, he is always a
moralist, but a religious moralist. If—to twist a line of Hamlet—there’s
something rotten in the state of Denmark, it does not come within the
scope of the novelist whose office is to combine amusement with
general edification. So—leaving out the edification—it is in Tristram
Shandy, so in The Vicar of Wakefield. Richardson is all for the
human heart as he reads it, and female virtue. Fielding with his
genial manly morality—Fielding, magistrate of a London Police
Court, and a humane one—discloses little sense in his novels of any
vera causa in our system supplying the unfortunates for whom, in
daily life, he tempers justice with mercy. You will not, I think, cite
Jonathan Wild against me. Noble fellow, as he drops down the
Thames—stricken to death, and knowing it—on that hopeless
voyage to Lisbon, his thoughts are hopeful for England and the glory
of her merchant shipping: and (says he) it must be our own fault if it
doth not continue glorious:
III
Now if you will take, as a convenient starting-point for your
enquiry, the year 1832—the year that saw the passing of the Great
Reform Bill and the death of Scott: if you will start (I say) with that
year beyond which, when I first made acquaintance, with the English
School here, our curiosity was forbidden to trespass—you will find
that then, or about then, certain terrible diseases in our
Commonwealth were brewing up to a head. As everyone now
recognises, we must seek the operating cause of these in what we
now agree to call the “Industrial Revolution”; that is in the process as
yet unrestricted by law, encouraged by economic theory, moving at
once too fast for the national conscience to overtake or even to
realise it and with a step of doom as rigidly inexorable as the
machinery, its agent and its symbol, converting England into a
manufacturing country, planting the Manchester of those days and
many Manchesters over England’s green and pleasant land, and
leaving them untended to grow as they pleased polluting her
streams, blackening her fields, and covering—here lies the
indictment—with a pall of smoke, infinite human misery: all this
controlled and elaborated by cotton-lords and mine-owners who
prospered on that misery.
The plight of rural, agricultural, England is another story. Here in
Lancashire, Derbyshire, Yorkshire was a monstrous revolution
gathering strength (as I say) beyond men’s power even to realise it.
And if they realised it, there was Political Economy assuring them
that it had to be. And it continued (as you will remember) long after
poor Wragg strangled and left her illegitimate infant on the dismal
Mapperly hills and the egregious Mr. Roebuck asked, if, the world
over or in past history, there was anything like it. “Nothing. I pray that
our unrivalled happiness may last.”
We all recognise it now, and the wicked folly of it—or at least I
hope we do. My purpose to-day, Gentlemen, is not to excite vain
emotions over a past which neither you nor I can remedy at all, but
simply to show that—as, after all, we are a kindly nation—the
spectacle of industrial England about and after 1832 became
intolerable to our grandfathers: how it operated upon two
extraordinarily different minds: and (if I can) how irresistible is the
wind of literature, through what mouthpiece soever it breathes with
conviction.
IV
But before examining how two of the most dissimilar minds
conceivable—one a man’s, the other a woman’s—reacted upon it, I
must indicate the enormity of the challenge.
France had passed through her Revolution and her Terror, with
graphic details of which our public speakers and writers had taken
pains to make our country familiar enough: and England had won out
of the struggle, having taken the side she chose, all oblivious (as we
are, maybe, to-day) that victory in arms is at best but the beginning
of true victory, and that she herself was in the throes of a revolution
not a whit the less murderous than that of France, and only less
clamant because its victims, instead of aristocrats and politicians and
eminent saviours of their country following one another by scores in
tumbrils to die scenically in the Place de la République, the Place of
the Guillotine, were serfs of the cotton-mill and the mine, wives,
small children, starved unscenically, withered up in foetid cellars or
done to death beside the machines of such a hell-upon-earth as
Manchester had grown to be out of towns in which an artificer,
however humble, had once been permitted to rejoice in that which
alone, beyond his hearth and family, heartens a man—the well-
executed work of hand and brain. The capitalists of that time simply
overwhelmed these towns, expanding, converting them into barracks
for workers. Who these workers were, let an advertisement in a
Macclesfield paper of 1825 attest—
Yes, let us pass the hideous towns with but one quotation, from
Nassau Senior—
V
Now, I dare say some of you, even while I read this, were
dismissing it in your minds as early-Victorian humanitarianism, faded
philanthropy, outworn sentiment. Yes, but even a sentiment, if it
works simultaneously upon a generation of great and very dissimilar
writers, is a fact in the story of our literature—a phenomenon, at
least, which made itself an event—to be studied by you scientifically.
One of the first rules of good criticism, and the sheet-anchor of the
historical method, is to put yourself (as near as may be) in the other
fellow’s place: and if you take but a very little pains to do so, you will
soon discover that Mrs. Browning was not writing “for the fun of the
thing,” exuding, or causing to be exuded, any cheap tears. We are
accustomed to Manchester to-day: we take it for granted as a great
community with a most honourable Press to represent its opinions.
But we only take it for granted because it has become tolerable, and
it only became tolerable, then dignified—it only became a city—
because our Victorian writers shamed its manufacturers out of their
villainies. In the twenties, thirties, and “hungry forties” of the last
century Manchester was merely a portent, and a hideous portent, the
growth of which at once fascinated our economists and frightened
our rulers. Think of the fisherman in the Arabian Nights who,
unstopping the bottle brought ashore in his net, beheld a column of
smoke escape and soar and spread, and anon and aloft, overlooking
it, the awful visage of a Genie. Even so our economists watched an
enormous smoke ascend from Manchester and said, “Here is
undreamed-of national prosperity”; while our ministers stared up into
the evil face of a monster they had no precedent to control. You
understand, of course, that I use “Manchester” as a symbolic name,
covering a Lancashire population which grew in the first twenty years
of the century from 672,000 to 1,052,000. But let a very different
person from Mrs. Browning—let Benjamin Disraeli, then a young
man, describe the portent.
Mark you, not between capital and labour, but between capital and
science, still by machinery arming capital to vaster strength—
VI
But you will say that, although this revolt in the better minds of
England, a hundred years ago, may be a fact, I have as yet quoted
but the evidence of a poetess and a novelist. Very well, then: I go to
Blue Books and the reports of several commissions, reminding you
that I lay most stress on the children because it happened through
their almost inconceivable sufferings that, such as it was, victory
came.
In 1831 Michael Sadler (a great man, in spite of Macaulay, and
the ancestor of a great one—if I may insert this word of long
admiration for the first senior man who spoke to me at my first
undergraduate dinner in Hall, more than forty years ago)—in 1831
this Michael Sadler, member for Newark, introduced a Ten Hours Bill,
and moved its second reading in a speech that roundly exposed,
along with other woes of the poor, the sacrifice of child life in the
mills. The Bill was allowed a second reading on condition that the
whole subject should be referred to a Select Committee, over which
Sadler presided.
Now let me quote a page from Mr. and Mrs. Hammond’s recently
published study of Lord Shaftesbury, then Lord Ashley, who, though
so many have laughed at him, devoted his life that they should laugh
if they chose, but willy-nilly on the right side of their mouths, and not
with a grin unacceptable to any Divinity presumed as having created
Man in His image—
—and so on, and so on. Sadler forced the horrible tale upon
Parliament. Unhappily, being pitted against Macaulay at Leeds in the
General Election of 1832, he lost his seat, though Manchester sent
an appeal signed by 40,000 factory-workers: and he never returned
to the House of Commons. He died in 1835 at fifty-five, worn out by
his work on behalf of these poor children.
VII
His mantle descended to Lord Ashley: and Ashley, after bitter
defeats, won on the mine-children what had been lost in the cotton-
mills. For the mines took an even more hideous toll of childhood than
did the mills. Listen to this, extracted from the Report of the
Commission of 1840–1842, which shocked all England by its
disclosures—