Having recently worked on writing a verse novel centred on the life of an orphan boy living in Victorian England, I undertook a project requiring a great deal of reading research regarding life in general during this particular era. Historical accuracy was essential. Apart from supporting my writing efforts, this research extended my knowledge. It chipped away at my ignorance- and that's always welcome.
A wealth of information regarding the prevailing view of the child at that time was revealed. Children were to be seen and not heard. Discipline was often strict in the extreme. The belief being children were wilful and had to be taught to bend to the dictates of adults. In the eyes of many, the children of the poor became expedient factory fodder. They were exposed to exploitation, cruelty and danger. Schooling for them was frequently over by the age of 11.
The poem I am sharing is based on actual accounts of the working lives of children in the factory system associated with the rise of the industrial revolution.
This poem is an example of a documentary poem and uses narrative verse style. It is a stand alone poem and was not included in my verse novel. It is not the most joyful poem I have ever written, but it does possess an essential honesty regarding the grim reality of those times, for many children. There are times when poets need to speak of truth. Our work as writers and recorders helps us appreciate both the mud and the flowers...
Cotton Mill
Kids
In the dark
and squalid corners of Victorian England’s history
The cotton
industry devoured the childhoods of the young
the
vulnerable.
As
factories expanded
And the
spinning machines grew bigger,
-Ever
bigger
Demand grew
for youngsters
To toil as
piecers.
Repairing
the breaks in the endless thread lines
The moment
they occurred.
When
cotton on spindles
Stretched,
twisted and broke
Barefooted
piecers, sprang to action
Engaging in
exhausting, dangerous repair.
JR Clynes
Became a
piecer
Aged ten,
in 1870.
He rose
each day around 4 A.M.,
Bolted down
a few mouthfuls of food
Before
walking through pitch black streets
To a
fateful factory and its gas lit gloom.
Clatter,
rattle, bang!
-Swishing
thrusting levers
Of monstrous
machines
Performed
their contorted moves,
Roaring
constantly,
Surrounded
by the massed workers,
Men, women,
children
with sunken eyes, complexions sallow.
All labouring away for a pittance
Working barefooted
The boy
toiled desperately beneath the monster machine
That must never rest.
Ever
watchful,
Lest it
grip hold of him,
Mutilating
his small body
In its
sliding jennies.
The boy all
the time alert for the sound of the shrill dinner whistle
Signalling
time to rest
Providing an aching body
Time to revive,
Time to regain some breath.
© Alan j Wright
It's hard to imagine the cruelty of the factories of that time -- your poem gives a glimpse of a very different (or is it?) time and the danger of the job.
ReplyDeleteInsights are important for all of us Kay. I thought I knew about this era, but my eyes were opened and I found myself horrified. If my poem sheds a little light, then I am well pleased.
DeleteI cannot imagine. So many children were without childhoods. Sadly, it still happens...different ways, different places. That's why we need to shine a light on history. Your project intrigues me.
ReplyDeleteIt sadly continues to happen Linda, as you say. I have learnt so much in this process. I am still looking for a publisher brave enough to take this 'true' story on...
DeleteAlan, you have really painted this grim picture so very well. I felt breathless and weary and anxious and even angry as I read. Thank you for taking me there - it's important we know the past so we can address the present.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sally, your response is a validation. I agree whole heartedly that we need to know the past -warts and all. Sadly such mistreatment and abuse continues in our present day.
DeleteWhat a heartbreaking reality... reminds me of the chimney sweeps. I'm glad your writing about it. Thanks for sharing with us.
ReplyDeleteThank you Irene. Yes, the plight of the chimney sweeps was no better. I'm glad I'm writing about it too... Sometimes our role is to deliver some light into dark places.
DeleteI think of Medieval Times when I think of the Industrial Age & its cruel constructs. I hope I read your novel-in-verse from this period between the covers some day, Alan. That's a huge accomplishment to research & write about a challenging topic. Appreciations for this poem which singes me. Poor lads, poor lads.
ReplyDeleteJan/Bookseedstudio
Jan, I appreciate your generous remarks regarding my writing project. You're right, it has been a challenging project, but equally, it has been rewarding and something quite different to my previous writing projects.
DeleteYou've reminded me of the your children whose small hands are just right for working at the handmade rug weaving in India. Yes, "both the mud and the flowers..." happen in poetry but I admire you for taking on the mud by writing a book that shows the stories of children from the past & still in the trap today.
ReplyDeleteAnd you have reminded me of similar children in Turkey Linda. Children suffering premature blindness from years of working long hours weaving in dimly lit rooms so that tourists might purchase intricately woven rugs. The stories of the past continue to be reflected in the present...
DeleteIt's the bare feet that stick with me -- especially in the shadow of the monstrous machinery. Powerful, Alan.
ReplyDeleteThe bare feet apparently gave them greater purchase on the oily surfaces beneath the machines. Shoes were seen as even more precarious.
DeleteAlan, this is a gorgeous poem. Your verse novel sounds fascinating. I am also fascinated with this time period. These boys remind me of the kids who worked in coal mines, living cruel, miserable lives. I've been reading about that time period recently, when the spectator sport called "pedestrianism" began, and the new sport of competitive walking, which aroused my curiosity. There is so much to learn.
ReplyDeleteAh Janice, the coal mine children met with much that was abysmal. We share a fascination with these times and events it would seem. I hope that in the not too distant future I can share my verse novel with you...
DeleteWhat a difficult life! Thank you for teaching us about it through your writing.
ReplyDeleteA difficult life indeed Ruth. I'm glad you appreciated my poem and my post.
DeleteYou've captured such tension between the bare-footed youth and the loud, monstrous machines. "The cotton industry devoured the childhoods of the young."--what a terrible, wonderful line. Thanks for this peek into your research.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your response Molly. I appreciate your observations regarding this confronting poem.
DeleteI first knew the author Elizabeth Winthrop through her fantasy books in The Castle in the Attic series. But the book of hers I love most is Counting on Grace, which takes place in a mill town in Vermont. Your poem and your upcoming verse novel will make a great pairing to give readers a look at this time in history from both sides of the pond.
ReplyDeleteThe mistreatment of children remains a universal concern. The documentation of such mistreatment is present in work of fiction and nonfiction as evidenced by your own reading Mary Lee. I hope I can bring my book to a wider audience and add to the voices calling out such matters.
DeleteAlan, I have always been fintrigued by the cruelty involved with child labor. Your look into this topic is commendable. Your poem provides a look back into a cruel world of children laboring in drudgery. The barefoot fact is a new one for me and it seems incomprehensible. Thank you for sharing your knowledge gathered through research.
ReplyDeleteCarol, thank you for your considered and thoughtful response to my poem. I remain grateful to the research for expanding my world view and providing me an opportunity to share a little light.
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