The Black Hole of Calcutta
A Poem by Ebenezer Elliott
Corn Law Rhymer and Poet of the Poor
The style of the poem is unusual for Elliott since it is written in rhymed couplets - a format which the poet rarely used. The format was described by the lecturer and researcher, E. R. Seary, as a defective trochaic tetrameter! Certainly the poem uses repetition, a technique often used by Elliott to emphasise the point he is making. The poem gallops along and is very effective. It demonstrates the hatred Elliott had for the Bread Tax as he called the Corn Laws. In Elliott's view all the misfortunes of his day could be ascribed to the Bread Tax. The poem lists how these misfortunes have affected all sectors of society, including himself with reference to his bankruptcy notice appearing in the London Gazette. Elliott believed that the conditions in England were as bad as those in the Black Hole of Calcutta: " an exact picture of bread-taxed England," as he described it. This was the reason for choosing the title of the poem. The subject matter of the poem has nothing to do with the Black Hole.
No exact date of publication for the poem has been traced, but thr poem first appeared in the second edition of "The Corn Law Rhymes" which was published in 1831. Following the great reception which greeted the publication of the first edition of 1830, Elliott hurriedly wrote new poems about the Corn Laws or gathered together earlier poem for including in the second edition. We can only conclude that the Black Hole poem was written in 1831 or earlier.
The disaster of the Black Hole of Calcutta happened in 1756 long before Elliott was born in 1781. The Nawab of Bengal captured Calcutta from the British and a number of soldiers were trapped in a fort. Prisoners were taken when the fort was overrun and they were locked up overnight in the guard room of the fort. The guard room (some reports called it a dungeon) was 18ft long and 15 feet wide with two small windows. Most of the soldiers perished overnight with heat exhaustion, suffocation or with being trampelled as they fought for air.Contemporary accounts say that 123 men out of 146 died, though more recently it is thought that 43 men out of 64 had perished. Still a horrific event and one which caused long lasting trauma.
| The Black Hole of Calcutta |
|
WHAT for Saxon,
Frank, and Hun, What hath England's
bread-tax done ? Ask the ruin it hath
made, Ask of
bread-tax-ruin'd trade; Ask the struggle and
the groan, For the shadow of a
bone, Like a strife for
life, for life, Hand to hand, and
knife to knife. Hopeless trader,
answer me ! What hath bread-tax
done for thee? Ask thy lost and
owing debts, Ask our
bankrupt-throng'd Gazettes. Clothier, proud of
Peterloo ! Ironmaster, loyal,
too ! What hath bread-tax
done for you ? Let the Yankee tariff
tell, None to buy, and all
to sell; Useless buildings,
castle strong, Hundred thousands,
worth a song; Starving workmen,
warehouse full, Saxon web, from
Polish wool, Grown where grew the
wanted wheat, Which we might not
buy and eat. Merchant,
bread-tax'd-trade wont pay, Profits lessen every
day; Sell thy stock and
realize, Let thy streeted
chimneys rise; And when bread tax'd
ten are two, Learn what
bread-tax'd rents can do. Sneak! that wouldst
for groat a year Sell thy soul, and
sell it dear ! Self-robb'd servile!
sold, not bought, For the shadow of a
groat ! Unbribed Judas ! what
thy gain, By sad Europe's
millions slain ? By our treasures,
pour'd in blood Over battle-field and
flood ; Bread-tax'd profits,
endless care, Competition in
despair. With thy bile and
with thy gear, Wheels and shuttles
gainless here, With the remnant of
thy all, Whither, reptile wilt
thou crawl ? What hath bread-tax
done for me, . Farmer, what for
thine and thee ? Ask of those who toil
to live, And the price they
cannot give ; Ask our hearths, our
gainless marts, Ask thy children's
broken hearts, Ask their mother, sad
and grey, Destined yet to
parish pay. Bread-tax'd weaver,
all can see What that tax hath
done for thee, And thy children,
vilely led, Singing hymns for
shameful bread, Till the stones of
every street Know their little
naked feet. Building lawyer's
nominee, What hath bread-tax
done for thee ? Ask thy fainting
thoughts, that strive But to keep despair
alive ; Ask thy list of
friends betray'd, Houses empty, rents
unpaid, Rising streets and
falling rents, Money fights for half
per cents ; Ask yon piles, all
bread-tax-built, Guiltless, yet the
cause of guilt, Swallowing fortunes,
spreading woes, Losing, to make
others lose. . Bread-tax-eating
absentee ; What hath bread-tax
done for thee ? Cramm'd thee, from
our children's plates, Made thee all that
nature hates, Fill'd thy skin with
untax'd wine, Fill'd thy purse with
cash of mine, Fill'd thy breast
with hellish schemes, Fill'd thy head with
fatal dreams- Of potatoes, basely
sold At the price of wheat
in gold, And of Britons sty'd
to eat Wheat-priced roots,
instead of wheat. England! what for
mine and me, What hath bread-tax
done for thee ? It hath shown what
kinglings are, Stripp'd thy hideous
idols bare, Sold thy greatness,
stain'd thy name, Struck thee from the
rolls of fame, Given thy fields to
civil strife, Changed thy falchion
for the knife, To th' invading knout
consign'd Basest back, and
meanest mind, Cursed thy harvests,
cursed thy land, Hunger-stung thy
skill'd right hand, Sent thy riches to
thy foes, Kick'd thy breech,
and tweak'd thy nose, And beneath the
western skies, Sown the worm that
never dies. Man of Consols, hark
to me ! What shall bread-tax
do for thee ? Rob thee for the
dead-alive, Pawn thy thousands
ten for five, And, ere yet its work
be done, Pawn thy thousands
five for one. What shall bread-tax
yet for thee, Palaced pauper ? We
shall see. It shall tame thee,
and thy heirs, Beggar them, and
beggar theirs, Melt thy plate, for
which we paid, Buy ye breeches ready
made, Sell my lady's
tax-bought gown, And the lands thou
call'st thy own. Then of courses five
or more, Grapery, horse-race,
coach and four, Pamper'd fox-hounds,
starving men, Whores and bastards,
nine or ten, Twenty flunkies fat
and gay, Whip and jail for
holiday, Paid informer,
poacher pale, Sneaker s license,
poison’d ale, Seat in senate, seat
on bench, Pension'd lad, or
wife, or wench ; Fiddling parson,
Sunday card, Pimp, and dedicating
bard.- On the broad and bare
highway, Toiling there for
groat a day, We will talk to thee
and thine, Till thy wretches
envy mine, Till thy paunch of
baseness howl, Till thou seem to have
a soul. Peer, too just, too
proud to share Millions, wrung from
toil and care ! Righteous peer, whose
fathers fed England's poor with
untax'd bread ! Ancient peer, whose
stainless name Ages old have given
to fame ; What shall bread-tax
do for thee ? Make thee poor as
mine and me ; Drive thee from thy
marble halls To some hovel's
squalid walls ; Drive thee from the
land of crimes, Houseless, into
foreign climes, There to sicken,
there to sigh, Steep thy soul in
tears and die- Like a flower from
summer's glow, Withering on the
polar snow. Church bedew'd with
martyr'd blood, Mother of the wise
and good ; Temple of our smiles
and tears, Hoary with the frost
of years ; Holy church, eternal,
true ! What for thee will
bread-tax do ? It will strip thee
bare as she Whom a despot
stripp'd for thee ; Of thy surplice make
thy pall, Lower thy pride, and
take thy all- Save thy truth,
establish'd well, Which-when spire and
pinnacle, Gorgeous arch, and
figured stone, Cease to tell of
glories gone- Still shall speak of
thee, and Him Whom adore the
seraphim. Power, which likest
Heaven's might seem, Glorious once in
freedom's beam ; Once by tyrants felt
and fear'd, Still as freedom's
dust revered.- Throne, established
by the good, Not unstain'd with
patriot blood, Not unwatch'd by
patriot fears, Not unwept by patriot
tears! What shall bread-tax
do for thee, Venerable Monarchy ? Dreams of evil, spare
my sight ! Let that horror rest
in night. |
| The notes below were added by Elliott at the end of "The Black Hole Of Calcutta." The Poet of the Poor liked to add explanatory notes to his poems. This was particularly true of the more political poems where he would expand on an idea going into great detail. Sometimes he would reveal what had been the source of the subject matter of the poem. In the notes below, Elliott echoes the questions asked in the poem and provides answers to the questions with commentaries of various length. What comes across strongly is Elliott's hate of the Corn Laws, his single-minded determination to tell the world that he is correct with his views and his belief that things will only improve by ridding the country of the Corn Laws. What also comes across is his impatience and his lack of tolerance of those who think differently to himself. In fact, the bard shows some immaturity by accusing his opponents of "child murder" and "midnight assassination."It just shows how his passionate beliefs cause him to lose his commonsense: he might well be seen as a ranter! |
Why does not the country shopkeeper oppose the
corn laws? Because he supposes that he recovers from the farmers what the bread-cost
him. He’s mistaken; for if the farmers buy his goods, they pay for them with his
own money, wrung from him, and from his other customers, in the price of bread.
Why do not the master manufacturers oppose the
corn law? Because they suppose that they can extort from their workmen, in
lowered wages, what the bread-tax takes from their profits. Well, if they cannot
find patriotism in their cold hearts, they will find it, in due time, at the
bottom of an empty pocket.
Why do not our merchants oppose the corn law,
the effect of which is, to reduce the rate of profit on all British capital, skill,
and labour? Alas, we have no merchants! The corn law has transformed them into
a sort of pedlars, or shabby brokers. When a foreigner enquires for an English
merchant, he is shown some fifty pound upstart, dressed like a dandy, but
poorer than a Polish Jew, who, with the looks of a wolf, the cunning of a cat, and
the airs of a bashaw*, plays three characters at once - thief, half beggar, and
satrap**.
Why do not the fundholders, to a man, oppose
the corn laws? I know not – but their property will be the very next great lump
which the bread tax eaters will swallow.
Why does not the Church oppose the corn laws?
She can gain nothing by it, for her lands are all under let; and certainly the
landlords, when they have digested the fundholders, will eat her too.
Why do not the farmers oppose the corn law?
Because they conceive that they derive an advantage from it, in the price of
corn caught. They are mistaken. The competition for farms, of which it is the
cause, will ruin every man of them. Unhappily, the landlords will be the last
devoured but then, they will have the satisfaction of being eaten raw and alive.
Every man who dreads dangerous turn-outs of workmen,
should oppose the corn law, for it is the great cause of such turn-outs. And
before he blamed the workmen, he should
compare their conduct with that of the landlords. The workmen try to get higher
wages, generally by legal means: the landlords make a law, by which they obtain
their unfair price.
Every friend of agricultural improvement
should oppose the corn law; for so long as the agriculturists can secure a
forced price, they will make no efforts to improve their art.
Every man who would not welcome revolution,
should oppose the corn law, or it will revolutionise the kingdom long before a
reform can be affected.
Every advocate of reform should oppose the
corn law, for it is the tax shield of his enemies: deprive them of that shield,
and they must become reformers themselves, or sink beneath the consequences of
their misdeeds, taxation.
Whoever does not oppose the corn law, is a
patron of want, national immorality, bankruptcy, child murder, incendiary
fires, midnight assassination, and anarchy. Therefore, every supposed moral or
religious man - every schoolmaster - every teacher of religion especially - should
oppose the corn law or he cannot possibly be either moral or religious, and the
devil would be more fit to be a teacher than he.
Why the little landed proprietors near large
towns do not oppose the corn law, I could never imagine; for their land is
commercial land; and the tenant who pays one shilling per week more than he
ought for bread, would be able to pay 52 shillings per annum more rent, if he
could obtain his bread at a fair price. But the corn laws ought to be supported
by every wretch, who would grieve to see this country carry her burden, as if
it were only a raindrop on the eagle’s wing; by every miscreant who would
rejoice to see our mechanics labouring fifteen hours for eight pence, and
eating potatoes at thirty pounds per stone, while capital was quitting the
island in all directions never to return, excepting in a hostile shape. Every
man-devil, who loves evil for its own sake, and says to the demon within him, “Be
thou my good,” ought to support the corn law; for the consequences of that law
are of an infernal nature, unaccompanied by good, in anyway. While it exists,
no reduction of taxation, no, not the extinction of all other taxes, could be
of any ultimate benefit to the people; for it would either destroy a sum equal in amount to the taxes
repealed, or transfer that amount to the landlords, in raised rents, and prices
of corn. In fact, it was intended by its authors to transfer the wealth of the
nation to themselves; but it destroys far more than it transfers, as they will
yet find to their cost; and every man who is bribed by it, wants but a Goethe
are to be recognised as a Faust. It compels us to exchange our skill and labour
for the produce of barren soils, and make such soils the measure of our
profits, reducing, as it were, the capabilities of fertile and mighty England,
by the scale of barren and feeble Sweden. How fast soever the competitors for
bread may increase in number, no increase is allowed in the bread for which
they compete; consequently we must everyday give more and more capital, skill,
and labour, for less and less food; the saws which in July last sold for £40 will
only sell for £30 in July next; the clerk who last year received a salary of £100,
will be grudgingly paid £80 next year; and the shopkeeper whose profits are
£150, must be satisfied with 2/3 of that sum one year hence. In comfort,
morals, science, we are inferior to our rivals; our manhood is more feeble than
their infancy. The political machine will soon want power to overcome even its
own friction; and, deprived alike of individual prosperity and national
strength, we shall become the prey of anarchy, and fall before the first
invader. If the winds, and the tides, and the earth, in her annual and a
diurnal motion, were arrested, who dares contemplate the result? Yet the corn
law is arresting the winds, and the tides, unteaching the uses of navigation,
as if there had never been a Christopher Colon, and literally compelling the
stars in their courses to fight against England. Her old age and
decrepitude - an old age without
dignity, and a decrepitude without commiseration - are
anticipated, a thousand years before their time, by act of Parliament. Hear, oh
Czar, and knout*** already in imagination, thy province of Thule!
* a haughty person
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