An Article around an Unpublished Poem by Ebenezer Elliott

"Monopoly The Bane Of England"

This poem was found in the August 17^th 1844 issue of “The League,” the newspaper of the Anti-Corn Law League. Ebenezer Elliott was never a member of the League which may be the reason for him submitting the poem anonymously. The poem was attributed to Elliott by Simon Brown in his bibliography of Elliott published by Leicester University in 1971. Curiously, Brown’s bibliography refers to a letter (not a poem) from Elliott to the newspaper editor: it is a possibility that Brown has somehow muddled two references into one.

The poem was written quite late in Elliott’s life, and it shows he stuck to his principles throughout his days. The poem has not appeared in any of the collections of Elliott’s poetry, and it is therefore deemed a newly discovered & unpublished work by the Corn Law Rhymer.

The Corn Law Rhymer was always a proponent of free trade & had no truck for monopolists. The tone, subject matter, language & syntax are clearly those of the Poet of the Poor.

Monopoly The Bane Of England

                Ah! England! happy England once,

                Home of the brave and free;

                The fostering soil of human rights,

                And glorious liberty.

                Thy rugged hills were Freedom’s shrines,

                Wher’oft thy sons of yore,

                When Europe slept in slavish chains,

                Have worshipp’d in their gore.

                Tho’ stainless stiff thy banner waves.

                Unmatch’d thy battle-brand,

                Oppression on thy myriad sons

                Hath laid his crushing hand.

                And, tho’ thou wieldest as of yore

                The sceptre of the sea,

                Yet gone the shield of England’s heart,

                A happy peasantry.

                Such once were thine; for, as they met

                At sainted holy day,

                Tho’ oft as coarse in speech as sport,

                Joy’s sunshine still had they.

                Tho’ rude their cots, yet health robust

                And pleased content were there;

                For plenty, as ‘t had nursed their youth,

‘T would bless their silvery hair.

But now, where once a joyous crowd,

They came at closing eve:

With famished look and tatter’d garb

Their children meet to grieve.

They meet from furnace, loom and forge,

From labour’s countless spheres;

Youth, manhood, age, beneath the thrall

Of life imbittering fears.

Of fears not such as bondsmen feel,

Who, cowering, toil and pant;

But of ill-requited industry,

Of indigence and want.

No longer villains – they attend

No haughty lordling’s call;

No boors nor serfs, yet bonds and chains

Are on the limbs of all.

Oppressive laws and grievous wrongs

The deeps of strife have stirr’d;

Revenge incites despairing hope,

And plaints and threats are heard.

And yet those plaints are all of one,

One despot-welded chain,

That pride and sateless avarice forged,

To guard unholy gain.

Needst thou be told its length or links,

Or name? Monopoly.

Ah! no, it circles every limb,

Damps every energy.

Vainly to ‘scape its tyrant thrall,

Trade waves her nerveless wing;

Vigour; and enterprise, and skill,

In vain their succours bring.

Vain is the pale mechanic’s toil –

Vain, vain the peasant’s sweat;

Its shackles upon industry,

Are too, too firmly set.

‘Tis strange that those who toil the most,

Should be the scantiest fed:-

Stranger! that ever tax were laid

Upon the labourer’s bread.

‘Tis strange that sweat of industry,

Should pamper idleness:-

Stranger! that England’s boasted law

Should Englishmen oppress.

Ah, pity ‘tis so foul a blot

Our statute book should stain:

Yet more, ah! more, that we so long

Should wear the galling chain.

Comments on the poem

Elliott’s poem begins with the poet recalling earlier days where everyone in the land was bright & happy. The good old days of yesterday! This blessed state (if it ever existed – which seems unlikely) has gone for ever. The Corn Law Rhymer looking back with longing is something which is seen fairly often with the poet. It serves as a way of making a strong contrast to the dismal present. Today, “Oppressive laws and grievous wrongs” have changed the nation’s standard of living leading to despair & mutterings of revenge. The cause of all this misery is obvious to all: Britain’s sad condition is caused by monopoly.

Elliott then dwells on the hardship caused by monopoly & laments that those that work the hardest suffer from lack of bread. He is stunned that the laws of the land – this country once the home of the free – should oppress the people & result in such poverty.

The bard has no solution to the problem caused by monopolists. He does not even mention free trade (which is surprising) nor does he mention revolution, which he did not want anyway. Many others had clamoured for change by force if necessary.

The poem is a longish one, but the Rhymer manages to keep the lines flowing pretty well. He has spent some time polishing the poem: at this stage in his life, the poet had time to spare out in his isolated home near Great Houghton.

The following statement reveals how bad poverty was at the time Elliott wrote his verse. Earlier in his life, the Poet of the Poor had been bankrupt, had begged in the street for bread & knew what it was like to live in fear of the dreaded union workhouse. The following statement from a pauper appeared in “The League” newspaper & was collected in 1844 by Henry Leake of Headington in Oxfordshire.

Mary Claydon’s Statement, July 26^th 1844

        We went into the union at Abingdon the day after Christmas Day. We went in because we had no work. My husband was earning 8s a week [ie 40p] before he went into the union. We stayed there ten weeks and three days.

        When we came out, we came hold to Baldon, but they would not find us any place to be in, so we rented a little place in Abingdon.

        My husband went backwards and forwards from Abingdon to Baldon for work. We got behind in our rent, because my husband was ill one fortnight; and one week he had no work; the farmer, whose turn it was to take him, said he had nothing for him to do; that week I pawned my husband’s coat and my gown and shawl; I got 3s 6d on them [ie 17.5p); and we lived on that for a week.

        I have been without bread two or three days together; and my children the same; I had none to give them. I got three weeks back in my rent; and left two chairs, one table, and a basket of crockery with the woman till I had got the money to pay.

        My husband has bad health, and can’t earn so much as other men when he is in work. I left Abingdon for Baldon to go to look after a woman that was ill; and lived with her. When she got better she wished me to go out. I left her cottage three weeks come Monday morning.

        There is only one room in the cottage, and no windows or chimney; it is wattled up with flakes and mud; there is a great hole in the wall to let the smoke out; the minister said it was too thick for us to be twelve of us in one room; there were six of one family and six of the other. When we went out we slept three nights under some trees without anything round us; then my husband cut some boughs off the trees; and now he has made it better with some bits of carpet that the minister gave us. My youngest child is twelve months old. We have all been wet through to the skin three times.

        On Wednesday morning the constable came and pulled our tent down; and said he dare not let us stay in the open air. I went to Squire Peers; he seemed sorry for us, but said he could do nothing for us. I asked the constable to put us in a house, but he said he couldn’t. There are three cottages empty in Baldon. All of them belong to Sir Henry Willoughby; they don’t dare let us have one of them without Sir Henry’s leave; and they are looking for him coming down.

We have slept out now three weeks on Monday. The neighbours are very kind, and leave their cloaks with us of a night when they come out of the field. We have only one rug and one sheet, and three old pieces of sacking of our own to cover us with. My husband has been ill this week and has only done two days work, but is gone to Cufton to reap today.

I have heard the above read over, and it is all true.

Mary Claydon’s mark   X

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