Thomas Carlyle

Thomas Carlyle depicts not blissful progress but the societal downfalls of the Industrial mindset. In his “Past and Present-Midas”, he calls the riches of the Industrial Revolution “enchanted wealth” (479). He asserts that this wealth helps no one, only increases the divide between the have and have-nots, “In Poor and Rich, instead of noble thrift and plenty, there is idle luxury alternating with mean scarcity and inability” (479). He points out that this new age of hope has done little for the poor, who are not helped by these magical riches. He describes the silent inhabitants of a workhouse, “They sit there, pent up, as in a kind of horrid enchantment; glad to be imprisoned and enchanted, that they might not perish starved” (478). Even more indicative of these men’s sad situation is their countenances, “…the gloomiest expression, not of anger, but of grief and shame and manifold inarticulate distress and weariness…” (478). If these impoverished men are any indication, society is not booming but on a decline. Indeed, Carlyle notes that the workhouse scene reminds him of “Dante’s Hell” (478).

Another sign of the desperate times are the desperate measures the poor must take to survive. Carlyle mentions a horrifying case, wherein, “…a Mother and a Father are arraigned and found guilty of poisoning three of their children, to defraud a ‘burial-society’ of some 3l.8s due on the death of each child…” (479). Yet he does more than just decry this horrific event; he makes sure the lesson sticks with the reader. He describes the parents’ hopeless outlook and consequently horrifying conversation,

“What shall we do to escape starvation? We are deep sunk here, in our dark cellar, and help is far…. Our poor little starveling Tom, who cries all day for victuals, who will see only evil and not good in the world: if he were out of misery at once; he well dead, and the rest of us perhaps kept alive? It is thought, and hinted; at last it is done” (479).

Carlyle’s description makes this a highly personal and memorable scenario. Not only does Carlyle put the reader in the parents’ place by describing the child as “our” child, he also names him. Naming this innocent and unfortunate child gives the reader one more mental hook with which to remember this horrific event. In appealing to family emotions and a sense of justice, Carlyle ensures that no one who reads his Midas can possibly walk away without a strong feeling that something is highly amiss in such a society.

Carlyle seems to argue that even those who benefit financially from the Industrial Revolution do not really gain much. Carlyle notes, “We have sumptuous garnitures for our Life, but have forgotten to live in the middle of them” (479). Carlyle obviously puts financial gain at the bottom of his list of life priorities. Instead of celebrating with the rich, he contemplates this new society and its effect on the individuals. He asks, “…what increase of blessedness is there? Are they better, beautifuler, stronger, braver? Are they even what they call ‘happier’ ?” (479). He seems to feel that character is much more important than wealth. I agree. I find it ironic that a search for progress and happiness could bring about so little real improvement and such a false sense of happiness and security. After reading Carlyle’s works, I am starting to wonder if the optimism seen in the writings of other Victorians such as Fanny Kemble and Thomas Macaulay was in reality quite phony and misinformed.

I think Carlyle makes an apt association in comparing English Industrial society to the fable of King Midas. Just as Midas’ wish to have everything he touched become gold was granted, so too was England increasing exponentially in wealth. However, like Midas, they have yet to realize the isolation of wealth. Midas could touch no one, or he would turn that person into gold. Similarly, the Industrial society was comprised of people who, as Carlyle notes in “Past and Present-Captains of Industry”, are “encased each in his transparent ‘ice-palace’; our brother visible in his, making signals and gesticulations to us;-visible, but forever unattainable…” (485).The Industrial Society also has yet to really feel the sorrow that Midas felt upon turning his beloved child into a piece of gold. They actually are turning their children into gold, with the parents killing the children for money just to survive, and more prevalently with the child labor in unsafe factories.

* I realized in retrospect that I expanded a bit above the details of the King Midas story than what Thomas Carlyle gives. I had been read the story from The Book of Virtues as a child, and I guess some of the details just stuck with me. The story of King Midas is retold as “The Golden Touch” in The Book of Virtues by William J. Bennet. The story is on pages 63-66 in the version published by Simon & Schuster, presumably in New York, in 1993.

Industrialism and Fanny Kemble

Fanny Kemble’s “Record of a Girlhood” includes a description of her first ride on a steam engine. She was the first woman to ride on this new contraption (490). Her writing reflects not only the optimism of the Victorian age but also the sheer newness of the experience. The novelty of traveling by steam engine is difficult for her to describe. Part of this difficulty may have been that language had yet to catch up with technology. Language evolves as it is needed, and the purpose of language is to convey meaning. However, at the time of Kemble’s writing there were no adequate words with the same meanings to describe either the steam engine or her feeling on the actual journey. The ideas and sensations were hitherto inconceivable. There were no precise, standardized terms with which to describe the ride, because traveling by steam engine was by no means routine yet. Kemble hints at this inability to properly describe the experience somewhat explicitly. She states, “You can’t imagine how strange it seemed to be journeying on thus…” and later, “You cannot conceive what the sensation of cutting the air was…” (491). Indeed, the whole experience is “strange beyond description” (491). It is such a new experience that it does not yet seem real or concrete, as Kemble explains,“…I felt as if no fairy tale was ever half so wonderful as what I saw” (491). The steam engine is truly a “magical machine” (491).

Kemble could not adequately describe her ride on the steam engine except by comparison. Throughout the work, the steam engine is anthropomorphized as a horse, or compared to a horse and given its qualities. The steam engine is the new horse. She notes,“…they make these curious little fire-horses all mares” (490). The steam engine’s barrel contains enough water to “prevent her being thirsty for fifteen miles” (490). Indeed, the locomotive is a living “creature” that “wants water” (491). Like any animal, it needs not only water but food as well; the coals are the oats (491). To describe the composition and operation of the steam engine, Kemble expands the horse analogy. The wheels are the feet, the pistons the legs, and the “reins, bit and bridle of this wonderful beast” are a “small steel handle” (490-491). The train is further described as a “snorting little animal, which I felt quite inclined to pat” (491).

If the steam engine is the new horse, man has finally in some way succeeded in improving upon nature. Mankind has not only matched nature but also exceeded both it and popular expectation. Just the construction of the railroad tunnels is an example of man mastering nature. Creating tunnels involves moving massive pieces of stone, quite an undertaking as bits of formerly impassible but majestic mountains are now under human control. Kemble reflects, “…these great masses of stone had been cut asunder to allow our passage thus far below the surface of the earth” (491). The steam engine not only improves upon the horse, but the bird as well. Kemble describes the top speed of thirty-five miles an hour as “swifter than a bird flies (for they tried the experiment with a snipe)” (491). The locomotive literally seems to fly, smoothly “cutting the air” (491). Kemble notes, “…this sensation of flying was quite delightful” (491).

This new technology is beyond exciting. Indeed, it evokes emotions perhaps even more intense than common adoration. As Kemble begins her letter, “A common sheet of paper is enough for love, but a foolscap extra can alone contain a railroad and my ecstasies” (490). Yet despite the novelty, Kemble “…had a perfect sense of security, and not the slightest fear…” on her train ride (491). Kemble’s security in the steam engine speaks to that era’s sense of security in human progress. Kemble is extremely optimistic, and her attitude reflects a major segment of the Victorian population.

Felicia Hemans

Although Felicia Hemans portrays women in traditional roles, she was by no means traditional. As an educated woman who published many acclaimed works, she was very different from the housewives she portrayed in The Homes of England. The biography of her in the textbook mentions that she shared a publisher with Lord Byron, who referred to her as “your feminine He-Man” or “Mrs. Hewoman’s” (404). Lord Byron’s attitude toward accomplished women was probably more common in that era, as the women’s rights movements was still several decades away. Hemans seems to undermine that perception of women, if not always outright.

In The Homes of England, Hemans presents the image of a family around their hearth at night (line 10, 412). However, she does not just concentrate on the wealthy family gathered around their ornate fireplace. This notion of equality of all is perhaps a throwback to the first generation Romantics. Hemans is like fellow Romantics Wordsworth and Blake in her inclusion of different social classes. She writes about both the “stately” homes (line 1, 412) and the “cottage” homes (line 25, 412). She sees both extremes as representing England; neither is more important than the other. She exclaims, “The free, fair Homes of England! / Long, Long in hut and hall” (lines 33-34, 412). Her inclusion of both “hut and hall” shows again that England is not cut of one cloth; England has a diversity that cannot be ignored and yet in that diversity there is equality.

Even though Felicia Hemans depicts women in traditional roles in The Homes of England, there is an undercurrent of feminism. The women in the poem are homemakers, doing traditional women’s tasks. They are the creators of “household love” (line 11, 412). Yet no matter the family’s social or financial standing, the mother is a very active figure. In one household, “woman’s voice flows forth in song” (line 11, 412). It is assumed that the woman is teaching music to her children or otherwise entertaining the family. Women are also storytellers of “childhood’s tale” (line 12, 412). In addition, they nourish the education of the child by encouraging reading (line 16, 412). The mention of “church-bells’ chime” (line 21, 412) shows that women would be involved in the child’s religious education as well. The home is “where first the child’s glad spirit loves/Its country and its God!” (lines 39-40, 412). Given all of Hemans’ examples of women’s work, it seems the mother plays a key part in shaping the child. There is a saying that “the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” Despite the women’s apparently more traditionally and more submissive rules, they actually wield a good deal of influence. Note that these homes of which each “hallowed wall” (line 36, 412) should be guarded are the domains of the mothers. The soldiers who fight for England fight not only for England in its greatness and beauty, but also with the nostalgic memories of their homes and their own mothers.

Hemans' The Homes of England also displays a Romantic appeal to emotion, especially national pride and familial tenderness. The opening quote from Marmion sets up this poem as being about patriotism, “Where’s the coward that would not dare/To fight for such a land?” (412). Throughout the poem, Hemans goes on to extol England’s goodness. She illustrates its majestic beauty with various nature scenes. England is a land of “tall ancestral trees” (line 3), “rejoicing stream[s]” (line 8), “silvery brooks” (line 27), and “glowing orchards” (line 29). To Hemans, England is not only beautiful, but should be and shall be beautiful and adored forever, “And green for ever be the groves, / And bright the flowery sod” (lines 37-38, 412).

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Percy Bysshe Shelley is a Romantic poet of the second generation, but even so, his political views seem similar to those of the first generation. The major event in the lives of the first generation of Romantics was the fall of the Bastille and the French Revolution. With those events came a disdain for centralized authority and a love of freedom and general liberal philosophy. While the French Revolution would not have had as large an impact on Shelly’s life, his works display that same disdain for centralized power as would have been found in the first generation of Romantic poets. Examining Ozymandias as a prime example, I agree with the assertion put forth in the podcast that Shelley’s view was that political power wanes over time.

The pedestal, a symbol of power, bears an intimidating inscription, “My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair” (lines 10-11, 399). It was most likely a commissioned sculpture bearing a commissioned message. What an epitaph! It speaks ultimately of a definite sense of superiority: note that Ozymandias is not just a king, but “King of Kings.” The government was a monarchial system, with one supreme head. Ozymandias’ message is that others should despair of ever being such a supreme being as he was. Indeed, his immense pride is clear in his face. His face is described, “…whose frown/and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command” (lines 4-5, 399). This is not a ruler who was pleased by anything, as demonstrated by his perpetual frown. His “wrinkled lip” points to disgust. With such a high point of view of himself, maybe nothing could impress him. The “sneer of cold command” points to the selfishness of this tyrant; he was perhaps cold and unfeeling towards the people he ruled. Or maybe the coldness refers to his stubbornness in not taking pertinent advice from his advisors. In any case, what is interesting is not the power he had but the present state of his statue and reputation. It is located in an “antique land”, hinting at its being outdated. By extension, this might be a veiled suggestion that the system of vesting the power of the state in one person was outdated. Meanwhile, Ozymandias’ statue has not stood well the test of time and the elements, “half sunk” and “shattered” (line 4, 399). Any of his accomplishments, any palaces or other testaments to his greatness have passed away, “Nothing beside remains” (line 12, 399). Indeed, the statue is in decay, a “colossal wreck” (line 13, 399).

One definition of “Romantic” given in the “Definition of Romantic” handout is “redolent or suggestive of romance; appealing to the imagination and feelings” (2). Like other Romantic poets (Blake especially comes to mind), Shelley had a sense of the infinite. It is this belief in the immortality of art that makes Shelley a romantic. Art is essentially an attempt to express the inexpressible, to harness the imagination. Since the imagination is infinite, and art partakes some of that character in its creation, it has a magic and wonder that can never die. In Ozymandias, the infinite is represented as the art and nature which persist. Ozymandias’ grandeur has been survived by “the lone and level sands” which stretch around it, as well as the artist’s original intentions. It is noted that the visage “tell [s] that its sculptor well these passions read/Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,/The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed” (lines 6-8, 399). The artist’s depiction of Ozymandias is what remains, nothing Ozymandias made himself, save his epitaph. The sculpture is described as “boundless” (line 13, 339). It is as endless as “the lone and level sands” that “stretch far away” (line 14, 339).

The idea was put forth in the podcast that second generation Romantics were pessimistic. This is also evidenced in Shelley’s Ozymandias. The statue has a very desolate setting, being “in the desart” (line 3, 399). It is ultimately a scene of destruction with the “vast and trunkless legs of stone” (line 2, 399) dominating the immediate landscape, but ultimately dwarfed by the endless sands. There is some hope in the immortality of art, but overall Percy paints a scene of ruin. A statue crumbles to pieces, almost unnoticed.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The comparison of William Wordsworth as being a poet of the ordinary and Samuel Taylor Coleridge as a poet of the supernatural mentioned in the podcast seems an apt one. Wordsworth seems to stress the extraordinary in the ordinary, while the challenge of Coleridge is making sense of his improbabilities. Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is certainly supernatural, featuring a mysterious mariner who tells a chilling tale. The unexpected abounds and it would be easy to write reams on this unexpected series of events, but I consider it more interesting to try to tie the story together. Trying to tie the story together involves a search for a moral, some overarching message to stick with the reader.

One possible moral is given at the end of the poem:
“He prayeth well, who loveth well/ Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best/ All things great and small; / For the dear God who loveth us / He made and loveth all” (lines 611-617, 340).
What makes this moral so seemingly obvious is its direct connection to the ancient mariner’s story. If the mariner had not shot the albatross, his troubles would not have been so severe. It was the death of the albatross which led to his current condition. When asked why he looks so haunted by fiends, the mariner replies, “With my cross-bow/I shot the ALBATROSS” (lines 81-81, 328). Every misfortune that befalls him befalls him because he has shot the albatross. The ship cannot sail because of what he has done, “And I had done a hellish thing/And it would work ‘em woe:/For all averred, I had killed the bird that made the breeze to blow!” (lines 91-94, 329). As a result, the crew is stranded in the middle of the ocean without water to drink. The crew forces the mariner to wear the albatross, “Instead of the cross, the Albatross/About my neck was hung” (lines 142-143, 330). However, this is not a sincere repentant action on the part of the mariner and his misery continues. His crewmates die, and still he cannot escape the memory of killing the albatross. Each death just increases the nightmarish feel, “every soul, it passed me by, /like the whiz of my CROSS-BOW!” (lines 222-223, 331). Even attempts at prayer do not release the mariner from this torment, “I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, / A wicked whisper came, and made/my heart as dry as dust” (lines 244-247, 332). To be released from this torture, he must know how it feels to respect the wildlife; he must really feel the loss of an animal. His killing the albatross offended the Polar Spirit, who “loved the bird that loved the man/ Who shot him with his bow” (lines 404-405, 336). The mariner’s release comes when, upon observing the water snakes, he notices their loveliness, “O happy living things! No tongue/ Their beauty might declare:/And I blessed them unaware!” (lines 282-285, 333). He is finally able to speak, and even more significant, he literally has a weight lifted off him. He no longer has to bear the actual albatross, “The self same moment I could pray;/And from my neck so free/The Albatross fell off, and sank/Like lead into the sea” (lines 288-291, 333). This is a turning point in the story; after this point, the mariner has his thirst satiated and can sleep; finally, he reaches land. The enormity of this event is key evidence for the given theme to be the theme of the work.

A question raised in the podcast is whether this given moral is enough of a moral or not enough. I would argue that it is both too much and not enough. It is too fitting of a moral to satisfy me; it has great textual support and makes sense but it just seems too perfect. In that sense, it is too much of a theme, much too obvious. Going with the given moral makes this a wild adventure for a very simple theme. It is also sort of a let down, too little of a moral. Where is the ingenuity of a renowned poet in such a straightforward moral? The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is hardly a child’s bedtime story. Given the wild adventure and supernatural occurrences, I am still searching for a more appropriate moral.

It was mentioned in the podcast that Coleridge was interested in the workings of the mind. Psychologically, the mariner has very complex and intense feelings. His telling of the stories is a sorting through of these events and feelings, making sense of them. It has been said that authors write about what they know. Perhaps an underlying moral for Coleridge, with his feelings of worthlessness due to his opium addiction and inability to finish tasks, is to talk about his problems. In the same way that Coleridge might have had a need for some sort of talking therapy, the ancient mariner must tell his tale. It is a compulsion he cannot escape, “Forewith this frame of mine was wrenched/With a woeful agony, /Which forced me to begin my tale; /And then it left me free” (lines 578-581, 340). Is this perhaps example of the subconscious informing the conscious? Coleridge telling himself that things would be better if he could just work through his problems? It is not a once and for all deal, but an intermittent need, “Since then, at an uncertain hour, /That agony returns:/And till my ghastly tale is told, /The heart within me burns” (lines 582-585, 340). It is perhaps a sign that we must all tell our tales, that lessons learned must be shared for the good of others as well as ourselves. At the same time, we must be good listeners to others, as the bridegroom who “cannot choose but hear” (line 19, 327).

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth, in his preface, defines a poet as a “man speaking to men” (210). In terms of how this definition relates to his poetry, Wordsworth tries to write about humanity and human issues using language that is readily understood. His aim is not just self-expression but ultimately communication. He is not one to become the misunderstood artist type; it really does matter to him if his readers understand what he is talking about. Above all, he emphasizes connections, whether in discussions of people or nature.

In line with his poet definition, Wordsworth tends to focus on human relationships. Simon Lee, for instance, focuses on the bonds of friendship and love. There is a friendship between the speaker and Simon Lee. The speaker is able to describe Simon Lee with a detail that hints at this event being more than just a single chance encounter between the two. Simon Lee is depicted not only with a physical description but also with a history. Wordsworth does not gloss over the fact that Simon Lee is older and that with age comes physical decay. Indeed, Simon Lee’s physical losses are described in great detail, “And he is lean and he is sick/his little body’s half awry/His ankles they are swoln and thick; /His legs are thin and dry” (lines 33-36, 198). Simon Lee is not what he once was. He is now “a little man” who “once was tall” (197). In addition to his shrinkage, Simon Lee is “bereft/of his right eye” (lines 25-26, 198). However, despite his missing eye, “his cheek is like a cherry” (line 16, 197). This description of his cheeks hints that perhaps Simon Lee’s real beauty lies not in his physical appearance but in his personality. It is Simon Lee’s ability to find joy that makes him so loveable, “And still there’s something in the world/at which his heart rejoices” (lines 45-46, 198). Really, Simon Lee is a very unique subject for a poem. He is not beautiful in the classic sense of the word. He lacks the symmetry of renowned sculptures or the glow of the idealized lover or the awe-inspiring power of nature. Perhaps this unconscious contrast with more common subjects of poetry is part of what makes Simon Lee so engaging for the reader. In any case, Simon Lee has a different worth: he cannot do much physically, but he can still enjoy human connections.

The other relationship Wordsworth highlights in Simon Lee is the union between Simon Lee and his wife Ruth. They have a beautiful, sweet relationship. They are a couple who help each other out. The speaker notes, “Old Ruth works out of doors with him/And does what Simon cannot do” (lines 49-50, 198). They are not very strong or productive due to their advanced age, but they both have a pride in at least trying to work their land. The speaker comments, “And though you with your utmost skill/from labour could not wean them” (lines 53-54, 198). They could simply give up and accept their failing health and poverty, as Simon has “few months of life left”; however, their perseverance is refreshing and inspiring (line 65, 199). The reader, at the end of the poem, feels a connection to old Simon Lee and his wife. They are very real characters, not unique in their circumstances. Simon Lee and Ruth are a couple one could run into just about anywhere. As Dr. Glance mentioned in the podcast, Wordsworth’s writing about people of Simon Lee and his wife’s class is significant. Their inclusion shows that everyone is important and interconnected; it is not just the rich that matter. It is also important that these characters have names. The naming of the characters gives the poem a much more personal feel. Simon Lee is not just some poor man that the author helped. In addition, the fact that Ruth is named speaks of the importance of women and not just women in general but poor women too.

Simon Lee’s joy at being helped with the stump is much greater than one would expect at simple relief from a chore. Simon Lee’s reaction is described, “The tears into his eyes were brought/And thanks and praises seemed to run/So fast out of his heart, I thought/They never would have done” (lines 97-100, 199). Simon Lee’s joy is that the speaker would see him in need and help him. It is the joy of human connection. It is a very strong and very real joy. The intensity of Simon Lee’s reaction is mirrored in the speaker’s reaction, his reflection, “Alas! The gratitude of men/Has oftener left me mourning” (lines 104-105, 199). As Dr. Glance noted in the podcast, the reason for the author’s feeling of sadness given Simon Lee’s joy is not explicitly given in the poem. However, I would venture that, in view of Wordsworth’s connection concentration, it is the speaker’s feeling of attachment to Lee that makes him express this view. Perhaps the speaker realizes that the fact that a simple act of kindness made such an impact on Simon Lee speaks to our innate interdependence as human beings.

As human beings, we have a need to feel wanted and needed. Social connections and intimate relationships help us fulfill that need. Yet we also have, for lack of a better term, a spiritual component. This spiritual component revels in being part of something greater than ourselves. Being out in nature is one way to keep this part of ourselves alive. Nature puts us in perspective. It tells us where we belong in the universe. Wordsworth’s view on nature, as mentioned in the podcast, is that nature is precious because it is disappearing due to industrialization. Wordsworth values both nature and human connections. His The world is too much with us demonstrates that being too busy and materialistic leads to a deprivation of feeling and an under-appreciation of nature. He writes, “Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers” (line 2, 234) and later “We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!” (line 4, 234). Being too busy does not make a human being feel more fully alive, but instead leads to a void or a deadened feeling. This too worldly person seeks “glimpses that would make me less forlorn” (line 12, 234). The irony is that this person is ignoring the beauty of nature which is right in front of him. The greatness of nature does not move him anymore, “The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The Winds that will be howling at all hours/And are up-gathered like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.” (lines 5-9, 234). This speaker, who could exemplify the Industrial society with its emphasis on progress, has lost the ability to see beauty and so feels disconnected. Indeed, this person and by extension the Industrial society seems to be becoming more and more like the machines and technologies in which they put such faith and less like human beings. He (and they) have lost a sense of the immense interconnectedness and worth of both people and nature.

William Blake

On the surface, William Blake is a poet of contrasts. His works play with, among others, the theme of innocence/experience. However, he departs from the common philosophers of his era in not lapsing immediately into value judgments. Blake does not imply that one alternative is better than the other is, nor that these are the only choices; there is no dichotomy, no forced dilemma. Instead, Blake presents the two options equally; neither is preferable, but both options seem necessary by their inclusion in his works. Indeed, neither option is really that pure of an option. For example, innocence is tainted, and experience is not represented as the ultimate opposite of innocence.

Compare, for instance, the two versions of “The Chimney Sweeper” from Songs of Innocence and Experience. The chimney sweeper from Innocence exemplifies the qualified innocence discussed in the introduction (78). The originally clean child has been soiled not only physically by the soot but also by tragedy. The little boy has not had the happy childhood portrayed in other of Blake’s Innocence poems, such as “The Ecchoing Green.” The speaker’s mother died while he was young, and his father sold him into the chimney sweep business while he was still young. He was innocent before all this, sold while he “could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep” (line 3, 81). Innocence is spoiled by experience. If little Tom Dacre’s head had not been shaved, the soot would have spoiled his white hair (lines 8-9, 81). Also, Tom’s hair is described as curling like a lambs back (line 6, 81). The reference to a lamb shows just how innocent Tom was, as lambs are known as gentle, docile creatures. The original innocence of the children is reinforced by the description of their appearance after being set free from their “coffins of black” by the angel. The boys are “naked & white” after washing in a river (line 17, 81). This washing does not change their natural state; rather, it brings them back to their original state. After the washing, they frolic like children in Blake’s other Innocence poems, leaping in the sun (81).

The speaker is expected to take on added responsibilities that the innocent children do not share. Not only must the sweeps rise early and work, they are also much more mature. The speaker consoles little Tom Dacre, taking on a more parental role than a child normally would. The child is not as kind in his observations, concluding wryly that “if all do their duty they need not fear harm” (line 24, 81). Yet it is supposedly not a child’s duty to work in such wretched conditions as being a chimney sweep requires. It is ironic because the child will have fear whether or not he does his duty. If he works as a sweep, he risks death by falling down a chimney or catching some fatal illness as a result of being continually dirty and breathing dust. If he refuses to work, having been sold, he faces abuse by his master or possibly malnutrition. Being a poor sweep, he probably already faces malnutrition and abuse. No matter what choice he makes, he faces a bad situation.

Compare this outwardly dirty but more inwardly pure sweep to “The Chimney Sweeper” from Songs of Experience. Instead of being described as a white being darkened by black, he is “a little black thing among the snow” (89). He is set apart from the pure snow, which could symbolize the innocent children. This sweep, like the speaker of “The Chimney Sweeper” from Songs of Innocence, has been abandoned by his parents. His parents have deserted him, gone to the church to pray. It is assumed that the parents go, not to petition God for a better life, but to celebrate that their son has such a fine occupation! They go to church to “praise God & his Priest & King/Who make up a heaven of our misery” (lines 10-11, 89). The child has fooled his parents because he feels he must, “And because I am happy & dance & sing, /They think they have done me no injury” (lines 9-10, 89). Yet his circumstances are no less desperate than those of the sweep in Songs of Innocence. He is dressed in “clothes of death” (line 7, 89) and suffers in the snow. All his suffering, instead of making him more imaginative like the boy in Innocence, makes him more of a realist. The boy in Innocence can at least dream of an Angel; the boy from Experience sees nothing but misery. He has no bleak hope that death will rid him of this suffering. His worldview is pessimism. It is ultimately very depressing, and not at all a good alternative to the very guarded hope of presented in “The Chimney Sweeper” in Innocence.

Blake presents guarded joy versus no joy; a boy spoiled physically and a boy who is physically dirty and whose spirit is broken. The best alternative is not pure joy, for that would be naïve. Indeed, it is hard to make a value judgment about which poor chimney sweep is better off. It all depends on perspective. I agree with Dr. Glance in his assertion that Blake’s aim in writing was to challenge readers’ previously held ideas and perspectives. Blake does not make it an easy “either/or” proposition. Instead, he wants the reader to see beyond the proverbial black and white to gray; and not just to gray, but to shades of gray. As Blake says in “Marriage of Heaven and Hell”, “If the doors of perception were cleansed/ every thing would appear to man as it is: In-/finite” (102). Indeed, his very titles evidence the continuum of possibilities. He does not write of the divorce of heaven and hell, but rather of their marriage and he writes of both innocence and experience.