Arthur Lodge wrote not only one of the first novels about the Luddites, Sad Times but also a small volume of fictionalised reminiscences and dialect verse :
Forty Years Ago: a Sketch of Yorkshire Life and Poems
By AL [Arthur Lodge]
Huddersfield, Jos Woodhead, Ramsden Street, 1869
ARTHUR LODGE'S HUDDERSFIELD
The branch line to Kirkburton (+ on the map above) ran south east from the Huddersfield-Leeds main line from Deighton.
The numbers refer to the photographs in the text.
In this collection is a poem called 'Curious Times' about an old man returning to Kirkburton , abbreviated to 'Burton' in the text, and finding a new branch line has been built transforming the landscape he remembers. Though the railways covered every part of Britain in the early years of the 19th century, it is rare to find a text that records the impact of the railway on an actual location. The tone of the poem reflects the mixture of awe and reservation that must have characterised the reaction of locals to the imposition of an industrial transport network that reached places the canals did not. Where the canals could be seen as artificial rivers, the railways seemed entirely unnatural, relying on the products of the industry they served. Steam engines burnt the coal that their wagons carried to supply the furnaces of factories throughout the British Isles.
'Copper Nob' engine of 1846. a reliable and long-serving design. Such an engine might have been working on the Kikburton line in 1869
The poem is reprinted below followed by a 'translation' into standard English:
‘Curious Times’ [pps 107-9]
A! these are curious times, oud lad,
Tha talks ov changes ov yore;
Why, there never wor sich changes, man
In ony time before.
All th’ women have turned scavengers, 5
An’ daily sweep the street;
An’ every child can puff his weed,
That I do chonce to meet.
When that invited me to th’ feast,
To help to yet thy beef, 10
I thought that from yar busy taen,
‘Two’d be a grand relief;
There’d be noae railway whistles there,
To split a body’s yed,
Not lurries, busses an’ sich like, 15
I soodent have to dread.
But, dear o’ me, what did I see?
At Dalton Green I stood;
An’ a gret bank I saw stretched aet,
Reight on past ‘Coroyd Wood’ 20
Thinks I, I must have miss’d my way,
That spot looks vary queer;
It’s nout like what used to be,
When me an’ th’ wife lived here.
There’s Toulson’s Miln stands where it did, 25
An the’ Raend Wood’s there an’ o’;
But yon gret bank, what’s it there for,
I sood much like to know’?
An’, wondering, I walked quietly on,
An’ twirled my bits o’ thumbs; 30
When, o’ at once, I yerd a din,
An’ bang an engine comes.
It, whizzing, pass’d me in a crack,
Wi’ mony a snort an’ puff,
That seemed to say, “Come here, oud lad, 35
An’ I’ll grind thee to snuff.”
I took my specks from off my noes,
An’ wip’d my sweaty yed;
“Whoever wod have thought there’d be
A railway here,” I said. 40
An’ th’ oud churchyard is double th’ size
Fro’ what it used to be;
It’s weel, I though, as I sat daen,
That th’ railway has miss’d thee;
Or th’ bits o’ bones that’s liggin’ here, 45
Awaiting th’ judgment day,
Them navvies, wi’ their picks an’ shools,
Wod have cleared all away.
It’s lucky, too, that th’ school is left,
For th’ childers’ education; 50
Had th’ line been nearer, sure they wod
Have taen it for a station.
These railway fouk they goea a-yed,
Noea stoppage do they see;
They pool daen spots a’t’s vary dear 55
To poor oud fouk like me.
When I gat on to ‘Burton, then
A, dear me! what a fuss;
Th’ Plantation’s gen, boeth stick an’ stoen,
‘Tis naea a Terminus. 60
One thing an’ th’ tother tunn’d me up,
An’ as I sat me daen,
Thought I, th’ next shift that ‘Burton makes,
‘Twill be a seaport taen.
Ay, th’ spot is sadly changed, oud lad, 65
There’s nout looks like itsen;
All th’ fouk walk past an’ never speyk,
There’s noeb’dy knows oud Ben.
Strangers do live on every side.
My birth-spot looks quite dree; 70
I’ll goea an’ find a spot for th’ grave,
It’s time for me to dee.
Standard English Version
A! these are curious times, old lad,
Thou talks of changes of yore;
Why, there never were such changes, man
In any time before.
All the women have turned scavengers, 5
An’ daily sweep the street;
An’ every child can puff his weed,
That I do chance to meet.
When that invited me to the feast,
To help to eat thy beef, 10
I thought that from our busy town,
It would be a grand relief;
There’d be no railway whistles there,
To split a body’s head,
Not lorries, busses and such like, 15
I shouldn’t have to dread.
But, dear o’ me, what did I see?
At Dalton Green I stood;
An’ a great bank I saw stretched aet,
Right on past ‘Cold Royd Wood’ 20
Thinks I, I must have missed my way,
That spot looks vary queer;
It’s nowt [nothing] like what used to be,
When me and the wife lived here.
There’s Toulson’s Miln stands where it did, 25
An the’ Round Wood’s there an’ o’;
But yon great bank, what’s it there for,
I should much like to know’?
An’, wondering, I walked quietly on,
An’ twirled my bits o’ thumbs; 30
When, o’ at once, I heard a din,
An’ bang an engine comes.
It, whizzing, passed me in a crack,
Wi’ many a snort an’ puff,
That seemed to say, “Come here, oud lad, 35
An’ I’ll grind thee to snuff.”
I took my specks from off my nose,
An’ wiped my sweaty head;
“Whoever would have thought there’d be
A railway here,” I said. 40
And the old churchyard is double the size
From what it used to be;
It’s well, I though, as I sat down,
That the railway has missed thee;
Or the bits o’ bones that’s lying here, 45
Awaiting the judgment day,
Them navvies, with their picks an’ shovels,
Would have cleared all away.
It’s lucky, too, that the school is left,
For the children’s’ education; 50
Had the line been nearer, sure they would
Have taken it for a station.
These railway folk they go ahead,
Now stoppage do they see;
They pool down spots that’s very dear 55
To poor oud folk like me.
When I got on to ‘Burton, then
A, dear me! what a fuss;
The Plantation’s gen, both stick an’ stone,
It is now a Terminus. 60
One thing and the other turned me up,
An’ as I sat me down,
Thought I, the next shift that ‘Burton makes,
It will be a seaport town.
Ay, the spot is sadly changed, old lad, 65
There’s nowt [nothing] looks like itself;
All the folk walk past and never speak,
There’s nobody knows old Ben.
Strangers do live on every side.
My birth-spot looks quite dree [dreary] ; 70
I’ll go an’ find a spot for the grave,
It’s time for me to die.
The old narrator walks toward what he remembers as an isolated village some four miles south east of Huddersfield, thinking to escape the bustle and noise of the urban industrial life of Huddersfield. The ‘lurries, busses an’ sich like’ (‘lorries’ and ‘busses’) that are part of the urban confusion he complains of in line 15 will have been horse-drawn. He has not realised that a branch line has been built from the main line to Kirkburton.
Though it was a small line it involved extensive engineering such as the viaducts over the Huddersfield Broad Canal:
Bridge across the Huddersfield Broad Canal: 1
and comparatively insignificant streams:
2 A bridge near Kirkheaton is glimpsed through ivy, 3 Bridge over Beldon Beck
like a Mayan temple in the jungle.
Lodge’s speaker comes straight down the Wakefield Road, now the A 629, and doesn’t notice these engineering marvels, not that he is in a mood to appreciate the marvels of Victorian engineering. He starts to notice changes as he comes to Dalton Green.
At Dalton Green I stood;
An’ a gret bank I saw stretched aet,
Reight on past ‘Coroyd Wood’ (18-20)
4 Modern shopping units stand on the site of railways cutting and siding.
The ‘grete [great] bank’ can be seen on the right, reinforced by a 19th century wall.
Cold Royd Wood is beyond this site on the skyline.
5 The depth of the bank is shown by the cottages nestled into the side.
Thinks I, I must have miss’d my way,
That spot looks vary queer;
It’s nout like what used to be,
When me an’ th’ wife lived here. (21-4)
The embankment begins under Dalton Bank:
6 The height of the bank is shown by the house roof glimpsed beyond it.
Reight on past ‘Coroyd Wood’ (20)
7 Cold Royd Wood from above. The railway line runs at its foot. The skyline is dominated by Castle Hill.
There’s Toulson’s Miln stands where it did, (25)
8 It doesn't look as if Toulson's Mill still stands. The site closest to the branch line is now occupied by Dalton works. This is one third of the site.
Note Castle Hill on the skyline again.
9 The name ‘Toulson’ survives in ‘Tolson’s Yard. 10 Next to it is Bankside Mill
Both are on the Wakefield Road but are closer to Huddersfield than Dalton.
Returning to Dalton Green, the narrator is reassured to note:
An the’ Raend Wood’s there an’ o’; (21)
11From a distance Round Wood looks intact and Dalton Green has some greenery.
12 A photograph taken from Round Hill shows how closely 13 Round Wood Beck flows on beneath the A629 as if it was
it is hemmed in by a mill to the south. To the east of this picture deep in the countryside.
is the cut and embankment on the far side of Round Wood Beck.
He muses for a moment or two to ask this faux-naïve question:
But yon gret bank, what’s it there for,
I sood much like to know’? (27-8)
He is answered by the irruption of an engine
When, o’ at once, I yerd a din,
An’ bang an engine comes.
It, whizzing, pass’d me in a crack,
Wi’ mony a snort an’ puff,
That seemed to say, “Come here, oud lad,
An’ I’ll grind thee to snuff.” (31-6)
The engine’s threat echoes that of an ogre in Jack the Giant Killer:
Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum
I smell the blood of an English man,
Be he living or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.
The super-human power of the railway and its indifference to human life is echoed by a ghost story attached to Huddersfield Station. A porter called Jonah Marr fell onto the tracks at 1125. He broke both his legs and died shortly afterwards. Supposedly his laughter can heard at this time or, in other accounts, if a misfortune happens on the station. Despite the precision of the time of Jonah’s accidents none of the sites that record the story give a date more precise that ‘the nineteenth century’ for the alleged event. http://www.examiner.co.uk/whats-on/whats-on-news/haunted-huddersfield-halloween-ghosts-ghouls-10314696
Charles Dickens' 1866 railway ghost story 'The Signal Man's Ghost' might be one of the inspirations behind the idea that the industrial age would create a new type of ghost.
At this point the narrator takes a nostalgic diversion. Instead going directly to Kirkburton by swinging south across Waterloo Bridge, a patriotic name that would have been imposed in the narrator’s youth, the poem moves north to Kirkheaton Church: ‘th’ oud churchyard’ (41). This stands on the brow of the hill overlooking Dalton Green.
14 The church of St John The Baptist, Kirkheaton
Modern Kirkheaton grew rapidly behind the church to the north east. Lodge’s narrator mentions the increasing population through the growth in size of the churchyard: ‘An’ th’ oud churchyard is double th’ size’ (41). The reference is playful but it reminds readers that industrialisation not only increased the urban population and but also kept the mortality rate high. Working on or around the dangerous, polluting Victorian machines was extremely dangerous, as the churchyard monument to the Armitage Mill disaster testifies;
14 The Armitage Mill memorial. Also known as The Colne Bridge Mill, the factory suffered a disastrous fire on February 14th 1818 as a result of dangerous conditions. 17 of the child labour force were killed including three nine year girls. The narrator does not mention this tragedy possibly because it could not be accommodated by the alternation of jocular and sentimental tones in the poem.
Part of the expanded churchyard Lodge observed is now being taken over by nature:
14 A once-prestigious gravestone peers from the green.
The narrator makes another of his uneasy jokes about how if a cemetery obstructed a railway it would show no respect but would unearth the bones before Judgement Day:
It’s weel, I though, as I sat daen,
That th’ railway has miss’d thee;
Or th’ bits o’ bones that’s liggin’ here,
Awaiting th’ judgment day,
Them navvies, wi’ their picks an’ shools,
Wod have cleared all away. (42-48)
This actually happened in Halifax when In 1878 the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway wished to replace the graveyard of South Parade Methodist chapel with sidings. After a dispute they were allowed to do this provided they bought the chapel as well. http://www.genuki.org.uk/big/eng/YKS/PhotoFrames/WRY/HalifaxSouthParadeWesleyanTWJpagemill.html.
The graveyard was moved to Stony Royd Cemetery. http://freepages.history.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~calderdalecompanion/c109_s.html
Finally the narrator reaches Kirkburton, possibly following the tracks and footpaths on the hills rather than dropping down to the main road. He complains that trees have been supplanted by a station:
When I gat on to ‘Burton, then
A, dear me! what a fuss;
Th’ Plantation’s gen, boeth stick an’ stoen,
‘Tis naea a Terminus. (57-60)
As the station displaced the Plantation, so suburbs have displaced the station. The most substantial fragment of this station is the wall above a goods siding:
15 Mature trees have established themselves where trains once ran
The narrator jokes about how
Thought I, th’ next shift that ‘Burton makes,
‘Twill be a seaport taen. (63-4)
However if the narrator is 70 in 1869 he will have memories of the Huddersfield Narrow Canal being opened in Huddersfield in 1811 to join with the Huddersfield Broad Canal of 1776. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huddersfield_Broad_Canal
These innovations did indeed make Huddersfield into a port.
16 Huddersfield Broad Canal behind the university
The poem ends with a compliant familiar since the growth of large urban areas. The narrator lets slip his name for the first time ‘Ben’ (68) but complains no one knows him: ‘fouk walk past an’ never speyk’ (67) ‘Strangers do live on every side’ (69). More importantly it complains of the aggression practised by rail companies in creating their routes:
These railway fouk they goea a-yed,
Noea stoppage do they see; (53-4)
This aggression is taken as a personal violation:
They pool daen spots a’t’s vary dear
To poor oud fouk like me. (55-6)
Here the poem foreshadows a modern realisation of how much personality is anchored to scenes and places and the psychological jolt caused by their destruction. All that is left is a scene that is ‘dree’ [‘dreary’] (70 ), bereft of any life-sustaining memories. The narrator is not going to protest, as many would do in the 21st century, but represents himself as defeated and waiting for death:
I’ll goea an’ find a spot for th’ grave,
It’s time for me to dee. (71-2)
Presumably he’ll pick a spot far from where a railway might disturb his grave…
100 years after the poem the line was closed and the rails lifted. http://www.lostrailwayswestyorkshire.co.uk/Kirkburton%20Branch.htm
Since then trees and bushes have taken over the line, restoring the peace the narrator craved:
17 Site of the rail lines near Kirkheaton
The noise and traffic have been pushed downhill onto the A629 into lorries, buses and cars that are now powered by internal combustion engines not horses…