DRIVEN TO REVOLT
By
Mandy Precious
c/o Burnley Youth Theatre
Queens Park Road
BURNLEY
BB10 3LB
01282 427767
CHARACTERS
WATER CHORUS x up to six (this could be recorded)
WORKERS x six (although there could be more)
MILLOWNER/MILLOWNER
LANDOWNER/JUDGE
LANDOWNER’S WIFE
RICHARD HARGREVES
MOTHER
WATER CHORUS:
Listen, cut through time,
fold back aeons and millennia,
in the beginning there was nothing.
A world without me, without water.
A world with nothing. No world.
In the beginning,
silence was absolute,
a vacuum wrapped around emptiness.
A hollowness, a brutal void.
A world without me: water.
Then, a microscopic moment,
a hint, a suggestion.
A bang? Or a droplet floating unencumbered by gravity?
Let lose. Condensed: water,
a power undisturbed by shape, then: just
I am water.
The beginnings of all things and everything.
WORKERS:
We came here for work.
At first we lived up on the hills, far away.
We lived out in villages, and scraped together a living.
But I couldn’t feed me kids.
I couldn’t find the wherewithal to feed them,
so we came here.
To this town.
And all of it is down to the water, here.
The water – see. Pennine rain.
Same. The stuff the wets you makes the steam.
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The stuff that wets you makes it all possible.
Hard to believe, but it’s true.
See what I mean?
Some clever folk worked out and thought…
harness that power.
But what’s power without men folk to drive it?
To fetch and carry? To make?
What’s raw power without people to weave it forth and back?
But they forget about us. We’re just part of the machinery.
WATER CHORUS:
At first, I did not flow
or drop or wave or gush
neither rain nor mist.
I did not rush or slip through tiny gaps.
Listen,
without me there was nothing.
I might have turned back, if I could have.
I am condemned to forward motion,
momentum takes me.
Listen,
there can be nothing again;
a hard unforgiving drought.
WORKERS:
What else could we do?
The factory called for workers and we came.
But it’s hard. The dirt and the grime grinds into your mind.
Dark as black as coal. Morning here, and evening – bent double,
some bloke shovelling coal, another in the sheds.
The noise is blinding. The sweat, the heat, the pain.
Our hearts bleed with the drive ever onwards to make cotton.
To blend, and stretch and dye, driven onwards by the overseer,
always near and quick to let the whip fall by your ear if you slack off.
Enough. It’s enough.
My dad, he’s a law abiding man, but I’ve had enough.
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WATER CHORUS:
Water: I began small, let loose,
gathered pace, found my place,
split landmass, divided continents,
eroded coasts into shape.
Sent messages into countries through rivers and seas:
invited populations to settle beside me,
settled myself in lakes.
Expected nothing of no-one,
did not mind the gentle necessity of human demand.
I was busy with obligations long before the factory owner or his kind
took it upon themselves to build factories.
They easily forget that. That water has no master. Not in the end.
WORKERS:
So we came in droves.
Men, women and children.
It was that or starvation. It was that or nothing.
We worked on our own. In our homes,
but when they stopped paying what then?
That or the workhouse.
Do you know how hard we worked?
Do you know what it was like here?
My father was here, and his father before him.
(STILL PICTURES OF THE WORK??)
WATER CHORUS:
Listen,
sometimes I just am. Just water.
Sometimes I’m just meant to be admired.
Looked and marvelled at.
I am the gentle noise that settles your heart.
The fast ocean that scares you.
The power that overwhelms you.
The flood that takes your lives.
The force that powers your machines.
The coldness that swallows you whole.
Beautiful, but dangerous.
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Never forget that.
Do not believe I can be tamed forever.
Listen.
Never stop listening as I race over weir,
Listen,
I was here before you
And I will be here afterwards.
The factory owners did not find me.
I was not missing.
ALL/WORKERS:
We are not here by choice.
Exploited, that’s it.
If we stopped, then what?
What would they do?
What could any of them do without us?
Find new workers? Pay them less for more?
Folk are desperate enough.
Some kind of devised movement piece in the mill, which can be repeated.
RICHARD HARGREVES: What’s that you say?
JOHN THORNTON: There’s talk of laying folk off. That or taking a cut in wages.
RICHARD HARGREVES: What?
JOHN THORNTON: They say, cotton price is short and they can’t afford to pay us.
RICHARD HARGREVES: We don’t earn enough as it is.
JOHN THORNTON: Well, that’s as maybe, but they can’t make money out of thin air.
RICHARD THORNTON: Are you after telling me that these folk can’t afford to feed
their bairns, eh? That they can’t afford to wear their finery? These mill owners? Us
that works here, don’t even get time to rest barely between shifts. You don’t see
them down here with us. Never did one of those men sweat to live.
JOHN THORNTON: There’s talk of walking out. What good is any of it without us?
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RICHARD HARGREVES: And then we’re left with nowt?
JOHN THORNTON: Aye, if we must.
RICHARD HARGREVES: Is their choice?
JOHN THORNTON: You can stay. You can work your fingers to the bones. You can
take a cut. Take all that they say. I might have had just about enough. William
Pickles is fierce about it. Angry more than I’ve seen him before.
RICHARD HARGREVES: What’s to do?
The work at the Mill resumes
CHORAL BIT:
Voices resonate across time,
words heard and unheard,
echo over centuries like rain,
everything changes but truth
Everything passes but pain.
RICHARD HARGREVES: There’s never a minute to stop. No time to think.
WILLIAM: Give over lad, tha’s working. What’s tha to think on?
RICHARD HARGREVES: I’ve been here since sun up. It’s gone down. This talk of
no work, less pay for same amount of hours.
WILLIAM: Day’s are shorter in winter lad. What talk?
RICHARD HARGREVES: Aye, but they’re not shorter here. This is the 15th hour
I’ve been here. And not being paid a living wage. And then to cut it?
WILLIAM: Think of the pay, lad – any is better than none. If you shorten the hours,
what then? Tha mother still needs brass. Just tow the line, say nothing. I’ve been in
the workhouse when times were hard last time.
RICHARD HARGREVES: There won’t be enough for bread and sup. Have you heard
about the rumours? Pickles is calling out the men.
WILLIAM: There’s talk of shorter hours for all us.
RICHARD HARGREVES: And more money for someone. But not us.
WILLIAM: Don’t rock the boat. We’re lucky to be working.
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RICHARD HARGREVES: I can’t survive on these wages.
WILLIAM: Keep the peace lad, keep the peace. That Pickles has always been the
sort to stir a hornet’s nest. Agitating. I’ll not be moving from here, whatever money
they say.
Working Movement piece again.
CHORAL:
All men, and all time is here.
Power and those without cheek by jowl,
pain in the moment,
and time again.
Worker exit, enter some fine looking people. The Mill Owner
MILLOWNER : In the beginning there was only water
But my family saw the potential
They saw what this could do.
FORMER LANDOWNER: For centuries my family have fished here!
WIFE : And did the water account for lives?
Did the factory? The building?
MILL OWNER: My family realised the power of this place
we knew power of the water could be used to
my advantage, I built the weir…
WATER CHORUS: Listen,
I find my own way,
any small place I can fill
like a lie or a terrible assumption.
I find my way through – I always do.
I am water.
MILL OWNER: We built this beautiful mill.
FORMER LANDOWNER: I understand there are agitators in Blackburn,
Manchester, Oldham
WATER CHORUS: Sometimes,
I can be pummelled and beaten into behaving.
This feat of engineering contains me.
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MILL OWNER: Just listen to the wheel for a few seconds,
listen as it powers the whole mill
WATER CHORUS: I don’t take to being bullied.
I don’t take to being used over and over without a break.
FORMER LANDOWNER: Are you ready?
MILL OWNER: We are good to our workers here.
FORMER LANDOWNER: And what of cuts in their wages?
WIFE: Is the water truly tamed? Converted as it is to steam?
CHORUS: Listen,
Constrained, restrained,
listen to the rhythm,
the pop, pop like a gunslinger,
the slap, slap like a smacked face,
the hollow wallow in this cold, dingy,
unnatural place. Boiler
MILL OWNER: The water turns the wheel,
the power generated
drives the iron shafts and bevel gears,
and powers the mill. The millwrights,
the best and most valued of my workforce
are responsible for keeping the wheels moving,
for keeping the water driving through…
Making steam… making the machines come alive,
Making cotton – Best in the world!
WATER CHORUS: He thinks he’s mastered me –
But when I’m ready, I’ll freeze
Or evaporate.
When I’m ready, I’ll retaliate.
I’ll escape.
GREG: I couldn’t be prouder.
I am bursting with pride as the owner
of the most productive mill in the land
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It is built to last for centuries!
FORMER LANDOWNERS: What about the roughs on the way down from
Blackburn?
WIFE: You do not mention the tragic deaths in the
building of the mill. Didn’t you think of their
pain and suffering Sir?
GREG:I care for the people who helped me bring
this dream to reality. I am duty bound to
do so by my religion. And although
sacrifices have been made…
WIFE: Sacrifices? You call a death a sacrifice?
LORD: And what of these roughs? Will you protect the good people of Burnley
MILL OWNER: These sacrifices were truly beneficial not
just to progress, and industry but to people
who this work has helped.
This cotton shortage is a worry yes, but it will pass.
And these roughs will not materialise, of that I am sure.
Men cannot afford to take time off work.
We must all make sacrifices
FORMER LANDOWNER:
Progress? You call this progress?
WIFE: Working people to death is progress?
Not paying a living wage? This is progress
MILL OWNER: This mill will save generations from
starvation. That is progress! I have given people
food and a roof over their heads.
WIFE: I do agree that their bellies may be full now,
but the workers bones are weak and ready
to crumble. You drive them too fast.
MILL OWNER: I have saved them from slums!
FORMER LANDOWNER:
That is a matter of opinion.
Rural landscapes have been ruined by this
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monstrosity!
The land I and my family have used
for centuries has been claimed by these
workers…you have scarred this beauty!
MILL OWNER: My family and I care a great deal for the
workers. We do our very best to see that
they are looked after. We provide. They earn
a wage respectfully!
WIFE: I beg to differ! How long do they work without
a break?
MILL OWNER: We have extended the mill so children can work too!
.
WIFE: Some chance! This is terrible!
LANDOWNER: Where shall we get our farm workers? Hey?
Who will care for the land?
MILL OWNER: I treat my workers as extended family. It
is better for them here. I hope I am a good
caring man. These people would die without
me. These workers are offered a real
opportunity!
FORMER LANDOWNER: We will see.
Hooter, Group of young men lining up at Payment office
Payment of Office (this was usually a window to the outside through which a wages
clerk would hand over payment.)
The young men take their turn.
GEORGE: What’s this?
CLERK: Move on.
GEORGE: I’m down?
CLERK: I don’t make mistakes. Move on.
Clerk hands the next young man his pay cheque
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ELLIS: Mine’s down too!
CLERK: That’s the going rate, move on.
RICHARD: There will be nothing left for my mother with this.
A man deserves a drink at the end of the day!
Improvise further scene where folk get short changed finally, Pickles comes
among them and starts to agitate.
PICKLES: Men, I say they owe us!
I say that we deserve a living wage.
WILLIAM: Pickles, some of us have too much to lose!
PICKLES: Old man, I say we meet tomorrow, and work out some plans.
DAVID HOLMES: Pickles, we will call a proper meeting in due course. The
operatives society will speak to the owner and explain…
PICKLES: We can’t wait for you David. We’ve mouths to feed.
agitation
DAVID HOLMES: (calming) It’s no good seeking out a fight, is it?
The operative society will seek to negotiate our position.
PICKLES: They’ve short changed us all.
RICHARD HARGREVES (to Ellis): I have my mother expecting more. I am soon to
be married. I don’t know…
agitation
DAVID HOLMES: We will put up placards so you know when. Men, it is best to be
calm in times like this. Check out facts before reacting. Seeking to meet with the
overseer, or representatives of the mill.
PICKLES: I say we fire the place!
DAVID HOLMES: You will be the death of us all.
Agitation.
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A couple of young men, peel off from this and heading home, along the canal.
RICHARD HARGREVES: It’s easy to say we’ll go, but we’ve plenty to lose
ELLIS: And jobs to lose. I’ve worked here since I was 11, and part time before that.
My family depend on this.
RICHARD HARGREVES: But how can we make a living wage, like this?
When more than 10% is gone?
ELLIS: will you go to the rally?
RICHARD: We must!
ELLIS: I will come round it I see the signs.
WATER CHORUS:
Listen, if you really strain,
hear the rush and push of the weir
in the distance: water:
seemingly not here.
but here all the same.
The only reason we’re all here.
FAMILY SCENE
MOTHER: Perhaps if you drank less, then you’d have more to spare to give your
mother
RICHARD: I drink no more than the next man.
MOTHER: Well, even so we struggle – another shilling would help. I’m not as fast in
the mill as once was… your brother is soon to go.
RICHARD: He’ll need to keep his nose clean.
MOTHER: You’re a fine one to talk,
RICHARD: Aye, but it’s dangerous for the young ones.
MOTHER: I know. I’ve heard rumours about a call to a rally.
RICHARD: The older men have spoken of it. Things are tight.
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MOTHER: Especially since your father died.
RICHARD: Yes.
MOTHER: Richard, if you go to the rally, as I know you must, please be careful.
What will happen to us if something happens to you?
RICHARD: Mother, it is a rally of men, that’s all, and women to hear what is to be
done about the cuts in wages. It’s not a war.
MOTHER: Richard, I just don’t want to be left alone. How will we manage without
you?
RICHARD: I won’t. I will go and listen. That’s all. All the men are out to get what’s
ours by right, that’s all.
A group of actors come in and plaster placards on the wall.
WORKERS:
It’s time. We have been taken advantage of long enough.
Up at the crack of sparrow, and then this.
We deserve better.
Without us, what is there?
Without the good folk of Burnley, what would this place be?
We work our fingers to the bone.
To the bone.
We deserve more.
As this scene unfolds, one or two individuals are starting to drink and becoming
a little riotous, throwing stones, and grass and other items.
WORKERS:
It’s not just us!
The workers from Blackburn are coming to support us.
A living wage, a working living working wage
That’s all.
They owe us.
We slave all day.
Work from dawn to dust.
The high spirits continues.
WORKERS:
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And what will chairman Holmes say to us? Eh?
What will he say?
Talking as he is to the mill owner,
who does not care a fig for us.
And so on, some improvisation is necessary here. What as started as a bit of a
party atmosphere is starting to work its way towards hostile. Pickles can be
seen to be causing trouble.
DAVID HOLMES arrives
The crowd cheers.
DAVID HOLMES:
We have called you together to give you a plain, straightforward and candid
statement of affairs as they stand with our employers. Since we met on the last
occasion we have tried in all our different districts to agree upon some point
whereby we could approach the employers and try as far as possible to bring this
lamentable struggle to an end.
Cut to PICKLES
PICKLES: And who appointed him? This is getting us nowhere. We want what we
deserve that’s all. Not more or less…
DAVID HOLMES: We told them that we would go before a Board and tell them that
if it could be proved that a 10 per cent reduction of our wages was necessary, we
would accede to that position. And we declared that it ought to be accompanied by a
curtailment of hours.
PICKLES (shouting) Are we getting our money or not? Are we getting what was
owed to us?
DAVID HOLMES: We said we would accept a 10% cut if they would run 4 days with
it, or a 5% with 5 days.
PICKLES: Do we get it Do we?
Those gathered begin to stir.
RICHARD HARGREVES: I’m with Pickles. Ellis this gets us nowhere going back and
forth to speak.
CUT TO DAVID HOLMES: And when we found they were all refused…
PICKLES: NO! Give them the Blackburn Touch!
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Other repeat this.
DAVID HOLMES: Those of you who are willing to accept the 5% cut, with cut in
time?
A general show of hands
PICKLES: Mr Kay ought to swing for what he’s done for us…
Some improv here, as the meeting breaks up
WATER CHORUS:
It’s not just the fur and fluff of cotton
that catches in the air
There’s dampness: steam, hot and harsh
in the atmosphere. I am here. Water.
A reminder of why it all is here – now but not always.
These men, they don’t know that.
But I’m not complacent. I know my time is now.
That it won’t always be so. I know.
Water will not always be so dominant in industry
It is how it is.
Wheels and the earth turn, shuttles spin.
But things change. They have to.
Things come. Things go.
The Mill Owner’s enthusiasm is infectious.
He believes in Steam. Loves me.
But his sons and his grandsons,
daughters and granddaughters
will find other, faster ways,
quicker, better ways (perhaps)
to power the world.
I’m not bitter. I’ll return.
I can always resort to gentler pursuits,
I can always find other things to do,
but can people?
Enobled by drink, Pickles starts to cary
PICKLES: I am not waiting for this.
he owes me what he owes me,
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and I intend to take it.
RICHARD HARGREVES: What will you do?
PICKLES: I am going there to seek him out.
The operatives will not succeed in getting through to him
A few breakages…
ELLIS: I am with you.
PICKLES: And who else will come? William, John and Richard You?
JOHN: I’m with you. The worker is like dirt beneath his feet.
PICKLES: Let’s to the mill then…
Turn, and speak and silohoutte a riot
The ale has made me strong,
made me long for more than there is.
It’s made my resolve weak…
The future’s bleak.
If we concede this now, then our children will be next
With less than nothing for what we do now.
We are fighting for out future,
for our livelihoods and lives
we are worth more than cuts
worth more than needs must
Riot….
Enter police…
Shouting, stop! Whilstle blown…
The rioters are arrested.
Blackout
JUDGE:
The jury, after a trial in which the jury have shown much patience and great
discrimination, have found all of you guilty of being concerned in the lawless
proceedings which took place at Burnley on the 15th May last. Many of the
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operatives there – you among the number – see to have thought that you were
insufficiently paid by your employers and that you had just cause for dissatisfaction.
Cut to Richard’s mother.
MOTHER: Richard, you promised your mother. What is to become of us now? I
cannot work. I am not able to work easily. Oh Richard.
JUDGE: Unfotunately you chose to set law and order at defiance: you hoped by
threats and violence and by the destruction of property to coerce your employers
into compliance with your demands.
MOTHER: Richard! Not my son Richard…
JUDGE: Madam, be still. The jury has found you William Duerden and William
Pickles guilty of being riotously assembled and when so riotously assembled
damanging the Mill of Messrs Kay and Son. The sentence I pass upon you is that
each of you be kept in penal servitude for a period of five years.
MOHTER: Weeps
JUDGE: And you Richard Hargreves, John Thornton, Ellis Hodgson, the jury have
found you guilty of the offence not so grave. They have found you guilty of rioting
and the sentence of this court is that each of you be imprisoned with hard labour for
six calendar months.
The prisoners break down.
JUDGE: Take them down.
The prisoners are removed.
MILL OWNER: You cannot take the law into your own hands.
The law does not allow it. I am afraid that your life will now not be so good as it
might have been. I have told you that things are short, and so they are.
Richard Hargreves was an excellent young man, let that be a lesson to all of you.
Life, like water, seeks out the gaps – if time is not filled with positive leisure. He fell
into drinking, and with the wrong kind. I find this happens all the time.
It is raining now, as no doubt Mrs Hargreves senior will tell you. She is alone.
If she were a vessel in the sea the water would take her. Water is a powerful and
necessary force. We depend on it here. For steam. For steam. It powers all that you
see.
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But I cannot make cotton out of nothing. And other mills are undercutting mine. So
when I say that wages must be cut, they must – the only other option is that we go
bust.
So, into the rain. And long may it continue.
FINAL WATER CHORUS:
Listen,
I was here before you,
and I’ll be here afterwards.
I find my own way.
Any small place I can fill
like a lie or a terrible assumption.
New generations
will find other faster ways,
quicker better ways (perhaps)
to power the world.
I’m not bitter, I’ll return.
I can always resort to gentler pursuits.
I can always find other things to do.
Progress claims victims
as new becomes old
everything passes
but the new ensures
that the story is told.
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