Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile, page 10
So then I go upstairs
Fern now stiff heavy in my arms
I watch them come from that high winder
The white light the featherd wings
Such blessing they bring
I know they come to take the soul of
Blameless Fern
I feel them when they come in the room
Her breath long ceasd her tiny hand cold in mine
Then with motherly gentleness
They lift her mortal soul
From her body
She is gone into the arms of the Almighty
Nothing now to do except
Lay tender her mortal remains down where
She always slept
Go downstairs still hear that gentle beating
Lie down on the hearth where she did lay
Fall asleep
When I wake the sun is growd high
I hear the voice of Mr Woebegone take him water
Mrs Woebegone stiff in the bed aside he
But he do not know it
I have not strength to move her
What can I do
Downstairs I eat uncookd potaters beans
Then I crack fat from the top of the broth
Drink some of that I cannot make a fire
The food brings me strength I am yet alive
But what life can there be for me now
Just as I am sit on the back door step
Thinking these thoughts
A stirring of wind does come
I stand up to feel it on my face
With it my courage returns
I am young and strong
I will find work
Should I go down the mills
Stroud or even Nailsworth
So I pack up my belongings that is only one bag
Am ashamd to say I dress myself in the pinafore
Which belong to Sybilla and also button boots
Such as I have never word afore
On the bedroom shelf
Are ribbons she did put in her hair
I take those as well
Even tie one beside my own face
I should not have done
I must look clean for a job
Then I stand on the landing outside the room
But hear then again Mr Woebegone cry out
Go downstairs again to get water for him
Pour some ovr his lips wipe his hands
The room is full of flies
The v wall sweat with plague
So God help me
I turns and goes down the stairs
Leaves him there though he is yet living
For I am already in my new life mint pinafore
Hair ribbon button boots
The life is high in me
Thank the Lord for the abiding mercy of my life
Pray God for the souls
Of all who are lost
I know that He has savd me
Because I gave no ground to Mrs Woebegone
I spoke the truth and always will
So I did think then
Walk out through the kitchen
Only as I am going I see on the chair
That kerchief Mr Woebegone did so oft wear
Put that in my pocket
Also chemise as belong to little Fern
Twas put there days afore
When the world was upright
The intention was I must sew the button
A job never to be done now
No reason to do it
Still I pick up that button
Hold tight in my hand
As I set off down the tree shade lane
Walk firm into whatevr world
Now await me
Feel no fear but certain and sure in
The care of the Lord
Always ready to defend His truth
I have not walkd but many steps
When I must decide
What purpose is there to go to Claypits Farm
Or even the cottages at Drybrook
Some person would have come from there
If there was any alive to come
So am I to go cross the skirt of the Valley
To Stroud or down the lane
Down down to where the mills is
As I stand there thinking I know not which
I sudden see below a figure I know
A coming the lane through deep turning shadows
Walking fast face sweat
The light touch him sometime
Then he move on is lost again the shadows close
Is Ambrose
I gather my new skirts run down toward him
Ambrose Ambrose Ambrose
As I stand afore him
All the tears that never fell
Come flowing now
Drip down onto the dry dust of the lane
So tis true then he says
I cannot look at him
Are they all takd he ask
Sybilla gone to her aunt in Frampton I say
Aye and the others
I do not speak partly for grief
Also for shame
Because I left
A cause I stole the pinafore and boots
Fern and Mrs Woebegone I start to say
The words choke
Ambrose knows anyway
Mr Woebegone he ask
The words wedge in my throat
I know not if Mr Woebegone his father
I always think yes though I am told no
Is certain he the only father Ambrose know
His kerchief is stinging in my pocket
He does live yet I say
I will come with you now
No Mary Ann he say No You go on
No no I cannot I must help you Ambrose
For why Mary Ann he say
He is sure and stern
For why you must help them
What good they evr done you
I shake my head I cannot answer
We look at each other long
His face now is stretchd and slappd
But still it has that shine from deep inside
He look me up and down
You look v fine Mary Ann he say
I like to see you look so well
Now I look him clear in the eye
See the depth of his strength
I must find a job I say
Shall I go to Bowbridge
No Ambrose say No I do not think so
The mill is stoppd for the moment anyway
So many is plagud
Go into Stroud town
Yr chances are better
I nod my head and say And you go on
Yes I go on
So it comes we must say good bye
Ambrose is the closest to family I know
He cleave so to my heart
How can I leave he
He see the look in my eye
Lay a heavy hand on my shoulder
Come come Mary Ann he say All is not lost
We have our lives yet
I know tis hard to say farewell
Twill be but for a brief time
How can you know I say
I just do know he say I am sure of it Sure
You and I will meet again not so long from now
The circumstances be better then
All you must do is wait on that time
If you need me you know where to find me
Thank you I say Thank you
Now set yr shoulders square he say
Be of good cheer
All will be well
With that he and I part
He for The Heavens
I to walk to Stroud
A new heaven and earth creatd
The light divide anew from the darkness
The whole world made new like the first day
So as I walk me then that day
Toward the town
The air still breathe hot
Yet now a hush of wind
Stir the trees the shrivelld
Sticks of grass
Lower Street mute and closd in on itself
Rubbage rotten vegetables
Lie in the street People wander purposeless
Houses eyeless dusty hanging limp
No washerwomen taking their laundry
Up to Gaineys Well No not this day
So I go on in the town heart where I only been
Two or three times afore
Past the coach maker and the White Hart
Which lies at the Cross
See the bone house and the stocks
Where the meat market usually is
The many weavers workshops all about
I gaitle then among the fine buildings
Sun glint on yeller and high winders
Still sharp enough to split yr eye
Pass fine gentlemen in glimmering soft coats
The fabric pull the fingers the desire to touch
A fine docksy lady I do stare at long
For she parade the streets
With a red silk petticoat
Held up above her head on a stick
In grocers shop many vegetables never seed afore
Though some split open and rotting
None to buy
All the scene eye stretchd wide to me
New pinafore and ribbon I feel I belong
Stand staring up to the White Hill
A place well namd for the light shine there
Do turn the hill glimmer pale
So for some time I did not properly consider
How I might find work
Need a recommendation
Wait for Hiring Day
Then hunger nag in my belly sharp
The sun start to slide the hills grow pale
The day lay itself down adry and fritchety
Fear take I must spend the night on the ground
How will I find food
Thinking this walk back to the Acre Hedge
Tis the only place I know well
But there being no one there
Continue on up the hill
A coming of a sudden to the Workhouse
You would always know it
Long and grim with many high winders
Tis a building hung with sorrow
Outside stand some raggd their head shavd
Their hands and eyes strangely large
I do not want to look
If I am to end there
The plague might have rather takd me
Just as I think this
A group of lads comes round a corner
Trousers tord at the knee scabs thick
No shoes sores running
What is yr name they say
Mary Ann Sate I say
Though I do not want to converse such as they
I step then smartly away
Making pretence I am not afeard
Though this is not purely the case
Stepping down the hill
Turning into this muddy chur and that
Finding my way through gardens
Past middens and pig pens
Find when I look back they yet follow me
Step then through wide stone gates
Find myself in a grave yard
Everywhere around signs of much activity
With many heaps of earth
Spades cratches and boards of wood
For many new graves are being dug
But now all is quiet for the day is end
I should not go in but my feet carry me on
Mounds of earth like the work of many moles
The shadows now growing ovr them
My mind sudden crowd with The Heavens
All I now lost there
My little sister Fern has not a Christian burial
The boys now are close again
Get out of here they shout
We do not want you Devil mouth here
I do not move
If I did not bend for Mrs Woebegone
Then I do not submit for these
They point to a gaping hole ovr to one side
Run right along the metal railing
You know what that is they say
But I say naught
Get out of here Get out
A Devil hare did cross yr mothers path
I will not move for them
Put paupers in the Workhouse there they say
Put them all in together pild v deep
One on top the other Many many
All come close foul breath on my cheek
Their voice grate like metal scrape
Nastry feet up close gainst my new button boot
Now I think
This is my punishment for leaving The Heavens
So it seem for these boys grab hold of me
Though I scream and plead for mercy
Pull me toward one of the newly dug graves
Narrow and deep the sides cut square
Here they stand me on the edge
Then they push me in
My head hit gainst the side my hands scrabble
Earth fall in my mouth my teeth crack grit
The skye narrow to a slice
The cold closes in like a lid pushd down
Smell of roots and decay all round
The earth cut clean on each side
Not a foot hold or a crack to use
A narrow fringe of green above
Jaggd jutting steeple the church needles skye
There I fix my eyes
I cannot look down
Unsteady I stand feel planks
But they are not firm
I stretch up my arms
The sleeves of my pinafore all streakd mud
Underneath me the board shift
The hands of the dead reach for me
I scream and scream my lungs raw
But tis eve now and who to hear
The dead below pild many
The boards shift and twist
My feet sinking
Still I scream and scream
Try to get some purchase on the clean cut sides
Scrambling and pulling with nails hands feet
Alas the earth is soft and starts to give way
A massy pile of earth falling upon me
So I think myself like to be burid alive
Only with girt difficulty
I pull myself out from under it
Hands touch the planks what mess lie beneath
Start I then once more to try to climb out
Which might now be possible where earth fell in
Then a shadow fall and a face appear
I cannot see right for the light behind him
But such is the power of this moment
That I think to myself without any doubt
So this now is God hisself
Who does come to save me
A hand come down
Fingers long and white root dangle
The touch soft but v strong
I take hold and feel the press of a gold ring
Sharp gainst my fingers
Then I am liftd out of the grave
Into the embracing grey light
Such is the shock and shame
I cannot look up
None can see the face of God
Why tis Mary Ann Sate a voice says
I see above me Mr Harland Cottrell
He looks at me knife pierce sharp
What do you here Mary Ann
I do not know what I can tell him but say
All at The Heavens took sick I cannot stay
So Woebegone is called home is he
Yes Sir I say God save me
Tis not the whole truth
Ah Ah say Mr Harland Cottrell
He was a man of goodness much mistreatd
Such are the times in which we live
The price of the truth can be high
Ah yes
Mr Harland Cottrell consider me then a while
Peer away far beyond the town
Up into the pleatd distant hills
Ah Ah he say
So many gone I have never seed such contagion
The wrath of God so many say but I do not agree
A God of love does not this
Then he considers me again and I could weep
For the mud on my dress and much else beside
He say What do you now Mary Ann Sate
I say surprisd at my own boldness
I look for a position Sir
Perhaps as a kitchen maid
I am a good worker
A silence gathers the shadows of the church yard
Grow long round us air chill the breeze growing
What of the Angels Mary Ann Sate
Do they not help you now
Yes I reply They can help me
Yet I need also human hands
So God has provide
I do not know why I said this
Perhaps I read something in his face
For after a while longer he say
V well Mary Ann
Do you know where is Stocton Hill
I had heard the name but knew naught of it
Still say I can find my way easy Sir
