Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile, page 17
That he should speak of keeping things clean
When I think how blatchy was this house
When first I come
Sometimes not so much better now
For I can clean well
But not mend what is broke
What else can I say He is my Master
There is no choice I must do as he say
Though I prefer not to enter that room
I cannot quite say why
You must work in the evening he say
I am busy there all day
I have many preparations to make
But you can light candles
Yes I say and so that eve
I know that I must be dinging long
Nettie already gone to bed
Goes as soon as she may
Leave all to me I do not care
Take candles broom mop soap
Bucket blacking feather duster
No one is in the room by now or so I think
Mr Harland Cottrell already gone his chamber
So then I am surprise when I push back the door
See a candle burn at a desk
In the far corner of the room
The light touch the brow lip cheek
Tis Master Blyth
Who work at a desk
His head come up as I enter
He nod at me
Eyes shut with concentration
To make a word Finally say
You you you can can come in
Then the words flow more free
I shall continue to work
His head drop back down
Ovr the book
Yes Sir I say Begin to spread my tools
Light another candle the room begin to form
Push back the shadows
Walls lind with many books
At the centre heavy wooden furniture
As I begin to sweep see what look like a bed
Yet high up and round it many wooden seats
Also a wooden tray nearby
I move the candle so I may see more clear
The light leaps and jumps
Playing up the walls of books
Glittering on brass handles
Lighting the edge of a vast bone
Must surely be the jaw of a cow
Saws pliers knives
So many metal instruments
Wooden cases and leather bags
Much like a carpenter have
But something tells me this not the same
Move the light jagging away
At one wall a winder fullsome curtains close
My candle move cross the furrow of the fabric
Keep yr eyes now on the surfaces I say
Make all clean wipd shine
There is much to do
Still my eyes oft wander
See the visage of Master Blyth
It were strange how a face
Could be so like another
Yet not like at all
All the features being a true copy
But the light within quite different
The character shadowd and knit tight
Come come Mary Ann I say to myself
You have much work to do here
Stop bathering about
Yet even then as I speak to myself thus
I move the candle It touches blood letting bowls
Then glass bottles with black lids
Many many lind on the shelves and all labelld
In a neat slanting hand
Some hardly the length of my finger
Others will be heavy to lift
I should be afeard to drop them
All dusty and rightly each must be liftd out
Cleand all about yet there are so many
That may be another time
I move the candle on so I can measure
The scale of all must be done
Then feel a shiver pass up my spine
My hands tremble
My stomach rise up in my throat
For there are other bottles
Which gleam white in the candle
Things move
White clumps like sheeps wool
Marked with fine lines all running together
Like the grains of wood
Bottle pulling shapes round stretchd horribly
Made bright by the light
I cannot say what they are
I hold on tight to the candle
Must not drop it
Must not cry out
Then I see out of a glass jar
A human face peering at me
Terror breaks in a scream from my lips
Master Blyth I never hear him move
Sudden he is at my side
Take my candle
M M M Mary Ann Y Y Y you not be afeard
I cannot speak but only point
Y Y yes he say Sometime they use a pigment
To give a colour so it looks quite real
Does it not
I want him to lower the candle
I want to get away
Tis only my job to clean dust
Use my eyes only for that
Still I cannot help but look
What I see is moon touchd and shining
But also hazy like seed through water
S S S see here an adder and here a piglet
His voice is chargd with wonder
More than that a hunger
How can he speak so
These things swimly nakd in glass bottles
Alive and not alive Trappd Floating
My teeth are screeching my bones squeeze
Y Y Y you have nothing to fear say Master Blyth
Hold the candle higher
There is no harm in it
These things are dead anyway
Only put h h h here so that we may study
To know better the world in which we live
This we owe to Almighty God
Who made all these things
To understand fully the mystery of His creation
I cannot even hear the words he say
The moon of his face lit by the candle
The shadows of his eyes gathering dark
His hands root like white same as his father
Then Mr Harland Cottrells words
Come back to me
You kill nothing that live in this world
So now none of it makes sense
These things are dead and should be returnd
To the earth from which they come
Tis gainst nature that they are trappd here
Still floating strippd far from Gods mercy
Master Blyth turn to look at me
Ah ah S S S sorry he say
I see this not to yr taste
I interrupt you in yr work Mary Ann
So he return the candle to me and carry on
Yet my mind is full of what I have seed
Spin spin Turn this way and that
I find it fearful
I know it to be wrong
I never seed anything so ungodly
Or anything so chargd with worship
But no wipe dust only
That evening do only the floors
The surface of that wooden bed and chairs
Make all as good as I can
It were many days work to do all
Yet though I do not look at Master Blyth
I feel him there and can hardly hold my brush
Such is my fear
My mind circling again and again
That Devil with the moving eyes
Also the certainty that should Master Blyth
Take off his boots then we should see
His legs scaly his feet clawd
He planting limbs in blood
They grow in the garden
Hands and feet pushing up
Tis just as my mind does scream
With all these thoughts
I come upon a bucket stand beside the wooden bed
Something dark is in it
I shine my candle down
My head turn as though I am falling
Inside it are many frogs all cut up
I see legs heads all thrown together
What am I to do with this
I take the pail and go out into the lane
I do not look again inside
I do not want my hand near
Hold the candle high
But stumbling still
Must not spill the bucket
Who did this and why
Does Master Blyth take his own way
Or obey his fathers instructions
Walk down Lower Slad Ground
Tip all the stinking mess in a hedge
Then go back and clean the bucket at the pump
What house am I living in
Yet I cannot but be grateful
Yet I must think on this
Here I could fall into sin
Here I not understand
Tis as Nettie says Work work
And do not see Do not ask
None of this for me to know
MOUNT VERNON
In the first bruisd light
I wake early
The winder of my tower room open
The air knife sharp and stinging
Slowly I unwrap the stiffness of my limbs
Look out at the fleecd pink of the morning
The garden all shroude the cloud settld on us
As it does oft these rearing Valleys
So it did the first dawn at The Heavens
When I think myself indeed in paradise
I am not far from there now
I pull on my dress
Wince the lump above my breast
I feel it more there a knot of wound
It takes all my power
I am growed thin as a child
Sit at the kitchen table and write
The pen move smooth cross the paper
I do not write as neat as once I did
For now I am tird bitterly bitterly tird
I think to eat some food but none I want
The time is short
Yet still I continue
Not because he says I must
A cause now I start the words run on
They have their own way to go
All around the zummer is pacing on
The verdous trees now heavy with the weight
So many breathing flourishing leaves
Below terraces cut in the earth
Steps which lead down
Through two lines of trees
Beyond the thick woods
You reach see through a white iron gate
Which is behind the small zummer house
Such a trim and eggshell little place
This acre a corner of heaven descend
What a mystery now to think that
Tis this exact house
This place I saw the building go ahead
When I was a stripling
Tower up through the cloud of winter trees
That day with Ambrose
Oh it were long ago
I wish I could but walk through the garden
Yet my pen tumbles on and on
Still I must listen for my Master
Though he rises from his bed less and less
Talks oft of how I must write for he
Three lines I do take down
Of this date and that Act of Parlement
Afore he drops again into firm sleep
Though now today he calls me
His theme it has changd
His concern is that letter
He did write to his relatives
Which he instruct me to post
Worrid he is now that no response
Has been receivd
I do not light upon him as to the fact
No response now will evr arrive
For I no a ways sent the letter to be postd
It lies still in the kitchen
I did not destroy it
That I would not do
For that letter is in the manner of a will
Which will be need when he is gone
Yet I consider it best
That the letter stay here
In that way no one will come
To disturb us here
Yet he is not to be stoppd
By such an easy trick
Does discuss now as to how
He must take contact with a solicitor
Who may assist him in the matter
Of this his acursd book
I stand afore him while he turns
The question this way and that
Though I know you will serve me well in this
As in all else he say
Yet I feel I must also seek other assistance
For I know this is a weighty task to ask
Even you and I working together take some time
Yet still I cannot help but to say
Perhaps Sir I had best send word
To the son of that Mr Hawkins Fisher
Who as you know was always a friend
To yr dear departd father
The son being also now a solicitor in Stroud
You know him so I think
This were wickd of me
For that man he will no a ways have
Not in this house or anywhere about
He cannot take the risk of that
This I already know
As he does now make clear
Instructs me then to write to another
Whose name he has heard
Being Mr Watton of Rowcroft
So I sit down and take up my pen
How a man must be found to help
With the preparation of a singular book
On an important subject of much local interest
Arrangements also made as to a book binder
Might under take to make public such a document
I write the words down without hearing them
Think He finds someone new now to lie for he
Keep the anger in my mind lockd tight
Does he believe any assistance be a coming
Mr Gains left a cause he was not paid
The lawyer in Stroud will be the same
Twill be knowd
His family never could keep a hold of money
The sun pass the summit and slide syrup down
Afore all is crossd dottd blottd finishd
Then he takes the letter sends me for a spill
Lit from the kitchen range melt the wax seals
When I return with the lightd spill
He drips the wax and stamps
Then takes a penny from his pocket
Course he say
I shall go again to Stroud myself
In but a few days
I say Yes Sir yes
But will he again
The hill being a straight drop his leg rotting
The horse fine tempering young and skittering
I take from him the letters and the coin
Promise that all shall be deliverd well
Then gather also up some bloody rags and bucket
Cross the hall and down to the kitchen
Lean gainst the table
Breath blockd in my throat
I stoke up the fire
Must then wash out the rags
Think what I might find for lunch
There is little enough
Only what the garden yield
Some salted beef gone green
Eggs the boy from below does bring
The Master call again
I must go to him
Yet first I take up that letter he did write
Step to the range pick up a spill
Place it where it light
Lay it close gainst the letter
A copper flash sparks paper burns a circle black
The wax of the seal spits
The flames take and flare
The letter is gone
Droppd into the range
All is ash
STOCTON HILL
So now I do come to a part of my story
Another strange terrifying wonderment twas
Of that Mr Harland Cottrell
Or so I thought at the time
For as I did tell
He hopd v much he might cure
The deformity of my mouth
Already he had tried herbs and plasters
None of it had changd much
I did know he discussd this much
With Master Blyth
Anyways Mr Harland Cottrell come one day
Just as I am out the back working the mangle
Palm Sunday had been and gone
Yet it were a scurvy inhospitable day
Ice still lie all cross the path
I wrappd tight in coat and gloves
My feet pulsing cold
Mr Harland Cottrell wear no coat
Only wool jacket
Was always casual not take care of hisself
He should a knowd better
So he comes to stand beside me
Near foot slipping on the path
Mary Ann what think you about this hole
That has always been yr upper lip
I feel blood rise up my body gather my face
For I am ashamd and shockd
