Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile, page 27
So I decide that I might
Discuss this with Master Blyth
Who as we know may say little
But is doubtless possessd of much quiet wisdom
And Godliness
Now this were something new
Twas Master Blyth she says
As did set me straight on certain questions
It pains him much to give a bad report
Of his brother who he loves dear
But he was worrit for the sanctity of my soul
I feel it right he should warn me
I care not what work a man does
Yet Master Ned has lied to his father
Making out he takes his studies seriously
No one should deceive in such a manner
Tis gainst our Heavenly Father
Also is involvd in business at the mills
I fear he is not honest
To me honesty is all
So I tell him firm
Course I am pleasd
That she has seed this
For I myself has wonderd much
Still I am amazd that Master Blyth
Should finally speak gainst his brother
Though it must surely come some time
Also I do not know how she dare
She the orphan of a family
With nowt to call their own
He the son of a gentleman
But that is how she is
She has no fear of men
Or of those who are her betters
Mr Harland Cottrell and Master Ned
Speak sharp theysselfs
They may not like
When other take up the same tune
So after all of that
Is a cankerous feeling in the house
Mr Harland Cottrell speak little to Master Ned
Speak only Master Blyth of his disappointment
Yet none of it the fault of Master Ned
That course the view of Mr Harland Cottrell
Who also say many harsh things gainst Ambrose
For tis he who has led Master Ned
Allowing his mind to be venomd
By ideas of struggle and breaking up
Are gainst the ways of the Lord
Mr Harland Cottrell I know does even say
How Ambrose must be throwd out the cottage
This however does Mr Birch Nazareth prevent
For sees also the goodness in Ambrose
Say No No No You do not move gainst he
He does pay the rent regular
We have need of such as he
So say Mr Birch Nazareth
Telling us also
Tis even said by some that Master Ned
Was part of all that riot in Bristol
For he was away those few days
Tis true
Know also Ambrose care nothing
For what Mr Harland Cottrell does say
Though course it must be the case
That if Master Ned is never to be at fault
Then many other must be in his place
Soon then Master Ned is took to bed with quinsy
Tis a cause of his many disappointments
No one say directly
That Lucetta has jiltd he
Yet tis gathers thick the air storm
I am set to mix kali and pure nitre
Cochineal five grains and spirits of ammonia
Tis Master Blyth sits by his brothers bed
Feeds him broth bleds him
Washes away the sweat
Still he will do that for he
The turning come but slow
Master Ned still talking wild
He did never want to be a lawyer anyway
It were a loss of his time
I hope it were the fever as did talk
Lucetta she were evr kind and caring
She worrit she had wound he
So oft she spoke to Master Blyth
To ask how does he fare
Is he stronger
Master Blyth take trouble to explain to her
All the details of the quinsy and its fever
Is most kind considerate to her worries
So oh oh it all come round
Later you think were there other paths
When all might have been different
I think not
Whether it be God or fate or what not I know
But all is laid out
We are but stands of corn
Who chose not whether we be bathd in sun
Or beatd flat by storm
MOUNT VERNON
I must stop writing now for dawn is come
The candle low and guttering
How strange at first I could not
Find those first words to put down
Yet now I cannot stop
So much I thought I had forgot
Rise up to greet me
So perfectly clear and shouting out loud
To be set down by the pen
I must go on I am the servant of the words
Must make the past tidy shew it proper
The world that felt like dark disorder
Now under my pen is all put right
The divine work of the Almighty
Celebratd now and uncover
All done in praise of He
I say this but I know
The part I tell now simple
Know what the good what the bad
Not all goes on like that
At the winder the dark now tingd pink
The air damp and clinging mist
I feel the dew has settld on my skin
Though it cannot be
My breath comes short
The pain in my chest digging sharp
As I descend the kitchen stairs
Find there that one has been afore me
That boy is Ambroses grandson
A loaf of warm bread
Has placd upon the table
I tear a piece with my hands and eat
The bread smelling of sun and warmth
Break soft in my mouth
Sitting then I do remember
How I did meet that son of Ambrose
As I walk up to this Mount Vernon
That first time That same day I was hird
Strange twas for he has only seed me once
That being near thirty years gone
Yet even in that moment he did know me
He stop me in the road call to me
I hurry on scard to be seed
Many do taunt and shout in the road
Cripple they call out and idiot Or imbecile
But though I hurry on the voice is still calling
It does not mock so I stop
I also do know he straightway
He met me with his father in Gloucester when
He hisself were just a boy
Ambrose long dead now
Killd in an accident cart out near Maisemore
Never brought the body back roads being flood
Block with mud and water
I hear tell of it
Never thought to hear more til that man stop me
You are Mary Ann Sate he say
So I had thought you long dead
Oh what joy it were to see a familiar face
It were the second that day
This the more welcome
Then I explain where I go to work and he say
Aye I hear he come back
Bought the big house a fine place
You not had yr fill then of the Cottrells yet
Yet then he laugh for he look at me
See how I am placd
What choice I have
Then lay he a hand upon my arm and say
If you need me I am here I keep the toll house
A small lad stood beside him
This I know to be Ambroses grandson
They all have the same face the same easy limbs
It could have been Ambrose hisself stood there
He is not one quarter mile away
The land church spire steep thickly wooded
Yet the boy does come
Ah how manifold are the Lords blessings
Do know also the Lord shall repay
Yea many time ovr
All that is given in kindness
STOCTON HILL
Ah yes the nursing of Master Ned
That were perhaps the start of much
Yet not many weeks later there comes another
Which also were the cause
I could see it not at the time
I live just from day to day
Happy in my love for Lucetta
Grateful that she is deliverd
That she has seed the truth of all
Advent was gone two three weeks or more
Soon to celebrate the birth of our Lord
With holly and mistletoe cut down the trees
Laid out on the mantelpiece
Wrappd in a wreath at the front door
I look forward to the singing
Of all those Christmas songs and carols
Which evr movd my heart
To hear also of the birth of the Christ child
Read out at the chapel all crowd tight
In good cheer though breath rising white
Yet just when all should be joyous
To celebrate that blessd season
Did happen the child got sick
That little one as livd in the cottages
The son of the man who Ambrose once workd
That little one calld Conker
Though his real name was Colin
Had been fever in the mills oft at that time
So no one thought much
But soon Lucetta come ovr to the farm
Ask if she might see Master Blyth
She had perhaps waitd til she knew
Mr Harland Cottrell was out
For otherwise she must speak to he
But instead she speak to Master Blyth
I hear them in the sitting room
Can you not help this child Sir say she
Aye aye he say
But I must speak with my father first
Why must you speak with he
That was always the way she spoke
Too direct some would say
Then I hear no more for the door shut
When Mr Harland Cottrell back went cross
He would have done anyway
That was his way
Was never slow to help
Know not what the family thought on this
Probably glad enough for money would not run
Even to go down to the dispensary
To that well known Mr Burrows
The danger were not mortal
While Mr Harland Cottrell was busy there
I met Ambrose in the lane
I only desird to talk to him of light things
I did not want to mention
Mr Harland Cottrell and the Conker child
I knew he would have his views
Yet he was not to be movd away
Straightway begin to say
No good would come of it
Least he hardly make the situation worse I say
Aye aye Ambrose agree
I not say he make the situation worse
Yet he certainly will not make it no better
For all he thinks he knows so much
That was all so we wait
Mr Harland Cottrell say in a day or two
The child will revive
Two days pass snail slow
Soon as Lucetta get home
She helps to nurse
Master Blyth go ovr also
To give instructions in the matter
I know not what pass there
Yet it seem surprising to me
That two growd people be need
For the nursing of a small child
I say no more
Yet for all that the child did not revive
Come then but two days afore Christmas Eve
The mother she stand weeping in the lane
Dressed in nowt but a white night gown
Stands out clear gainst the darkening eve
Pulling at her hanging hair
Scratching her face sore to see
Her hands reaching up and up
Though she might pull down help from heaven
Her feet bare the ice hard mud
Her breath white as though you see
The pain comes in each scream
It were a wrenching sight to behold
She already laid two in the church yard
Afore she evr came to Stocton Hill
Poor soul
Now she cry out saying this child too
Will soon be gone
He cannot last the night
It did shatter my heart to hear it
For he was a merry little soul
Knottd curls and warm hands
Taking a crust from me at the table
With his other hand
Pat my knee v gentle
Tis hard this world
The Lord test us most severe
Mr Harland Cottrell
Hearing that mournful sound
Which seemd to travel all cross the Valley
Soon come forth and after him Master Blyth
They have lit lanterns which sway bright
As they step ovr to the cottage together
Are there some moments endways
The night now rolling in
When they come back tis clear
All has not falld out well
I stand at the winder listening
Can see the two clear
The light of the lantern
Touch the sides of their faces
At first I hear what I expect to hear
Mr Harland Cottrell say to Master Blyth
No no The child will come to quite well
You shall see Only have patience
We have no need of any further assistance
The draught I have administerd will do all
Master Blyth follow him
Then stop and how strange to relate
He speaks with a baff
Has not done now in many months
Say I I I do not think so
At this I move closer the winder
This I have not heard afore
What say you Mr Harland Cottrell says
Fix Master Blyth with a shaking stare
I I I
Do not tell me says Mr Harland Cottrell
You know my view on this
We have no need of any other
You deceive these good people
Who have no money to spare
He gets no further for Master Blyth
Shaking and mouth fish open shut
His hands trembling shout
The child will die
Do you not understand
The child will die
After is a sudden long silence
A stone go down a well is long falling
Then Mr Harland Cottrell stand staff straight
Purse up his mouth point his finger
Aim his eyes like they two musket
I will not have you say this
Tis not true
You are deceivd and you deceive
That whole lot doctors chirurgeons apothecaries
No better than poisoners carpenters barbers
Butchers all
Yet he does not get to the end of that
Master Blyth has his head down is spitting
I feel his temper boiling ovr
What bottld rage does lie there
I say
The child will die
If we do not get a proper doctor
Proper doctor Proper doctor
Mr Harland Cottrell is raging now
Finger stabbing
Near toppling ovr such is his wrath
Yet what neither have noticd
From where I am I see
Ambrose is a coming through the darkness
Bringing a lantern in his hand
Come up the lane
He see all for he always see
Yet he is subtle knows always that
Sometimes kindness is more deadly than rage
So he steps forward
Touching his cap say to Mr Harland Cottrell
Ah Sir I see you have decide on a doctor
I am free now Sir
Will gladly walk to Stroud
At this Mr Harland Cottrell boil ovr
You keep out of this
It has naught to do with you
Already you meddle in my affairs
Yet even as Mr Harland Cottrell say all this
The rage is leaking out of he
His body begin to sag a little
He knows he can control Master Blyth
He not so sure of Ambrose
Though he is the lower station
Also I must say Mr Harland Cottrell
Eldering now and tird
Perhaps he know when he is beat
Though I think him wrong
I do not like to see him so
