Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile, page 30
Is it injury or liquor
Perhaps I am too harsh
Now he weeps long and loud
Pleads again and again with his brother
Do not go Do not leave me
Master Blyth then turns to Lucetta
Say My friend who has done much for me
Can I also ask you now
To look after my dear brother
She course does agree to this
Still Master Ned does say
You know I will die without you
Please I beg you do not go
Without you I shall be undone
MOUNT VERNON
Now how my Master does rage gainst me
For I have so forgot myself and left
Some page of what I writ
On the table in the hall
Do I never learn my lesson
Shouting now Shew me what you write
Fetch me all the book
You have imprisond me here
Writing lies about me
For what has he found
Not the story of my beginnnings
Not ramblings of the humble maid servant writ
So rich folk gasp at the lives of the poor
Instead some part of his own story
Which he did want to writ hisself
Still he rants on
How soon he shall be going to Stroud
I best give him now all I write
He will handle all hisself
Never should he have had me back
In this his house
I take no regard much of he
Soon he will be calm enough again
Give me the book he shouts again
Bring it to me
Sir I say I am truly sorry
That I cannot do what you ask
You see I do not writ in the kitchen now
I have takd my writing upstairs
The light is better there
Yet the stairs are many and steep
So I leave him there in the hall
Those two lost pages cradle in my arms
Cross the slanting staind glass light the hall
See him down below me
Balancd on that barrel of the musket
His stump arm waving at me in rage
You you he shout again accusing me
Who are you to pass judgement
Whatevr guilt there is
You have yr share in it
All would have been well
If only you had been loyal
Is that not true Mary Ann
Is it not true
I try as best I may
To shut my ear gainst he
Yet his voice does follow me
All up the high and echoing well
Of the twisting slanting stair
His words settling deep in my mind
No matter how little I want them there
Whatevr guilt there is
You have yr share in it
This I will not hear
STOCTON HILL
Many a time I remember
That day Master Blyth left
Without you I shall be undone
At the time I took it only for the artifice
Of which Master Ned is such a craftsman
Yet who can say
For as time rolls out his words start to seem
To have more truth in they
As evr the darkness gathers slow
At first things went on much as afore
Only Nettie does go pecking vile on me
Even more oft
This I understand she miss Master Blyth
So she may I think but I do not
For though Lucetta will hear
No word gainst he
I do consider he did lead her on
Then let her down most cruelly
For this I never will forgive he
So there I was alone in my anger
Alone also in my work as evr was
Nettie oft abed sleeping
Though Mr Harland Cottrell does not know
Itching pitiful all ovr
Master Ned working at the booksellers
Stay oft in Stroud
That was the story
At the mill all as afore
Though the Reform Act passd
Stroud has now his own man Colonel Fox
Who is sent to Parlement to speak for us
No matter does it make as any can see
Soon loud clambering complaining again
With hand bills and meetings
I do not know
I never walkd oft the way to Stroud
Though Lucetta must have heard at the mill
So she say it to me
How the Valleys always boiling
For there was never any trade more intricate
More uncertain and contradictory
Than this our cloth trade
Mr Harland Cottrell hisself changd now
Growd deaf so that you must shout at he
Through an ear trumpet
Got hisself also some Waterloo teeth
For his own was all falld out
Stayd home more particularly
When the weather is gloaming
His joints become stiff as rustd hinge
Sat many hours silent by the fire
You might have thought he at least glad
For the law now been passd Parlement
End the evil of the West Indian slavery
Yet Mr Harland Cottrell say Nay nay
You mark my words the way the law is cast
Many shall find a way past he
I think also he must miss Master Blyth
Yet he never mentiond his name
Never opend the letters as came
Leaving them only to Master Ned
Who no a ways tell us any
Strange he never say anything about Lucetta
Never accuse her in the matter of Master Blyth
His departure
Though to me it were clear
Her hand were in it
She had encouragd him to go
Hoping also to go herself
Afore he did disappoint her so bitterly
Yet that were Mr Harland Cottrell for you
He were misguid in many matters
Yet he were always fair
Would never use his station gainst any
That were the puzzle of he
So things go on
I were happy for every eve
Lucetta is home
She and I sit together for an hour
Just afore bed
Or sometimes a Sunday afternoon
Walk out in the fields many mile
Do enjoy to go to Painswick
Taking not the toll road
Walking the stream and Stepping Stone Lane
To see the many fine yews round the church
Which we do also try to count
For I do tell Lucetta how tis knowd
There be ninety nine yews
And should the hundredth evr be plant
Then both the tree and he who plants
Shall by a Devil soon be struck dead
This Lucetta does allow me
For though she does not believe my stories
Yet she does enjoy them and understand
My love of such
As others do not
So we walk oft through those tunnels of yew
Close and dark cloying branches clinging
She oft ahead dash this way and that
Seed and not seed cut by sun light
Wearing always that same pale shawl
As does blow about her shoulders
So one day we are there the wind blows sharp
A coming down through the yews
I hear a curious noise
Like the playing of a flute
Not music yet a few long notes
That do mix with the sound of the wind
I turn to look around for her
See her not then hear her voice
And lo she is far up on the roof of the church
Above the gargoyles waving at me
Her arms and shawl spread like Angel wings
Gainst the sapphire cloud torn skye
Still that ghostly music spreading like smoke
She gave me then also a bracelet
Made of jewel colourd glass beads
Never a thing so fine did I possess
It were a blessd time
Yet too oft at Stocton Hill
Our solitude were interruptd
By Master Ned
He always want this and this and this
I went to him course as I must
Yet I found no joy in it
For oft he were red in the face
Could smell the liquor on he
Always he askd is Lucetta not here
I shook my head as though I did not understand
Lucetta were different
Always pleasd enough to help
For since Master Blyth had gone
She had fall back
Into a pleasant way with Master Ned
I found it vexing to see
I never knew what she knew of him
What she did not
Yet still I question her
She turnd then and lookd at me with her
Pooling deep eyes and said
Afore he left Master Blyth
Askd me particularly
He said would I take care of his brother
So I must Twas a promise
For we are Christians Mary Ann are we not
We cannot let others stray from the true path
Tis our duty to help those who are temptd
Particularly with one such as he
Who has such a good clean soul
He means such kindness always
Though he so oft fail
So you know in a case such as this
Friendship may be his route to redemption
We can never under estimate
What true friends may do
This she did always say
For this was her theory
Which she had read much
I said little then
For yes I am a Christian
I believe there was goodness in him
I saw him as a small boy
Shot through with the blessings of the Lord
Oh we must all be kind and loving
Only sometimes it does not serve
Tis a question the Christian faith
Not oft address
That next zummer all were stirrd up
Breaking open the land itself seemd to dip sway
Even at Stocton Hill the air restive
Many false prophets abroad in the world
Who privily bring in damnable heresies
Also sorcerers performing signs of the Beast
St Swithins Day it raind
So for forty days did remain
Torrents thrashing down day on day
Would punish the growth from the land
The harvest would not be got in
The price of bread evr rising
The work less and less
In Stroud many gathering together
Waving loaves of stale bread
All tied about with black ribbons
Master Ned tell me and Lucetta
Mr Vincent come to Stroud
Along with that Mr Morris Moore
To address the people
All will go to hear him speak
Also me I want to go as well
Nettie tell me Nay nay
You will be takd by the constables
Transportd You not go there
Yet still I ask Mr Harland Cottrell
Which were bold of me
I have to shout it rather
First he shakes his head wipes his hand
Cross his wide forehead
Takes his eye glasses on and off
Yet finally he say
So so you may go Mary Ann
Yet you take care you do not believe
All is said there
Take care also of yr own person
There will no doubt be thieves and drunkenness
And lewd behaviour
So you girl take care
So the day come there I am
With the others from the cottages
Ambrose and Lucetta we walk down
Join many others there walk the path
Along the stream
The land wet and sticking our feet
A cause of all the rain
Many dressd in their fine clothes
Such as they usual wear for church
The women with their best hats
The men their shirts pressd and fresh
Someone plays a trumpet others sing
Women have a meadow of flowrs
Stuck into their hats laughing all the way
My heart beat fast my hands squeeze tight
To be part of such a merry throng
Though Ambrose do say such is the times
How can we know whether any is the man
Holds back the mob or whether he is hisself
That same brute force
Such he does oft say now
For he has been promotd to a new position
Is in charge of much of the engineering
Wheelwright also at Pitchcombe Mill
So he does say less gainst Mr Fluck
As once he did
This I do not criticize him for
I am glad to see him so raisd
Yet hope he does not lose his feeling
For those who can no a ways advance
Of who there be many
So that day soon come up the town of Stroud
Gather in the main street jostling and pushing
The hyms of Mr John Wesley being sung
Talk of all the unjust laws
Of that Whig aristocracy
There Mr Vincent stand high up on a box
All fall into silence when he begins to speak
How the hardy class of the weaver
Who was a proud and independent man
With a good living much food spread on his table
Has now been reducd little better than a pauper
Work a fourteen hour day for a few shillings
Then others such as Mr Morris Moore do come
Gone on then about Parlement and all
I am at the back and cannot hear
Many tankards being carrid out from the inn
Some already high in drink
Then Master Ned jumps up high
The platform starts to speak
I back away
Hiding myself in the crowd
I think then what his dear father would think
If he could see all
Standing up high sun catch the yeller of hair
One hand grippd cross his chest
The other outstretchd
Three and a half million of working men he say
Hold out the olive branch of peace
To the enfranchisd and privilegd classes
Only asking a firm and compact union
Asking only they may be free
Though I do hear but few of the words
I feel the shape of them
The galloping rhythm matches
The beat of every heart
The dip and sway the twist and turn
How they come in the ear
Pass straight to the heart
The crowd hears it too and roars claps
Laughs throngs twists
So that when he come down from the platform
Many are crowd about him
To slap him on the shoulder
Others also stand up after to speak
Wild men talking the revenge of the Lord
Foaming at the mouth and raging
Calling on all to act
To bring about a new world of Justice and Truth
The constables now standing watching all
Tis well knowd the King and Country men
All wait in readiness
The crowd in a high excitement sway and toss
Hand bills blowd down from trees
Or passd out through the crowd
Blowing everywhere about
I remember Mr Harland Cottrell did warn me
Of the safety of my person
Which never I did listen much
Yet now I begin to think
So I wander away a quieter spot
Sit on a wall eat the bread I brought with me
Prefer just to watch all that goes on past
Yet keeping an eye always on Lucetta
Who is up the front of the crowd
Listen to every word
No sun seed in the skye that day
Yet still were hot like a pan boiling
The speaking finishd
It comes to me in a sharp way
How I am separate from others
That I may not laugh and talk
With them of my age
This I know but being among so many
The truth of it bears down on me
I should like to go home
Feel strange heart ache for Mr Harland Cottrell
Who has always knowd me as others do not
