Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MATES, by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MATES, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Nay, lass! I cannot turn him
Last Line: [she picks up the basket and can, and runs out after him.]


Persons:

MARTIN AYNSLEY, a pitman.
CHARLOTTE AYNSLEY, his mother.
GRACE HARDY, his betrothed.

Scene: CHARLOTTE AYNSLEY'S cottage. CHARLOTTE AYNSLEY and
GRACE HARDY stand by fire, talking together.

CHARLOTTE. Nay, lass! I cannot turn him;
He pays no heed to me:
He'll have his will, for all that I can say.
He's just his father over.
GRACE. But, have you said...
CHARLOTTE. Said! Have I not said all to him
A mother's heart can say --
A heart left mateless,
And with one son left...
How could I leave a single word unspoken,
To save the only son that's left me --
To save him from the death
That overtook his father and his brothers,
That night...
When I...
I slumbered soundly;
And never dreamt of danger,
While they, my husband and my sons...
And Martin --
Though 'twas only by a hair's breadth
That he himself escaped,
And came to me again --
Yet, he'll not leave the pit,
For all my pleading.
Perhaps if you...
GRACE. Nay! but I've talked, and talked, with him;
And he would answer nothing.
I could not win a word from him.
Will you not try again?
CHARLOTTE. Try, daughter, try!
What is there left to try?
How could I leave a stone unturned!
Do I not lie awake the livelong night,
To think of ways and means
To keep him from the pit?
I've scarcely slept a wink since...
Since that night --
That night I slept so soundly...
[Pause.]

It seems as though he could not break with it --
The pit that all his folk have worked in.
It's said, his father's grandfather
Was born at the pit-bottom --
Ay, daughter! born and died there:
For, two days after he was married,
They found him, crushed beneath a rock,
Dead, in the very shaft --
The very shaft in which his mother bore him:
For womenfolk worked in the pits in those days,
Young girls, and mothers near their time,
And little children, naked...
GRACE. But is there nothing else that Martin
Would care to try his hand at?
CHARLOTTE. Have I not offered, lass,
To set him up in any trade he fancies?
This very morn, when he came in,
I said I'd buy a horse and cart,
With stock-in-trade for him to hawk:
For hawking's scarce a job
That needs a man brought up to it.
At least, I thought that he...
GRACE. What did he say?
CHARLOTTE. He only laughed at first;
But, when I pressed him, shrugged his shoulders,
You know the way he has with him,
And looked me straight betwixt the eyes --
Looked at me with his father's eyes --
And then he said:
"Nay, mother! I'm a pitman;
And I must take my chance among my mates."
He's just his father over...
GRACE. That was all?
CHARLOTTE. All, daughter! Was it not enough?
There's nothing more to say.
He will not leave the pit,
Although his father, and his brothers...
And he, himself...
I never shall sleep soundly any more --
Though sound I slept that night,
While they were dying ... I...
GRACE. I'll speak with him again.
Perhaps...
CHARLOTTE. Ay, lass; he'll listen to you,
If he'll pay heed to any one.
GRACE. Oh, Charlotte, do you think that I...
When you, his mother...
Do you think he cares...
He cares so much for me?
If I could only turn him!
And yet, if he'll not heed...
CHARLOTTE. It seems, I've lost my hold:
He's broken from my apron-strings,
It's your turn now;
And you must try your strength with him.
He's stubborn; but he's fond of you;
And when his heart is set on anything,
He's just his father over.
When Stephen first walked out with me,
His mother bade...
But Martin's stirring;
I must get his bait.
Ay! even while we talk of him, he's dressing
To go upon the night-shift.
Talk! Talk!
GRACE. Yet, I must try to save him.
If I could only turn...
CHARLOTTE. Pray God, you may!
There's still a chance;
Though I...
It's your turn now.
I'm only Martin's mother;
But, you...
When Stephen wooed me, I was more to him...
And you'll be more to Martin...
How he whistles!
His heart, at least, is light enough.
And, in a moment he'll be out.
I'll leave you here to wait for him,
And speak with him, alone;
And if he asks for me,
Say that I'm seeking coals --
Coals! seeking coals!
God knows their cost...
Sometimes I cannot bear to see a fire,
And think of all the burning lives...
He'll soon be out.
His bait is on the table;
Though I'll be back before he leaves.
GRACE. Nay, do not go.
What can I say to him!
CHARLOTTE. Your heart will tell you, if you love...
But, here he comes.

[She picks up the scuttle and shovel and goes out.
MARTIN AYNSLEY enters from the inner room.]

MARTIN. Mother, this button...
You here, lass!
I thought I heard my mother's voice,
But did not know who talked with her.
Has she gone out?
I wanted...
GRACE. Come, lad, I'll sew the button on.
MARTIN. You, Grace!
Well, you've got nimble fingers.
But, mother, lass...
GRACE. She'll not be long.
Come nearer to the window:
Nay, but you must stand quietly,
Or you'll be pricked, in no time.
MARTIN. Nay, then, I'd best be quiet,
For I shall often want you...
I play the deuce with buttons.
You're not afraid, lass, when you think of all...
GRACE. Nay, I'll not mind the buttons;
They'll be the least...
MARTIN. The least?
GRACE. If wives had naught to do for men,
But sew on buttons,
They would thank their stars.
But, maybe, some one else than I
Will sew yours on for you.
MARTIN. Why, Grace, who else?
GRACE. Who knows!
The chance is, you'll go buttonless,
For any stitch that I...
MARTIN. What ails you, lass?
You would not have your husband...
GRACE. My husband! Nay; I'll tend my husband:
'Twas you that I was speaking of.
MARTIN. Well: I don't understand you:
But if you keep your husband's buttons on,
Then I'll go snug and decent.
GRACE. Lad, don't you be too sure.
MARTIN. Too sure! Why, Grace!
But you, you cannot help yourself.
I've set my heart upon you:
And mother says I'm stubborn.
GRACE. And if I'm stubborn, too?
MARTIN. You, Grace! But you don't know me!
GRACE. And, are you sure you've naught to learn of me?
MARTIN. I'm sure you're mine, beyond all help.
You're true to me...
GRACE. God knows, I'm true...
But still ... it's not too late...
MARTIN. Come, woman! no more foolishness,
You're stitched to me as firmly as this button
That you've sewn on so strongly.
GRACE. As firmly! yes: I sewed it on:
But I can snip it off with much less labour.
MARTIN. Not if I hold the scissors!

[Snatches them up.]

Nay! you may tug, and tug:
Your work will stand it easily:
'Twill not give way, though you should tug my shirt off.
Your work's too good: and you are mine, as surely...
But, lass, enough of this.
If I had only known that you were here,
I would ... yet, you and she --
You seemed to have enough to talk of,
Without me...
GRACE. Ay! we'd much to talk of.
MARTIN. When only half awake, I heard you at it;
And lay, and wondered what 'twas all about.
You womenfolk must always chatter, chatter:
You've got such restless tongues.
GRACE. And yet, it is the men that keep them wagging.
MARTIN. The men?
GRACE. Foolhardy, heedless men,
That don't care how they break the women's peace.
MARTIN. Ah, now, I understand! There's more than buttons!
I've little need to ask what kept you talking.
You've put your heads together: but, it's useless.
I cannot leave the pit, though you should talk till doomsday:
So let no more be said.
GRACE. For my sake, Martin!
MARTIN. Your sake, Grace?
There's little I'd not do for you, you know, lass, but not this.
You would not have me cowardly, for your sake?
How should I face my mates, if I forsook them?
You would not have me spend my days,
A cur, with tail betwixt his legs,
And slinking round the nearest corner,
Whenever my old mates went by
To take their usual shift?
Nay; I will hold my head up,
A man, among the men,
For your sake -- ay! for your sake!
GRACE. And who would dare to call you coward --
Who, knowing all you've been through?
MARTIN. There's one who knows what I've been through,
Who'd call me coward.
GRACE. Who, lad?
MARTIN. Can you ask?
One, Martin Aynsley.
GRACE. Ay ... and yet...
If you care naught for me,
Think of your mother, Martin.
You know she's lost her husband,
And all her sons but you;
And cannot rest, while you are in the pit.
MARTIN. You know I care for you; and think of her;
And yet, I'm sure of one thing,
Though you may little think it now,
If I forsook the pit,
The time would surely come
When you would both despise me in your hearts.
GRACE. Nay, Martin!
MARTIN. Grace, I know:
It's sure as death.
I cannot leave the pit.
My father died,
And I will die, a pitman.
You wouldn't have me throw up work
That I was born and bred to:
You surely wouldn't have me
Throw over all my mates --
The lads I went to school with,
That I've grown up with,
Played and worked with,
And had such larks...
There's not too many of them left now...
But all there are went through that night with me.
Before that night,
Perhaps, I might have left them;
But now, how could I!
Nay, I'll take my chance.
GRACE. Then some one else must sew...
MARTIN. Hark!
GRACE. What d'you hear?
MARTIN. I thought I heard him whistling.
GRACE. Who, lad?
MARTIN. I thought 'twas Nicholas, my mate:
But that was not his whistle.
He always whistles for me,
Every night at Jackson's Corner;
And we go to work together.
GRACE. Ay! he'd whistle you to death...
And you ... you'd follow...
MARTIN. Shame upon you, lass!
How can you talk like that!
You know as well as I do
That, but for him, I'd be a dead man now.
'Twas he alone who dragged me --
Who dragged me from the death
That overtook my father and my brothers.
Grace, he did not forsake me:
Shall I desert him now?
He sought me, at the first alarm,
And we two fled together,
Before the creeping choke-damp,
Until it gained upon us,
And I was overcome,
And dropped, to die:
When Nicholas picked me up,
And bore me in his arms,
Along the stifling galleries --
Stumbling over dead and dying
Every step he staggered.
Though he could scarcely struggle
Against the damp himself,
He bore me into safety;
And kept the spark of life in me,
Till we at last were rescued.
GRACE. And yet, you'd go through that again?
MARTIN. If need be, lass, with Nicholas.
GRACE. You love him more than me.
MARTIN. Nay, Grace! you know...
GRACE. Yet you'll not even leave the pit for my sake,
While you would go to death for his.
MARTIN. I'd go to death for him;
But I'd not be a coward
For your sake, even, Grace.
GRACE. Then you must choose between us.
MARTIN. Grace!
GRACE. Ay! you must choose, and now!
I cannot lead your mother's life,
Or my own mother's, either.
You know that in the dead of night
My father and my brothers
Were lost with yours ... and I...
Who saw them brought in, one by one,
And laid upon their beds,
With faces covered...
How could I ever rest at all,
With that remembrance in my heart,
While you were in the pit --
With dread for ever on me,
That you, too, would be brought,
And laid, a broken bundle, at my feet,
Or never come at all to me again?
How could I live,
With ears for ever listening for the rumble
Of fresh disaster?
With eyes for ever wide with dread to see
The flames leap up the shaft?
How could I sleep ... [A shrill whistling is heard.]
He whistles you -- your mate!
And who am I to keep you?
Forsake me now for him...
And I ... and I...
MARTIN. Grace!
GRACE. Nay, Martin! you must choose...
He whistles louder...
He's impatient...
Hark!
Now you must choose between us.
MARTIN. The choice is made, lass;
I choose him -- and you!

[He takes her in his arms, snatches a kiss, and goes out.]

GRACE [gazing after him]. The choice is made...
He knows I cannot break with him.
And I must sew ... [calling after him].
You've gone without your bait!
Martin!

[She picks up the basket and can, and runs out after him.]





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