Cow Hey 8 - Letter back

It was well over a week and still no reply to my letter. Things at home were getting on all right, and I was beginning to feel more comfortable with my new parents. One night, I surprised them.

"I guess I have told you everything there is to know about me," I said, "but I know virtually nothing about you. Why don't you tell me about your families, and where you lived when you were little and what you did before."

They looked pleased but somewhat taken aback.

"You go first, William," said Mrs. Allsop.

"Well, let's see. I was born in 1849, so that makes me 42 years old. Up till I got married, I lived with my parents in a house at 87 Sheffield Road, Darley, near Matlock. I have two brothers: Joseph, who's 50 and not married, and David who is 32 and is married to Emma and they have five children ranging from eight years and one due in a few months. David and Joseph are both woodcutters, as our Pa is, and that was my profession too, before I came to the farm here, but now I'm labelled a farmer. Pa now lives with Joseph and my sister Sarah and her child Elizabeth, in Glossop.

Ma died nine years ago, in 1882, and Pa wanted to move away from that area where they had always lived before that. He is old now but still goes to work each day."

"What sort of place was Darley? I've never heard of it."

“It's a hamlet lying on the road between Matlock Bath and Bakewell, about five miles from either place. It is a beautiful place being seated in a lovely valley, upon the banks of the Derwent.

“And from very long ago, wood was important in our area. We even had a royal connection."

"What do you mean?"

"In medieval times wood was an important commodity in the defense of the realm. For instance at the Battle of Agincourt the skill of the English Longbow Archers was the deciding factor in bringing victory to Henry V. Following his success, the King, having decided he was onto a winner, decreed that each parish should be responsible for providing the raw material for making Longbows, and for providing a quota of archers with the necessary skills for using them.

“Wood from yew trees was particularly suited for this purpose, and churchyards were a convenient place for planting them. Many churchyards even today contain a yew tree which may have been planted for this purpose, as they do seem to be particularly long lived. The Archers practised, and were trained in areas known as Archery Butts and some villages and towns still have areas, or streets, called "The Butts" as relics of this time.

“The training of Archers was decreed by law, and as a result the English Longbowman was second to none. A skilled archer could develop a speed of 15 arrows a minute, and an arrow was lethal at 300 yards - a firepower and range which wasn't equalled until the 19th Century with firearms. Indeed, some battles were decided on a shoot-out between the opposing archers! Archers comprised 10 percent of an Army, with 10 percent Knights in Armour, with the remainder Infantrymen."

"That doesn't mean that your trees were used more than other areas, does it?"

"At the time of the Domesday Survey of 1086, Darley was a royal manor, listed as having a church and a priest. The inhabitants were chiefly employed in agriculture. There were some who worked in flax spinning, paper making and framework knitting. Lead smelting also took place in the area. Darey was the name of one of the principal landowners.

"The church of St. Helen in Darley dates from the 12th century and was restored in 1877, with new seating fitted in 1885.

"Also in the churchyard is a Yew tree, one of the largest and most ancient in England - an object of considerable attraction from its immense bulk, its thick foliage, and the great extent of its spreading limbs; it is surrounded by a stone bench, which at once serves as its protection, and a resting place for the traveller, who may seek shelter beneath its friendly shade, impervious alike to the "scorching noontide ray", or the "pelting of the pitiless storm". It is 32 feet in girth at four feet from the ground, and in an excellent state of preservation."

"Well, I think that is more than enough about the place of your birth," said Mrs. Allsop.

"Now you tell your story," said her husband.

"There is little to tell, as I was born and raised here in this house, as was my father and his before him. My father was George Higgithbotham, and you know your friend, my niece, is also a Higginbotham. Our relatives have always been in this area. In fact I heard of a diary from 1640 that mentions the wedding of our of my ancestors. The name of Higginbotham in Ludworth goes back to 1624 when there was a William Higgenbotham at Ludworth Mills. Then various relatives have lived at Land Ends, and Twitches, and at Loads. My mother, who was called Hannah, died in 1845, when I was only 6, so you see we have something in common, you and I, Blanche. And my twin sister Elizabeth died in 1856 when she was only 17. I didn't think I would ever get over that.

"Anyway my other brothers and sisters got married and left home, but I stayed right here, and when my father died on Jan 22, 1875, I took care of the farm and my step-mother, Mary. I met William and we were married in 1883. Mary died on 10 May, 1884. And that is about all there is to tell."

"Was this at one time one big house for your family rather than two families, like now?"

"I have done a bit of family research - looking through church records and such like. As far as I know, there have always been two families here. I know that a man called William Goddard lived here in 1672, and Peter Pickford lived at Cow Heigh, but I expect that is the same place in 1789, and Samuel Rowbotham who lived in the other half died in 1833."

"I haven't really met the people in the other half of this house yet. Are they good friends of yours?"

"Oh, yes, we get along fine. We see more of them in the summer when we are outdoors and have time to chat."

Well, having exhausted the subject of my adopted parents' backgrounds, I went off to bed. I could only hope that soon there would be a letter about my real father's background.

And I didn't have too long to wait.

When I got back from school on February 12th, Mrs Allsop couldn't control her excitement.

"Your letter from Prestwich has come today," she said.

I was so nervous I could hardly manage to open the envelope. Inside was quite a long letter, so I thought that boded well.

"Shall I read it out loud?"

"Please, love, if you would."

February 8, 1891

Dear Miss Hodkinson,

Thank you for your letter of the 28th of January, instant, and I am sorry I have not replied sooner. I wanted to make a considered reply, due to the unusual nature of your request.

First of all, let me say that I do remember your father, and that checking our records, we treated him on four occasions over the past four years. On each occasion he stayed less than two months, and on release, was considered well enough to go back to normal life.

As far as discussing his medical details such as diagnosis and treatment, I feel it is inappropriate, as you are far too young to properly understand such information. I remember meeting your brother when he came to collect your father's body, and he didn't have any questions for me at that time, so I assumed that he knew about the situation. You say that he did not share the information with you at that time, and I think I must respect his wishes as he was the next of kin, and most likely, your legal guardian. However, if he wishes to come here to see me personally, I would make an effort to explain to him how your father's case came to our attention, and how we responded to his needs. So I suggest you show this letter to your brother, and if he decides to take the matter further, he can contact me directly himself.

However, I realise that your lack of knowledge on the subject of mental illness puts you at a disadvantage, especially with your school mates using the opportunity to tease you. So I thought that I would give you a simple explanation of the most common mental disorders that we find here.

Emil Kraepelin is a German psychiatrist whose theories and practices we use, and I consider him the founder of contemporary scientific psychiatry. He believes the chief origin of psychiatric disease to be biological and genetic malfunction. One of the cardinal principles of his method is the recognition that any given symptom may appear in virtually any one of these disorders; e.g., there is almost no single symptom occurring in dementia praecox which cannot sometimes be found in manic-depression. What distinguishes each disease symptomatically (as opposed to the underlying pathology) is not any particular symptom or symptoms, but a specific pattern of symptoms. Thus, our system is a method for pattern recognition, not grouping by common symptoms.

Generally speaking, there tend to be more relatives of patients with dementia praecox who also show the syndrome than in the general population, and manic-depression is also more frequent in the relatives of manic-depressives. Though, of course, this does not demonstrate the problem is hereditary, as there are the social and environmental factors as well.

Kraepelin believes that dementia praecox has a deteriorating course in which mental function continuously (although perhaps erratically) declines, while manic-depressive patients experience a course of illness which is intermittent, where patients are relatively symptom-free during the intervals which separate acute episodes.

Kraepelin postulates that there is a specific brain or other biological pathology underlying each of the major psychiatric disorders.

I don't know if this makes any sense to you at all, but, to an extent it should inform you as to how I would answer your question as to your likelihood of developing the syndrome yourself.

I look forward to hear more from, and perhaps meeting with your brother.

Faithfully yours,

Dr. Frank Percevel, MRCS

Medical Superintendent

Prestwich Asylum

Bury New Road

Prestwich, Lancashire

"Oh," I said, on the brink of tears, "I don't understand any of what he said about those diseases, but I am assuming that he was saying that Pa had one or the other of them, and that they run in families, and I might get them too."

"Don't take on so," said Mr. Allsop. "He also said that various conditions play a part, so what we should ask him, or get Fred to ask him, is what to do to avoid having the problem. We should take this letter up to Fred and see what he thinks about it all."

"I could walk up on Sunday, but with this terrible weather, I don't fancy going out this late and night and in the dark."

"Of course not, love, but I could take it up to him tonight if you wanted me to."

"Would you do that, Mr. Allsop, I mean Da?"

"Yes, I would, and I'll go out right after tea, and he should be home from work by then. He mightn't give an answer straight away, but I think it is important for you to know what he thinks about all of this."

Mrs. Allsop and I rushed to finish making the tea, and we had it somewhat earlier than usual. Then Mr. Allsop put on his warm outer coat, heavy boots, mittens and cap, and went out into the snow, up to Benches, to have a talk to Fred. I could hardly concentrate on anything while he was gone, so after the dishes were done, Mrs. Allsop and I took out some mending and tried to get on with it.

Before she died, my Ma taught me the basics of knitting and darning and embroidery, and Gran, who lived another year or two after her also gave me lessons in the basic art of sewing. I quite enjoy doing it, and especially when I am able to embroider a pretty pattern on the collar of a blouse or handkerchief. But at the moment, our sewing was much more basic - darning the holes in sheets and pillow cases to make them last out another year or so.

It was nearly my bedtime before we heard Mr. Allsop get back, but I wouldn't have been able to sleep without knowing what had happened.

"Give him a chance to have a rest and cup of tea, love," said Mrs. Allsop, "before you badger him with your questions."

So I bided my time, but was sitting next to him in the kitchen while he warmed up, wishing he would hurry up and get on with what he had to say.

"Well Fred was there," he started, "and I told him about your finding out the name of the Medical Superintendent and writing the first letter, and I told him more or less what you had put in that letter. He was somewhat taken aback, because I don't think he really appreciated how much you needed to know more about the situation with your Pa. However, I then showed him the response you got. He read it through, and seemed more than a bit agitated. Then he asked if he could keep it, and he agreed to come and have tea with us on Sunday, after he gets back from his learning at the quarry, and he'll be able to tell you what he thinks and what he has done himself."

"Did he think it was a good letter?"

"I don't know, lass. He certainly took in what the man was saying, and knew that the next move would have to be up to him. You had best just put it aside and not worry about if for the next few days. Give him a chance to think it all through and then he will come up with a solution."

So I had no choice but to do just that, and shortly after I went to bed. But I didn't sleep for a long time as my head was buzzing with all those names and facts that the letter had contained.