 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
CATHERINE KINRADE
[“Another unfortunate creature was soon afterwards subjected to the same treatment, although it was admitted she had ‘a degree of unsettledness and defect of understanding,’ and, as was certified by the clergy, that she had submitted ‘with as much submission and discretion as can be expected of the like of her,’ and ‘considering the defect of her understanding.’ The records state—‘Forasmuch as neither Christian advice nor gentle modes of punishment are found to have any effect on Kath. Kinred of Kirk Christ, a notorious strumpet, who had brought forth three illegitimate children, and still continues to stroll about the country, and lead a most vicious and scandalous life on other accounts; all which tending to the great dishonour of the Christian name, and to her own utter destruction without a timely and thorough reformation. It is therefore hereby ordered (as well for the further punishment of the said delinquent as for the example of others) that the said Kath. Kinred be dragged after a boat in the sea at Peel, on Wed., the 17th inst. (being the fair of St. Patrick), at the height of the market. To which end, a boat and boat's crew are to be charged by the general sumner, and the constable and soldiers of the garrison are, by the Governor's order, to be aiding and assisting in seeing this censure performed. And in case any owner, master, or crew of any boat are found refractory, by refusing or neglecting to perform this service for the restraining of vice, their names are to be forthwith given in by the general sumner, to the end they may be severally fined for their contempt, as the Governor's order directs. Dated at Bishop's Court this 15th day of March, 1713. ‘Thos. Sodor and Man. ‘William Walker.’
“It was certified by the Sumner General so long after as July 13th ensuing, that ‘St. Patrick's day being so stormy and tempestuous that no boat could perform the within censure, upon St.
The throne—
And He that sat thereon
Spake not; and all the presence-floor
Burnt deep with blushes, as the angels cast
Their faces downwards. Then at last,
Awe-stricken, he was 'ware
How on the emerald stair
A woman sat, divinely clothed in white,
And at her knees four cherubs bright,
That laid
Their heads within her lap. Then, trembling, he essayed
To speak:—“Christ's mother, pity me!”
Then answered she:—
“Sir, I am Catherine Kinrade.”
Even so—the poor dull brain,
Drenched in unhallowed fire,
It had no vigour to restrain—
God's image trodden in the mire
Of impious wrongs—whom last he saw
Gazing with animal awe
Before his harsh tribunal, proved unchaste,
Incorrigible, woman's form defaced
To uttermost ruin by no fault of hers—
So gave her to the torturers;
And now—some vital spring adjusted,
Some faculty that rusted
Some undeveloped action stirred, some juice
Of God's distilling dropt into the core
Of all her life—no more
In that dark grave entombed,
Her soul had bloomed
To perfect woman—swift celestial growth
That mocks our temporal sloth—
To perfect woman—woman made to honour,
With all the glory of her youth upon her.
And from her lips and from her eyes there flowed
A smile that lit all Heaven; the angels smiled;
God smiled, if that were smile beneath the state that glowed
Soft purple—and a voice:—“Be reconciled!”
So to his side the children crept,
And Catherine kissed him, and he wept.
Then said a seraph:—“Lo! he is forgiven.”
And for a space again there was no voice in Heaven.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |