Appendix A

The Manuscript Fragments of Malcolm's Katie

The Lorne Pierce Collection at Queen's University Archives in Kingston holds six fragments of Malcolm's Katie (Collection 2001b, Box 25, Folder 6, Item 2). Varying in length from thirteen to one hundred and sixty three lines (Fragments 3 and 4 respectively), these fragments are written in black ink on the verso of the manuscripts of "The Halton Boys", an unpublished novel by Crawford. Margo Dunn in "A Preliminary Checklist of the Writings of Isabella Valancy Crawford," The Isabella Valancy Crawford Symposium, ed. Frank Tierney, Reappraisals: Canadian Writers (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 1979), p.151 notes that the manuscript of "The Halton Boys" is signed "Denis Scott, Toronto".
     For the light that they shed on Crawford's habits of writing and revision, the manuscript fragments of Malcolm's Katie are of considerable interest. In this connection, it is worth noticing here what the headnotes below to each of the fragments describe in detail: the fact that Fragments 1, 2 and 3 appear from the evidence of paper, handwriting and the relation between the manuscript and the printed version of Malcolm's Katie to have been written at a different time (probably earlier) than Fragments 4, 5 and 6.
     In the ensuing transcriptions of the fragments of Malcolm's Katie, Crawford's revisions in the manuscript are described in footnotes. Line numbers corresponding to those in the present edition of Malcolm's Katie have been included to facilitate comparison between the manuscript and published versions of the poem.


Fragment 1

Part I, 1-63

Bearing the numerals "1", and "2" in the top right hand corner of its first and third pages respectively, this fragment was originally two horizontally-ruled sheets of foolscap measuring 8 1/4" x 13 1/4" that have each been cut in two, the first between ll.16 and 17 and the second between ll.52-53 of the final poem. Each page shows eight vertical chain lines, one inch apart. The ink is black but (relative to Fragments 4, 5 and 6) faded, and the handwriting (again relative to Fragments 4, 5, and 6) is strong and tightly formed.

Max plac'd a ring in little Katie's hand,
A silver ring he late had beaten out
From that same sacred coin, first youthful wage
For boyish labor, kept for many years,
"See Kate" he said "I had no skill to shape
Two hearts fast bound together, so I grav'd
Just K and M for Katie and for Max."
"But look, you've cut the lines in such a way
That M. is part of K and K of M."
Said Katie smiling "did you mean it so?
I like it better than the double hearts."
"Well, well," he said "but womankind is wise
"But, tell me, dear, will such a prophecy
"Not hurt you sometime when I am away?
Will you not seek, keen ey'd for some small break  



In those deep lines to part the K and M?
For you—ah Kate, look down amid the globes
Of those large lilies which our light canoe
Divides, and see within the polish'd pools
That little face of yours, so dear, so fair
To open-loving in its crystal eyes,
That men, ev'n those whose ways lie not with Love, 
Like blind men walking on a winter's day
Who seek the sun light they have never seen
Unconciously will seek their warmth and light.
And one, perchance, may come, nay, will come, Kate
Hero of the sword, or calf of the stalls
Fat with ancestral gold—I being gone,
Poor Soldier of the Axe, to bloodless fields
(Inglorious battles whether lost or won)  



That sixteen-summer'd heart of thine may say
'I but was budding, and I did not know
My core was crimson and my perfume sweet
"I did not know how choice a thing I was,
"And thought because I trembl'd in a wind
"It was the wooer of the perfect rose—
"Now comes the sun and strongly gilds my leaves,
"I feel the fateful breeze stir sweet and low
"That other wind has swept beyond my ken—
"The breeze I love sighs thro' my ruddy leaves."
"Such words," said Katie, blushing, "only words!
"You build them up that I may push them down
"If hearts are flow'rs, I know that flow'rs can root 
"Bud, blossom, die, all in the same lov'd soil
"They do so in my garden; I have made
"Your heart a garden: if I am a bud 
"And only feel unfoldment feebly stir
"Within clos'd leaves, wait patiently, some June
"I'll blush a full-blown rose and queen it, love
"In that dear garden—Tho' I am a bud
"My roots strike deep, and torn from that lov'd soil
Would shriek like mandrakes—those witch things I read
Of in your quaint old books. Are you content?"
"Yes, crescent-wise, but not to the full moon.  



"Look at that hill which rounds so gently up
"From the wide lake—a lover king it looks
"In cloth of gold gone from his bride and queen,
"And yet delay'd because her silver locks
"Cath in his gilded fringes; his shoulders sweep
"Into blue distance, and his gracious crest
"Not held too high is plum 'd with maple groves— 
"One of your father's farms—a mightly man
"Self-hewn from rock remaining rock thro' all."
"He loves me, Max," said Katie "Yes, I know
A rock oftimes encloses one clear spring.
Well, he is rich, those grey and peak-roof'd barns
Leviathans rising from red seas of grain
Are full of ingots shap'd like grains of wheat;
His flocks have golden fleeces, and his herds


Fragment 2
Part 1, 78-97

At the centre of the foot of this page, which is clearly the bottom half of a foolscap sheet, is what appears to be the number "2" with the number "4" superimposed upon it. The characteristics of the fragment—the paper, ink and handwriting are the same as those of Fragment 1.

                                 smoking stumps;
And past great flaming bush heaps, sending out
Fierce summers beating on their swollen brows.
O, such a battle! had we heard of serfs
Driven to like hot conflict with the soil,
Armies had march'd and navies swiftly sail'd
To burst their gyves—but here's the little point
The polish'd di'mond pivot on which spins
The wheel of Difference—they OWN'D the rugged soil,
And fought for love—dear love of wealth and pow'r,
And honest ease and fair esteem of men;
One's blood heats at it!" "Yet you said such fields
Were all inglorious," Katie, wondering, said.
"Inglorious? Yes, they make no promises
Of Star of Garter, or the thundering guns
That tell the earth her warriors are dead.
Inglorious! Aye, the battle done and won
Means not—a throne propp'd up with bleaching bones;  
A country sav'd with smoking seas of blood;
A flag torn from the foe with wounds and death;

Fragment 3
Part I, 133-145

This page, clearly the top half of a foolscap sheet, bears the number "5" in the top right-hand corner. The characteristics of this Fragment are the same as those of Fragments 1 and 2.

"I'll kiss him and keep still—that way is sure—
Said Katie gravely "I have often tried
"God speed the kiss," said Max, and Katie said
With prayerful palms close seal'd "God speed the axe".
            O light canoe where dost thou glide?
            Below thee gleams no silver'd tide,
            But concave Heav'ns chiefest pride.
            Above, below, Eve's rosy bar— 140
            Above, below, her darling star—
            No ripple his bright flame to mar.
            Above, below, O sweet surprise,
            To gladden lovers happy eyes.
            No earth, no wave, all jewell'd skies.

Fragment 4
Part III, 1-163

This fragment is on two pages which were originally one sheet of foolscap measuring 8 1/4 " x 13'. The pages show eight, vertical chain lines, but (in contrast to the paper of Fragments 1, 2, and 3), they are not ruled horizontally.
      The handwriting on this and subsequent fragments also differs markedly from the handwriting of Fragments 1. 2, and 3, being more fluid and delicate, as well as in a darker (or less faded) black ink. The first (top) page carries the number "16" in the top right-hand corner : the second carries the same number in the bottom, centre. This pattern is repeated for the pages (17, 18, 19, 20 and 21) of which the remainder of the fragment is comprised.

Part 3

The great farm house of Malcolm Graem stood
Square shoulder'd and peak roof'd upon a hill,
With many windows looking everywhere;
So that no distant meadow might lie hid,
Nor cornfield hide its gold, nor lowing herd,
Browse in far pastures out of Malcolm's ken.
He lov'd to sit, grim, grey and somewhat stern
And thro' the smoke-clouds from his short clay pipe
Look out upon his riches: while his thoughts
Swung back and forth between the bleak, stern Past
And the near future, for his life had come
To that close balance, when, a pendulum,
The memory moves between the "Then" and "Now"
His seldom speech ran thus two diffrent ways,
"When I was but a laddie, thus I did."
Or "Katie, in the Fall I'll see to build
"Such fences or such sheds about the place;
"And next year, please the Lord, another barn."
Katie's gay garden foam'd about the walls,
'Leagur'd the prim-cut modern sill, and rush'd
Up the stone walls, and broke on the peak'd roof.
And Katie's lawn was like a Poet's sward,
Velvet and sheer and di'monded with dew;
For such as win their wealth most aptly take
Smooth, urban, ways and blend them with their own;
And Katie's dainty raiment was as fine
As the smooth, silken petals of the rose—
And her light feet, her nimble mind and voice,
In City schools had learn'd the city's ways
And grafts upon the healthy, lovely vine
They shone eternal blossoms 'mid the fmit.
For Katie had her sceptre in her hand
And wielded it right queenly there and here,
In dairy, store-room, kitchen—ev'ry spot
Where women's ways were needed on the place.
And Malcolm took her through his mighty fields,
And taught her lore about the change of crops;
And how to see a handsome furrow plough'd;
And how to choose the cattle for the mart;
And how to know a fair day's work when done;
And where to plant young orchards; for he said,
"God sent a lassie, but I need a son—
"Bethankit for His mercies all the same."
And Katie, when he said it, thought of Max,
Who had been gone two winters and two springs,
And sigh'd and thought "Would he not be your son?"
But all in silence, for she had too much,
Of the firm will of Malcolm in her soul,
To dream of shaking that deep-rooted rock;
But hop'd the crystal current of his love,
For his one child increasing day by day,
Might fret with silver lip until it wore,
Such channels thro' the rock that some slight stroke
Of circumstance might crumble down the stone,
The wooer too had come Max prophesied;
Reputed wealthy; with the azure eyes
And Saxon gilded locks—the fair, clear face,
And stalwart form that most women love.
And with the jewels of some virtues
On his broad brow. With fires within his soul
He had the wizard skill to fetter down,
To that mere pink, poetic, nameless glow,
That need not fright a flake of snow away—
But, if unloos'd, could melt an adverse rock
Marrow'd with iron, frowning in his way:
And Malcolm balanc'd him by day and night;
And with his grey-ey'd shrewdness partly saw
He was not one for Kate; but let him come
And in chance moments thought: "Well, let it be— 
"They make a bonnie pair—he knows the ways
"Of men and things: can hold the gear I give—
And, if the lassie wills it, let it be."
And then, upstarting from his midnight sleep,
With hair erect and sweat upon his brow
Such as no labor e'er had beaded there;
Would cry aloud, wide-staring thro' the dark—
"Nay, nay—she shall not wed him—rest in peace"
Then fully waking, grimly laugh and say
"Why did I speak and answer when none spake?"
But still lie staring wakeful thro' the shades;
List'ning to the silence, and beating still,
The ball of Alfred's merits to and fro—
Saying between the silent arguments—
"But would the mother like it, could she know?
"I would there was a way to ring a lad
"Like silver coin and so find out the true—
"But Kate shall say him "Nay" or say him "Yea"
"At her own will." And Katie said him "Nay"
In all the maiden, speechless, gentle ways
A woman has—but Alfred only laugh'd
To his own soul—and said in his wall'd mind,
"O, Kate, were I a lover I might feel
"Despair flap o'er my hopes with raven wings; 
"Because thy love is giv'n to other love.
"And did I love—unless I gain'd thy love,
"I would disdain the golden hair, sweet lips,
"Air-blown form and true violet eyes;
"Nor crave the beauteous lamp without the flame; 
"Which in itself would light a charnel house.
"Unlov'd and loving, I would find the cure
"Of Love's dispair in nursing Love's disdain— 
"Disdain of lesser treasure than the whole.
"One cares not much to place against the wheel
"A di'mond lacking flame—nor loves to pluck
"A rose with all its perfume cast abroad
"To the bosom of the gale—not I, in truth!
"If all man's days are three score years and ten,
"He needs must waste them not, but nimbly seize 
"The bright consummate blossom that his will
"Calls for most loudly. Gone—long gone the days
"When Love within my soul forever stretch'd
"Fierce hands of flame, and here and there I found
"A blossom fitted for him—all up-fill'd,
"With love as with clear dew—they had their hour
"And burn'd to ashes with him as he droop'd,
"In his own ruby fires—no Phoenix he,
"To rise again because of Katie's eyes,
"On dewy wings from ashes such as his!
"But now—another Passion bids me forth,
"To crown him with the fairest I can find,
"And makes me lover—not of Katie's face,
"But of her father's riches! 0 high fool
"Who feels the faintest pulsing of a wish
"And fails to feed it into lordly life!
"So that when stumbling back to Mother Earth,
"His freezing lip may curl in cold disdain,
"Of those poor, blighted fools who starward stare 
"For that fruition nipp'd and scanted here.
"And, while the clay o'ermasters all his blood—
"And he can feel the dust knit with his flesh—
"He yet can say to them "Be ye content—
"I tasted perfect fruitage thro' my life,
"Lighted all lamps of passion till the oil
"Fail'd from their wicks—and now—O now, I know 
"There is no Immortality could give
"Such boon as this—to simply cease to be!
"There lies your Heaven, 0 ye dreaming slaves—
"If ye would only live to make it so;
"Nor paint upon the blue skies lying shades, 
"Of—what is not. Wise, wise and strong the man—
"Who poisons that fond haunter of the mind,
"Craving for a hereafter with deep draughts,
"Of wild delights, so fiery, fierce, and strong
"That when their dregs are deeply, deeply drained, 
"What once was blindly crav'd of purblind Chance,
"Life, life eternal throbbing thro' all space
"Is strongly loath'd—and with his face in dust
"Man loves his only Heav'n—six feet of Earth!
"So Katie, tho' your blue eyes say me "Nay"
"My pangs of love for gold must needs be fed
"And, shall be, Katie, if I know my mind."
Events were winds close nest'ling in the sails,
Of Alfred's bark, all blowing him direct
To his wish'd harbour. On a certain day,
All set about with roses and with fire;
One of three days of heat which frequent slip
Like triple rubies, in between the sweet
Mild, emerald days of summer, Katie went
Drawn by a yearning for the ice-pale blooms
Natant and shining, firing all the bay
With angel fires built up of snow and gold.
She found the bay close pack'd with groaning logs
Prison'd between great arm of hing'd wood,


Fragment 5
Part IV, 66-13 1

The characteristics of this Fragment (which begins with the bottom portion of page
28, and includes both halves of pages 29 to 30 inclusive) are the same as those of
Fragment 4.

"His midnight thunders over lone, red plains
"Long-ridg'd and crested on their dusty waves
"With fires from moons red-hearted as the sun:
"And deep re-thunders all the earth to him:
"For, far beneath the flame-fleck'd, shifting, sands,
"Below the roots of palms, and under stones,
"Of younger ruins, thrones, tow'rs and cities,
"Honey-comb the earth. The high, solemn walls,
"Of hoary ruins, their foundings all
"Unknown (but to the sentry worlds that walk
"In the blank paths of Space and blanker Chance)
"At their stones young mountains wonder, and the seas
"New-silv'ring deep-set vallies pause and gaze;
"Are rear'd upon old shrines whose very Gods
"Were dreams to the shrine-builders of a time,
"They caught in far-off flashes as the child,
"Half thinks he can remember how one came,
"And took him in her hand and shew'd him that
"He thinks, she call'd the sun. Proud ships rear high
"On hoary billows that have torn the roots
"Of cliffs, and bitten at the golden lips,
"Of firm, sleek beaches, till they conquer'd all,
"And sow'd the reeling earth with salted waves.
"Wrecks plunge, prow foremost, down still solemn slopes,
"And bring their dead crews to as dead a quay;
"Some city built before that ocean grew,
"By silver drops from many a floating cloud,
"By icebergs bellowing in their throes of death,
"By lesser seas toss'd from their rocking cups,
"And leaping each to each, by dew-drops flung
"From painted sprays whose weird leaves and flow'rs
"Are moulded for new dwellers on the earth,
"Printed in hearts of mountains and of mines.
"Nations immortal? where the well-trimmed lamps,
"Of long-past ages, when Time seem'd to pause,
"On smooth, dust blotted graves that like the vaults
"Of monarchs held dead bones and spark'ling gems?
"She saw no glimmer on the hideous ring
"Of the black clouds, no stream of glorious light
"From those great torches pass'd into the black
"Of deep oblivion. She seem'd to watch but she
"Forgot her long dead nations. When she stirr'd,
"Her vast limbs in the dawn that forc'd its fire,
"Up the black East, and saw the imperious red,
"Burst over virgin dews and budding flow'rs,
"She still forgot her molder'd thrones and kings
"Her sages and their torches, and their Gods,
"And said "This is my birth—my primal day!"
"She dream 'd new Gods and rear'd them other shrines
"Planted young nations, smote a feeble flame,
"From sunless flint, re-lit the torch of mind,
"Again she hung her cities on the hills,
"Built her rich tow'rs, crown'd her kings again,
"And with the sunlight on her awful wings
"Swept round the flow'ry cestus of the earth
"And said "I build for Immortality!"
"Her vast hand rear'd her tow'rs, her shrines, her thrones, 
"The ceaseless sweep of her tremendous wings
"Still beat them down and swept their dust abroad.
"Her iron finger wrote on mountain sides,
"Her deeds and prowess, and her own soft plume
"Wore down the hills! Again drew darkly on
"A night of deep forgetfulness, once more
"Time seem'd to pause upon forgotten graves—
"Once more a young dawn stole into her eyes—
"Again her broad wings stirr'd, and swift clear airs

    Fragment 6
Part IV, 186-Part V, 67

The characteristics of this Fragment (pp. 33-36 inclusive, the top half of p. 37, and p.
38 in its entirety) are the same as those of Fragments 4 and 5.

"Might chance to cleave a liar's brittle skull.
"Your Kate! Your Kate! Your Kate! hark, how the woods
"Mock at your lie with all their woody tongues.
"O silence, ye false echoes! not his Kate
"But mine—I'm certain I will have your life!"
All the blue heav'n was dead in Max's eyes.
Doubt-wounded lay Kate's image in his heart
And could not rise to pluck the sharp spear out.
"Well, strike, mad fool," said Alfred, somewhat pale
"I have no weapon but these naked hands"
"Aye, but," said Max "you smote my naked heart!
"O shall I slay him? Satan, answer me—
"I cannot call on God for answer here. "O Kate—!"
A voice from God came thro' the silent woods
And answer'd him, for suddenly a wind
Caught the great tree tops con'd with high pil'd snow,
And smote them to and fro, while all the air
Was sudden till'd with busy drifts, and high
White pillars whirl'd amid the naked trunks;
And harsh, loud groans, and smiting, sapless boughs
Made hellish clamor in the quiet place.
With a shrill shriek of tearing fibres rock'd,
The half-hewn tree above his fated head;
And tott'ring, ask'd the sudden blast "Which way?"
And answ'ring its windy arms, crash'd and broke
Thro' other lacing boughs, with one loud roar
Of woody thunder. All its pointed boughs,
Pierc'd the deep snow—its round and mighty corpse
Bark-flay'd and shudd'ring, quiver'd into death.
And Max—as some frail, wither'd reed, the sharp
And piercing branches caught at him, as hands
In a death-throe—and beat him to the earth—
And the dead tree upon its slayer lay.
"Yet hear we much of Gods—if such there be
"They play at games of Chance with thunderbolts—"
Said Alfred, "else on me this doom had come.
"This seals my faith in deep and dark unfaith!
"Now, Katie, are you mine, for Max is dead,
"Or will be soon, imprison'd by those boughs,
"Wounded and torn, sooth'd by the deadly palms
"Of the white, trait'rous frost; and buried then
"Under the snows that fill those vast, grey clouds
"Low sweeping on the fretted forest roof.
"And Katie shall believe you false—not dead,
"False, false—and I? O she shall find me true
"True as a fabl'd devil to the soul
"He longs for with the heat of all Hell's fires.
"These myths serve well for simile, I see.
"And yet—Down, Pity! Knock not at my breast
"Nor grope about for that dull stone my heart.
"I'll stone thee with it, Pity! Get thee hence—
"Pity, I'll strangle thee with naked hands,
"For thou dost bear upon thy downy breast
"Remorse, shap'd like a serpent, and her fangs
"Might dart at me and pierce my marrow thro!
"Hence, beggar, hence—and keep with fools, I say!
"He bleeds and groans! Well, Max, thy God or mine
"Blind Chance, here play'd the butcher—t'was not I.
"Down, hands! Ye shall not lift his fall'n head.
"What cords tug at ye? What? Ye'd pluck him up
"And staunch his wounds? There rises in my breast
"A strange, strong giant throwing wide his arms
"And bursting all the granite of my heart!
"How like to quiv'ring flesh a stone may feel!
"Why, it has fangs! I'll none of them, I know.
"Lit'e is too short for anguish and for hearts—
"To wrestle with thee, giant! and my will
"Turns the thumb—and thou shalt take the knife.
"Well done! I'll turn thee on the arena dust—
"And look on thee—What! thou wert Pity's self
"Stol'n in my breast, and I have slaughter'd thee—
"But hist—where hast thou hidden thy fell snake? 
"Fire-fang'd Remorse? Not in my breast, I know.
"For all again is chill and empty there,
"And hard and cold, the granite knitted up.
"So lie there, Max—poor fond and simple Max
"T'is well thou diest—earth's children should not call
"Such as thee, father—let them ever be
"Father'd by rogues and villains, fit to cope
"With the foul dragon Chance, and the black knaves
"Who swarm in loathsome masses in the dust—
"True Max, lie there and slumber into death."


           Part 5

Said the high hill in the morning "Look on me— 
"Behold, sweet earth, and sister sky, behold
"The red liames on my peaks, and how my pines, 
"Are cressets of pure gold; my quarried scars,
"Of black crevasse and shadowfill 'd canon,
"Are trac'd in silver mist. Now on my breast,
"Hang the soft purple fringes of the night;
"Close to my shoulder droops the weary moon— 
"Dove-pale into the crimson surf, the sun,
"Drives up before his prow; and blackly stands,
"Oh my slim, loftiest peak, an eagle with
"His angry eyes set sunward; while his cry,
"Falls fiercely back from all my ruddy heights;
"And his bald eaglets in their bare, broad nest
Shrill pipe their angry echoes "Sun, arise,
"And shew me that pale dove beside her nest
"Which I shall strike with piercing beak and tear 
"With iron talons for my hungry young."
And that mild dove, secure for yet a space
Half waken'd turns her ring'd and glossy neck
To watch dawn's ruby pulsing on her breast,
And see the first, bright, golden motes slip down
The gnarl'd trunks about her leaf-deep nest,
Nor sees nor fears the eagle on the peak.


"Aye, lassie, sing—I'll smoke my pipe the while 25
"And let it be a simple bonnie song,
"Such as an old, plain man can gather in
"His dulling ear, and fee it slipping thro'
"The cold, dark, stony places of his heart."
"Yes, sing sweet Kate," said Alfred in her ear
"I often heard you singing in my dreams
"When I was far away the Winter past."

[Part of page 37 is missing here.]


And I on mossy bank would lie,
  Of brooklet ripp'ling clear;
And she of the sweet azure eye
  Close at my list'ning ear:
  Should sing into my soul a strain,
  Might never be forgot—
  So rich with joy, so rich with pain
  The blue "Forget-me-not!"  


Ah, ev'ry blossom hath a tale,
  With silent grace to tell;
From rose that reddens to the gale,
  To modest heather bell;
But O, the flow'r in ev'ry heart
  That finds a sacred spot
To bloom with azure leaves apart,
  To the 'Forgetmenot!"


Love plucks it from the mosses green, 60
  When parting hours are nigh;
And places it Love's palms between,
  With many an ardent sigh.
And bluely up from grassy graves
  In some lov'd churchyard spot:
It glances tenderly and waves,
  The dear "Forget-me-not!"