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diff --git a/1605-h/1605-h.htm b/1605-h/1605-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ddf2d62 --- /dev/null +++ b/1605-h/1605-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6875 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The crock of gold, by James Stephens—A Project Gutenberg eBook + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h1 { + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 240% + } +h2 { + margin-top: 4em; + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 200% + } +h3 { + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 150% + } + + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +.fs60 {font-size: 60%;} +.fs90 {font-size: 90%;} +.fs120 {font-size: 120%;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +x-ebookmaker hr.chap {width: 0%; display: none;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + width: 90%; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse;} + +.tdlt {text-align: left; padding-top: 1em;} + +/* hanging indents */ +.tdrbot {text-align: right; padding-left: 1em; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} +.hang {padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} +.noindent {text-indent: 0em;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +ul {list-style-type: none;} + +.caption {font-weight: normal; + font-size: 70%; +} + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +img.w70 {width: 70%;} +img.w80 {width: 80%;} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.illowp70 {width: 70%;} +.illowp80 {width: 80%;} +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} + +/* For different code on screen versus handhelds */ +.screenonly {display: block; } +.x-ebookmaker .screenonly {display: none; } + +x-ebookmaker-drop, .x-ebookmaker-drop {} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The crock of gold, by James Stephens</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +<div>*** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook. Details Below.</div> +<div>Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. ***</div> +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The crock of gold</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: James Stephens</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 1, 1999 [eBook #1605]<br> +[Most recently updated: January 12, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROCK OF GOLD ***</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter illowp70" id="cover"> +<img alt="Public domain cover" class="w70" src="images/cover.jpg"> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><a id="frontispiece"></a> +<figure class="figcenter illowp80" id="frontis" style="max-width: 35.9375em;"> + <img class="w80" src="images/frontis.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">The Philosophers were able to hear each other thinking all day long (page <a href="#5">5</a>)</p></figcaption> +</figure> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h1>THE<br> +CROCK OF GOLD</h1> + +<p class="p2 center noindent fs120">By<br> +James Stephens</p> + +<p class="p2 center noindent fs90">WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR<br> +BY<br> +THOMAS MACKENZIE</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt">BOOK I<br> +<span class="smcap">The Coming of Pan</span></td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt">BOOK II<br> +<span class="smcap">The Philosopher’s Journey</span></td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#91">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt">BOOK III<br> +<span class="smcap">The Two Gods</span></td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#135">135</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt">BOOK IV<br> +<span class="smcap">The Philosopher’s Return</span></td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#151">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt">BOOK V<br> +<span class="smcap">The Policemen</span></td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#185">185</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt">BOOK VI<br> +<span class="smcap">The Thin Woman’s Journey and The Happy March</span></td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#253">253</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p class="p1 center noindent">IN COLOUR</p> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">The Philosophers were able to hear each other thinking all day long (page <a href="#5">5</a>)</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><em><a href="#frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></em></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang"> </td> +<td class="tdrbot fs60">FACE PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">“Will you never be done talking?” shouted the Thin Woman passionately</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#26">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">He stood waist-deep in greenery fronting her squarely</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#42">42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">“Do you remember,” said Seumas, “the way he hopped and waggled his leg the last time he was here?”</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">He saw Caitilin Ni Murrachu walking a little way in front with a small vessel in her hand</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#74">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">At that moment the Philosopher’s cake lost all its savour</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#97">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">A swift shadow darkened the passage</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#109">109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">A young woman came along the road and stood gazing earnestly at this house</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">“Tell me where the money is?” he hissed</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#166">166</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">He . . . wept in so loud a voice that his comrades swarmed up to see what had happened to him</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#200">200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">When they topped a slight incline they saw a light shining some distance away</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#212">212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdlt hang">Caitilin danced in uncontrollable gaiety</td> +<td class="tdrbot"><a href="#222">222</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><a id="1"></a> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_I_THE_COMING_OF_PAN">BOOK I. THE COMING OF PAN</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<p>In the centre of the pine wood called Coilla Doraca there lived not long +ago two Philosophers. They were wiser than anything else in the world +except the Salmon who lies in the pool of Glyn Cagny into which the nuts +of knowledge fall from the hazel bush on its bank. He, of course, is the +most profound of living creatures, but the two Philosophers are next to +him in wisdom. Their faces looked as though they were made of parchment, +there was ink under their nails, and every difficulty that was submitted +to them, even by women, they were able to instantly resolve. The Grey +Woman of Dun Gortin and the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath asked them the +three questions which nobody had ever been able to answer, and they were +able to answer them. That was how they obtained the enmity of these two +women which is more valuable than the friendship of angels. The Grey +Woman and the Thin Woman were so incensed at being answered that they +married the two Philosophers in order to be able to pinch them in bed, +but the skins of the Philosophers were so thick that they did not know +they were being pinched. They repaid the fury of the women with such +tender affection that these vicious creatures almost expired of chagrin, +and once, in a very ecstasy of exasperation, after having been kissed +by their husbands, they uttered the fourteen hundred maledictions which +comprised their wisdom, and these were learned by the Philosophers who +thus became even wiser than before.</p> + +<p>In due process of time two children were born of these marriages. They +were born on the same day and in the same hour, and they were only +different in this, that one of them was a boy and the other one was a +girl. Nobody was able to tell how this had happened, and, for the first +time in their lives, the Philosophers were forced to admire an event +which they had been unable to prognosticate; but having proved by many +different methods that the children were really children, that what +must be must be, that a fact cannot be controverted, and that what +has happened once may happen twice, they described the occurrence +as extraordinary but not unnatural, and submitted peacefully to a +Providence even wiser than they were.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher who had the boy was very pleased because, he said, there +were too many women in the world, and the Philosopher who had the girl +was very pleased also because, he said, you cannot have too much of a +good thing: the Grey Woman and the Thin Woman, however, were not in the +least softened by maternity-they said that they had not bargained for +it, that the children were gotten under false presences, that they were +respectable married women, and that, as a protest against their wrongs, +they would not cook any more food for the Philosophers. This was +pleasant news for their husbands, who disliked the women’s cooking +very much, but they did not say so, for the women would certainly +have insisted on their rights to cook had they imagined their husbands +disliked the results: therefore, the Philosophers besought their wives +every day to cook one of their lovely dinners again, and this the women +always refused to do.</p> + +<p>They all lived together in a small house in the very centre of a dark +pine wood. Into this place the sun never shone because the shade was too +deep, and no wind ever came there either, because the boughs were too +thick, so that it was the most solitary and quiet place in the world, +and the <a id="5"></a>Philosophers were able to hear each other thinking all day long, +or making speeches to each other, and these were the pleasantest +sounds they knew of. To them there were only two kinds of sounds +anywhere—these were conversation and noise: they liked the first very +much indeed, but they spoke of the second with stern disapproval, and, +even when it was made by a bird, a breeze, or a shower of rain, they +grew angry and demanded that it should be abolished. Their wives seldom +spoke at all and yet they were never silent: they communicated with each +other by a kind of physical telegraphy which they had learned among the +Shee-they cracked their finger-joints quickly or slowly and so were able +to communicate with each other over immense distances, for by dint of +long practice they could make great explosive sounds which were nearly +like thunder, and gentler sounds like the tapping of grey ashes on a +hearthstone. The Thin Woman hated her own child, but she loved the Grey +Woman’s baby, and the Grey Woman loved the Thin Woman’s infant but could +not abide her own. A compromise may put an end to the most perplexing +of situations, and, consequently, the two women swapped children, and +at once became the most tender and amiable mothers imaginable, and the +families were able to live together in a more perfect amity than could +be found anywhere else.</p> + +<p>The children grew in grace and comeliness. At first the little boy was +short and fat and the little girl was long and thin, then the little +girl became round and chubby while the little boy grew lanky and wiry. +This was because the little girl used to sit very quiet and be good and +the little boy used not.</p> + +<p>They lived for many years in the deep seclusion of the pine wood wherein +a perpetual twilight reigned, and here they were wont to play their +childish games, flitting among the shadowy trees like little quick +shadows. At times their mothers, the Grey Woman and the Thin Woman, +played with them, but this was seldom, and sometimes their fathers, the +two Philosophers, came out and looked at them through spectacles which +were very round and very glassy, and had immense circles of horn all +round the edges. They had, however, other playmates with whom they could +romp all day long. There were hundreds of rabbits running about in the +brushwood; they were full of fun and were very fond of playing with the +children. There were squirrels who joined cheerfully in their games, and +some goats, having one day strayed in from the big world, were made so +welcome that they always came again whenever they got the chance. There +were birds also, crows and blackbirds and willy-wagtails, who were well +acquainted with the youngsters, and visited them as frequently as their +busy lives permitted.</p> + +<p>At a short distance from their home there was a clearing in the wood +about ten feet square; through this clearing, as through a funnel, the +sun for a few hours in the summer time blazed down. It was the boy who +first discovered the strange radiant shaft in the wood. One day he had +been sent out to collect pine cones for the fire. As these were gathered +daily the supply immediately near the house was scanty, therefore he +had, while searching for more, wandered further from his home than +usual. The first sight of the extraordinary blaze astonished him. He +had never seen anything like it before, and the steady, unwinking glare +aroused his fear and curiosity equally. Curiosity will conquer fear +even more than bravery will; indeed, it has led many people into dangers +which mere physical courage would shudder away from, for hunger and love +and curiosity are the great impelling forces of life. When the little +boy found that the light did not move he drew closer to it, and at last, +emboldened by curiosity, he stepped right into it and found that it was +not a thing at all. The instant that he stepped into the light he found +it was hot, and this so frightened him that he jumped out of it again +and ran behind a tree. Then he jumped into it for a moment and out of it +again, and for nearly half an hour he played a splendid game of tip and +tig with the sunlight. At last he grew quite bold and stood in it and +found that it did not burn him at all, but he did not like to remain +in it, fearing that he might be cooked. When he went home with the pine +cones he said nothing to the Grey Woman of Dun Gortin or to the Thin +Woman of Inis Magrath or to the two Philosophers, but he told the little +girl all about it when they went to bed, and every day afterwards they +used to go and play with the sunlight, and the rabbits and the squirrels +would follow them there and join in their games with twice the interest +they had shown before.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<p>To the lonely house in the pine wood people sometimes came for advice +on subjects too recondite for even those extremes of elucidation, the +parish priest and the tavern. These people were always well received, +and their perplexities were attended to instantly, for the Philosophers +liked being wise and they were not ashamed to put their learning to +the proof, nor were they, as so many wise people are, fearful lest they +should become poor or less respected by giving away their knowledge. +These were favourite maxims with them:</p> + +<p>You must be fit to give before you can be fit to receive.</p> + +<p>Knowledge becomes lumber in a week, therefore, get rid of it.</p> + +<p>The box must be emptied before it can be refilled.</p> + +<p>Refilling is progress.</p> + +<p>A sword, a spade, and a thought should never be allowed to rust.</p> + +<p>The Grey Woman and the Thin Woman, however, held opinions quite contrary +to these, and their maxims also were different:</p> + +<p>A secret is a weapon and a friend.</p> + +<p>Man is God’s secret, Power is man’s secret, Sex is woman’s secret.</p> + +<p>By having much you are fitted to have more.</p> + +<p>There is always room in the box.</p> + +<p>The art of packing is the last lecture of wisdom.</p> + +<p>The scalp of your enemy is progress.</p> + +<p>Holding these opposed views it seemed likely that visitors seeking for +advice from the Philosophers might be astonished and captured by their +wives; but the women were true to their own doctrines and refused to +part with information to any persons saving only those of high rank, +such as policemen, gombeen men, and district and county councillors; +but even to these they charged high prices for their information, and a +bonus on any gains which accrued through the following of their advices. +It is unnecessary to state that their following was small when compared +with those who sought the assistance of their husbands, for scarcely a +week passed but some person came through the pine wood with his brows in +a tangle of perplexity.</p> + +<p>In these people the children were deeply interested. They used to go +apart afterwards and talk about them, and would try to remember what +they looked like, how they talked, and their manner of walking or taking +snuff. After a time they became interested in the problems which these +people submitted to their parents and the replies or instructions +wherewith the latter relieved them. Long training had made the +children able to sit perfectly quiet, so that when the talk came to the +interesting part they were entirely forgotten, and ideas which might +otherwise have been spared their youth became the commonplaces of their +conversation.</p> + +<p>When the children were ten years of age one of the Philosophers died. He +called the household together and announced that the time had come when +he must bid them all good-bye, and that his intention was to die as +quickly as might be. It was, he continued, an unfortunate thing that his +health was at the moment more robust than it had been for a long time, +but that, of course, was no obstacle to his resolution, for death did +not depend upon ill-health but upon a multitude of other factors with +the details whereof he would not trouble them.</p> + +<p>His wife, the Grey Woman of Dun Gortin, applauded this resolution and +added as an amendment that it was high time he did something, that the +life he had been leading was an arid and unprofitable one, that he had +stolen her fourteen hundred maledictions for which he had no use and +presented her with a child for which she had none, and that, all things +concerned, the sooner he did die and stop talking the sooner everybody +concerned would be made happy.</p> + +<p>The other Philosopher replied mildly as he lit his pipe: “Brother, +the greatest of all virtues is curiosity, and the end of all desire +is wisdom; tell us, therefore, by what steps you have arrived at this +commendable resolution.”</p> + +<p>To this the Philosopher replied: “I have attained to all the wisdom +which I am fitted to bear. In the space of one week no new truth has +come to me. All that I have read lately I knew before; all that I have +thought has been but a recapitulation of old and wearisome ideas. There +is no longer an horizon before my eves. Space has narrowed to the petty +dimensions of my thumb. Time is the tick of a clock. Good and evil are +two peas in the one pod. My wife’s face is the same for ever. I want to +play with the children, and yet I do not want to. Your conversation with +me, brother, is like the droning of a bee in a dark cell. The pine trees +take root and grow and die.—It’s all bosh. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>His friend replied:</p> + +<p>“Brother, these are weighty reflections, and I do clearly perceive that +the time has come for you to stop. I might observe, not in order to +combat your views, but merely to continue an interesting conversation, +that there are still some knowledges which you have not assimilated—you +do not yet know how to play the tambourine, nor how to be nice to your +wife, nor how to get up first in the morning and cook the breakfast. +Have you learned how to smoke strong tobacco as I do? or can you dance +in the moonlight with a woman of the Shee? To understand the theory +which underlies all things is not sufficient. It has occurred to me, +brother, that wisdom may not be the end of everything. Goodness and +kindliness are, perhaps, beyond wisdom. Is it not possible that the +ultimate end is gaiety and music and a dance of joy? Wisdom is the +oldest of all things. Wisdom is all head and no heart. Behold, brother, +you are being crushed under the weight of your head. You are dying of +old age while you are yet a child.”</p> + +<p>“Brother,” replied the other Philosopher, “your voice is like the +droning of a bee in a dark cell. If in my latter days I am reduced to +playing on the tambourine and running after a hag in the moonlight, and +cooking your breakfast in the grey morning, then it is indeed time that +I should die. Good-bye, brother.”</p> + +<p>So saying, the Philosopher arose and removed all the furniture to the +sides of the room so that there was a clear space left in the centre. +He then took off his boots and his coat, and standing on his toes he +commenced to gyrate with extraordinary rapidity. In a few moments his +movements became steady and swift, and a sound came from him like the +humming of a swift saw; this sound grew deeper and deeper, and at last +continuous, so that the room was filled with a thrilling noise. In a +quarter of an hour the movement began to noticeably slacken. In another +three minutes it was quite slow. In two more minutes he grew visible +again as a body, and then he wobbled to and fro, and at last dropped +in a heap on the floor. He was quite dead, and on his face was an +expression of serene beatitude.</p> + +<p>“God be with you, brother,” said the remaining Philosopher, and he lit +his pipe, focused his vision on the extreme tip of his nose, and began +to meditate profoundly on the aphorism whether the good is the all or +the all is the good. In another moment he would have become oblivious of +the room, the company, and the corpse, but the Grey Woman of Dun Gortin +shattered his meditation by a demand for advice as to what should next +be done. The Philosopher, with an effort, detached his eyes from his +nose and his mind from his maxim.</p> + +<p>“Chaos,” said he, “is the first condition. Order is the first law. +Continuity is the first reflection. Quietude is the first happiness. Our +brother is dead—bury him.” So saying, he returned his eyes to his nose, +and his mind to his maxim, and lapsed to a profound reflection wherein +nothing sat perched on insubstantiality, and the Spirit of Artifice +goggled at the puzzle.</p> + +<p>The Grey Woman of Dun Gortin took a pinch of snuff from her box and +raised the keen over her husband:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“You were my husband and you are dead.</p> + +<p>It is wisdom that has killed you.</p> + +<p>If you had listened to my wisdom instead of to your own you would still +be a trouble to me and I would still be happy.</p> + +<p>Women are stronger than men—they do not die of wisdom.</p> + +<p>They are better than men because they do not seek wisdom.</p> + +<p>They are wiser than men because they know less and understand more.</p> + +<p>I had fourteen hundred maledictions, my little store, and by a trick you +stole them and left me empty.</p> + +<p>You stole my wisdom and it has broken your neck.</p> + +<p>I lost my knowledge and I am yet alive raising the keen over your body, +but it was too heavy for you, my little knowledge.</p> + +<p>You will never go out into the pine wood in the morning, or wander +abroad on a night of stars.</p> + +<p>You will not sit in the chimney-corner on the hard nights, or go to bed, +or rise again, or do anything at all from this day out.</p> + +<p>Who will gather pine cones now when the fire is going down, or call my +name in the empty house, or be angry when the kettle is not boiling?</p> + +<p>Now I am desolate indeed. I have no knowledge, I have no husband, I have +no more to say.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“If I had anything better you should have it,” said she politely to the +Thin Woman of Inis Magrath.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said the Thin Woman, “it was very nice. Shall I begin now? +My husband is meditating and we may be able to annoy him.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t trouble yourself,” replied the other, “I am past enjoyment and +am, moreover, a respectable woman.”</p> + +<p>“That is no more than the truth, indeed.”</p> + +<p>“I have always done the right thing at the right time.”</p> + +<p>“I’d be the last body in the world to deny that,” was the warm response.</p> + +<p>“Very well, then,” said the Grey Woman, and she commenced to take off +her boots. She stood in the centre of the room and balanced herself on +her toe.</p> + +<p>“You are a decent, respectable lady,” said the Thin Woman of Inis +Magrath, and then the Grey Woman began to gyrate rapidly and more +rapidly until she was a very fervour of motion, and in three-quarters +of an hour (for she was very tough) she began to slacken, grew visible, +wobbled, and fell beside her dead husband, and on her face was a +beatitude almost surpassing his.</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman of Inis Magrath smacked the children and put them to bed, +next she buried the two bodies under the hearthstone, and then, with +some trouble, detached her husband from his meditations. When he became +capable of ordinary occurrences she detailed all that had happened, and +said that he alone was to blame for the sad bereavement. He replied:</p> + +<p>“The toxin generates the anti-toxin. The end lies concealed in the +beginning. All bodies grow around a skeleton. Life is a petticoat about +death. I will not go to bed.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<p>On the day following this melancholy occurrence Meehawl MacMurrachu, +a small farmer in the neighbourhood, came through the pine trees with +tangled brows. At the door of the little house he said, “God be with all +here,” and marched in.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher removed his pipe from his lips—</p> + +<p>“God be with yourself,” said he, and he replaced his pipe.</p> + +<p>Meehawl MacMurrachu crooked his thumb at space, “Where is the other one?” +said he.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“He might be outside, maybe?”</p> + +<p>“He might, indeed,” said the Philosopher gravely.</p> + +<p>“Well, it doesn’t matter,” said the visitor, “for you have enough +knowledge by yourself to stock a shop. The reason I came here to-day was +to ask your honoured advice about my wife’s washing-board. She only has +it a couple of years, and the last time she used it was when she washed +out my Sunday shirt and her black skirt with the red things on it—you +know the one?”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow, the washboard is gone, and my wife says it was either +taken by the fairies or by Bessie Hannigan—you know Bessie Hannigan? +She has whiskers like a goat and a lame leg!” “I do not,” said the +Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“No matter,” said Meehawl MacMurrachu. “She didn’t take it, because my +wife got her out yesterday and kept her talking for two hours while +I went through everything in her bit of a house—the washboard wasn’t +there.”</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t be,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Maybe your honour could tell a body where it is then?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe I could,” said the Philosopher; “are you listening?”</p> + +<p>“I am,” said Meehawl MacMurrachu.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher drew his chair closer to the visitor until their knees +were jammed together. He laid both his hands on Meehawl MacMurrachu’s +knees “Washing is an extraordinary custom,” said he. “We are washed both +on coming into the world and on going out of it, and we take no pleasure +from the first washing nor any profit from the last.”</p> + +<p>“True for you, sir,” said Meehawl MacMurrachu.</p> + +<p>“Many people consider that scourings supplementary to these are only due +to habit. Now, habit is continuity of action, it is a most detestable +thing and is very difficult to get away from. A proverb will run where +a writ will not, and the follies of our forefathers are of greater +importance to us than is the well-being of our posterity.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t say a word against that, sir,” said Meehawl MacMurrachu.</p> + +<p>“Cats are a philosophic and thoughtful race, but they do not admit the +efficacy of either water or soap, and yet it is usually conceded that +they are cleanly folk. There are exceptions to every rule, and I once +knew a cat who lusted after water and bathed daily: he was an unnatural +brute and died ultimately of the head staggers. Children are nearly as +wise as cats. It is true that they will utilize water in a variety of +ways, for instance, the destruction of a tablecloth or a pinafore, and I +have observed them greasing a ladder with soap, showing in the process a +great knowledge of the properties of this material.”</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t they, to be sure?” said Meehawl MacMurrachu. “Have you +got a match, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I have not,” said the Philosopher. “Sparrows, again, are a highly acute +and reasonable folk. They use water to quench thirst, but when they are +dirty they take a dust bath and are at once cleansed. Of course, birds +are often seen in the water, but they go there to catch fish and not to +wash. I have often fancied that fish are a dirty, sly, and unintelligent +people—this is due to their staying so much in the water, and it has +been observed that on being removed from this element they at once +expire through sheer ecstasy at escaping from their prolonged washing.”</p> + +<p>“I have seen them doing it myself,” said Meehawl. “Did you ever hear, +sir, about the fish that Paudeen MacLoughlin caught in the policeman’s +hat.”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” said the Philosopher. “The first person who washed was +possibly a person seeking a cheap notoriety. Any fool can wash himself, +but every wise man knows that it is an unnecessary labour, for nature +will quickly reduce him to a natural and healthy dirtiness again. We +should seek, therefore, not how to make ourselves clean, but how to +attain a more unique and splendid dirtiness, and perhaps the accumulated +layers of matter might, by ordinary geologic compulsion, become +incorporated with the human cuticle and so render clothing +unnecessary—”</p> + +<p>“About that washboard,” said Meehawl, “I was just going to say—”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said the Philosopher. “In its proper place I admit +the necessity for water. As a thing to sail a ship on it can scarcely be +surpassed (not, you will understand, that I entirely approve of ships, +they tend to create and perpetuate international curiosity and the +smaller vermin of different latitudes). As an element wherewith to put +out a fire, or brew tea, or make a slide in winter it is useful, but in +a tin basin it has a repulsive and meagre aspect.—Now as to your wife’s +washboard—”</p> + +<p>“Good luck to your honour,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“Your wife says that either the fairies or a woman with a goat’s leg has +it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s her whiskers,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“They are lame,” said the Philosopher sternly.</p> + +<p>“Have it your own way, sir, I’m not certain now how the creature is +afflicted.”</p> + +<p>“You say that this unhealthy woman has not got your wife’s washboard. It +remains, therefore, that the fairies have it.”</p> + +<p>“It looks that way,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“There are six clans of fairies living in this neighbourhood; but the +process of elimination, which has shaped the world to a globe, the ant +to its environment, and man to the captaincy of the vertebrates, will +not fail in this instance either.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see anything like the way wasps have increased this +season?” said Meehawl; “faith, you can’t sit down anywhere but your +breeches—”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” said the Philosopher. “Did you leave out a pan of milk on +last Tuesday?”</p> + +<p>“I did then.”</p> + +<p>“Do you take off your hat when you meet a dust twirl?”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t neglect that,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“Did you cut down a thorn bush recently?”</p> + +<p>“I’d sooner cut my eye out,” said Meehawl, “and go about as wall-eyed +as Lorcan O’Nualain’s ass: I would that. Did you ever see his ass, sir? +It—”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” said the Philosopher. “Did you kill a robin redbreast?”</p> + +<p>“Never,” said Meehawl. “By the pipers,” he added, “that old skinny cat +of mine caught a bird on the roof yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Hah!” cried the Philosopher, moving, if it were possible, even closer +to his client, “now we have it. It is the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca +Mora took your washboard. Go to the Gort at once. There is a hole under +a tree in the southeast of the field. Try what you will find in that +hole.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do that,” said Meehawl. “Did you ever—”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>So Meehawl MacMurrachu went away and did as he had been bidden, and +underneath the tree of Gort na Cloca Mora he found a little crock of +gold.</p> + +<p>“There’s a power of washboards in that,” said he.</p> + +<p>By reason of this incident the fame of the Philosopher became even +greater than it had been before, and also by reason of it many singular +events were to happen with which you shall duly become acquainted.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<p>It so happened that the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca Mora were not +thankful to the Philosopher for having sent Meehawl MacMurrachu to +their field. In stealing Meehawl’s property they were quite within their +rights because their bird had undoubtedly been slain by his cat. Not +alone, therefore, was their righteous vengeance nullified, but the crock +of gold which had taken their community many thousands of years to amass +was stolen. A Leprecaun without a pot of gold is like a rose without +perfume, a bird without a wing, or an inside without an outside. They +considered that the Philosopher had treated them badly, that his action +was mischievous and unneighbourly, and that until they were adequately +compensated for their loss both of treasure and dignity, no conditions +other than those of enmity could exist between their people and the +little house in the pine wood. Furthermore, for them the situation was +cruelly complicated. They were unable to organise a direct, personal +hostility against their new enemy, because the Thin Woman of Inis +Magrath would certainly protect her husband. She belonged to the Shee of +Croghan Conghaile, who had relatives in every fairy fort in Ireland, and +were also strongly represented in the forts and duns of their immediate +neighbours. They could, of course, have called an extraordinary meeting +of the Sheogs, Leprecauns, and Cluricauns, and presented their case +with a claim for damages against the Shee of Croghan Conghaile, but +that Clann would assuredly repudiate any liability on the ground that +no member of their fraternity was responsible for the outrage, as it was +the Philosopher, and not the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath, who had done +the deed. Notwithstanding this they were unwilling to let the matter +rest, and the fact that justice was out of reach only added fury to +their anger.</p> + +<p>One of their number was sent to interview the Thin Woman of Inis +Magrath, and the others concentrated nightly about the dwelling of +Meehawl MacMurrachu in an endeavour to recapture the treasure which +they were quite satisfied was hopeless. They found that Meehawl, who +understood the customs of the Earth Folk very well, had buried the crock +of gold beneath a thorn bush, thereby placing it under the protection of +every fairy in the world—the Leprecauns themselves included, and until +it was removed from this place by human hands they were bound to respect +its hiding-place, and even guarantee its safety with their blood.</p> + +<p>They afflicted Meehawl with an extraordinary attack of rheumatism and +his wife with an equally virulent sciatica, but they got no lasting +pleasure from their groans.</p> + +<p>The Leprecaun, who had been detailed to visit the Thin Woman of Inis +Magrath, duly arrived at the cottage in the pine wood and made his +complaint. The little man wept as he told the story, and the two +children wept out of sympathy for him. The Thin Woman said she was +desperately grieved by the whole unpleasant transaction, and that +all her sympathies were with Gort na Cloca Mora, but that she must +disassociate herself from any responsibility in the matter as it was her +husband who was the culpable person, and that she had no control over +his mental processes, which, she concluded, was one of the seven curious +things in the world.</p> + +<p>As her husband was away in a distant part of the wood nothing further +could be done at that time, so the Leprecaun returned again to his +fellows without any good news, but he promised to come back early on the +following day. When the Philosopher come home late that night the Thin +Woman was waiting up for him.</p> + +<p>“Woman,” said the Philosopher, “you ought to be in bed.”</p> + +<p>“Ought I indeed?” said the Thin Woman. “I’d have you know that I’ll go +to bed when I like and get up when I like without asking your or any one +else’s permission.”</p> + +<p>“That is not true,” said the Philosopher. “You get sleepy whether you +like it or not, and you awaken again without your permission being +asked. Like many other customs such as singing, dancing, music, and +acting, sleep has crept into popular favour as part of a religious +ceremonial. Nowhere can one go to sleep more easily than in a church.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” said the Thin Woman, “that a Leprecaun came here to-day?”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” said the Philosopher, “and notwithstanding the innumerable +centuries which have elapsed since that first sleeper (probably with +extreme difficulty) sank into his religious trance, we can to-day sleep +through a religious ceremony with an ease which would have been a source +of wealth and fame to that prehistoric worshipper and his acolytes.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to listen to what I am telling you about the Leprecaun?” +said the Thin Woman.</p> + +<p>“I am not,” said the Philosopher. “It has been suggested that we go +to sleep at night because it is then too dark to do anything else; but +owls, who are a venerably sagacious folk, do not sleep in the night +time. Bats, also, are a very clear-minded race; they sleep in the +broadest day, and they do it in a charming manner. They clutch the +branch of a tree with their toes and hang head downwards—a position +which I consider singularly happy, for the rush of blood to the head +consequent on this inverted position should engender a drowsiness and a +certain imbecility of mind which must either sleep or explode.”</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_026" style="max-width: 35.9375em;"><a id="26"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_026.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">“Will you never be done talking?” shouted the Thin Woman +passionately</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Will you never be done talking?” shouted the Thin Woman passionately.</p> + +<p>“I will not,” said the Philosopher. “In certain ways sleep is useful. +It is an excellent way of listening to an opera or seeing pictures on +a bioscope. As a medium for day-dreams I know of nothing that can equal +it. As an accomplishment it is graceful, but as a means of spending a +night it is intolerably ridiculous. If you were going to say anything, +my love, please say it now, but you should always remember to think +before you speak. A woman should be seen seldom but never heard. +Quietness is the beginning of virtue. To be silent is to be beautiful. +Stars do not make a noise. Children should always be in bed. These are +serious truths, which cannot be controverted; therefore, silence is +fitting as regards them.”</p> + +<p>“Your stirabout is on the hob,” said the Thin Woman. “You can get it for +yourself. I would not move the breadth of my nail if you were dying of +hunger. I hope there’s lumps in it. A Leprecaun from Gort na Cloca Mora +was here to-day. They’ll give it to you for robbing their pot of gold. +You old thief, you! you lobeared, crock-kneed fat-eye!”</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman whizzed suddenly from where she stood and leaped into +bed. From beneath the blanket she turned a vivid, furious eye on her +husband. She was trying to give him rheumatism and toothache and lockjaw +all at once. If she had been satisfied to concentrate her attention on +one only of these torments she might have succeeded in afflicting her +husband according to her wish, but she was not able to do that.</p> + +<p>“Finality is death. Perfection is finality. Nothing is perfect. There +are lumps in it,” said the Philosopher.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<p>When the Leprecaun came through the pine wood on the following day he +met two children at a little distance from the house. He raised his open +right hand above his head (this is both the fairy and the Gaelic form of +salutation), and would have passed on but that a thought brought him +to a halt. Sitting down before the two children he stared at them for a +long time, and they stared back at him. At last he said to the boy:</p> + +<p>“What is your name, a vic vig O?”</p> + +<p>“Seumas Beg, sir,” the boy replied.</p> + +<p>“It’s a little name,” said the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>“It’s what my mother calls me, sir,” returned the boy.</p> + +<p>“What does your father call you,” was the next question.</p> + +<p>“Seumas Roghan Maelduin O’Carbhail Mac an Droid.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a big name,” said the Leprecaun, and he turned to the little girl. +“What is your name, a cailin vig O?”</p> + +<p>“Brigid Beg, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And what does your father call you?”</p> + +<p>“He never calls me at all, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Seumaseen and Breedeen, you are good little children, and I like +you very much. Health be with you until I come to see you again.”</p> + +<p>And then the Leprecaun went back the way he had come. As he went he made +little jumps and cracked his fingers, and sometimes he rubbed one leg +against the other.</p> + +<p>“That’s a nice Leprecaun,” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>“I like him too,” said Brigid.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Seumas, “let me be the Leprecaun, and you be the two +children, and I will ask you our names.”</p> + +<p>So they did that.</p> + +<p>The next day the Leprecaun came again. He sat down beside the children +and, as before, he was silent for a little time.</p> + +<p>“Are you not going to ask us our names, sir?” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>His sister smoothed out her dress shyly. “My name, sir, is Brigid Beg,” +said she.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever play Jackstones?” said the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” replied Seumas.</p> + +<p>“I’ll teach you how to play Jackstones,” said the Leprecaun, and he +picked up some pine cones and taught the children that game.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever play Ball in the Decker?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever play ‘I can make a nail with my ree-ro-raddy-O, I can make +a nail with my ree-ro-ray’?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” replied Seumas.</p> + +<p>“It’s a nice game,” said the Leprecaun, “and so is Capon-the-back, and +Twenty-four yards on the Billy-goat’s Tail, and Towns, and Relievo, and +Leap-frog. I’ll teach you all these games,” said the Leprecaun, “and +I’ll teach you how to play Knifey, and Hole-and-taw, and Horneys and +Robbers.</p> + +<p>“Leap-frog is the best one to start with, so I’ll teach it to you at +once. Let you bend down like this, Breedeen, and you bend down like that +a good distance away, Seumas. Now I jump over Breedeen’s back, and then +I run and jump over Seumaseen’s back like this, and then I run ahead +again and I bend down. Now, Breedeen, you jump over your brother, and +then you jump over me, and run a good bit on and bend down again. Now, +Seumas, it’s your turn; you jump over me and then over your sister, and +then you run on and bend down again and I jump.”</p> + +<p>“This is a fine game, sir,” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>“It is, a vic vig,—keep in your head,” said the Leprecaun. “That’s a +good jump, you couldn’t beat that jump, Seumas.”</p> + +<p>“I can jump better than Brigid already,” replied Seumas, “and I’ll jump +as well as you do when I get more practice—keep in your head, sir.”</p> + +<p>Almost without noticing it they had passed through the edge of the wood, +and were playing into a rough field which was cumbered with big, grey +rocks. It was the very last field in sight, and behind it the rough, +heather-packed mountain sloped distantly away to the skyline. There was +a raggedy blackberry hedge all round the field, and there were long, +tough, haggard-looking plants growing in clumps here and there. Near +a corner of this field there was a broad, low tree, and as they played +they came near and nearer to it. The Leprecaun gave a back very close to +the tree. Seumas ran and jumped and slid down a hole at the side of the +tree. Then Brigid ran and jumped and slid down the same hole.</p> + +<p>“Dear me!” said Brigid, and she flashed out of sight.</p> + +<p>The Leprecaun cracked his fingers and rubbed one leg against the other, +and then he also dived into the hole and disappeared from view.</p> + +<p>When the time at which the children usually went home had passed, the +Thin Woman of Inis Magrath became a little anxious. She had never known +them to be late for dinner before. There was one of the children whom +she hated; it was her own child, but as she had forgotten which of them +was hers, and as she loved one of them, she was compelled to love both +for fear of making a mistake and chastising the child for whom her heart +secretly yearned. Therefore, she was equally concerned about both of +them.</p> + +<p>Dinner time passed and supper time arrived, but the children did not. +Again and again the Thin Woman went out through the dark pine trees and +called until she was so hoarse that she could not even hear herself when +she roared. The evening wore on to the night, and while she waited for +the Philosopher to come in she reviewed the situation. Her husband had +not come in, the children had not come in, the Leprecaun had not returned +as arranged.... A light flashed upon her. The Leprecaun had kidnapped +her children! She announced a vengeance against the Leprecauns which +would stagger humanity. While in the extreme centre of her ecstasy the +Philosopher came through the trees and entered the house.</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman flew to him—</p> + +<p>“Husband,” said she, “the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca Mora have kidnapped +our children.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher gazed at her for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Kidnapping,” said he, “has been for many centuries a favourite +occupation of fairies, gypsies, and the brigands of the East. The usual +procedure is to attach a person and hold it to ransom. If the ransom is +not paid an ear or a finger may be cut from the captive and despatched +to those interested, with the statement that an arm or a leg will follow +in a week unless suitable arrangements are entered into.”</p> + +<p>“Do you understand,” said the Thin Woman passionately, “that it is your +own children who have been kidnapped?”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” said the Philosopher. “This course, however, is rarely +followed by the fairy people: they do not ordinarily steal for ransom, +but for love of thieving, or from some other obscure and possibly +functional causes, and the victim is retained in their forts or duns +until by the effluxion of time they forget their origin and become +peaceable citizens of the fairy state. Kidnapping is not by any means +confined to either humanity or the fairy people.”</p> + +<p>“Monster,” said the Thin Woman in a deep voice, “will you listen to me?”</p> + +<p>“I will not,” said the Philosopher. “Many of the insectivora also +practice this custom. Ants, for example, are a respectable race living +in well-ordered communities. They have attained to a most complex and +artificial civilization, and will frequently adventure far afield on +colonising or other expeditions from whence they return with a rich +booty of aphides and other stock, who thenceforward become the servants +and domestic creatures of the republic. As they neither kill nor eat +their captives, this practice will be termed kidnapping. The same may +be said of bees, a hardy and industrious race living in hexagonal cells +which are very difficult to make. Sometimes, on lacking a queen of +their own, they have been observed to abduct one from a less powerful +neighbour, and use her for their own purposes without shame, mercy, or +remorse.”</p> + +<p>“Will you not understand?” screamed the Thin Woman.</p> + +<p>“I will not,” said the Philosopher. “Semi-tropical apes have been +rumoured to kidnap children, and are reported to use them very tenderly +indeed, sharing their coconuts, yams, plantains, and other equatorial +provender with the largest generosity, and conveying their delicate +captives from tree to tree (often at great distances from each other and +from the ground) with the most guarded solicitude and benevolence.”</p> + +<p>“I am going to bed,” said the Thin Woman, “your stirabout is on the +hob.”</p> + +<p>“Are there lumps in it, my dear?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I hope there are,” replied the Thin Woman, and she leaped into bed.</p> + +<p>That night the Philosopher was afflicted with the most extraordinary +attack of rheumatism he had ever known, nor did he get any ease until +the grey morning wearied his lady into a reluctant slumber.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<p>The Thin Woman of Inis Magrath slept very late that morning, but when +she did awaken her impatience was so urgent that she could scarcely +delay to eat her breakfast. Immediately after she had eaten she put on +her bonnet and shawl and went through the pine wood in the direction of +Gort na Cloca Mora. In a short time she reached the rocky field, and, +walking over to the tree in the southeast corner, she picked up a small +stone and hammered loudly against the trunk of the tree. She hammered +in a peculiar fashion, giving two knocks and then three knocks, and then +one knock. A voice came up from the hole.</p> + +<p>“Who is that, please?” said the voice.</p> + +<p>“Ban na Droid of Inis Magrath, and well you know it,” was her reply.</p> + +<p>“I am coming up, Noble Woman,” said the voice, and in another moment the +Leprecaun leaped out of the hole.</p> + +<p>“Where are Seumas and Brigid Beg?” said the Thin Woman sternly.</p> + +<p>“How would I know where they are?” replied the Leprecaun. “Wouldn’t they +be at home now?”</p> + +<p>“If they were at home I wouldn’t have come here looking for them,” was +her reply. “It is my belief that you have them.”</p> + +<p>“Search me,” said the Leprecaun, opening his waistcoat.</p> + +<p>“They are down there in your little house,” said the Thin Woman angrily, +“and the sooner you let them up the better it will be for yourself and +your five brothers.”</p> + +<p>“Noble Woman,” said the Leprecaun, “you can go down yourself into our +little house and look. I can’t say fairer than that.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t fit down there,” said she. “I’m too big.”</p> + +<p>“You know the way for making yourself little,” replied the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>“But I mightn’t be able to make myself big again,” said the Thin Woman, +“and then you and your dirty brothers would have it all your own way. If +you don’t let the children up,” she continued, “I’ll raise the Shee of +Croghan Conghaile against you. You know what happened to the Cluricauns +of Oilean na Glas when they stole the Queen’s baby—It will be a worse +thing than that for you. If the children are not back in my house before +moonrise this night, I’ll go round to my people. Just tell that to your +five ugly brothers. Health with you,” she added, and strode away.</p> + +<p>“Health with yourself, Noble Woman,” said the Leprecaun, and he stood on +one leg until she was out of sight and then he slid down into the hole +again.</p> + +<p>When the Thin Woman was going back through the pine wood she saw Meehawl +MacMurrachu travelling in the same direction and his brows were in a +tangle of perplexity.</p> + +<p>“God be with you, Meehawl MacMurrachu,” said she.</p> + +<p>“God and Mary be with you, ma’am,” he replied, “I am in great trouble +this day.”</p> + +<p>“Why wouldn’t you be?” said the Thin Woman.</p> + +<p>“I came up to have a talk with your husband about a particular thing.”</p> + +<p>“If it’s talk you want you have come to a good house, Meehawl.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a powerful man right enough,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes the Thin Woman spoke again. “I can get the reek of +his pipe from here. Let you go right in to him now and I’ll stay outside +for a while, for the sound of your two voices would give me a pain in my +head.”</p> + +<p>“Whatever will please you will please me, ma’am,” said her companion, +and he went into the little house.</p> + +<p>Meehawl MacMurrachu had good reason to be perplexed. He was the father +of one child only, and she was the most beautiful girl in the whole +world. The pity of it was that no one at all knew she was beautiful, and +she did not even know it herself. At times when she bathed in the eddy +of a mountain stream and saw her reflection looking up from the placid +water she thought that she looked very nice, and then a great sadness +would come upon her, for what is the use of looking nice if there is +nobody to see one’s beauty? Beauty, also, is usefulness. The arts as +well as the crafts, the graces equally with the utilities must stand up +in the marketplace and be judged by the gombeen men.</p> + +<p>The only house near to her father’s was that occupied by Bessie +Hannigan. The other few houses were scattered widely with long, quiet +miles of hill and bog between them, so that she had hardly seen more +than a couple of men beside her father since she was born. She helped +her father and mother in all the small businesses of their house, and +every day also she drove their three cows and two goats to pasture on +the mountain slopes. Here through the sunny days the years had passed +in a slow, warm thoughtlessness wherein, without thinking, many thoughts +had entered into her mind and many pictures hung for a moment like +birds in the thin air. At first, and for a long time, she had been happy +enough; there were many things in which a child might be interested: +the spacious heavens which never wore the same beauty on any day; the +innumerable little creatures living among the grasses or in the heather; +the steep swing of a bird down from the mountain to the infinite plains +below; the little flowers which were so contented each in its peaceful +place; the bees gathering food for their houses, and the stout beetles +who are always losing their way in the dusk. These things, and many +others, interested her. The three cows after they had grazed for a long +time would come and lie by her side and look at her as they chewed their +cud, and the goats would prance from the bracken to push their heads +against her breast because they loved her.</p> + +<p>Indeed, everything in her quiet world loved this girl: but very slowly +there was growing in her consciousness an unrest, a disquietude to +which she had hitherto been a stranger. Sometimes an infinite weariness +oppressed her to the earth. A thought was born in her mind and it had +no name. It was growing and could not be expressed. She had no words +wherewith to meet it, to exorcise or greet this stranger who, more and +more insistently and pleadingly, tapped upon her doors and begged to +be spoken to, admitted and caressed and nourished. A thought is a real +thing and words are only its raiment, but a thought is as shy as a +virgin; unless it is fittingly apparelled we may not look on its shadowy +nakedness: it will fly from us and only return again in the darkness +crying in a thin, childish voice which we may not comprehend until, with +aching minds, listening and divining, we at last fashion for it those +symbols which are its protection and its banner. So she could not +understand the touch that came to her from afar and yet how intimately, +the whisper so aloof and yet so thrillingly personal. The standard of +either language or experience was not hers; she could listen but not +think, she could feel but not know, her eyes looked forward and did not +see, her hands groped in the sunlight and felt nothing. It was like the +edge of a little wind which stirred her tresses but could not lift them, +or the first white peep of the dawn which is neither light nor darkness. +But she listened, not with her ears but with her blood. The fingers of +her soul stretched out to clasp a stranger’s hand, and her disquietude +was quickened through with an eagerness which was neither physical nor +mental, for neither her body nor her mind was definitely interested. +Some dim region between these grew alarmed and watched and waited and +did not sleep or grow weary at all.</p> + +<p>One morning she lay among the long, warm grasses. She watched a bird who +soared and sang for a little time, and then it sped swiftly away down +the steep air and out of sight in the blue distance. Even when it was +gone the song seemed to ring in her ears. It seemed to linger with her +as a faint, sweet echo, coming fitfully, with little pauses as though a +wind disturbed it, and careless, distant eddies. After a few moments she +knew it was not a bird. No bird’s song had that consecutive melody, for +their themes are as careless as their wings. She sat up and looked about +her, but there was nothing in sight: the mountains sloped gently above +her and away to the clear sky; around her the scattered clumps of +heather were drowsing in the sunlight; far below she could see her +father’s house, a little grey patch near some trees—and then the music +stopped and left her wondering.</p> + +<p>She could not find her goats anywhere although for a long time she +searched. They came to her at last of their own accord from behind a +fold in the hills, and they were more wildly excited than she had ever +seen them before. Even the cows forsook their solemnity and broke into +awkward gambols around her. As she walked home that evening a strange +elation taught her feet to dance. Hither and thither she flitted in +front of the beasts and behind them. Her feet tripped to a wayward +measure. There was a tune in her ears and she danced to it, throwing +her arms out and above her head and swaying and bending as she went. +The full freedom of her body was hers now: the lightness and poise and +certainty of her limbs delighted her, and the strength that did not +tire delighted her also. The evening was full of peace and quietude, the +mellow, dusky sunlight made a path for her feet, and everywhere through +the wide fields birds were flashing and singing, and she sang with them +a song that had no words and wanted none.</p> + +<p>The following day she heard the music again, faint and thin, wonderfully +sweet and as wild as the song of a bird, but it was a melody which +no bird would adhere to. A theme was repeated again and again. In the +middle of trills, grace-notes, runs and catches it recurred with a +strange, almost holy, solemnity,—a hushing, slender melody full of +austerity and aloofness. There was something in it to set her heart +beating. She yearned to it with her ears and her lips. Was it joy, +menace, carelessness? She did not know, but this she did know, that +however terrible it was personal to her. It was her unborn thought +strangely audible and felt rather than understood.</p> + +<p>On that day she did not see anybody either. She drove her charges home +in the evening listlessly and the beasts also were very quiet.</p> + +<p>When the music came again she made no effort to discover where it came +from. She only listened, and when the tune was ended she saw a figure +rise from the fold of a little hill. The sunlight was gleaming from his +arms and shoulders but the rest of his body was hidden by the bracken, +and he did not look at her as he went away playing softly on a double +pipe.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_042" style="max-width: 35.9375em;"><a id="42"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_042.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">He stood waist-deep in greenery fronting her squarely</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>The next day he did look at her. He stood waist-deep in greenery +fronting her squarely. She had never seen so strange a face before. Her +eyes almost died on him as she gazed and he returned her look for a long +minute with an intent, expressionless regard. His hair was a cluster of +brown curls, his nose was little and straight, and his wide mouth +drooped sadly at the corners. His eyes were wide and most mournful, and +his forehead was very broad and white. His sad eyes and mouth almost +made her weep.</p> + +<p>When he turned away he smiled at her, and it was as though the sun had +shone suddenly in a dark place, banishing all sadness and gloom. Then he +went mincingly away. As he went he lifted the slender double reed to his +lips and blew a few careless notes.</p> + +<p>The next day he fronted her as before, looking down to her eyes from a +short distance. He played for only a few moments, and fitfully, and then +he came to her. When he left the bracken the girl suddenly clapped +her hands against her eyes affrighted. There was something different, +terrible about him. The upper part of his body was beautiful, but the +lower part.... She dared not look at him again. She would have risen and +fled away but she feared he might pursue her, and the thought of such +a chase and the inevitable capture froze her blood. The thought of +anything behind us is always terrible. The sound of pursuing feet is +worse than the murder from which we fly—So she sat still and waited but +nothing happened. At last, desperately, she dropped her hands. He was +sitting on the ground a few paces from her. He was not looking at her +but far away sidewards across the spreading hill. His legs were crossed; +they were shaggy and hoofed like the legs of a goat: but she would not +look at these because of his wonderful, sad, grotesque face. Gaiety is +good to look upon and an innocent face is delightful to our souls, +but no woman can resist sadness or weakness, and ugliness she dare +not resist. Her nature leaps to be the comforter. It is her reason. It +exalts her to an ecstasy wherein nothing but the sacrifice of herself +has any proportion. Men are not fathers by instinct but by chance, but +women are mothers beyond thought, beyond instinct which is the father +of thought. Motherliness, pity, self-sacrifice—these are the charges +of her primal cell, and not even the discovery that men are comedians, +liars, and egotists will wean her from this. As she looked at the pathos +of his face she repudiated the hideousness of his body. The beast +which is in all men is glossed by women; it is his childishness, the +destructive energy inseparable from youth and high spirits, and it is +always forgiven by women, often forgotten, sometimes, and not rarely, +cherished and fostered.</p> + +<p>After a few moments of this silence he placed the reed to his lips and +played a plaintive little air, and then he spoke to her in a strange +voice, coming like a wind from distant places.</p> + +<p>“What is your name, Shepherd Girl?” said he.</p> + +<p>“Caitilin, Ingin Ni Murrachu,” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“Daughter of Murrachu,” said he, “I have come from a far place where +there are high hills. The men and maidens who follow their flocks in +that place know me and love me for I am the Master of the Shepherds. +They sing and dance and are glad when I come to them in the sunlight; +but in this country no people have done any reverence to me. The +shepherds fly away when they hear my pipes in the pastures; the maidens +scream in fear when I dance to them in the meadows. I am very lonely in +this strange country. You also, although you danced to the music of my +pipes, have covered your face against me and made no reverence.”</p> + +<p>“I will do whatever you say if it is right,” said she.</p> + +<p>“You must not do anything because it is right, but because it is your +wish. Right is a word and Wrong is a word, but the sun shines in the +morning and the dew falls in the dusk without thinking of these words +which have no meaning. The bee flies to the flower and the seed goes +abroad and is happy. Is that right, Shepherd Girl?—it is wrong also. +I come to you because the bee goes to the flower—it is wrong! If I did +not come to you to whom would I go? There is no right and no wrong but +only the will of the gods.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid of you,” said the girl.</p> + +<p>“You fear me because my legs are shaggy like the legs of a goat. Look at +them well, O Maiden, and know that they are indeed the legs of a beast +and then you will not be afraid any more. Do you not love beasts? Surely +you should love them for they yearn to you humbly or fiercely, craving +your hand upon their heads as I do. If I were not fashioned thus I would +not come to you because I would not need you. Man is a god and a brute. +He aspires to the stars with his head but his feet are contented in +the grasses of the field, and when he forsakes the brute upon which he +stands then there will be no more men and no more women and the immortal +gods will blow this world away like smoke.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you want me to do,” said the girl.</p> + +<p>“I want you to want me. I want you to forget right and wrong; to be as +happy as the beasts, as careless as the flowers and the birds. To live +to the depths of your nature as well as to the heights. Truly there are +stars in the heights and they will be a garland for your forehead. But +the depths are equal to the heights. Wondrous deep are the depths, very +fertile is the lowest deep. There are stars there also, brighter than +the stars on high. The name of the heights is Wisdom and the name of the +depths is Love. How shall they come together and be fruitful if you do +not plunge deeply and fearlessly? Wisdom is the spirit and the wings of +the spirit, Love is the shaggy beast that goes down. Gallantly he dives, +below thought, beyond Wisdom, to rise again as high above these as he +had first descended. Wisdom is righteous and clean, but Love is unclean +and holy. I sing of the beast and the descent: the great unclean purging +itself in fire: the thought that is not born in the measure or the ice +or the head, but in the feet and the hot blood and the pulse of fury. +The Crown of Life is not lodged in the sun: the wise gods have buried it +deeply where the thoughtful will not find it, nor the good: but the Gay +Ones, the Adventurous Ones, the Careless Plungers, they will bring it to +the wise and astonish them. All things are seen in the light—How shall +we value that which is easy to see? But the precious things which +are hidden, they will be more precious for our search: they will be +beautiful with our sorrow: they will be noble because of our desire for +them. Come away with me, Shepherd Girl, through the fields, and we will +be careless and happy, and we will leave thought to find us when it can, +for that is the duty of thought, and it is more anxious to discover us +than we are to be found.”</p> + +<p>So Caitilin Ni Murrachu arose and went with him through the fields, and +she did not go with him because of love, nor because his words had been +understood by her, but only because he was naked and unashamed.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<p>It was on account of his daughter that Meehawl MacMurrachu had come to +visit the Philosopher. He did not know what had become of her, and the +facts he had to lay before his adviser were very few.</p> + +<p>He left the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath taking snuff under a pine tree +and went into the house.</p> + +<p>“God be with all here,” said he as he entered.</p> + +<p>“God be with yourself, Meehawl MacMurrachu,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I am in great trouble this day, sir,” said Meehawl, “and if you would +give me an advice I’d be greatly beholden to you.”</p> + +<p>“I can give you that,” replied the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“None better than your honour and no trouble to you either. It was a +powerful advice you gave me about the washboard, and if I didn’t come +here to thank you before this it was not because I didn’t want to come, +but that I couldn’t move hand or foot by dint of the cruel rheumatism +put upon me by the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca Mora, bad cess to them +for ever: twisted I was the way you’d get a squint in your eye if you +only looked at me, and the pain I suffered would astonish you.”</p> + +<p>“It would not,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“No matter,” said Meehawl. “What I came about was my young daughter +Caitilin. Sight or light of her I haven’t had for three days. My wife +said first, that it was the fairies had taken her, and then she said it +was a travelling man that had a musical instrument she went away with, +and after that she said, that maybe the girl was lying dead in the butt +of a ditch with her eyes wide open, and she staring broadly at the +moon in the night time and the sun in the day until the crows would be +finding her out.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher drew his chair closer to Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“Daughters,” said he, “have been a cause of anxiety to their parents +ever since they were instituted. The flightiness of the female +temperament is very evident in those who have not arrived at the +years which teach how to hide faults and frailties, and, therefore, +indiscretions bristle from a young girl the way branches do from a +bush.”</p> + +<p>“The person who would deny that—” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“Female children, however, have the particular sanction of nature. They +are produced in astonishing excess over males, and may, accordingly, +be admitted as dominant to the male; but the well-proven law that the +minority shall always control the majority will relieve our minds from a +fear which might otherwise become intolerable.”</p> + +<p>“It’s true enough,” said Meehawl. “Have you noticed, sir, that in a +litter of pups—”</p> + +<p>“I have not,” said the Philosopher. “Certain trades and professions, +it is curious to note, tend to be perpetuated in the female line. The +sovereign profession among bees and ants is always female, and publicans +also descend on the distaff side. You will have noticed that every +publican has three daughters of extraordinary charms. Lacking these +signs we would do well to look askance at such a man’s liquor, divining +that in his brew there will be an undue percentage of water, for if his +primogeniture is infected how shall his honesty escape?”</p> + +<p>“It would take a wise head to answer that,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“It would not,” said the Philosopher. “Throughout nature the female +tends to polygamy.”</p> + +<p>“If,” said Meehawl, “that unfortunate daughter of mine is lying dead in +a ditch—”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said the Philosopher. “Many races have endeavoured +to place some limits to this increase in females. Certain Oriental +peoples have conferred the titles of divinity on crocodiles, serpents, +and tigers of the jungle, and have fed these with their surplusage +of daughters. In China, likewise, such sacrifices are defended as +honourable and economic practices. But, broadly speaking, if daughters +have to be curtailed I prefer your method of losing them rather than the +religio-hysterical compromises of the Orient.”</p> + +<p>“I give you my word, sir,” said Meehawl, “that I don’t know what you are +talking about at all.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said the Philosopher, “may be accounted for in three +ways—firstly, there is a lack of cerebral continuity: that is, faulty +attention; secondly, it might be due to a local peculiarity in the +conformation of the skull, or, perhaps, a superficial instead of a deep +indenting of the cerebral coil; and thirdly—”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever hear,” said Meehawl, “of the man that had the scalp of his +head blown off by a gun, and they soldered the bottom of a tin dish to +the top of his skull the way you could hear his brains ticking inside of +it for all the world like a Waterbury watch?”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” said the Philosopher. “Thirdly, it may—”</p> + +<p>“It’s my daughter, Caitilin, sir,” said Meehawl humbly. “Maybe she is +lying in the butt of a ditch and the crows picking her eyes out.”</p> + +<p>“What did she die of?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“My wife only put it that maybe she was dead, and that maybe she was +taken by the fairies, and that maybe she went away with the travelling +man that had the musical instrument. She said it was a concertina, but I +think myself it was a flute he had.”</p> + +<p>“Who was this traveller?”</p> + +<p>“I never saw him,” said Meehawl, “but one day I went a few perches up +the hill and I heard him playing—thin, squeaky music it was like you’d +be blowing out of a tin whistle. I looked about for him everywhere, but +not a bit of him could I see.”</p> + +<p>“Eh?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I looked about—” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“I know,” said the Philosopher. “Did you happen to look at your goats?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t well help doing that,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“What were they doing?” said the Philosopher eagerly.</p> + +<p>“They were bucking each other across the field, and standing on their +hind legs and cutting such capers that I laughed till I had a pain in my +stomach at the gait of them.”</p> + +<p>“This is very interesting,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Do you tell me so?” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“I do,” said the Philosopher, “and for this reason-most of the races of +the world have at one time or another—”</p> + +<p>“It’s my little daughter, Caitilin, sir,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“I’m attending to her,” the Philosopher replied.</p> + +<p>“I thank you kindly,” returned Meehawl.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher continued “Most of the races of the world have at one +time or another been visited by this deity, whose title is the ‘Great +God Pan,’ but there is no record of his ever having journeyed to +Ireland, and, certainly within historic times, he has not set foot on +these shores. He lived for a great number of years in Egypt, Persia, +and Greece, and although his empire is supposed to be world-wide, this +universal sway has always been, and always will be, contested; but +nevertheless, however sharply his empire may be curtailed, he will never +be without a kingdom wherein his exercise of sovereign rights will be +gladly and passionately acclaimed.”</p> + +<p>“Is he one of the old gods, sir?” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“He is,” replied the Philosopher, “and his coming intends no good +to this country. Have you any idea why he should have captured your +daughter?”</p> + +<p>“Not an idea in the world.”</p> + +<p>“Is your daughter beautiful?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t tell you, because I never thought of looking at her that +way. But she is a good milker, and as strong as a man. She can lift a +bag of meal under her arm easier than I can; but she’s a timid creature +for all that.”</p> + +<p>“Whatever the reason is I am certain that he has the girl, and I am +inclined to think that he was directed to her by the Leprecauns of +the Gort. You know they are at feud with you ever since their bird was +killed?”</p> + +<p>“I am not likely to forget it, and they racking me day and night with +torments.”</p> + +<p>“You may be sure,” said the Philosopher, “that if he’s anywhere at all +it’s at Gort na Cloca Mora he is, for, being a stranger, he wouldn’t +know where to go unless he was directed, and they know every hole and +corner of this countryside since ancient times. I’d go up myself and +have a talk with him, but it wouldn’t be a bit of good, and it wouldn’t +be any use your going either. He has power over all grown people so that +they either go and get drunk or else they fall in love with every person +they meet, and commit assaults and things I wouldn’t like to be telling +you about. The only folk who can go near him at all are little children, +because he has no power over them until they grow to the sensual age, +and then he exercises lordship over them as over every one else. I’ll +send my two children with a message to him to say that he isn’t doing +the decent thing, and that if he doesn’t let the girl alone and go back +to his own country we’ll send for Angus Óg.”</p> + +<p>“He’d make short work of him, I’m thinking.”</p> + +<p>“He might surely; but he may take the girl for himself all the same.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’d sooner he had her than the other one, for he’s one of +ourselves anyhow, and the devil you know is better than the devil you +don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“Angus Óg is a god,” said the Philosopher severely.</p> + +<p>“I know that, sir,” replied Meehawl; “it’s only a way of talking I have. +But how will your honour get at Angus? for I heard say that he hadn’t +been seen for a hundred years, except one night only when he talked to a +man for half an hour on Kilmasheogue.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll find him, sure enough,” replied the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I’ll warrant you will,” replied Meehawl heartily as he stood up. “Long +life and good health to your honour,” said he as he turned away.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher lit his pipe.</p> + +<p>“We live as long as we are let,” said he, “and we get the health we +deserve. Your salutation embodies a reflection on death which is not +philosophic. We must acquiesce in all logical progressions. The merging +of opposites is completion. Life runs to death as to its goal, and we +should go towards that next stage of experience either carelessly as to +what must be, or with a good, honest curiosity as to what may be.”</p> + +<p>“There’s not much fun in being dead, sir,” said Meehawl.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I know well enough,” replied Meehawl.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<p>When the children leaped into the hole at the foot of the tree they +found themselves sliding down a dark, narrow slant which dropped them +softly enough into a little room. This room was hollowed out immediately +under the tree, and great care had been taken not to disturb any of +the roots which ran here and there through the chamber in the strangest +criss-cross, twisted fashion. To get across such a place one had to walk +round, and jump over, and duck under perpetually. Some of the roots had +formed themselves very conveniently into low seats and narrow, uneven +tables, and at the bottom all the roots ran into the floor and away +again in the direction required by their business. After the clear air +outside this place was very dark to the children’s eyes, so that they +could not see anything for a few minutes, but after a little time their +eyes became accustomed to the semiobscurity and they were able to see +quite well. The first things they became aware of were six small men who +were seated on low roots. They were all dressed in tight green clothes +and little leathern aprons, and they wore tall green hats which wobbled +when they moved. They were all busily engaged making shoes. One was +drawing out wax ends on his knee, another was softening pieces of +leather in a bucket of water, another was polishing the instep of a shoe +with a piece of curved bone, another was paring down a heel with a short +broad-bladed knife, and another was hammering wooden pegs into a sole. +He had all the pegs in his mouth, which gave him a widefaced, jolly +expression, and according as a peg was wanted he blew it into his hand +and hit it twice with his hammer, and then he blew another peg, and he +always blew the peg with the right end uppermost, and never had to hit +it more than twice. He was a person well worth watching.</p> + +<p>The children had slid down so unexpectedly that they almost forgot their +good manners, but as soon as Seumas Beg discovered that he was really in +a room he removed his cap and stood up.</p> + +<p>“God be with all here,” said he.</p> + +<p>The Leprecaun who had brought them lifted Brigid from the floor to which +amazement still constrained her.</p> + +<p>“Sit down on that little root, child of my heart,” said he, “and you can +knit stockings for us.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Brigid meekly.</p> + +<p>The Leprecaun took four knitting needles and a ball of green wool from +the top of a high, horizontal root. He had to climb over one, go round +three and climb up two roots to get at it, and he did this so easily +that it did not seem a bit of trouble. He gave the needles and wool to +Brigid Beg.</p> + +<p>“Do you know how to turn the heel, Brigid Beg?” said he.</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Brigid.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll show you how when you come to it.”</p> + +<p>The other six Leprecauns had ceased work and were looking at the +children. Seumas turned to them.</p> + +<p>“God bless the work,” said he politely.</p> + +<p>One of the Leprecauns, who had a grey, puckered face and a thin fringe +of grey whisker very far under his chin, then spoke.</p> + +<p>“Come over here, Seumas Beg,” said he, “and I’ll measure you for a pair +of shoes. Put your foot up on that root.”</p> + +<p>The boy did so, and the Leprecaun took the measure of his foot with a +wooden rule.</p> + +<p>“Now, Brigid Beg, show me your foot,” and he measured her also. “They’ll +be ready for you in the morning.”</p> + +<p>“Do you never do anything else but make shoes, sir?” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>“We do not,” replied the Leprecaun, “except when we want new clothes, +and then we have to make them, but we grudge every minute spent making +anything else except shoes, because that is the proper work for a +Leprecaun. In the night time we go about the country into people’s +houses and we clip little pieces off their money, and so, bit by bit, +we get a crock of gold together, because, do you see, a Leprecaun has to +have a crock of gold so that if he’s captured by men folk he may be +able to ransom himself. But that seldom happens, because it’s a great +disgrace altogether to be captured by a man, and we’ve practiced so long +dodging among the roots here that we can easily get away from them. Of +course, now and again we are caught; but men are fools, and we always +escape without having to pay the ransom at all. We wear green clothes +because it’s the colour of the grass and the leaves, and when we sit +down under a bush or lie in the grass they just walk by without noticing +us.”</p> + +<p>“Will you let me see your crock of gold?” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>The Leprecaun looked at him fixedly for a moment.</p> + +<p>“Do you like griddle bread and milk?” said he.</p> + +<p>“I like it well,” Seumas answered.</p> + +<p>“Then you had better have some,” and the Leprecaun took a piece of +griddle bread from the shelf and filled two saucers with milk.</p> + +<p>While the children were eating the Leprecauns asked them many questions +“What time do you get up in the morning?”</p> + +<p>“Seven o’clock,” replied Seumas.</p> + +<p>“And what do you have for breakfast?”</p> + +<p>“Stirabout and milk,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“It’s good food,” said the Leprecaun. “What do you have for dinner?”</p> + +<p>“Potatoes and milk,” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>“It’s not bad at all,” said the Leprecaun. “And what do you have for +supper?”</p> + +<p>Brigid answered this time because her brother’s mouth was full.</p> + +<p>“Bread and milk, sir,” said she.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing better,” said the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>“And then we go to bed,” continued Brigid.</p> + +<p>“Why wouldn’t you?” said the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>It was at this point the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath knocked on the tree +trunk and demanded that the children should be returned to her.</p> + +<p>When she had gone away the Leprecauns held a consultation, whereat it +was decided that they could not afford to anger the Thin Woman and the +Shee of Croghan Conghaile, so they shook hands with the children and +bade them good-bye. The Leprecaun who had enticed them away from home +brought them back again, and on parting he begged the children to visit +Gort na Cloca Mora whenever they felt inclined.</p> + +<p>“There’s always a bit of griddle bread or potato cake, and a noggin of +milk for a friend,” said he.</p> + +<p>“You are very kind, sir,” replied Seumas, and his sister said the same +words.</p> + +<p>As the Leprecaun walked away they stood watching him.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_058" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="58"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_058.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">“Do you remember,” said Seumas, “the way he hopped and +waggled his leg the last time he was here?”</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Do you remember,” said Seumas, “the way he hopped and waggled his leg +the last time he was here?”</p> + +<p>“I do so,” replied Brigid.</p> + +<p>“Well, he isn’t hopping or doing anything at all this time,” said +Seumas.</p> + +<p>“He’s not in good humour to-night,” said Brigid, “but I like him.”</p> + +<p>“So do I,” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>When they went into the house the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath was very +glad to see them, and she baked a cake with currants in it, and also +gave them both stirabout and potatoes; but the Philosopher did not +notice that they had been away at all. He said at last that “talking was +bad wit, that women were always making a fuss, that children should be +fed, but not fattened, and that beds were meant to be slept in.” The Thin +Woman replied “that he was a grisly old man without bowels, that she did +not know what she had married him for, that he was three times her age, +and that no one would believe what she had to put up with.”</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<p>Pursuant to his arrangement with Meehawl MacMurrachu, the Philosopher +sent the children in search of Pan. He gave them the fullest +instructions as to how they should address the Sylvan Deity, and then, +having received the admonishments of the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath, the +children departed in the early morning.</p> + +<p>When they reached the clearing in the pine wood, through which the sun +was blazing, they sat down for a little while to rest in the heat. Birds +were continually darting down this leafy shaft, and diving away into the +dark wood. These birds always had something in their beaks. One would +have a worm, or a snail, or a grasshopper, or a little piece of wool +torn off a sheep, or a scrap of cloth, or a piece of hay; and when they +had put these things in a certain place they flew up the sun-shaft again +and looked for something else to bring home. On seeing the children each +of the birds waggled his wings, and made a particular sound. They said +“caw” and “chip” and “twit” and “tut” and “what” and “pit”; and one, +whom the youngsters liked very much, always said “tit-tittit-tit-tit.” +The children were fond of him because he was so all-of-asudden. They +never knew where he was going to fly next, and they did not believe he +knew himself. He would fly backwards and forwards, and up and down, and +sideways and bawways—all, so to speak, in the one breath. He did this +because he was curious to see what was happening everywhere, and, as +something is always happening everywhere, he was never able to fly in +a straight line for more than the littlest distance. He was a cowardly +bird too, and continually fancied that some person was going to throw +a stone at him from behind a bush, or a wall, or a tree, and these +imaginary dangers tended to make his journeyings still more wayward and +erratic. He never flew where he wanted to go himself, but only where God +directed him, and so he did not fare at all badly.</p> + +<p>The children knew each of the birds by their sounds, and always said +these words to them when they came near. For a little time they had +difficulty in saying the right word to the right bird, and sometimes +said “chip” when the salutation should have been “tut.” The birds always +resented this, and would scold them angrily, but after a little practice +they never made any mistakes at all. There was one bird, a big, black +fellow, who loved to be talked to. He used to sit on the ground beside +the children, and say “caw” as long as they would repeat it after him. +He often wasted a whole morning in talk, but none of the other birds +remained for more than a few minutes at a time. They were always busy +in the morning, but in the evening they had more leisure, and would stay +and chat as long as the children wanted them. The awkward thing was that +in the evening all the birds wanted to talk at the same moment, so that +the youngsters never knew which of them to answer. Seumas Beg got out +of that difficulty for a while by learning to whistle their notes, but, +even so, they spoke with such rapidity that he could not by any means +keep pace with them. Brigid could only whistle one note; it was a little +flat “whoo” sound, which the birds all laughed at, and after a few +trials she refused to whistle any more.</p> + +<p>While they were sitting two rabbits came to play about in the brush. +They ran round and round in a circle, and all their movements were very +quick and twisty. Sometimes they jumped over each other six or seven +times in succession, and every now and then they sat upright on their +hind legs, and washed their faces with their paws. At other times they +picked up a blade of grass, which they ate with great deliberation, +pretending all the time that it was a complicated banquet of cabbage +leaves and lettuce.</p> + +<p>While the children were playing with the rabbits an ancient, stalwart +he-goat came prancing through the bracken. He was an old acquaintance of +theirs, and he enjoyed lying beside them to have his forehead scratched +with a piece of sharp stick. His forehead was hard as rock, and the hair +grew there as sparse as grass does on a wall, or rather the way moss +grows on a wall—it was a mat instead of a crop. His horns were long and +very sharp, and brilliantly polished. On this day the he-goat had two +chains around his neck—one was made of butter-cups and the other was +made of daisies, and the children wondered to each other who it was +could have woven these so carefully. They asked the he-goat this +question, but he only looked at them and did not say a word. The +children liked examining this goat’s eyes; they were very big, and of +the queerest light-gray colour. They had a strange steadfast look, and +had also at times a look of queer, deep intelligence, and at other times +they had a fatherly and benevolent expression, and at other times +again, especially when he looked sidewards, they had a mischievous, +light-and-airy, daring, mocking, inviting and terrifying look; but he +always looked brave and unconcerned. When the he-goat’s forehead had +been scratched as much as he desired he arose from between the children +and went pacing away lightly through the wood. The children ran after +him and each caught hold of one of his horns, and he ambled and reared +between them while they danced along on his either side singing snatches +of bird songs, and scraps of old tunes which the Thin Woman of Inis +Magrath had learned among the people of the Shee.</p> + +<p>In a little time they came to Gort na Cloca Mora, but here the he-goat +did not stop. They went past the big tree of the Leprecauns, through +a broken part of the hedge and into another rough field. The sun was +shining gloriously. There was scarcely a wind at all to stir the harsh +grasses. Far and near was silence and warmth, an immense, cheerful +peace. Across the sky a few light clouds sailed gently on a blue so vast +that the eye failed before that horizon. A few bees sounded their deep +chant, and now and again a wasp rasped hastily on his journey. Than +these there was no sound of any kind. So peaceful, innocent and safe did +everything appear that it might have been the childhood of the world as +it was of the morning.</p> + +<p>The children, still clinging to the friendly goat, came near the edge +of the field, which here sloped more steeply to the mountain top. Great +boulders, slightly covered with lichen and moss, were strewn about, and +around them the bracken and gorse were growing, and in every crevice of +these rocks there were plants whose little, tight-fisted roots gripped +a desperate, adventurous habitation in a soil scarcely more than half +an inch deep. At some time these rocks had been smitten so fiercely that +the solid granite surfaces had shattered into fragments. At one place +a sheer wall of stone, ragged and battered, looked harshly out from the +thin vegetation. To this rocky wall the he-goat danced. At one place +there was a hole in the wall covered by a thick brush. The goat pushed +his way behind this growth and disappeared. Then the children, curious +to see where he had gone, pushed through also. Behind the bush they +found a high, narrow opening, and when they had rubbed their legs, which +smarted from the stings of nettles, thistles and gorse prickles, they +went into the hole which they thought was a place the goat had for +sleeping in on cold, wet nights. After a few paces they found the +passage was quite comfortably big, and then they saw a light, and +in another moment they were blinking at the god Pan and Caitilin Ni +Murrachu.</p> + +<p>Caitilin knew them at once and came forward with welcome.</p> + +<p>“O, Seumas Beg,” she cried reproachfully, “how dirty you have let your +feet get. Why don’t you walk in the grassy places? And you, Brigid, have +a right to be ashamed of yourself to have your hands the way they are. +Come over here at once.”</p> + +<p>Every child knows that every grown female person in the world has +authority to wash children and to give them food; that is what grown +people were made for, consequently Seumas and Brigid Beg submitted to +the scouring for which Caitilin made instant preparation. When they were +cleaned she pointed to a couple of flat stones against the wall of the +cave and bade them sit down and be good, and this the children did, +fixing their eyes on Pan with the cheerful gravity and curiosity which +good-natured youngsters always give to a stranger.</p> + +<p>Pan, who had been lying on a couch of dried grass, sat up and bent an +equally cheerful regard on the children.</p> + +<p>“Shepherd Girl,” said he, “who are those children?”</p> + +<p>“They are the children of the Philosophers of Coilla Doraca; the +Grey Woman of Dun Gortin and the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath are their +mothers, and they are decent, poor children, God bless them.”</p> + +<p>“What have they come here for?”</p> + +<p>“You will have to ask themselves that.”</p> + +<p>Pan looked at them smilingly.</p> + +<p>“What have you come here for, little children?” said he.</p> + +<p>The children questioned one another with their eyes to see which of them +would reply, and then Seumas Beg answered:</p> + +<p>“My father sent me to see you, sir, and to say that you were not doing a +good thing in keeping Caitilin Ni Murrachu away from her own place.”</p> + +<p>Brigid Beg turned to Caitilin—</p> + +<p>“Your father came to see our father, and +he said that he didn’t know what had become of you at all, and that +maybe you were lying flat in a ditch with the black crows picking at +your flesh.”</p> + +<p>“And what,” said Pan, “did your father say to that?”</p> + +<p>“He told us to come and ask her to go home.”</p> + +<p>“Do you love your father, little child?” said Pan.</p> + +<p>Brigid Beg thought for a moment. “I don’t know, sir,” she replied.</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t mind us at all,” broke in Seumas Beg, “and so we don’t know +whether we love him or not.”</p> + +<p>“I like Caitilin,” said Brigid, “and I like you.”</p> + +<p>“So do I,” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>“I like you also, little children,” said Pan. “Come over here and sit +beside me, and we will talk.”</p> + +<p>So the two children went over to Pan and sat down one each side of him, +and he put his arms about them. “Daughter of Murrachu,” said he, “is +there no food in the house for guests?”</p> + +<p>“There is a cake of bread, a little goat’s milk and some cheese,” she +replied, and she set about getting these things.</p> + +<p>“I never ate cheese,” said Seumas. “Is it good?”</p> + +<p>“Surely it is,” replied Pan. “The cheese that is made from goat’s milk +is rather strong, and it is good to be eaten by people who live in the +open air, but not by those who live in houses, for such people do not +have any appetite. They are poor creatures whom I do not like.”</p> + +<p>“I like eating,” said Seumas.</p> + +<p>“So do I,” said Pan. “All good people like eating. Every person who is +hungry is a good person, and every person who is not hungry is a bad +person. It is better to be hungry than rich.”</p> + +<p>Caitilin having supplied the children with food, seated herself in front +of them. “I don’t think that is right,” said she. “I have always been +hungry, and it was never good.”</p> + +<p>“If you had always been full you would like it even less,” he replied, +“because when you are hungry you are alive, and when you are not hungry +you are only half alive.”</p> + +<p>“One has to be poor to be hungry,” replied Caitilin. “My father is poor +and gets no good of it but to work from morning to night and never to +stop doing that.”</p> + +<p>“It is bad for a wise person to be poor,” said Pan, “and it is bad for a +fool to be rich. A rich fool will think of nothing else at first but to +find a dark house wherein to hide away, and there he will satisfy his +hunger, and he will continue to do that until his hunger is dead and +he is no better than dead but a wise person who is rich will carefully +preserve his appetite. All people who have been rich for a long time, or +who are rich from birth, live a great deal outside of their houses, and +so they are always hungry and healthy.”</p> + +<p>“Poor people have no time to be wise,” said Caitilin.</p> + +<p>“They have time to be hungry,” said Pan. “I ask no more of them.”</p> + +<p>“My father is very wise,” said Seumas Beg.</p> + +<p>“How do you know that, little boy?” said Pan.</p> + +<p>“Because he is always talking,” replied Seumas. “Do you always listen, +my dear?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Seumas; “I go to sleep when he talks.”</p> + +<p>“That is very clever of you,” said Pan.</p> + +<p>“I go to sleep too,” said Brigid.</p> + +<p>“It is clever of you also, my darling. Do you go to sleep when your +mother talks?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” she answered. “If we went to sleep then our mother would pinch +us and say that we were a bad breed.”</p> + +<p>“I think your mother is wise,” said Pan. “What do you like best in the +world, Seumas Beg?”</p> + +<p>The boy thought for a moment and replied: “I don’t know, sir.”</p> + +<p>Pan also thought for a little time.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I like best either,” said he. “What do you like best +in the world, Shepherd Girl?”</p> + +<p>Caitilin’s eyes were fixed on his.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know yet,” she answered slowly.</p> + +<p>“May the gods keep you safe from that knowledge,” said Pan gravely.</p> + +<p>“Why would you say that?” she replied. “One must find out all things, +and when we find out a thing we know if it is good or bad.”</p> + +<p>“That is the beginning of knowledge,” said Pan, “but it is not the +beginning of wisdom.”</p> + +<p>“What is the beginning of wisdom?”</p> + +<p>“It is carelessness,” replied Pan.</p> + +<p>“And what is the end of wisdom?” said she.</p> + +<p>“I do not know,” he answered, after a little pause.</p> + +<p>“Is it greater carelessness?” she enquired.</p> + +<p>“I do not know, I do not know,” said he sharply. “I am tired of +talking,” and, so saying, he turned his face away from them and lay down +on the couch.</p> + +<p>Caitilin in great concern hurried the children to the door of the cave +and kissed them good-bye.</p> + +<p>“Pan is sick,” said the boy gravely.</p> + +<p>“I hope he will be well soon again,” the girl murmured.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Caitilin, and she ran back quickly to her lord.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><a id="91"></a> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_II_THE_PHILOSOPHERS_JOURNEY">BOOK II. THE PHILOSOPHER’S JOURNEY</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<p>When the children reached home they told the Philosopher-the result of +their visit. He questioned them minutely as to the appearance of +Pan, how he had received them, and what he had said in defence of his +iniquities; but when he found that Pan had not returned any answer +to his message he became very angry. He tried to persuade his wife to +undertake another embassy setting forth his abhorrence and defiance of +the god, but the Thin Woman replied sourly that she was a respectable +married woman, that having been already bereaved of her wisdom she had +no desire to be further curtailed of her virtue, that a husband would go +any length to asperse his wife’s reputation, and that although she was +married to a fool her self-respect had survived even that calamity. The +Philosopher pointed out that her age, her appearance, and her tongue +were sufficient guarantees of immunity against the machinations of +either Pan or slander, and that he had no personal feelings in the +matter beyond a scientific and benevolent interest in the troubles +of Meehawl MacMurrachu; but this was discounted by his wife as the +malignant and subtle tactics customary to all husbands.</p> + +<p>Matters appeared to be thus at a deadlock so far as they were +immediately concerned, and the Philosopher decided that he would lay the +case before Angus Óg and implore his protection and assistance on behalf +of the Clann MacMurrachu. He therefore directed the Thin Woman to bake +him two cakes of bread, and set about preparations for a journey.</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman baked the cakes, and put them in a bag, and early on the +following morning the Philosopher swung this bag over his shoulder, and +went forth on his quest.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_074" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="74"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_074.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">He saw Caitilin Ni Murrachu walking a little way in front +with a small vessel in her hand</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>When he came to the edge of the pine wood he halted for a few moments, +not being quite certain of his bearings, and then went forward again in +the direction of Gort na Cloca Mora. It came into his mind as he crossed +the Gort that he ought to call on the Leprecauns and have a talk with +them, but a remembrance of Meehawl MacMurrachu and the troubles under +which he laboured (all directly to be traced to the Leprecauns) hardened +his heart against his neighbours, so that he passed by the yew tree +without any stay. In a short time he came to the rough, heather-clumped +field wherein the children had found Pan, and as he was proceeding up +the hill, he saw Caitilin Ni Murrachu walking a little way in front with +a small vessel in her hand. The she-goat which she had just milked was +bending again to the herbage, and as Caitilin trod lightly in front of +him the Philosopher closed his eyes in virtuous anger and opened them +again in a not unnatural curiosity, for the girl had no clothes on. He +watched her going behind the brush and disappearing in the cleft of the +rock, and his anger, both with her and Pan, mastering him he forsook +the path of prudence which soared to the mountain top, and followed that +leading to the cave. The sound of his feet brought Caitilin out hastily, +but he pushed her by with a harsh word. “Hussy,” said he, and he went +into the cave where Pan was.</p> + +<p>As he went in he already repented of his harshness and said “The +human body is an aggregation of flesh and sinew, around a central bony +structure. The use of clothing is primarily to protect this organism +from rain and cold, and it may not be regarded as the banner of morality +without danger to this fundamental premise. If a person does not desire +to be so protected who will quarrel with an honourable liberty? Decency +is not clothing but Mind. Morality is behaviour. Virtue is thought; I +have often fancied,” he continued to Pan, whom he was now confronting, +“that the effect of clothing on mind must be very considerable, and that +it must have a modifying rather than an expanding effect, or, even, an +intensifying as against an exuberant effect. With clothing the whole +environment is immediately affected. The air, which is our proper +medium, is only filtered to our bodies in an abated and niggardly +fashion which can scarcely be as beneficial as the generous and +unintermitted elemental play. The question naturally arises whether +clothing is as unknown to nature as we have fancied? Viewed as a +protective measure against atmospheric rigour we find that many +creatures grow, by their own central impulse, some kind of exterior +panoply which may be regarded as their proper clothing. Bears, cats, +dogs, mice, sheep and beavers are wrapped in fur, hair, fell, fleece or +pelt, so these creatures cannot by any means be regarded as being naked. +Crabs, cockroaches, snails and cockles have ordered around them a crusty +habiliment, wherein their original nakedness is only to be discovered by +force, and other creatures have similarly provided themselves with +some species of covering. Clothing, therefore, is not an art, but an +instinct, and the fact that man is born naked and does not grow his +clothing upon himself from within but collects it from various distant +and haphazard sources is not any reason to call this necessity an +instinct for decency. These, you will admit, are weighty reflections and +worthy of consideration before we proceed to the wide and thorny subject +of moral and immoral action. Now, what is virtue?” Pan, who had listened +with great courtesy to these remarks, here broke in on the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Virtue,” said he, “is the performance of pleasant actions.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher held the statement for a moment on his forefinger.</p> + +<p>“And what, then, is vice?” said he.</p> + +<p>“It is vicious,” said Pan, “to neglect the performance of pleasant +actions.”</p> + +<p>“If this be so,” the other commented, “philosophy has up to the present +been on the wrong track.”</p> + +<p>“That is so,” said Pan. “Philosophy is an immoral practice because it +suggests a standard of practice impossible of being followed, and which, +if it could be followed, would lead to the great sin of sterility.”</p> + +<p>“The idea of virtue,” said the Philosopher, with some indignation, “has +animated the noblest intellects of the world.”</p> + +<p>“It has not animated them,” replied Pan; “it has hypnotised them so +that they have conceived virtue as repression and self-sacrifice as an +honourable thing instead of the suicide which it is.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed,” said the Philosopher; “this is very interesting, and if it is +true the whole conduct of life will have to be very much simplified.”</p> + +<p>“Life is already very simple,” said Pan; “it is to be born and to die, +and in the interval to eat and drink, to dance and sing, to marry and +beget children.”</p> + +<p>“But it is simply materialism,” cried the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Why do you say ‘but’?” replied Pan.</p> + +<p>“It is sheer, unredeemed animalism,” continued his visitor.</p> + +<p>“It is any name you please to call it,” replied Pan.</p> + +<p>“You have proved nothing,” the Philosopher shouted.</p> + +<p>“What can be sensed requires no proof.”</p> + +<p>“You leave out the new thing,” said the Philosopher. “You leave out +brains. I believe in mind above matter. Thought above emotion. Spirit +above flesh.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you do,” said Pan, and he reached for his oaten pipe.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher ran to the opening of the passage and thrust Caitilin +aside. “Hussy,” said he fiercely to her, and he darted out.</p> + +<p>As he went up the rugged path he could hear the pipes of Pan, calling +and sobbing and making high merriment on the air.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<p>“She does not deserve to be rescued,” said the Philosopher, “but I will +rescue her. Indeed,” he thought a moment later, “she does not want to be +rescued, and, <em>therefore</em>, I will rescue her.”</p> + +<p>As he went down the road her shapely figure floated before his eyes as +beautiful and simple as an old statue. He wagged his head angrily at the +apparition, but it would not go away. He tried to concentrate his mind +on a deep, philosophical maxim, but her disturbing image came between +him and his thought, blotting out the latter so completely that a moment +after he had stated his aphorism he could not remember what it had been. +Such a condition of mind was so unusual that it bewildered him.</p> + +<p>“Is a mind, then, so unstable,” said he, “that a mere figure, an +animated geometrical arrangement can shake it from its foundations?”</p> + +<p>The idea horrified him: he saw civilisation building its temples over a +volcano....</p> + +<p>“A puff,” said he, “and it is gone. Beneath all is chaos and red +anarchy, over all a devouring and insistent appetite. Our eyes tell +us what to think about, and our wisdom is no more than a catalogue of +sensual stimuli.”</p> + +<p>He would have been in a state of deep dejection were it not that through +his perturbation there bubbled a stream of such amazing well-being as he +had not felt since childhood. Years had toppled from his shoulders. He +left one pound of solid matter behind at every stride. His very skin +grew flexuous, and he found a pleasure in taking long steps such as he +could not have accounted for by thought. Indeed, thought was the one +thing he felt unequal to, and it was not precisely that he could not +think but that he did not want to. All the importance and authority +of his mind seemed to have faded away, and the activity which had +once belonged to that organ was now transferred to his eyes. He saw, +amazedly, the sunshine bathing the hills and the valleys. A bird in +the hedge held him—beak, head, eyes, legs, and the wings that tapered +widely at angles to the wind. For the first time in his life he really +saw a bird, and one minute after it had flown away he could have +reproduced its strident note. With every step along the curving road +the landscape was changing. He saw and noted it almost in an ecstasy. A +sharp hill jutted out into the road, it dissolved into a sloping meadow, +rolled down into a valley and then climbed easily and peacefully into +a hill again. On this side a clump of trees nodded together in the +friendliest fashion. Yonder a solitary tree, well-grown and clean, was +contented with its own bright company. A bush crouched tightly on the +ground as though, at a word, it would scamper from its place and chase +rabbits across the sward with shouts and laughter. Great spaces of +sunshine were everywhere, and everywhere there were deep wells of +shadow; and the one did not seem more beautiful than the other. That +sunshine! Oh, the glory of it, the goodness and bravery of it, how +broadly and grandly it shone, without stint, without care; he saw its +measureless generosity and gloried in it as though himself had been the +flinger of that largesse. And was he not? Did the sunlight not stream +from his head and life from his finger-tips? Surely the well-being that +was in him did bubble out to an activity beyond the universe. Thought! +Oh! the petty thing! but motion! emotion! these were the realities. To +feel, to do, to stride forward in elation chanting a paean of triumphant +life!</p> + +<p>After a time he felt hungry, and thrusting his hand into his wallet he +broke off a piece of one of his cakes and looked about for a place where +he might happily eat it. By the side of the road there was a well; just +a little corner filled with water. Over it was a rough stone coping, and +around, hugging it on three sides almost from sight, were thick, quiet +bushes. He would not have noticed the well at all but for a thin stream, +the breadth of two hands, which tiptoed away from it through a field. +By this well he sat down and scooped the water in his hand and it tasted +good.</p> + +<p>He was eating his cake when a sound touched his ear from some distance, +and shortly a woman came down the path carrying a vessel in her hand to +draw water.</p> + +<p>She was a big, comely woman, and she walked as one who had no +misfortunes and no misgivings. When she saw the Philosopher sitting by +the well she halted a moment in surprise and then came forward with a +good-humoured smile.</p> + +<p>“Good morrow to you, sir,” said she.</p> + +<p>“Good morrow to you too, ma’am,” replied the Philosopher. “Sit down +beside me here and eat some of my cake.”</p> + +<p>“Why wouldn’t I, indeed,” said the woman, and she did sit beside him.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher cracked a large piece off his cake and gave it to her +and she ate some.</p> + +<p>“There’s a taste on that cake,” said she. “Who made it?”</p> + +<p>“My wife did,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“Well, now!” said she, looking at him. “Do you know, you don’t look a +bit like a married man.”</p> + +<p>“No?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit. A married man looks comfortable and settled: he looks +finished, if you understand me, and a bachelor looks unsettled and +funny, and he always wants to be running round seeing things. I’d know a +married man from a bachelor any day.”</p> + +<p>“How would you know that?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Easily,” said she, with a nod. “It’s the way they look at a woman. +A married man looks at you quietly as if he knew all about you. There +isn’t any strangeness about him with a woman at all; but a bachelor man +looks at you very sharp and looks away and then looks back again, the +way you’d know he was thinking about you and didn’t know what you were +thinking about him; and so they are always strange, and that’s why women +like them.”</p> + +<p>“Why!” said the Philosopher, astonished, “do women like bachelors better +than married men?”</p> + +<p>“Of course they do,” she replied heartily. “They wouldn’t look at the +side of the road a married man was on if there was a bachelor man on the +other side.”</p> + +<p>“This,” said the Philosopher earnestly, “is very interesting.”</p> + +<p>“And the queer thing is,” she continued, “that when I came up the road +and saw you I said to myself ‘it’s a bachelor man.’ How long have you +been married, now?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said the Philosopher. “Maybe it’s ten years.”</p> + +<p>“And how many children would you have, mister?”</p> + +<p>“Two,” he replied, and then corrected himself, “No, I have only one.”</p> + +<p>“Is the other one dead?”</p> + +<p>“I never had more than one.”</p> + +<p>“Ten years married and only one child,” said she. “Why, man dear, you’re +not a married man. What were you doing at all, at all! I wouldn’t like +to be telling you the children I have living and dead. But what I say is +that married or not you’re a bachelor man. I knew it the minute I looked +at you. What sort of a woman is herself?”</p> + +<p>“She’s a thin sort of woman,” cried the Philosopher, biting into his +cake.</p> + +<p>“Is she now?”</p> + +<p>“And,” the Philosopher continued, “the reason I talked to you is because +you are a fat woman.”</p> + +<p>“I am not fat,” was her angry response.</p> + +<p>“You are fat,” insisted the Philosopher, “and that’s the reason I like +you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, if you mean it that way . . .” she chuckled.</p> + +<p>“I think,” he continued, looking at her admiringly, “that women ought to +be fat.”</p> + +<p>“Tell you the truth,” said she eagerly, “I think that myself. I never +met a thin woman but she was a sour one, and I never met a fat man but +he was a fool. Fat women and thin men; it’s nature,” said she.</p> + +<p>“It is,” said he, and he leaned forward and kissed her eye.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you villain!” said the woman, putting out her hands against him.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher drew back abashed. “Forgive me,” he began, “if I have +alarmed your virtue—”</p> + +<p>“It’s the married man’s word,” said she, rising hastily: “now I know +you; but there’s a lot of the bachelor in you all the same, God help +you! I’m going home.” And, so saying, she dipped her vessel in the well +and turned away.</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” said the Philosopher, “I ought to wait until your husband comes +home and ask his forgiveness for the wrong I’ve done him.”</p> + +<p>The woman turned round on him and each of her eyes was as big as a +plate.</p> + +<p>“What do you say?” said she. “Follow me if you dare and I’ll set the dog +on you; I will so,” and she strode viciously homewards.</p> + +<p>After a moment’s hesitation the Philosopher took his own path across the +hill.</p> + +<p>The day was now well advanced, and as he trudged forward the happy +quietude of his surroundings stole into his heart again and so toned +down his recollection of the fat woman that in a little time she was +no more than a pleasant and curious memory. His mind was exercised +superficially, not in thinking, but in wondering how it was he had come +to kiss a strange woman. He said to himself that such conduct was not +right; but this statement was no more than the automatic working of a +mind long exercised in the distinctions of right and wrong, for, almost +in the same breath, he assured himself that what he had done did not +matter in the least. His opinions were undergoing a curious change. +Right and wrong were meeting and blending together so closely that it +became difficult to dissever them, and the obloquy attaching to the one +seemed out of proportion altogether to its importance, while the other +by no means justified the eulogy wherewith it was connected. Was there +any immediate or even distant, effect on life caused by evil which +was not instantly swung into equipoise by goodness? But these slender +reflections troubled him only for a little time. He had little desire +for any introspective quarryings. To feel so well was sufficient in +itself. Why should thought be so apparent to us, so insistent? We do +not know we have digestive or circulatory organs until these go out of +order, and then the knowledge torments us. Should not the labours of a +healthy brain be equally subterranean and equally competent? Why have we +to think aloud and travel laboriously from syllogism to ergo, chary of +our conclusions and distrustful of our premises? Thought, as we know +it, is a disease and no more. The healthy mentality should register its +convictions and not its labours. Our ears should not hear the clamour of +its doubts nor be forced to listen to the pro and con wherewith we are +eternally badgered and perplexed.</p> + +<p>The road was winding like a ribbon in and out of the mountains. On +either side there were hedges and bushes,—little, stiff trees which +held their foliage in their hands and dared the winds snatch a leaf from +that grip. The hills were swelling and sinking, folding and soaring +on every view. Now the silence was startled by the falling tinkle of a +stream. Far away a cow lowed, a long, deep monotone, or a goat’s call +trembled from nowhere to nowhere. But mostly there was a silence which +buzzed with a multitude of small winged life. Going up the hills the +Philosopher bent forward to the gradient, stamping vigorously as he +trod, almost snorting like a bull in the pride of successful energy. +Coming down the slope he braced back and let his legs loose to do as +they pleased. Didn’t they know their business—Good luck to them, and +away!</p> + +<p>As he walked along he saw an old woman hobbling in front of him. She was +leaning on a stick and her hand was red and swollen with rheumatism. She +hobbled by reason of the fact that there were stones in her shapeless +boots. She was draped in the sorriest miscellaneous rags that could +be imagined, and these were knotted together so intricately that her +clothing, having once been attached to her body, could never again +be detached from it. As she walked she was mumbling and grumbling to +herself, so that her mouth moved round and round in an india-rubber +fashion.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher soon caught up on her.</p> + +<p>“Good morrow, ma’am,” said he.</p> + +<p>But she did not hear him: she seemed to be listening to the pain which +the stones in her boots gave her.</p> + +<p>“Good morrow, ma’am,” said the Philosopher again.</p> + +<p>This time she heard him and replied, turning her old, bleared eyes +slowly in his direction—</p> + +<p>“Good morrow to yourself, sir,” said she, and +the Philosopher thought her old face was a very kindly one.</p> + +<p>“What is it that is wrong with you, ma’am?” said he.</p> + +<p>“It’s my boots, sir,” she replied. “Full of stones they are, the way I +can hardly walk at all, God help me!”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you shake them out?”</p> + +<p>“Ah, sure, I couldn’t be bothered, sir, for there are so many holes in +the boots that more would get in before I could take two steps, and an +old woman can’t be always fidgeting, God help her!”</p> + +<p>There was a little house on one side of the road, and when the old woman +saw this place she brightened up a little.</p> + +<p>“Do you know who lives in that house?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I do not,” she replied, “but it’s a real nice house with clean windows +and a shiny knocker on the door, and smoke in the chimney—I wonder +would herself give me a cup of tea now if I asked her—A poor old +woman walking the roads on a stick! and maybe a bit of meat, or an egg +perhaps....”</p> + +<p>“You could ask,” suggested the Philosopher gently.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I will, too,” said she, and she sat down by the road just outside +the house and the Philosopher also sat down.</p> + +<p>A little puppy dog came from behind the house and approached them +cautiously. Its intentions were friendly but it had already found that +amicable advances are sometimes indifferently received, for, as it drew +near, it wagged its dubious tail and rolled humbly on the ground. But +very soon the dog discovered that here there was no evil, for it trotted +over to the old woman, and without any more preparation jumped into her +lap.</p> + +<p>The old woman grinned at the dog “Ah, you thing you!” said she, and she +gave it her finger to bite. The delighted puppy chewed her bony +finger, and then instituted a mimic warfare against a piece of rag that +fluttered from her breast, barking and growling in joyous excitement, +while the old woman fondled and hugged it.</p> + +<p>The door of the house opposite opened quickly, and a woman with a +frost-bitten face came out.</p> + +<p>“Leave that dog down,” said she.</p> + +<p>The old woman grinned humbly at her.</p> + +<p>“Sure, ma’am, I wouldn’t hurt the little dog, the thing!”</p> + +<p>“Put down that dog,” said the woman, “and go about your business—the +likes of you ought to be arrested.”</p> + +<p>A man in shirt sleeves appeared behind her, and at him the old woman +grinned even more humbly.</p> + +<p>“Let me sit here for a while and play with the little dog, sir,” said +she; “sure the roads do be lonesome—”</p> + +<p>The man stalked close and grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck. It +hung between his finger and thumb with its tail tucked between its legs +and its eyes screwed round on one side in amazement.</p> + +<p>“Be off with you out of that, you old strap!” said the man in a terrible +voice.</p> + +<p>So the old woman rose painfully to her feet again, and as she went +hobbling along the dusty road she began to cry.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher also arose; he was very indignant but did not know what +to do. A singular lassitude also prevented him from interfering. As they +paced along his companion began mumbling, more to herself than to him +“Ah, God be with me,” said she, “an old woman on a stick, that hasn’t +a place in the wide world to go to or a neighbour itself.... I wish +I could get a cup of tea, so I do. I wish to God I could get a cup +of tea.... Me sitting down in my own little house, with the white +tablecloth on the table, and the butter in the dish, and the strong, red +tea in the tea-cup; and me pouring cream into it, and, maybe, telling +the children not to be wasting the sugar, the things! and himself saying +he’d got to mow the big field to-day, or that the red cow was going +to calve, the poor thing, and that if the boys went to school, who was +going to weed the turnips—and me sitting drinking my strong cup of tea, +and telling him where that old trapesing hen was laying.... Ah, God be +with me! an old creature hobbling along the roads on a stick. I wish I +was a young girl again, so I do, and himself coming courting me, and him +saying that I was a real nice little girl surely, and that nothing would +make him happy or easy at all but me to be loving him.—Ah, the kind man +that he was, to be sure, the kind, decent man.... And Sorca Reilly to be +trying to get him from me, and Kate Finnegan with her bold eyes looking +after him in the Chapel; and him to be saying that along with me they +were only a pair of old nanny goats.... And then me to be getting +married and going home to my own little house with my man—ah, God be +with me! and him kissing me, and laughing, and frightening me with his +goings-on. Ah, the kind man, with his soft eyes, and his nice voice, and +his jokes and laughing, and him thinking the world and all of me—ay, +indeed.... And the neighbours to be coming in and sitting round the fire +in the night time, putting the world through each other, and talking +about France and Russia and them other queer places, and him holding +up the discourse like a learned man, and them all listening to him and +nodding their heads at each other, and wondering at his education and +all: or, maybe, the neighbours to be singing, or him making me sing the +Coulin, and him to be proud of me . . . and then him to be killed on me +with a cold on his chest.... Ah, then, God be with me, a lone, +old creature on a stick, and the sun shining into her eyes and she +thirsty—I wish I had a cup of tea, so I do. I wish to God I had a cup +of tea and a bit of meat . . . or, maybe, an egg. A nice fresh egg laid +by the speckeldy hen that used to be giving me all the trouble, the +thing!... Sixteen hens I had, and they were the ones for laying, +surely.... It’s the queer world, so it is, the queer world—and the +things that do happen for no reason at all.... Ah, God be with me! I +wish there weren’t stones in my boots, so I do, and I wish to God I had +a cup of tea and a fresh egg. Ah, glory be, my old legs are getting +tireder every day, so they are. Wisha, one time—when himself was in +it—I could go about the house all day long, cleaning the place, and +feeding the pigs, and the hens and all, and then dance half the night, +so I could: and himself proud of me....”</p> + +<p>The old woman turned up a little rambling road and went on still talking +to herself, and the Philosopher watched her go up that road for a long +time. He was very glad she had gone away, and as he tramped forward he +banished her sad image so that in a little time he was happy again. The +sun was still shining, the birds were flying on every side, and the wide +hillside above him smiled gaily.</p> + +<p>A small, narrow road cut at right angles into his path, and as he +approached this he heard the bustle and movement of a host, the trample +of feet, the rolling and creaking of wheels, and the long unwearied +drone of voices. In a few minutes he came abreast of this small road, +and saw an ass and cart piled with pots and pans, and walking beside +this there were two men and a woman. The men and the woman were talking +together loudly, even fiercely, and the ass was drawing his cart along +the road without requiring assistance or direction. While there was a +road he walked on it: when he might come to a cross road he would turn +to the right: when a man said “whoh” he would stop: when he said “hike” +he would go backwards, and when he said “yep” he would go on again. That +was life, and if one questioned it, one was hit with a stick, or a boot, +or a lump of rock: if one continued walking nothing happened, and that +was happiness.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher saluted this cavalcade.</p> + +<p>“God be with you,” said he.</p> + +<p>“God and Mary be with you,” said the first man.</p> + +<p>“God, and Mary, and Patrick be with you,” said the second man.</p> + +<p>“God, and Mary, and Patrick, and Brigid be with you,” said the woman.</p> + +<p>The ass, however, did not say a thing. As the word “whoh” had not +entered into the conversation he knew it was none of his business, and +so he turned to the right on the new path and continued his journey.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going to, stranger,” said the first man.</p> + +<p>“I am going to visit Angus Óg,” replied the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>The man gave him a quick look.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said he, “that’s the queerest story I ever heard. Listen here,” +he called to the others, “this man is looking for Angus Óg.”</p> + +<p>The other man and woman came closer.</p> + +<p>“What would you be wanting with Angus Óg, Mister Honey?” said the woman.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” replied the Philosopher, “it’s a particular thing, a family +matter.”</p> + +<p>There was silence for a few minutes, and they all stepped onwards behind +the ass and cart.</p> + +<p>“How do you know where to look for himself?” said the first man again: +“maybe you got the place where he lives written down in an old book or +on a carved stone?”</p> + +<p>“Or did you find the staff of Amergin or of Ossian in a bog and it +written from the top to the bottom with signs?” said the second man.</p> + +<p>“No,” said the Philosopher, “it isn’t that way you’d go visiting a god. +What you do is, you go out from your house and walk straight away in +any direction with your shadow behind you so long as it is towards a +mountain, for the gods will not stay in a valley or a level plain, but +only in high places; and then, if the god wants you to see him, you will +go to his rath as direct as if you knew where it was, for he will be +leading you with an airy thread reaching from his own place to wherever +you are, and if he doesn’t want to see you, you will never find out +where he is, not if you were to walk for a year or twenty years.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know he wants to see you?” said the second man.</p> + +<p>“Why wouldn’t he want?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Maybe, Mister Honey,” said the woman, “you are a holy sort of a man +that a god would like well.”</p> + +<p>“Why would I be that?” said the Philosopher. “The gods like a man +whether he’s holy or not if he’s only decent.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, well, there’s plenty of that sort,” said the first man. “What do +you happen to have in your bag, stranger?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” replied the Philosopher, “but a cake and a half that was +baked for my journey.”</p> + +<p>“Give me a bit of your cake, Mister Honey,” said the woman. “I like to +have a taste of everybody’s cake.”</p> + +<p>“I will, and welcome,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“You may as well give us all a bit while you are about it,” said the +second man. “That woman hasn’t got all the hunger of the world.”</p> + +<p>“Why not,” said the Philosopher, and he divided the cake.</p> + +<p>“There’s a sup of water up yonder,” said the first man, “and it will do +to moisten the cake—Whoh, you devil,” he roared at the ass, and the ass +stood stock still on the minute.</p> + +<p>There was a thin fringe of grass along the road near a wall, and towards +this the ass began to edge very gently.</p> + +<p>“Hike, you beast, you,” shouted the man, and the ass at once hiked, but +he did it in a way that brought him close to the grass. The first man +took a tin can out of the cart and climbed over the little wall for +water. Before he went he gave the ass three kicks on the nose, but +the ass did not say a word, he only hiked still more which brought him +directly on to the grass, and when the man climbed over the wall the ass +commenced to crop the grass. There was a spider sitting on a hot stone +in the grass. He had a small body and wide legs, and he wasn’t doing +anything.</p> + +<p>“Does anybody ever kick you in the nose?” said the ass to him.</p> + +<p>“Ay does there,” said the spider; “you and your like that are always +walking on me, or lying down on me, or running over me with the wheels +of a cart.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why don’t you stay on the wall?” said the ass.</p> + +<p>“Sure, my wife is there,” replied the spider.</p> + +<p>“What’s the harm in that?” said the ass.</p> + +<p>“She’d eat me,” said the spider, “and, anyhow, the competition on the +wall is dreadful, and the flies are getting wiser and timider every +season. Have you got a wife yourself, now?”</p> + +<p>“I have not,” said the ass; “I wish I had.”</p> + +<p>“You like your wife for the first while,” said the spider, “and after +that you hate her.”</p> + +<p>“If I had the first while I’d chance the second while,” replied the ass.</p> + +<p>“It’s bachelor’s talk,” said the spider; “all the same, we can’t keep +away from them,” and so saying he began to move all his legs at once in +the direction of the wall. “You can only die once,” said he.</p> + +<p>“If your wife was an ass she wouldn’t eat you,” said the ass.</p> + +<p>“She’d be doing something else then,” replied the spider, and he climbed +up the wall.</p> + +<p>The first man came back with the can of water and they sat down on the +grass and ate the cake and drank the water. All the time the woman kept +her eyes fixed on the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Mister Honey,” said she, “I think you met us just at the right moment.”</p> + +<p>The other two men sat upright and looked at each other and then with +equal intentness they looked at the woman.</p> + +<p>“Why do you say that?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“We were having a great argument along the road, and if we were to +be talking from now to the day of doom that argument would never be +finished.”</p> + +<p>“It must have been a great argument. Was it about predestination or +where consciousness comes from?”</p> + +<p>“It was not; it was which of these two men was to marry me.”</p> + +<p>“That’s not a great argument,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it,” said the woman. “For seven days and six nights we didn’t +talk about anything else, and that’s a great argument or I’d like to +know what is.”</p> + +<p>“But where is the trouble, ma’am?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“It’s this,” she replied, “that I can’t make up my mind which of the men +I’ll take, for I like one as well as the other and better, and I’d as +soon have one as the other and rather.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a hard case,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“It is,” said the woman, “and I’m sick and sorry with the trouble of +it.”</p> + +<p>“And why did you say that I had come up in a good minute?”</p> + +<p>“Because, Mister Honey, when a woman has two men to choose from she +doesn’t know what to do, for two men always become like brothers so +that you wouldn’t know which of them was which: there isn’t any more +difference between two men than there is between a couple of hares. But +when there’s three men to choose from, there’s no trouble at all; and so +I say that it’s yourself I’ll marry this night and no one else—and let +you two men be sitting quiet in your places, for I’m telling you what +I’ll do and that’s the end of it.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you my word,” said the first man, “that I’m just as glad as +you are to have it over and done with.”</p> + +<p>“Moidered I was,” said the second man, “with the whole argument, and the +this and that of it, and you not able to say a word but—maybe I will +and maybe I won’t, and this is true and that is true, and why not to me +and why not to him—I’ll get a sleep this night.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher was perplexed.</p> + +<p>“You cannot marry me, ma’am,” said he, “because I’m married already.”</p> + +<p>The woman turned round on him angrily.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be making any argument with me now,” said she, “for I won’t stand +it.”</p> + +<p>The first man looked fiercely at the Philosopher, and then motioned to +his companion.</p> + +<p>“Give that man a clout in the jaw,” said he.</p> + +<p>The second man was preparing to do this when the woman intervened +angrily.</p> + +<p>“Keep your hands to yourself,” said she, “or it’ll be the worse for you. +I’m well able to take care of my own husband,” and she drew nearer and +sat between the Philosopher and the men.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_097" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="97"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_097.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">At that moment the Philosopher’s cake lost all its savour</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>At that moment the Philosopher’s cake lost all its savour, and he packed +the remnant into his wallet. They all sat silently looking at their feet +and thinking each one according to his nature. The Philosopher’s mind, +which for the past day had been in eclipse, stirred faintly to meet +these new circumstances, but without much result. There was a flutter at +his heart which was terrifying, but not unpleasant. Quickening through +his apprehension was an expectancy which stirred his pulses into speed. +So rapidly did his blood flow, so quickly were an hundred impressions +visualized and recorded, so violent was the surface movement of his +brain that he did not realize he was unable to think and that he was +only seeing and feeling.</p> + +<p>The first man stood up.</p> + +<p>“The night will be coming on soon,” said he, “and we had better be +walking on if we want to get a good place to sleep. Yep, you devil,” he +roared at the ass, and the ass began to move almost before he lifted his +head from the grass. The two men walked one on either side of the cart, +and the woman and the Philosopher walked behind at the tail-board.</p> + +<p>“If you were feeling tired, or anything like that, Mister Honey,” said +the woman, “you could climb up into the little cart, and nobody would +say a word to you, for I can see that you are not used to travelling.”</p> + +<p>“I am not indeed, ma’am,” he replied; “this is the first time I ever +came on a journey, and if it wasn’t for Angus Óg I wouldn’t put a foot +out of my own place for ever.”</p> + +<p>“Put Angus Óg out of your head, my dear,” she replied, “for what would +the likes of you and me be saying to a god. He might put a curse on us +would sink us into the ground or burn us up like a grip of straw. Be +contented now, I’m saying, for if there is a woman in the world who +knows all things I am that woman myself, and if you tell your trouble +to me I’ll tell you the thing to do just as good as Angus himself, and +better perhaps.”</p> + +<p>“That is very interesting,” said the Philosopher. “What kind of things +do you know best?”</p> + +<p>“If you were to ask one of them two men walking beside the ass they’d +tell you plenty of things they saw me do when they could do nothing +themselves. When there wasn’t a road to take anywhere I showed them a +road, and when there wasn’t a bit of food in the world I gave them food, +and when they were bet to the last I put shillings in their hands, and +that’s the reason they wanted to marry me.”</p> + +<p>“Do you call that kind of thing wisdom?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Why wouldn’t I?” said she. “Isn’t it wisdom to go through the world +without fear and not to be hungry in a hungry hour?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose it is,” he replied, “but I never thought of it that way +myself.”</p> + +<p>“And what would you call wisdom?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t rightly say now,” he replied, “but I think it was not to +mind about the world, and not to care whether you were hungry or not, +and not to live in the world at all but only in your own head, for the +world is a tyrannous place. You have to raise yourself above things +instead of letting things raise themselves above you. We must not be +slaves to each other, and we must not be slaves to our necessities +either. That is the problem of existence. There is no dignity in life at +all if hunger can shout ‘stop’ at every turn of the road and the day’s +journey is measured by the distance between one sleep and the next +sleep. Life is all slavery, and Nature is driving us with the whips of +appetite and weariness; but when a slave rebels he ceases to be a slave, +and when we are too hungry to live we can die and have our laugh. I +believe that Nature is just as alive as we are, and that she is as +much frightened of us as we are of her, and, mind you this, mankind has +declared war against Nature and we will win. She does not understand +yet that her geologic periods won’t do any longer, and that while she is +pattering along the line of least resistance we are going to travel fast +and far until we find her, and then, being a female, she is bound to +give in when she is challenged.”</p> + +<p>“It’s good talk,” said the woman, “but it’s foolishness. Women never +give in unless they get what they want, and where’s the harm to them +then? You have to live in the world, my dear, whether you like it or +not, and, believe me now, that there isn’t any wisdom but to keep clear +of the hunger, for if that gets near enough it will make a hare of you. +Sure, listen to reason now like a good man. What is Nature at all but a +word that learned men have made to talk about. There’s clay and gods and +men, and they are good friends enough.”</p> + +<p>The sun had long since gone down, and the grey evening was bowing over +the land, hiding the mountain peaks, and putting a shadow round the +scattered bushes and the wide clumps of heather.</p> + +<p>“I know a place up here where we can stop for the night,” said she, “and +there’s a little shebeen round the bend of the road where we can get +anything we want.”</p> + +<p>At the word “whoh” the ass stopped and one of the men took the harness +off him. When he was unyoked the man gave him two kicks: “Be off with +you, you devil, and see if you can get anything to eat,” he roared. +The ass trotted a few paces off and searched about until he found +some grass. He ate this, and when he had eaten as much as he wanted he +returned and lay down under a wall. He lay for a long time looking in +the one direction, and at last he put his head down and went to sleep. +While he was sleeping he kept one ear up and the other ear down for +about twenty minutes, and then he put the first ear down and the other +one up, and he kept on doing this all the night. If he had anything to +lose you wouldn’t mind him setting up sentries, but he hadn’t a thing +in the world except his skin and his bones, and no one would be bothered +stealing them.</p> + +<p>One of the men took a long bottle out of the cart and walked up the road +with it. The other man lifted out a tin bucket which was punched all +over with jagged holes. Then he took out some sods of turf and lumps of +wood and he put these in the bucket, and in a few minutes he had a very +nice fire lit. A pot of water was put on to boil, and the woman cut up a +great lump of bacon which she put into the pot. She had eight eggs in +a place in the cart, and a flat loaf of bread, and some cold boiled +potatoes, and she spread her apron on the ground and arranged these +things on it.</p> + +<p>The other man came down the road again with his big bottle filled with +porter, and he put this in a safe place. Then they emptied everything +out of the cart and hoisted it over the little wall. They turned the +cart on one side and pulled it near to the fire, and they all sat inside +the cart and ate their supper. When supper was done they lit their +pipes, and the woman lit a pipe also. The bottle of porter was brought +forward, and they took drinks in turn out of the bottle, and smoked +their pipes, and talked.</p> + +<p>There was no moon that night, and no stars, so that just beyond the fire +there was a thick darkness which one would not like to look at, it was +so cold and empty. While talking they all kept their eyes fixed on the +red fire, or watched the smoke from their pipes drifting and curling +away against the blackness, and disappearing as suddenly as lightning.</p> + +<p>“I wonder,” said the first man, “what it was gave you the idea of +marrying this man instead of myself or my comrade, for we are young, +hardy men, and he is getting old, God help him!”</p> + +<p>“Aye, indeed,” said the second man; “he’s as grey as a badger, and +there’s no flesh on his bones.”</p> + +<p>“You have a right to ask that,” said she, “and I’ll tell you why I +didn’t marry either of you. You are only a pair of tinkers going from +one place to another, and not knowing anything at all of fine things; +but himself was walking along the road looking for strange, high +adventures, and it’s a man like that a woman would be wishing to marry +if he was twice as old as he is. When did either of you go out in the +daylight looking for a god and you not caring what might happen to you +or where you went?”</p> + +<p>“What I’m thinking,” said the second man, “is that if you leave the gods +alone they’ll leave you alone. It’s no trouble to them to do whatever is +right themselves, and what call would men like us have to go mixing or +meddling with their high affairs?”</p> + +<p>“I thought all along that you were a timid man,” said she, “and now I +know it.” She turned again to the Philosopher—“Take off your boots, +Mister Honey, the way you’ll rest easy, and I’ll be making down a soft +bed for you in the cart.”</p> + +<p>In order to take off his boots the Philosopher had to stand up, for in +the cart they were too cramped for freedom. He moved backwards a space +from the fire and took off his boots. He could see the woman stretching +sacks and clothes inside the cart, and the two men smoking quietly and +handing the big bottle from one to the other. Then in his stockinged +feet he stepped a little farther from the fire, and, after another look, +he turned and walked quietly away into the blackness. In a few minutes +he heard a shout from behind him, and then a number of shouts and then +these died away into a plaintive murmur of voices, and next he was alone +in the greatest darkness he had ever known.</p> + +<p>He put on his boots and walked onwards. He had no idea where the road +lay, and every moment he stumbled into a patch of heather or prickly +furze. The ground was very uneven with unexpected mounds and deep +hollows: here and there were water-soaked, soggy places, and into these +cold ruins he sank ankle deep. There was no longer an earth or a sky, +but only a black void and a thin wind and a fierce silence which seemed +to listen to him as he went. Out of that silence a thundering laugh +might boom at an instant and stop again while he stood appalled in the +blind vacancy.</p> + +<p>The hill began to grow more steep and rocks were lying everywhere in his +path. He could not see an inch in front, and so he went with his hands +out-stretched like a blind man who stumbles painfully along. After a +time he was nearly worn out with cold and weariness, but he dared not +sit down anywhere; the darkness was so intense that it frightened him, +and the overwhelming, crafty silence frightened him also.</p> + +<p>At last, and at a great distance, he saw a flickering, waving light, and +he went towards this through drifts of heather, and over piled rocks and +sodden bogland. When he came to the light he saw it was a torch of thick +branches, the flame whereof blew hither and thither on the wind. The +torch was fastened against a great cliff of granite by an iron band. At +one side there was a dark opening in the rock, so he said: “I will go +in there and sleep until the morning comes,” and he went in. At a very +short distance the cleft turned again to the right, and here there was +another torch fixed. When he turned this corner he stood for an instant +in speechless astonishment, and then he covered his face and bowed down +upon the ground.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><a id="135"></a> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_III_THE_TWO_GODS">BOOK III. THE TWO GODS</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<p>Caitilin Ni Murrachu was sitting alone in the little cave behind Gort na +Cloca Mora. Her companion had gone out as was his custom to walk in the +sunny morning and to sound his pipe in desolate, green spaces whence, +perhaps, the wanderer of his desire might hear the guiding sweetness. As +she sat she was thinking. The last few days had awakened her body, and +had also awakened her mind, for with the one awakening comes the other. +The despondency which had touched her previously when tending her +father’s cattle came to her again, but recognizably now. She knew the +thing which the wind had whispered in the sloping field and for which +she had no name—it was Happiness. Faintly she shadowed it forth, +but yet she could not see it. It was only a pearl-pale wraith, almost +formless, too tenuous to be touched by her hands, and too aloof to be +spoken to. Pan had told her that he was the giver of happiness, but he +had given her only unrest and fever and a longing which could not be +satisfied. Again there was a want, and she could not formulate, or +even realize it with any closeness. Her new-born Thought had promised +everything, even as Pan, and it had given—she could not say that it had +given her nothing or anything. Its limits were too quickly divinable. +She had found the Tree of Knowledge, but about on every side a great +wall soared blackly enclosing her in from the Tree of Life—a wall which +her thought was unable to surmount even while instinct urged that +it must topple before her advance; but instinct may not advance when +thought has schooled it in the science of unbelief; and this wall will +not be conquered until Thought and Instinct are wed, and the first son +of that bridal will be called The Scaler of the Wall.</p> + +<p>So, after the quiet weariness of ignorance, the unquiet weariness +of thought had fallen upon her. That travail of mind which, through +countless generations, has throed to the birth of an ecstasy, the +prophecy which humanity has sworn must be fulfilled, seeing through +whatever mists and doubtings the vision of a gaiety wherein the +innocence of the morning will not any longer be strange to our maturity.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_109" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="109"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_109.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">A swift shadow darkened the passage</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>While she was so thinking Pan returned, a little disheartened that he +had found no person to listen to his pipings. He had been seated but a +little time when suddenly, from without, a chorus of birds burst into +joyous singing. Limpid and liquid cadenzas, mellow flutings, and the +sweet treble of infancy met and danced and piped in the airy soundings. +A round, soft tenderness of song rose and fell, broadened and soared, +and then the high flight was snatched, eddied a moment, and was borne +away to a more slender and wonderful loftiness, until, from afar, that +thrilling song turned on the very apex of sweetness, dipped steeply and +flashed its joyous return to the exultations of its mates below, rolling +an ecstasy of song which for one moment gladdened the whole world and +the sad people who moved thereon; then the singing ceased as suddenly +as it began, a swift shadow darkened the passage, and Angus Óg came into +the cave.</p> + +<p>Caitilin sprang from her seat Frighted, and Pan also made a half +movement towards rising, but instantly sank back again to his negligent, +easy posture.</p> + +<p>The god was slender and as swift as a wind. His hair swung about his +face like golden blossoms. His eyes were mild and dancing and his lips +smiled with quiet sweetness. About his head there flew perpetually a +ring of singing birds, and when he spoke his voice came sweetly from a +centre of sweetness.</p> + +<p>“Health to you, daughter of Murrachu,” said he, and he sat down.</p> + +<p>“I do not know you, sir,” the terrified girl whispered.</p> + +<p>“I cannot be known until I make myself known,” he replied. “I am called +Infinite Joy, O daughter of Murrachu, and I am called Love.”</p> + +<p>The girl gazed doubtfully from one to the other.</p> + +<p>Pan looked up from his pipes.</p> + +<p>“I also am called Love,” said he gently, “and I am called Joy.”</p> + +<p>Angus Óg looked for the first time at Pan.</p> + +<p>“Singer of the Vine,” said he, “I know your names-they are Desire and +Fever and Lust and Death. Why have you come from your own place to spy +upon my pastures and my quiet fields?”</p> + +<p>Pan replied mildly.</p> + +<p>“The mortal gods move by the Immortal Will, and, therefore, I am here.”</p> + +<p>“And I am here,” said Angus.</p> + +<p>“Give me a sign,” said Pan, “that I must go.”</p> + +<p>Angus Óg lifted his hand and from without there came again the +triumphant music of the birds.</p> + +<p>“It is a sign,” said he, “the voice of Dana speaking in the air,” and, +saying so, he made obeisance to the great mother.</p> + +<p>Pan lifted his hand, and from afar there came the lowing of the cattle +and the thin voices of the goats.</p> + +<p>“It is a sign,” said he, “the voice of Demeter speaking from the earth,” +and he also bowed deeply to the mother of the world.</p> + +<p>Again Angus Óg lifted his hand, and in it there appeared a spear, bright +and very terrible.</p> + +<p>But Pan only said, “Can a spear divine the Eternal Will?” and Angus Óg +put his weapon aside, and he said: “The girl will choose between us, for +the Divine Mood shines in the heart of man.”</p> + +<p>Then Caitilin Ni Murrachu came forward and sat between the gods, but +Pan stretched out his hand and drew her to him, so that she sat resting +against his shoulder and his arm was about her body.</p> + +<p>“We will speak the truth to this girl,” said Angus Óg.</p> + +<p>“Can the gods speak otherwise?” said Pan, and he laughed with delight.</p> + +<p>“It is the difference between us,” replied Angus Óg. “She will judge.”</p> + +<p>“Shepherd Girl,” said Pan, pressing her with his arm, “you will +judge between us. Do you know what is the greatest thing in the +world?—because it is of that you will have to judge.”</p> + +<p>“I have heard,” the girl replied, “two things called the greatest +things. You,” she continued to Pan, “said it was Hunger, and long ago my +father said that Commonsense was the greatest thing in the world.”</p> + +<p>“I have not told you,” said Angus Óg, “what I consider is the greatest +thing in the world.”</p> + +<p>“It is your right to speak,” said Pan.</p> + +<p>“The greatest thing in the world,” said Angus Óg, “is the Divine +Imagination.”</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Pan, “we know all the greatest things and we can talk of +them.”</p> + +<p>“The daughter of Murrachu,” continued Angus Óg, “has told us what you +think and what her father thinks, but she has not told us what she +thinks herself. Tell us, Caitilin Ni Murrachu, what you think is the +greatest thing in the world.”</p> + +<p>So Caitilin Ni Murrachu thought for a few moments and then replied +timidly.</p> + +<p>“I think that Happiness is the greatest thing in the world,” said she.</p> + +<p>Hearing this they sat in silence for a little time, and then Angus +Óg spoke again “The Divine Imagination may only be known through the +thoughts of His creatures. A man has said Commonsense and a woman has +said Happiness are the greatest things in the world. These things are +male and female, for Commonsense is Thought and Happiness is Emotion, +and until they embrace in Love the will of Immensity cannot be fruitful. +For, behold, there has been no marriage of humanity since time began. +Men have but coupled with their own shadows. The desire that sprang from +their heads they pursued, and no man has yet known the love of a woman. +And women have mated with the shadows of their own hearts, thinking +fondly that the arms of men were about them. I saw my son dancing with +an Idea, and I said to him, ‘With what do you dance, my son?’ and he +replied, ‘I make merry with the wife of my affection,’ and truly she was +shaped as a woman is shaped, but it was an Idea he danced with and not +a woman. And presently he went away to his labours, and then his Idea +arose and her humanity came upon her so that she was clothed with beauty +and terror, and she went apart and danced with the servant of my son, +and there was great joy of that dancing—for a person in the wrong place +is an Idea and not a person. Man is Thought and woman is Intuition, and +they have never mated. There is a gulf between them and it is called +Fear, and what they fear is, that their strengths shall be taken from +them and they may no longer be tyrants. The Eternal has made love blind, +for it is not by science, but by intuition alone, that he may come to +his beloved; but desire, which is science, has many eyes and sees so +vastly that he passes his love in the press, saying there is no love, +and he propagates miserably on his own delusions. The finger-tips are +guided by God, but the devil looks through the eyes of all creatures so +that they may wander in the errors of reason and justify themselves +of their wanderings. The desire of a man shall be Beauty, but he has +fashioned a slave in his mind and called it Virtue. The desire of a +woman shall be Wisdom, but she has formed a beast in her blood and +called it Courage: but the real virtue is courage, and the real courage +is liberty, and the real liberty is wisdom, and Wisdom is the son of +Thought and Intuition; and his names also are Innocence and Adoration +and Happiness.”</p> + +<p>When Angus Óg had said these words he ceased, and for a time there was +silence in the little cave. Caitilin had covered her face with her hands +and would not look at him, but Pan drew the girl closer to his side and +peered sideways, laughing at Angus.</p> + +<p>“Has the time yet come for the girl to judge between us?” said he.</p> + +<p>“Daughter of Murrachu,” said Angus Óg, “will you come away with me from +this place?”</p> + +<p>Caitilin then looked at the god in great distress. “I do not know what +to do,” said she. “Why do you both want me? I have given myself to Pan, +and his arms are about me.”</p> + +<p>“I want you,” said Angus Óg, “because the world has forgotten me. In all +my nation there is no remembrance of me. I, wandering on the hills of my +country, am lonely indeed. I am the desolate god forbidden to utter +my happy laughter. I hide the silver of my speech and the gold of my +merriment. I live in the holes of the rocks and the dark caves of the +sea. I weep in the morning because I may not laugh, and in the evening I +go abroad and am not happy. Where I have kissed a bird has flown; where +I have trod a flower has sprung. But Thought has snared my birds in +his nets and sold them in the market-places. Who will deliver me from +Thought, from the base holiness of Intellect, the maker of chains +and traps? Who will save me from the holy impurity of Emotion, whose +daughters are Envy and Jealousy and Hatred, who plucks my flowers to +ornament her lusts and my little leaves to shrivel on the breasts of +infamy? Lo, I am sealed in the caves of nonentity until the head and the +heart shall come together in fruitfulness, until Thought has wept for +Love, and Emotion has purified herself to meet her lover. Tir-na-nÓg is +the heart of a man and the head of a woman. Widely they are separated. +Self-centred they stand, and between them the seas of space are flooding +desolately. No voice can shout across those shores. No eye can bridge +them, nor any desire bring them together until the blind god shall find +them on the wavering stream—not as an arrow searches straightly from +a bow, but gently, imperceptibly as a feather on the wind reaches the +ground on a hundred starts; not with the compass and the chart, but by +the breath of the Almighty which blows from all quarters without care +and without ceasing. Night and day it urges from the outside to the +inside. It gathers ever to the centre. From the far without to the deep +within, trembling from the body to the soul until the head of a woman +and the heart of a man are filled with the Divine Imagination. Hymen, +Hymenæa! I sing to the ears that are stopped, the eyes that are sealed, +and the minds that do not labour. Sweetly I sing on the hillside. The +blind shall look within and not without; the deaf shall hearken to +the murmur of their own veins, and be enchanted with the wisdom of +sweetness; the thoughtless shall think without effort as the lightning +flashes, that the hand of Innocence may reach to the stars, that the +feet of Adoration may dance to the Father of Joy, and the laugh of +Happiness be answered by the Voice of Benediction.”</p> + +<p>Thus Angus Óg sang in the cave, and ere he had ceased Caitilin Ni +Murrachu withdrew herself from the arms of her desires. But so strong +was the hold of Pan upon her that when she was free her body bore the +marks of his grip, and many days passed away before these marks faded.</p> + +<p>Then Pan arose in silence, taking his double reed in his hand, and the +girl wept, beseeching him to stay to be her brother and the brother of +her beloved, but Pan smiled and said: “Your beloved is my father and +my son. He is yesterday and to-morrow. He is the nether and the upper +millstone, and I am crushed between until I kneel again before the +throne from whence I came,” and, saying so, he embraced Angus Óg most +tenderly and went his way to the quiet fields, and across the slopes of +the mountains, and beyond the blue distances of space.</p> + +<p>And in a little time Caitilin Ni Murrachu went with her companion +across the brow of the hill, and she did not go with him because she had +understood his words, nor because he was naked and unashamed, but only +because his need of her was very great, and, therefore, she loved +him, and stayed his feet in the way, and was concerned lest he should +stumble.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><a id="151"></a> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_IV_THE_PHILOSOPHERS_RETURN">BOOK IV. THE PHILOSOPHER’S RETURN</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<p>Which is, the Earth or the creatures that move upon it, the more +important? This is a question prompted solely by intellectual arrogance, +for in life there is no greater and no less. The thing that <em>is</em> has +justified its own importance by mere existence, for that is the great +and equal achievement. If life were arranged for us from without such a +question of supremacy would assume importance, but life is always from +within, and is modified or extended by our own appetites, aspirations, +and central activities. From without we get pollen and the refreshment +of space and quietude—it is sufficient. We might ask, is the Earth +anything more than an extension of our human consciousness, or are we, +moving creatures, only projections of the Earth’s antennæ? But these +matters have no value save as a field wherein Thought, like a wise lamb, +may frolic merrily. And all would be very well if Thought would but +continue to frolic, instead of setting up first as <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">locum tenens</span></i> for +Intuition and sticking to the job, and afterwards as the counsel and +critic of Omnipotence. Everything has two names, and everything is +twofold. The name of male Thought as it faces the world is Philosophy, +but the name it bears in Tir-na-nÓg is Delusion. Female Thought is called +Socialism on earth, but in Eternity it is known as Illusion; and this +is so because there has been no matrimony of minds, but only an +hermaphroditic propagation of automatic ideas, which in their due +rotation assume dominance and reign severely. To the world this system +of thought, because it is consecutive, is known as Logic, but Eternity +has written it down in the Book of Errors as Mechanism: for life may not +be consecutive, but explosive and variable, else it is a shackled and +timorous slave.</p> + +<p>One of the great troubles of life is that Reason has taken charge of the +administration of Justice, and by mere identification it has achieved +the crown and sceptre of its master. But the imperceptible usurpation +was recorded, and discriminating minds understand the chasm which still +divides the pretender Law from the exiled King. In a like manner, and +with feigned humility, the Cold Demon advanced to serve Religion, and by +guile and violence usurped her throne; but the pure in heart still fly +from the spectre Theology to dance in ecstasy before the starry and +eternal goddess. Statecraft, also, that tender Shepherd of the Flocks, +has been despoiled of his crook and bell, and wanders in unknown +desolation while, beneath the banner of Politics, Reason sits howling +over an intellectual chaos.</p> + +<p>Justice is the maintaining of equilibrium. The blood of Cain must cry, +not from the lips of the Avenger, but from the aggrieved Earth herself +who demands that atonement shall be made for a disturbance of her +consciousness. All justice is, therefore, readjustment. A thwarted +consciousness has every right to clamour for assistance, but not for +punishment. This latter can only be sought by timorous and egotistic +Intellect, which sees the Earth from which it has emerged and into which +it must return again in its own despite, and so, being self-centred and +envious and a renegade from life, Reason is more cruelly unjust, and +more timorous than any other manifestation of the divinely erratic +energy—erratic, because, as has been said, “the crooked roads are the +roads of genius.” Nature grants to all her creatures an unrestricted +liberty, quickened by competitive appetite, to succeed or to fail; save +only to Reason, her Demon of Order, which can do neither, and +whose wings she has clipped for some reason with which I am not yet +acquainted. It may be that an unrestricted mentality would endanger +her own intuitive perceptions by shackling all her other organs of +perception, or annoy her by vexatious efforts at creative rivalry.</p> + +<p>It will, therefore, be understood that when the Leprecauns of Gort +na Cloca Mora acted in the manner about to be recorded, they were not +prompted by any lewd passion for revenge, but were merely striving to +reconstruct a rhythm which was their very existence, and which must have +been of direct importance to the Earth. Revenge is the vilest passion +known to life. It has made Law possible, and by doing so it gave +to Intellect the first grip at that universal dominion which is its +ambition. A Leprecaun is of more value to the Earth than is a Prime +Minister or a stockbroker, because a Leprecaun dances and makes +merry, while a Prime Minister knows nothing of these natural +virtues—consequently, an injury done to a Leprecaun afflicts the +Earth with misery, and justice is, for these reasons, an imperative and +momentous necessity.</p> + +<p>A community of Leprecauns without a crock of gold is a blighted and +merriless community, and they are certainly justified in seeking +sympathy and assistance for the recovery of so essential a treasure. But +the steps whereby the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca Mora sought to regain +their property must for ever brand their memory with a certain odium. +It should be remembered in their favour that they were cunningly and +cruelly encompassed. Not only was their gold stolen, but it was buried +in such a position as placed it under the protection of their own +communal honour, and the household of their enemy was secured against +their active and righteous malice, because the Thin Woman of Inis +Magrath belonged to the most powerful Shee of Ireland. It is in +circumstances such as these that dangerous alliances are made, and, +for the first time in history, the elemental beings invoked bourgeois +assistance.</p> + +<p>They were loath to do it, and justice must record the fact. They +were angry when they did it, and anger is both mental and intuitive +blindness. It is not the beneficent blindness which prevents one from +seeing without, but it is that desperate darkness which cloaks the +within, and hides the heart and the brain from each other’s husbandry +and wifely recognition. But even those mitigating circumstances cannot +justify the course they adopted, and the wider idea must be sought for, +that out of evil good must ultimately come, or else evil is vitiated +beyond even the redemption of usage. When they were able to realize of +what they had been guilty, they were very sorry indeed, and endeavoured +to publish their repentance in many ways; but, lacking atonement, +repentance is only a post-mortem virtue which is good for nothing but +burial.</p> + +<p>When the Leprecauns of Gort na Cloca Mora found they were unable +to regain their crock of gold by any means they laid an anonymous +information at the nearest Police Station showing that two dead bodies +would be found under the hearthstone in the hut of Coille Doraca, and +the inference to be drawn from their crafty missive was that +these bodies had been murdered by the Philosopher for reasons very +discreditable to him.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher had been scarcely more than three hours on his journey +to Angus Óg when four policemen approached the little house from as many +different directions, and without any trouble they effected an entrance. +The Thin Woman of Inis Magrath and the two children heard from afar +their badly muffled advance, and on discovering the character of their +visitors they concealed themselves among the thickly clustering trees. +Shortly after the men had entered the hut loud and sustained noises +began to issue therefrom, and in about twenty minutes the invaders +emerged again bearing the bodies of the Grey Woman of Dun Gortin and her +husband. They wrenched the door off its hinges, and, placing the bodies +on the door, proceeded at a rapid pace through the trees and disappeared +in a short time. When they had departed the Thin Woman and the children +returned to their home and over the yawning hearth the Thin Woman +pronounced a long and fervid malediction wherein policemen were +exhibited naked before the blushes of Eternity....</p> + +<p>With your goodwill let us now return to the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>Following his interview with Angus Óg the Philosopher received the +blessing of the god and returned on his homeward journey. When he left +the cave he had no knowledge where he was nor whether he should turn to +the right hand or to the left. This alone was his guiding idea, that as +he had come up the mountain on his first journey his home-going must, by +mere opposition, be down the mountain, and, accordingly, he set his +face downhill and trod lustily forward. He had stamped up the hill with +vigour, he strode down it in ecstasy. He tossed his voice on every wind +that went by. From the wells of forgetfulness he regained the shining +words and gay melodies which his childhood had delighted in, and these +he sang loudly and unceasingly as he marched. The sun had not yet +risen but, far away, a quiet brightness was creeping over the sky. The +daylight, however, was near the full, one slender veil only remaining of +the shadows, and a calm, unmoving quietude brooded from the grey sky to +the whispering earth. The birds had begun to bestir themselves but not +to sing. Now and again a solitary wing feathered the chill air; but for +the most part the birds huddled closer in the swinging nests, or under +the bracken, or in the tufty grass. Here a faint twitter was heard and +ceased. A little farther a drowsy voice called “cheep-cheep” and turned +again to the warmth of its wing. The very grasshoppers were silent. The +creatures who range in the night time had returned to their cells and +were setting their households in order, and those who belonged to the +day hugged their comfort for but one minute longer. Then the first level +beam stepped like a mild angel to the mountain top. The slender radiance +brightened and grew strong. The grey veil faded away. The birds leaped +from their nests. The grasshoppers awakened and were busy at a stroke. +Voice called to voice without ceasing, and, momently, a song thrilled +for a few wide seconds. But for the most part it was chatter-chatter +they went as they soared and plunged and swept, each bird eager for its +breakfast.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher thrust his hand into his wallet and found there the last +broken remnants of his cake, and the instant his hand touched the food +he was seized by a hunger so furious that he sat down where he stopped +and prepared to eat.</p> + +<p>The place where he sat was a raised bank under a hedge, and this place +directly fronted a clumsy wooden gate leading into a great field. When +the Philosopher had seated himself he raised his eyes and saw through +the gate a small company approaching. There were four men and three +women, and each of them carried a metal pail. The Philosopher with a +sigh returned the cake to his wallet, saying:</p> + +<p>“All men are brothers, and it may be that these people are as hungry as +I am.”</p> + +<p>In a short time the strangers came near. The foremost of them was a huge +man who was bearded to the eyelids and who moved like a strong wind. He +opened the gate by removing a piece of wood wherewith it was jammed, and +he and his companions passed through, whereupon he closed the gate +and secured it. To this man, as being the eldest, the Philosopher +approached.</p> + +<p>“I am about to breakfast,” said he, “and if you are hungry perhaps you +would like to eat with me.”</p> + +<p>“Why not,” said the man, “for the person who would refuse a kind +invitation is a dog. These are my three sons and three of my daughters, +and we are all thankful to you.”</p> + +<p>Saying this he sat down on the bank and his companions, placing their +pails behind them, did likewise. The Philosopher divided his cake into +eight pieces and gave one to each person.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry it is so little,” said he.</p> + +<p>“A gift,” said the bearded man, “is never little,” and he courteously +ate his piece in three bites although he could have easily eaten it in +one, and his children also.</p> + +<p>“That was a good, satisfying cake,” said he when he had finished; +“it was well baked and well shared, but,” he continued, “I am in a +difficulty and maybe you could advise me what to do, sir?”</p> + +<p>“What might be your trouble?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“It is this,” said the man. “Every morning when we go out to milk the +cows the mother of my clann gives to each of us a parcel of food so that +we need not be any hungrier than we like; but now we have had a good +breakfast with you, what shall we do with the food that we brought with +us? The woman of the house would not be pleased if we carried it back +to her, and if we threw food away it would be a sin. If it was not +disrespectful to your breakfast the boys and girls here might be able +to get rid of it by eating it, for, as you know, young people can always +eat a bit more, no matter how much they have already eaten.”</p> + +<p>“It would surely be better to eat it than to waste it,” said the +Philosopher wistfully.</p> + +<p>The young people produced large parcels of food from their pockets and +opened them, and the bearded man said, “I have a little one myself also, +and it would not be wasted if you were kind enough to help me to eat +it,” and he pulled out his parcel, which was twice as big as any of the +others.</p> + +<p>He opened the parcel and handed the larger part of its contents to the +Philosopher; he then plunged a tin vessel into one of the milk pails and +set this also by the Philosopher, and, instantly, they all began to eat +with furious appetite.</p> + +<p>When the meal was finished the Philosopher filled his tobacco pipe and +the bearded man and his three sons did likewise.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said the bearded man, “I would be glad to know why you are +travelling abroad so early in the morning, for, at this hour, no one +stirs but the sun and the birds and the folk who, like ourselves, follow +the cattle?”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you that gladly,” said the Philosopher, “if you will tell +me your name.”</p> + +<p>“My name,” said the bearded man, “is Mac Cúl.”</p> + +<p>“Last night,” said the Philosopher, “when I came from the house of Angus +Óg in the Caves of the Sleepers of Erinn I was bidden say to a man named +Mac Cúl—that the horses had trampled in their sleep and the sleepers had +turned on their sides.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said the bearded man, “your words thrill in my heart like music, +but my head does not understand them.”</p> + +<p>“I have learned,” said the Philosopher, “that the head does not hear +anything until the heart has listened, and that what the heart knows +to-day the head will understand to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“All the birds of the world are singing in my soul,” said the bearded +man, “and I bless you because you have filled me with hope and pride.”</p> + +<p>So the Philosopher shook him by the hand, and he shook the hands of his +sons and daughters who bowed before him at the mild command of their +father, and when he had gone a little way he looked around again and +he saw that group of people standing where he had left them, and the +bearded man was embracing his children on the highroad.</p> + +<p>A bend in the path soon shut them from view, and then the Philosopher, +fortified by food and the freshness of the morning, strode onwards +singing for very joy. It was still early, but now the birds had eaten +their breakfasts and were devoting themselves to each other. They rested +side by side on the branches of the trees and on the hedges, they danced +in the air in happy brotherhoods and they sang to one another amiable +and pleasant ditties.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_129" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="129"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_129.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">A young woman came along the road and stood gazing earnestly +at this house</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>When the Philosopher had walked for a long time he felt a little weary +and sat down to refresh himself in the shadow of a great tree. Hard by +there was a house of rugged stone. Long years ago it had been a castle, +and, even now, though patched by time and misfortune its front was +warlike and frowning. While he sat a young woman came along the road and +stood gazing earnestly at this house. Her hair was as black as night and +as smooth as still water, but her face came so stormily forward that her +quiet attitude had yet no quietness in it. To her, after a few moments, +the Philosopher spoke.</p> + +<p>“Girl,” said he, “why do you look so earnestly at the house?”</p> + +<p>The girl turned her pale face and stared at him.</p> + +<p>“I did not notice you sitting under the tree,” said she, and she came +slowly forward.</p> + +<p>“Sit down by me,” said the Philosopher, “and we will talk. If you are in +any trouble tell it to me, and perhaps you will talk the heaviest part +away.”</p> + +<p>“I will sit beside you willingly,” said the girl, and she did so.</p> + +<p>“It is good to talk trouble over,” he continued. “Do you know that +talk is a real thing? There is more power in speech than many people +conceive. Thoughts come from God, they are born through the marriage +of the head and the lungs. The head moulds the thought into the form of +words, then it is borne and sounded on the air which has been already in +the secret kingdoms of the body, which goes in bearing life and come out +freighted with wisdom. For this reason a lie is very terrible, because +it is turning mighty and incomprehensible things to base uses, and is +burdening the life-giving element with a foul return for its goodness; +but those who speak the truth and whose words are the symbols of wisdom +and beauty, these purify the whole world and daunt contagion. The only +trouble the body can know is disease. All other miseries come from the +brain, and, as these belong to thought, they can be driven out by their +master as unruly and unpleasant vagabonds; for a mental trouble should +be spoken to, confronted, reprimanded and so dismissed. The brain cannot +afford to harbour any but pleasant and eager citizens who will do their +part in making laughter and holiness for the world, for that is the duty +of thought.”</p> + +<p>While the Philosopher spoke the girl had been regarding him steadfastly.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said she, “we tell our hearts to a young man and our heads to an +old man, and when the heart is a fool the head is bound to be a liar. +I can tell you the things I know, but how will I tell you the things I +feel when I myself do not understand them? If I say these words to you +‘I love a man’ I do not say anything at all, and you do not hear one +of the words which my heart is repeating over and over to itself in the +silence of my body. Young people are fools in their heads and old people +are fools in their hearts, and they can only look at each other and pass +by in wonder.”</p> + +<p>“You are wrong,” said the Philosopher. “An old person can take your hand +like this and say, ‘May every good thing come to you, my daughter.’ For +all trouble there is sympathy, and for love there is memory, and these +are the head and the heart talking to each other in quiet friendship. +What the heart knows to-day the head will understand to-morrow, and +as the head must be the scholar of the heart it is necessary that our +hearts be purified and free from every false thing, else we are tainted +beyond personal redemption.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said the girl, “I know of two great follies-they are love and +speech, for when these are given they can never be taken back again, and +the person to whom these are given is not any richer, but the giver is +made poor and abashed. I gave my love to a man who did not want it. +I told him of my love, and he lifted his eyelids at me; that is my +trouble.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the Philosopher sat in stricken silence looking on the +ground. He had a strange disinclination to look at the girl although he +felt her eyes fixed steadily on him. But in a little while he did look +at her and spoke again.</p> + +<p>“To carry gifts to an ungrateful person cannot be justified and need not +be mourned for. If your love is noble why do you treat it meanly? If it +is lewd the man was right to reject it.”</p> + +<p>“We love as the wind blows,” she replied.</p> + +<p>“There is a thing,” said the Philosopher, “and it is both the biggest +and the littlest thing in the world.”</p> + +<p>“What is that?” said the girl.</p> + +<p>“It is pride,” he answered. “It lives in an empty house. The head which +has never been visited by the heart is the house pride lives in. You +are in error, my dear, and not in love. Drive out the knave pride, put a +flower in your hair and walk freely again.”</p> + +<p>The girl laughed, and suddenly her pale face became rosy as the dawn and +as radiant and lovely as a cloud. She shed warmth and beauty about her +as she leaned forward.</p> + +<p>“You are wrong,” she whispered, “because he does love me; but he does +not know it yet. He is young and full of fury, and has no time to look +at women, but he looked at me. My heart knows it and my head knows it, +but I am impatient and yearn for him to look at me again. His heart will +remember me to-morrow, and he will come searching for me with prayers +and tears, with shouts and threats. I will be very hard to find +to-morrow when he holds out his arms to the air and the sky, and is +astonished and frightened to find me nowhere. I will hide from him +to-morrow, and frown at him when he speaks, and turn aside when he +follows me: until the day after to-morrow when he will frighten me with +his anger, and hold me with his furious hands, and make me look at him.”</p> + +<p>Saying this the girl arose and prepared to go away.</p> + +<p>“He is in that house,” said she, “and I would not let him see me here +for anything in the world.”</p> + +<p>“You have wasted all my time,” said the Philosopher, smiling.</p> + +<p>“What else is time for?” said the girl, and she kissed the Philosopher +and ran swiftly down the road.</p> + +<p>She had been gone but a few moments when a man came out of the grey +house and walked quickly across the grass. When he reached the hedge +separating the field from the road he tossed his two arms in the air, +swung them down, and jumped over the hedge into the roadway. He was a +short, dark youth, and so swift and sudden were his movements that +he seemed to look on every side at the one moment although he bore +furiously to his own direction.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher addressed him mildly.</p> + +<p>“That was a good jump,” said he.</p> + +<p>The young man spun around from where he stood, and was by the +Philosopher’s side in an instant.</p> + +<p>“It would be a good jump for other men,” said he, “but it is only a +little jump for me. You are very dusty, sir; you must have travelled a +long distance to-day.”</p> + +<p>“A long distance,” replied the Philosopher. “Sit down here, my friend, +and keep me company for a little time.”</p> + +<p>“I do not like sitting down,” said the young man, “but I always consent +to a request, and I always accept friendship.” And, so saying, he threw +himself down on the grass.</p> + +<p>“Do you work in that big house?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I do,” he replied. “I train the hounds for a fat, jovial man, full of +laughter and insolence.”</p> + +<p>“I think you do not like your master.”</p> + +<p>“Believe, sir, that I do not like any master; but this man I hate. I +have been a week in his service, and he has not once looked on me as on +a friend. This very day, in the kennel, he passed me as though I were +a tree or a stone. I almost leaped to catch him by the throat and say: +‘Dog, do you not salute your fellow-man?’ But I looked after him and let +him go, for it would be an unpleasant thing to strangle a fat person.”</p> + +<p>“If you are displeased with your master should you not look for another +occupation?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of that, and I was thinking whether I ought to kill him +or marry his daughter. She would have passed me by as her father did, +but I would not let a woman do that to me: no man would.”</p> + +<p>“What did you do to her?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>The young man chuckled “I did not look at her the first time, and when +she came near me the second time I looked another way, and on the third +day she spoke to me, and while she stood I looked over her shoulder +distantly. She said she hoped I would be happy in my new home, and she +made her voice sound pleasant while she said it; but I thanked her and +turned away carelessly.”</p> + +<p>“Is the girl beautiful?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I do not know,” he replied; “I have not looked at her yet, although +now I see her everywhere. I think she is a woman who would annoy me if I +married her.”</p> + +<p>“If you haven’t seen her, how can you think that?”</p> + +<p>“She has tame feet,” said the youth. “I looked at them and they got +frightened. Where have you travelled from, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you that,” said the Philosopher, “if you will tell me your +name.”</p> + +<p>“It is easily told,” he answered; “my name is MacCulain.”</p> + +<p>“When I came last night,” said the Philosopher, “from the place of Angus +Óg in the cave of the Sleepers of Erinn I was bidden say to a man named +MacCulain that The Grey of Macha had neighed in his sleep and the sword +of Laeg clashed on the floor as he turned in his slumber.”</p> + +<p>The young man leaped from the grass.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said he in a strained voice, “I do not understand your words, but +they make my heart to dance and sing within me like a bird.”</p> + +<p>“If you listen to your heart,” said the Philosopher, “you will learn +every good thing, for the heart is the fountain of wisdom tossing its +thoughts up to the brain which gives them form,”—and, so saying, he +saluted the youth and went again on his way by the curving road.</p> + +<p>Now the day had advanced, noon was long past, and the strong sunlight +blazed ceaselessly on the world. His path was still on the high +mountains, running on for a short distance and twisting perpetually to +the right hand and to the left. One might scarcely call it a path, it +grew so narrow. Sometimes, indeed, it almost ceased to be a path, for +the grass had stolen forward inch by inch to cover up the tracks of man. +There were no hedges but rough, tumbled ground only, which was patched +by trailing bushes and stretched away in mounds and hummocks beyond the +far horizon. There was a deep silence everywhere, not painful, for where +the sun shines there is no sorrow: the only sound to be heard was the +swish of long grasses against his feet as he trod, and the buzz of an +occasional bee that came and was gone in an instant.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher was very hungry, and he looked about on all sides to see +if there was anything he might eat. “If I were a goat or a cow,” said +he, “I could eat this grass and be nourished. If I were a donkey I could +crop the hard thistles which are growing on every hand, or if I were +a bird I could feed on the caterpillars and creeping things which stir +innumerably everywhere. But a man may not eat even in the midst of +plenty, because he has departed from nature, and lives by crafty and +twisted thought.”</p> + +<p>Speaking in this manner he chanced to lift his eyes from the ground and +saw, far away, a solitary figure which melted into the folding earth and +reappeared again in a different place. So peculiar and erratic were the +movements of this figure that the Philosopher had great difficulty in +following it, and, indeed, would have been unable to follow, but that +the other chanced in his direction. When they came nearer he saw it +was a young boy, who was dancing hither and thither in any and every +direction. A bushy mound hid him for an instant, and the next they were +standing face to face staring at each other. After a moment’s silence +the boy, who was about twelve years of age, and as beautiful as the +morning, saluted the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Have you lost your way, sir?” said he.</p> + +<p>“All paths,” the Philosopher replied, “are on the earth, and so one can +never be lost—but I have lost my dinner.”</p> + +<p>The boy commenced to laugh.</p> + +<p>“What are you laughing at, my son?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Because,” he replied, “I am bringing you your dinner. I wondered what +sent me out in this direction, for I generally go more to the east.”</p> + +<p>“Have you got my dinner?” said the Philosopher anxiously.</p> + +<p>“I have,” said the boy: “I ate my own dinner at home, and I put your +dinner in my pocket. I thought,” he explained, “that I might be hungry +if I went far away.”</p> + +<p>“The gods directed you,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“They often do,” said the boy, and he pulled a small parcel from his +pocket.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher instantly sat down, and the boy handed him the parcel. +He opened this and found bread and cheese.</p> + +<p>“It’s a good dinner,” said he, and commenced to eat.</p> + +<p>“Would you not like a piece also, my son?”</p> + +<p>“I would like a little piece,” said the boy, and he sat down before the +Philosopher, and they ate together happily.</p> + +<p>When they had finished the Philosopher praised the gods, and then said, +more to himself than to the boy:</p> + +<p>“If I had a little drink of water I would want nothing else.”</p> + +<p>“There is a stream four paces from here,” said his companion. “I will +get some water in my cap,” and he leaped away.</p> + +<p>In a few moments he came back holding his cap tenderly, and the +Philosopher took this and drank the water.</p> + +<p>“I want nothing more in the world,” said he, “except to talk with you. +The sun is shining, the wind is pleasant, and the grass is soft. Sit +down beside me again for a little time.”</p> + +<p>So the boy sat down, and the Philosopher lit his pipe.</p> + +<p>“Do you live far from here?” said he.</p> + +<p>“Not far,” said the boy. “You could see my mother’s house from this +place if you were as tall as a tree, and even from the ground you can +see a shape of smoke yonder that floats over our cottage.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher looked but could see nothing.</p> + +<p>“My eyes are not as good as yours are,” said he, “because I am getting +old.”</p> + +<p>“What does it feel like to be old?” said the boy.</p> + +<p>“It feels stiff like,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” said the boy.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” the Philosopher replied after a few moments’ silence. +“Can you tell me what it looks like to be young?”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” said the boy, and then a slight look of perplexity crossed +his face, and he continued, “I don’t think I can.”</p> + +<p>“Young people,” said the Philosopher, “do not know what age is, and old +people forget what youth was. When you begin to grow old always think +deeply of your youth, for an old man without memories is a wasted life, +and nothing is worth remembering but our childhood. I will tell you some +of the differences between being old and young, and then you can ask me +questions, and so we will get at both sides of the matter. First, an old +man gets tired quicker than a boy.”</p> + +<p>The boy thought for a moment, and then replied:</p> + +<p>“That is not a great difference, for a boy does get very tired.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher continued:</p> + +<p>“An old man does not want to eat as often as a boy.”</p> + +<p>“That is not a great difference either,” the boy replied, “for they both +do eat. Tell me the big difference.”</p> + +<p>“I do not know it, my son; but I have always thought there was a big +difference. Perhaps it is that an old man has memories of things which a +boy cannot even guess at.”</p> + +<p>“But they both have memories,” said the boy, laughing, “and so it is not +a big difference.”</p> + +<p>“That is true,” said the Philosopher. “Maybe there is not so much +difference after all. Tell me things you do, and we will see if I can do +them also.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t know what I do,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“You must know the things you do,” said the Philosopher, “but you may +not understand how to put them in order. The great trouble about any +kind of examination is to know where to begin, but there are always two +places in everything with which we can commence—they are the beginning +and the end. From either of these points a view may be had which +comprehends the entire period. So we will begin with the things you did +this morning.”</p> + +<p>“I am satisfied with that,” said the boy.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher then continued:</p> + +<p>“When you awakened this morning and went out of the house what was the +first thing you did?”</p> + +<p>The boy thought “I went out, then I picked up a stone and threw it into +the field as far as I could.”</p> + +<p>“What then?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“Then I ran after the stone to see could I catch up on it before it hit +the ground.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“I ran so fast that I tumbled over myself into the grass.”</p> + +<p>“What did you do after that?”</p> + +<p>“I lay where I fell and plucked handfuls of the grass with both hands +and threw them on my back.”</p> + +<p>“Did you get up then?”</p> + +<p>“No, I pressed my face into the grass and shouted a lot of times with my +mouth against the ground, and then I sat up and did not move for a long +time.”</p> + +<p>“Were you thinking?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“No, I was not thinking or doing anything.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you do all these things?” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“For no reason at all,” said the boy.</p> + +<p>“That,” said the Philosopher triumphantly, “is the difference between +age and youth. Boys do things for no reason, and old people do not. +I wonder do we get old because we do things by reason instead of +instinct?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said the boy, “everything gets old. Have you travelled +very far to-day, sir?”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you that if you will tell me your name.”</p> + +<p>“My name,” said the boy, “is MacCushin.”</p> + +<p>“When I came last night,” said the Philosopher, “from the place of Angus +Óg in the Caste of the Sleepers I was bidden say to one named MacCushin +that a son would be born to Angus Óg and his wife, Caitilin, and that +the sleepers of Erinn had turned in their slumbers.”</p> + +<p>The boy regarded him steadfastly.</p> + +<p>“I know,” said he, “why Angus Óg sent me that message. He wants me to +make a poem to the people of Erinn, so that when the Sleepers arise they +will meet with friends.”</p> + +<p>“The Sleepers have arisen,” said the Philosopher. “They are about us on +every side. They are walking now, but they have forgotten their names +and the meanings of their names. You are to tell them their names and +their lineage, for I am an old man, and my work is done.”</p> + +<p>“I will make a poem some day,” said the boy, “and every man will shout +when he hears it.”</p> + +<p>“God be with you, my son,” said the Philosopher, and he embraced the boy +and went forward on his journey.</p> + +<p>About half an hour’s easy travelling brought him to a point from which +he could see far down below to the pine trees of Coille Doraca. The +shadowy evening had crept over the world ere he reached the wood, and +when he entered the little house the darkness had already descended.</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman of Inis Magrath met him as he entered, and was about to +speak harshly of his long absence, but the Philosopher kissed her with +such unaccustomed tenderness, and spoke so mildly to her, that, first, +astonishment enchained her tongue, and then delight set it free in a +direction to which it had long been a stranger.</p> + +<p>“Wife,” said the Philosopher, “I cannot say how joyful I am to see your +good face again.”</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman was unable at first to reply to this salutation, but, +with incredible speed, she put on a pot of stirabout, began to bake a +cake, and tried to roast potatoes. After a little while she wept loudly, +and proclaimed that the world did not contain the equal of her husband +for comeliness and goodness, and that she was herself a sinful person +unworthy of the kindness of the gods or of such a mate.</p> + +<p>But while the Philosopher was embracing Seumas and Brigid Beg, the door +was suddenly burst open with a great noise, four policemen entered the +little room, and after one dumbfoundered minute they retreated again +bearing the Philosopher with them to answer a charge of murder.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><a id="185"></a> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_V_THE_POLICEMEN">BOOK V. THE POLICEMEN</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<p>Some distance down the road the policemen halted. The night had fallen +before they effected their capture, and now, in the gathering darkness, +they were not at ease. In the first place, they knew that the occupation +upon which they were employed was not a creditable one to a man whatever +it might be to a policeman. The seizure of a criminal may be justified +by certain arguments as to the health of society and the preservation +of property, but no person wishes under any circumstances to hale a wise +man to prison. They were further distressed by the knowledge that they +were in the very centre of a populous fairy country, and that on every +side the elemental hosts might be ranging, ready to fall upon them with +the terrors of war or the still more awful scourge of their humour. +The path leading to their station was a long one, winding through great +alleys of trees, which in some places overhung the road so thickly that +even the full moon could not search out that deep blackness. In the +daylight these men would have arrested an Archangel and, if necessary, +bludgeoned him, but in the night time a thousand fears afflicted and a +multitude of sounds shocked them from every quarter.</p> + +<p>Two men were holding the Philosopher, one on either side; the other two +walked one before and one behind him. In this order they were proceeding +when just in front through the dim light they saw the road swallowed +up by one of these groves already spoken of. When they came nigh they +halted irresolutely: the man who was in front (a silent and perturbed +sergeant) turned fiercely to the others “Come on, can’t you?” said he; +“what the devil are you waiting for?” and he strode forward into the +black gape.</p> + +<p>“Keep a good hold of that man,” said the one behind.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be talking out of you,” replied he on the right. “Haven’t we got +a good grip of him, and isn’t he an old man into the bargain?”</p> + +<p>“Well, keep a good tight grip of him, anyhow, for if he gave you the +slip in there he’d vanish like a weasel in a bush. Them old fellows do +be slippery customers. Look here, mister,” said he to the Philosopher, +“if you try to run away from us I’ll give you a clout on the head with +my baton; do you mind me now!”</p> + +<p>They had taken only a few paces forward when the sound of hasty +footsteps brought them again to a halt, and in a moment the sergeant +came striding back. He was angry.</p> + +<p>“Are you going to stay there the whole night, or what are you going to +do at all?” said he.</p> + +<p>“Let you be quiet now,” said another; “we were only settling with the +man here the way he wouldn’t try to give us the slip in a dark place.”</p> + +<p>“Is it thinking of giving us the slip he is?” said the sergeant. “Take +your baton in your hand, Shawn, and if he turns his head to one side of +him hit him on that side.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do that,” said Shawn, and he pulled out his truncheon.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher had been dazed by the suddenness of these occurrences, +and the enforced rapidity of his movements prevented him from either +thinking or speaking, but during this brief stoppage his scattered +wits began to return to their allegiance. First, bewilderment at his +enforcement had seized him, and the four men, who were continually +running round him and speaking all at once, and each pulling him in a +different direction, gave him the impression that he was surrounded by +a great rabble of people, but he could not discover what they wanted. +After a time he found that there were only four men, and gathered from +their remarks that he was being arrested for murder—this precipitated +him into another and a deeper gulf of bewilderment. He was unable to +conceive why they should arrest him for murder when he had not committed +any; and, following this, he became indignant.</p> + +<p>“I will not go another step,” said he, “unless you tell me where you are +bringing me and what I am accused of.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” said the sergeant, “what did you kill them with? for it’s a +miracle how they came to their ends without as much as a mark on their +skins or a broken tooth itself.”</p> + +<p>“Who are you talking about?” the Philosopher demanded.</p> + +<p>“It’s mighty innocent you are,” he replied. “Who would I be talking +about but the man and woman that used to be living with you beyond in +the little house? Is it poison you gave them now, or what was it? Take a +hold of your note-book, Shawn.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you have sense, man?” said Shawn. “How would I be writing in the +middle of a dark place and me without as much as a pencil, let alone a +book?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll take it down at the station, and himself can tell us +all about it as we go along. Move on now, for this is no place to be +conversing in.”</p> + +<p>They paced on again, and in another moment they were swallowed up by +the darkness. When they had proceeded for a little distance there came a +peculiar sound in front like the breathing of some enormous animal, and +also a kind of shuffling noise, and so they again halted.</p> + +<p>“There’s a queer kind of a thing in front of us,” said one of the men in +a low voice.</p> + +<p>“If I had a match itself,” said another.</p> + +<p>The sergeant had also halted.</p> + +<p>“Draw well into the side of the road,” said he, “and poke your batons in +front of you. Keep a tight hold of that man, Shawn.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do that,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>Just then one of them found a few matches in his pocket, and he struck a +light; there was no wind, so that it blazed easily enough, and they all +peered in front. A big black cart-horse was lying in the middle of the +road having a gentle sleep, and when the light shone it scrambled to its +feet and went thundering away in a panic.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that enough to put the heart crossways in you?” said one of the +men, with a great sigh.</p> + +<p>“Ay,” said another; “if you stepped on that beast in the darkness you +wouldn’t know what to be thinking.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite remember the way about here,” said the sergeant after a +while, “but I think we should take the first turn to the right. I wonder +have we passed the turn yet; these criss-cross kinds of roads are the +devil, and it dark as well. Do any of you men know the way?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said one voice; “I’m a Cavan man myself.”</p> + +<p>“Roscommon,” said another, “is my country, and I wish I was there now, +so I do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if we walk straight on we’re bound to get somewhere, so step it +out. Have you got a good hold of that man, Shawn?”</p> + +<p>“I have so,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher’s voice came pealing through the darkness.</p> + +<p>“There is no need to pinch me, sir,” said he.</p> + +<p>“I’m not pinching you at all,” said the man.</p> + +<p>“You are so,” returned the Philosopher. “You have a big lump of skin +doubled up in the sleeve of my coat, and unless you instantly release it +I will sit down in the road.”</p> + +<p>“Is that any better?” said the man, relaxing his hold a little.</p> + +<p>“You have only let out half of it,” replied the Philosopher. “That’s +better now,” he continued, and they resumed their journey.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of silence the Philosopher began to speak.</p> + +<p>“I do not see any necessity in nature for policemen,” said he, “nor do I +understand how the custom first originated. Dogs and cats do not employ +these extraordinary mercenaries, and yet their polity is progressive +and orderly. Crows are a gregarious race with settled habitations and an +organized commonwealth. They usually congregate in a ruined tower or on +the top of a church, and their civilization is based on mutual aid and +tolerance for each other’s idiosyncrasies. Their exceeding mobility and +hardiness renders them dangerous to attack, and thus they are free to +devote themselves to the development of their domestic laws and customs. +If policemen were necessary to a civilization crows would certainly +have evolved them, but I triumphantly insist that they have not got any +policemen in their republic—”</p> + +<p>“I don’t understand a word you are saying,” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said the Philosopher. “Ants and bees also live in +specialized communities and have an extreme complexity both of function +and occupation. Their experience in governmental matters is enormous, +and yet they have never discovered that a police force is at all +essential to their well-being—”</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” said the sergeant, “that whatever you say now will be +used in evidence against you later on?”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” said the Philosopher. “It may be said that these races are +free from crime, that such vices as they have are organized and communal +instead of individual and anarchistic, and that, consequently, there +is no necessity for policecraft, but I cannot believe that these large +aggregations of people could have attained their present high culture +without an interval of both national and individual dishonesty—”</p> + +<p>“Tell me now, as you are talking,” said the sergeant, “did you buy the +poison at a chemist’s shop, or did you smother the pair of them with a +pillow?”</p> + +<p>“I did not,” said the Philosopher. “If crime is a condition precedent to +the evolution of policemen, then I will submit that jackdaws are a very +thievish clan—they are somewhat larger than a blackbird, and will +steal wool off a sheep’s back to line their nests with; they have, +furthermore, been known to abstract one shilling in copper and secrete +this booty so ingeniously that it has never since been recovered—”</p> + +<p>“I had a jackdaw myself,” said one of the men. “I got it from a woman +that came to the door with a basket for fourpence. My mother stood on +its back one day, and she getting out of bed. I split its tongue with +a threepenny bit the way it would talk, but devil the word it ever said +for me. It used to hop around letting on it had a lame leg, and then it +would steal your socks.”</p> + +<p>“Shut up!” roared the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“If,” said the Philosopher, “these people steal both from sheep and +from men, if their peculations range from wool to money, I do not +see how they can avoid stealing from each other, and consequently, if +anywhere, it is amongst jackdaws one should look for the growth of a +police force, but there is no such force in existence. The real reason +is that they are a witty and thoughtful race who look temperately on +what is known as crime and evil—one eats, one steals; it is all in the +order of things, and therefore not to be quarrelled with. There is no +other view possible to a philosophical people—”</p> + +<p>“What the devil is he talking about?” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Monkeys are gregarious and thievish and semi-human. They inhabit the +equatorial latitudes and eat nuts—”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what he is saying, Shawn?”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>“—they ought to have evolved professional thief-takers, but it is common +knowledge that they have not done so. Fishes, squirrels, rats, beavers, +and bison have also abstained from this singular growth—therefore, +when I insist that I see no necessity for policemen and object to their +presence, I base that objection on logic and facts, and not on any +immediate petty prejudice.”</p> + +<p>“Shawn,” said the sergeant, “have you got a good grip on that man?”</p> + +<p>“I have,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>“Well, if he talks any more hit him with your baton.”</p> + +<p>“I will so,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>“There’s a speck of light down yonder, and, maybe, it’s a candle in a +window—we’ll ask the way at that place.”</p> + +<p>In about three minutes they came to a small house which was overhung +by trees. If the light had not been visible they would undoubtedly have +passed it in the darkness. As they approached the door the sound of a +female voice came to them scoldingly.</p> + +<p>“There’s somebody up anyhow,” said the sergeant, and he tapped at the +door.</p> + +<p>The scolding voice ceased instantly. After a few seconds he tapped +again; then a voice was heard from just behind the door.</p> + +<p>“Tomas,” said the voice, “go and bring up the two dogs with you before I +take the door off the chain.”</p> + +<p>The door was then opened a few inches and a face peered out “What would +you be wanting at this hour of the night?” said the woman.</p> + +<p>“Not much, ma’am,” said the sergeant; “only a little direction about the +road, for we are not sure whether we’ve gone too far or not far enough.”</p> + +<p>The woman noticed their uniforms.</p> + +<p>“Is it policemen ye are? There’s no harm in your coming in, I suppose, +and if a drink of milk is any good to ye I have plenty of it.”</p> + +<p>“Milk’s better than nothing,” said the sergeant with a sigh.</p> + +<p>“I’ve a little sup of spirits,” said she, “but it wouldn’t be enough to +go around.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, well,” said he, looking sternly at his comrades, “everybody has to +take their chance in this world,” and he stepped into the house followed +by his men.</p> + +<p>The women gave him a little sup of whisky from a bottle, and to each of +the other men she gave a cup of milk.</p> + +<p>“It’ll wash the dust out of our gullets, anyhow,” said one of them.</p> + +<p>There were two chairs, a bed, and a table in the room. The Philosopher +and his attendants sat on the bed. The sergeant sat on the table, +the fourth man took a chair, and the woman dropped wearily into the +remaining chair from which she looked with pity at the prisoner.</p> + +<p>“What are you taking the poor man away for?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“He’s a bad one, ma’am,” said the sergeant. “He killed a man and a woman +that were staying with him and he buried their corpses underneath the +hearthstone of his house. He’s a real malefactor, mind you.”</p> + +<p>“Is it hanging him you’ll be, God help us?”</p> + +<p>“You never know, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if it came to +that. But you were in trouble yourself, ma’am, for we heard your voice +lamenting about something as we came along the road.”</p> + +<p>“I was, indeed,” she replied, “for the person that has a son in her +house has a trouble in her heart.”</p> + +<p>“Do you tell me now—What did he do on you?” and the sergeant bent a +look of grave reprobation on a young lad who was standing against the +wall between two dogs.</p> + +<p>“He’s a good boy enough in some ways,” said she, “but he’s too fond +of beasts. He’ll go and lie in the kennel along with them two dogs for +hours at a time, petting them and making a lot of them, but if I try +to give him a kiss, or to hug him for a couple of minutes when I do be +tired after the work, he’ll wriggle like an eel till I let him out—it +would make a body hate him, so it would. Sure, there’s no nature in him, +sir, and I’m his mother.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you young whelp,” said the +sergeant very severely.</p> + +<p>“And then there’s the horse,” she continued. “Maybe you met it down the +road a while ago?”</p> + +<p>“We did, ma’am,” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Well, when he came in Tomas went to tie him up, for he’s a caution at +getting out and wandering about the road, the way you’d break your neck +over him if you weren’t minding. After a while I told the boy to come +in, but he didn’t come, so I went out myself, and there was himself and +the horse with their arms round each other’s necks looking as if they +were moonstruck.”</p> + +<p>“Faith, he’s the queer lad!” said the sergeant. “What do you be making +love to the horse for, Tomas?”</p> + +<p>“It was all I could do to make him come in,” she continued, “and then I +said to him, ‘Sit down alongside of me here, Tomas, and keep me company +for a little while’—for I do be lonely in the night time—but he +wouldn’t stay quiet at all. One minute he’d say, ‘Mother, there’s a moth +flying round the candle and it’ll be burnt,’ and then, ‘There was a fly +going into the spider’s web in the corner,’ and he’d have to save +it, and after that, ‘There’s a daddy-long-legs hurting himself on the +window-pane,’ and he’d have to let it out; but when I try to kiss him he +pushes me away. My heart is tormented, so it is, for what have I in the +world but him?”</p> + +<p>“Is his father dead, ma’am?” said the sergeant kindly.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell the truth,” said she. “I don’t know whether he is or not, for +a long time ago, when we used to live in the city of Bla’ Cliah, he lost +his work one time and he never came back to me again. He was ashamed to +come home I’m thinking, the poor man, because he had no money; as if +I would have minded whether he had any money or not—sure, he was very +fond of me, sir, and we could have pulled along somehow. After that I +came back to my father’s place here; the rest of the children died on +me, and then my father died, and I’m doing the best I can by myself. +It’s only that I’m a little bit troubled with the boy now and again.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a hard case, ma’am,” said the sergeant, “but maybe the boy is only +a bit wild not having his father over him, and maybe it’s just that he’s +used to yourself, for there isn’t a child at all that doesn’t love his +mother. Let you behave yourself now, Tomas; attend to your mother, and +leave the beasts and the insects alone, like a decent boy, for there’s +no insect in the world will ever like you as well as she does. Could you +tell me, ma’am, if we have passed the first turn on this road, or is it +in front of us still, for we are lost altogether in the darkness?”</p> + +<p>“It’s in front of you still,” she replied, “about ten minutes down the +road; you can’t miss it, for you’ll see the sky where there is a gap in +the trees, and that gap is the turn you want.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, ma’am,” said the sergeant; “we’d better be moving on, for +there’s a long tramp in front of us before we get to sleep this night.”</p> + +<p>He stood up and the men rose to follow him when, suddenly, the boy spoke +in a whisper.</p> + +<p>“Mother,” said he, “they are going to hang the man,” and he burst into +tears.</p> + +<p>“Oh, hush, hush,” said the woman, “sure, the men can’t help it.” She +dropped quickly on her knees and opened her arms, “Come over to your +mother, my darling.”</p> + +<p>The boy ran to her.</p> + +<p>“They are going to hang him,” he cried in a high, thin voice, and he +plucked at her arm violently.</p> + +<p>“Now, then, my young boy-o,” said the sergeant, “none of that violence.”</p> + +<p>The boy turned suddenly and flew at him with astonishing ferocity. He +hurled himself against the sergeant’s legs and bit, and kicked, and +struck at him. So furiously sudden was his attack that the man went +staggering back against the wall, then he plucked at the boy and whirled +him across the room. In an instant the two dogs leaped at him snarling +with rage—one of these he kicked into a corner, from which it rebounded +again bristling and red-eyed; the other dog was caught by the woman, +and after a few frantic seconds she gripped the first dog also. To a +horrible chorus of howls and snapping teeth the men hustled outside and +slammed the door.</p> + +<p>“Shawn,” the sergeant bawled, “have you got a good grip of that man?”</p> + +<p>“I have so,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>“If he gets away I’ll kick the belly out of you; mind that now! Come +along with you and no more of your slouching.”</p> + +<p>They marched down the road in a tingling silence.</p> + +<p>“Dogs,” said the Philosopher, “are a most intelligent race of people—”</p> + +<p>“People, my granny!” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“From the earliest ages their intelligence has been observed and +recorded, so that ancient literatures are bulky with references to their +sagacity and fidelity—”</p> + +<p>“Will you shut your old jaw?” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“I will not,” said the Philosopher. “Elephants also are credited with an +extreme intelligence and devotion to their masters, and they will build +a wall or nurse a baby with equal skill and happiness. Horses have +received high recommendations in this respect, but crocodiles, hens, +beetles, armadillos, and fish do not evince any remarkable partiality +for man—”</p> + +<p>“I wish,” said the sergeant bitterly, “that all them beasts were stuffed +down your throttle the way you’d have to hold your prate.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said the Philosopher. “I do not know why these +animals should attach themselves to men with gentleness and love and yet +be able to preserve intact their initial bloodthirstiness, so that while +they will allow their masters to misuse them in any way they will yet +fight most willingly with each other, and are never really happy saving +in the conduct of some private and nonsensical battle of their own. I do +not believe that it is fear which tames these creatures into mildness, +but that the most savage animal has a capacity for love which has not +been sufficiently noted, and which, if more intelligent attention +had been directed upon it, would have raised them to the status of +intellectual animals as against intelligent ones, and, perhaps, have +opened to us a correspondence which could not have been other than +beneficial.”</p> + +<p>“Keep your eyes out for that gap in the trees, Shawn,” said the +sergeant.</p> + +<p>“I’m doing that,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher continued:</p> + +<p>“Why can I not exchange ideas with a cow? I am amazed at the +incompleteness of my growth when I and a fellow-creature stand dumbly +before each other without one glimmer of comprehension, locked and +barred from all friendship and intercourse—”</p> + +<p>“Shawn,” cried the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Don’t interrupt,” said the Philosopher; “you are always talking.—The +lower animals, as they are foolishly called, have abilities at which we +can only wonder. The mind of an ant is one to which I would readily go +to school. Birds have atmospheric and levitational information which +millions of years will not render accessible to us; who that has seen a +spider weaving his labyrinth, or a bee voyaging safely in the trackless +air, can refuse to credit that a vivid, trained intelligence animates +these small enigmas? and the commonest earthworm is the heir to a +culture before which I bow with the profoundest veneration—”</p> + +<p>“Shawn,” said the sergeant, “say something for goodness’ sake to take +the sound of that man’s clack out of my ear.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t know what to be talking about,” said Shawn, “for I never +was much of a hand at conversation, and, barring my prayers, I got no +education—I think myself that he was making a remark about a dog. Did +you ever own a dog, sergeant?”</p> + +<p>“You are doing very well, Shawn,” said the sergeant, “keep it up now.”</p> + +<p>“I knew a man had a dog would count up to a hundred for you. He won lots +of money in bets about it, and he’d have made a fortune, only that I +noticed one day he used to be winking at the dog, and when he’d stop +winking the dog would stop counting. We made him turn his back after +that, and got the dog to count sixpence, but he barked for more than +five shillings, he did so, and he would have counted up to a pound, +maybe, only that his master turned round and hit him a kick. Every +person that ever paid him a bet said they wanted their money back, but +the man went away to America in the night, and I expect he’s doing well +there for he took the dog with him. It was a wire-haired terrier bitch, +and it was the devil for having pups.”</p> + +<p>“It is astonishing,” said the Philosopher, “on what slender compulsion +people will go to America—”</p> + +<p>“Keep it up, Shawn,” said the sergeant, “you are doing me a favour.”</p> + +<p>“I will so,” said Shawn. “I had a cat one time and it used to have +kittens every two months.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher’s voice arose:</p> + +<p>“If there was any periodicity about these migrations one could +understand them. Birds, for example, migrate from their homes in the +late autumn and seek abroad the sustenance and warmth which the winter +would withhold if they remained in their native lands. The salmon also, +a dignified fish with a pink skin, emigrates from the Atlantic +Ocean, and betakes himself inland to the streams and lakes, where he +recuperates for a season, and is often surprised by net, angle, or +spear—”</p> + +<p>“Cut in now, Shawn,” said the sergeant anxiously.</p> + +<p>Shawn began to gabble with amazing speed and in a mighty voice:</p> + +<p>“Cats sometimes eat their kittens, and sometimes they don’t. A cat that +eats its kittens is a heartless brute. I knew a cat used to eat its +kittens—it had four legs and a long tail, and it used to get the +head-staggers every time it had eaten its kittens. I killed it myself +one day with a hammer for I couldn’t stand the smell it made, so I +couldn’t—”</p> + +<p>“Shawn,” said the sergeant, “can’t you talk about something else besides +cats and dogs?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, I don’t know what to talk about,” said Shawn. “I’m sweating this +minute trying to please you, so I arm. If you’ll tell me what to talk +about I’ll do my endeavours.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a fool,” said the sergeant sorrowfully; “you’ll never make a +constable. I’m thinking that I would sooner listen to the man himself +than to you. Have you got a good hold of him now?”</p> + +<p>“I have so,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>“Well, step out and maybe we’ll reach the barracks this night, unless +this is a road that there isn’t any end to at all. What was that? Did +you hear a noise?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t hear a thing,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>“I thought,” said another man, “that I heard something moving in the +hedge at the side of the road.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I heard,” said the sergeant. “Maybe it was a weasel. I wish +to the devil that we were out of this place where you can’t see as much +as your own nose. Now did you hear it, Shawn?”</p> + +<p>“I did so,” said Shawn; “there’s some one in the hedge, for a weasel +would make a different kind of a noise if it made any at all.”</p> + +<p>“Keep together, men,” said the sergeant, “and march on; if there’s +anybody about they’ve no business with us.”</p> + +<p>He had scarcely spoken when there came a sudden pattering of feet, and +immediately the four men were surrounded and were being struck at on +every side with sticks and hands and feet.</p> + +<p>“Draw your batons,” the sergeant roared; “keep a good grip of that man, +Shawn.”</p> + +<p>“I will so,” said Shawn.</p> + +<p>“Stand round him, you other men, and hit anything that comes near you.”</p> + +<p>There was no sound of voices from the assailants, only a rapid scuffle +of feet, the whistle of sticks as they swung through the air or slapped +smartly against a body or clashed upon each other, and the quick +breathing of many people; but from the four policemen there came noise +and to spare as they struck wildly on every side, cursing the darkness +and their opposers with fierce enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Let out,” cried Shawn suddenly. “Let out or I’ll smash your nut for +you. There’s some one pulling at the prisoner, and I’ve dropped my +baton.”</p> + +<p>The truncheons of the policemen had been so ferociously exercised that +their antagonists departed as swiftly and as mysteriously as they came. +It was just two minutes of frantic, aimless conflict, and then the +silent night was round them again, without any sound but the slow +creaking of branches, the swish of leaves as they swung and poised, and +the quiet croon of the wind along the road.</p> + +<p>“Come on, men,” said the sergeant, “we’d better be getting out of this +place as quick as we can. Are any of ye hurted?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got one of the enemy,” said Shawn, panting.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got what?” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got one of them, and he is wriggling like an eel on a pan.”</p> + +<p>“Hold him tight,” said the sergeant excitedly.</p> + +<p>“I will so,” said Shawn. “It’s a little one by the feel of it. If one +of ye would hold the prisoner, I’d get a better grip on this one. Aren’t +they dangerous villains now?”</p> + +<p>Another man took hold of the Philosopher’s arm, and Shawn got both hands +on his captive.</p> + +<p>“Keep quiet, I’m telling you,” said he, “or I’ll throttle you, I will +so. Faith, it seems like a little boy by the feel of it!”</p> + +<p>“A little boy!” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he doesn’t reach up to my waist.”</p> + +<p>“It must be the young brat from the cottage that set the dogs on us, the +one that loves beasts. Now then, boy, what do you mean by this kind of +thing? You’ll find yourself in gaol for this, my young buck-o. Who was +with you, eh? Tell me that now?” and the sergeant bent forward.</p> + +<p>“Hold up your head, sonny, and talk to the sergeant,” said Shawn. “Oh!” +he roared, and suddenly he made a little rush forward. “I’ve got him,” +he gasped; “he nearly got away. It isn’t a boy at all, sergeant; there’s +whiskers on it!”</p> + +<p>“What do you say?” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“I put my hand under its chin and there’s whiskers on it. I nearly let +him out with the surprise, I did so.”</p> + +<p>“Try again,” said the sergeant in a low voice; “you are making a +mistake.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like touching them,” said Shawn. “It’s a soft whisker like a +billy-goat’s. Maybe you’d try yourself, sergeant, for I tell you I’m +frightened of it.”</p> + +<p>“Hold him over here,” said the sergeant, “and keep a good grip of him.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do that,” said Shawn, and he hauled some reluctant object towards +his superior.</p> + +<p>The sergeant put out his hand and touched a head.</p> + +<p>“It’s only a boy’s size to be sure,” said he, then he slid his hand down +the face and withdrew it quickly.</p> + +<p>“There are whiskers on it,” said he soberly. “What the devil can it be? +I never met whiskers so near the ground before. Maybe they are false +ones, and it’s just the boy yonder trying to disguise himself.” He put +out his hand again with an effort, felt his way to the chin, and tugged.</p> + +<p>Instantly there came a yell, so loud, so sudden, that every man of them +jumped in a panic.</p> + +<p>“They are real whiskers,” said the sergeant with a sigh. “I wish I knew +what it is. His voice is big enough for two men, and that’s a fact. Have +you got another match on you?”</p> + +<p>“I have two more in my waistcoat pocket,” said one of the men.</p> + +<p>“Give me one of them,” said the sergeant; “I’ll strike it myself.”</p> + +<p>He groped about until he found the hand with the match.</p> + +<p>“Be sure and hold him tight, Shawn, the way we can have a good look at +him, for this is like to be a queer miracle of a thing.”</p> + +<p>“I’m holding him by the two arms,” said Shawn, “he can’t stir anything +but his head, and I’ve got my chest on that.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant struck the match, shading it for a moment with his hand, +then he turned it on their new prisoner.</p> + +<p>They saw a little man dressed in tight green clothes; he had a broad +pale face with staring eyes, and there was a thin fringe of grey whisker +under his chin—then the match went out.</p> + +<p>“It’s a Leprecaun,” said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>The men were silent for a full couple of minutes—at last Shawn spoke.</p> + +<p>“Do you tell me so?” said he in a musing voice; “that’s a queer miracle +altogether.”</p> + +<p>“I do,” said the sergeant. “Doesn’t it stand to reason that it can’t be +anything else? You saw it yourself.”</p> + +<p>Shawn plumped down on his knees before his captive.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_166" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="166"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_166.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">“Tell me where the money is?” he hissed</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“Tell me where the money is?” he hissed. “Tell me where the money is or +I’ll twist your neck off.”</p> + +<p>The other men also gathered eagerly around, shouting threats and +commands at the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>“Hold your whist,” said Shawn fiercely to them. “He can’t answer the +lot of you, can he?” and he turned again to the Leprecaun and shook him +until his teeth chattered.</p> + +<p>“If you don’t tell me where the money is at once I’ll kill you, I will +so.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t got any money at all, sir,” said the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>“None of your lies,” roared Shawn. “Tell the truth now or it’ll be worse +for you.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t got any money,” said the Leprecaun, “for Meehawl MacMurrachu +of the Hill stole our crock a while back, and he buried it under a thorn +bush. I can bring you to the place if you don’t believe me.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Shawn. “Come on with me now, and I’ll clout you if you +as much as wriggle; do you mind me?”</p> + +<p>“What would I wriggle for?” said the Leprecaun: “sure I like being with +you.”</p> + +<p>Hereupon the sergeant roared at the top of his voice.</p> + +<p>“Attention,” said he, and the men leaped to position like automata.</p> + +<p>“What is it you are going to do with your prisoner, Shawn?” said he +sarcastically. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough tramping of these roads +for one night, now? Bring up that Leprecaun to the barracks or it’ll be +the worse for you—do you hear me talking to you?”</p> + +<p>“But the gold, sergeant,” said Shawn sulkily.</p> + +<p>“If there’s any gold it’ll be treasure trove, and belong to the Crown. +What kind of a constable are you at all, Shawn? Mind what you are about +now, my man, and no back answers. Step along there. Bring that murderer +up at once, whichever of you has him.”</p> + +<p>There came a gasp from the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Oh, Oh!” said a voice of horror.</p> + +<p>“What’s wrong with you?” said the sergeant: “are you hurted?”</p> + +<p>“The prisoner!” he gasped, “he, he’s got away!”</p> + +<p>“Got away?” and the sergeant’s voice was a blare of fury.</p> + +<p>“While we were looking at the Leprecaun,” said the voice of woe, “I must +have forgotten about the other one—I, I haven’t got him—”</p> + +<p>“You gawm!” gritted the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Is it my prisoner that’s gone?” said Shawn in a deep voice. He leaped +forward with a curse and smote his negligent comrade so terrible a blow +in the face, that the man went flying backwards, and the thud of his +head on the road could have been heard anywhere.</p> + +<p>“Get up,” said Shawn, “get up till I give you another one.”</p> + +<p>“That will do,” said the sergeant, “we’ll go home. We’re the +laughing-stock of the world. I’ll pay you out for this some time, every +damn man of ye. Bring that Leprecaun along with you, and quick march.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Shawn in a strangled tone.</p> + +<p>“What is it now?” said the sergeant testily.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” replied Shawn.</p> + +<p>“What did you say ‘Oh!’ for then, you block-head?”</p> + +<p>“It’s the Leprecaun, sergeant,” said Shawn in a whisper—“he’s got +away—when I was hitting the man there I forgot all about the Leprecaun: +he must have run into the hedge. Oh, sergeant, dear, don’t say anything +to me now—!”</p> + +<p>“Quick march,” said the sergeant, and the four men moved on through the +darkness in a silence, which was only skin deep.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<p>By reason of the many years which he had spent in the gloomy pine wood, +the Philosopher could see a little in the darkness, and when he found +there was no longer any hold on his coat he continued his journey +quietly, marching along with his head sunken on his breast in a deep +abstraction. He was meditating on the word “Me,” and endeavouring to +pursue it through all its changes and adventures. The fact of “me-ness” +was one which startled him. He was amazed at his own being. He knew that +the hand which he held up and pinched with another hand was not him +and the endeavour to find out what was him was one which had frequently +exercised his leisure. He had not gone far when there came a tug at +his sleeve and looking down he found one of the Leprecauns of the Gort +trotting by his side.</p> + +<p>“Noble Sir,” said the Leprecaun, “you are terrible hard to get into +conversation with. I have been talking to you for the last long time and +you won’t listen.”</p> + +<p>“I am listening now,” replied the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“You are, indeed,” said the Leprecaun heartily. “My brothers are on the +other side of the road over there beyond the hedge, and they want to +talk to you: will you come with me, Noble Sir?”</p> + +<p>“Why wouldn’t I go with you?” said the Philosopher, and he turned aside +with the Leprecaun.</p> + +<p>They pushed softly through a gap in the hedge and into a field beyond.</p> + +<p>“Come this way, sir,” said his guide, and the Philosopher followed him +across the field. In a few minutes they came to a thick bush among the +leaves of which the other Leprecauns were hiding. They thronged out to +meet the Philosopher’s approach and welcomed him with every appearance +of joy. With them was the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath, who embraced her +husband tenderly and gave thanks for his escape.</p> + +<p>“The night is young yet,” remarked one of the Leprecauns. “Let us sit +down here and talk about what should be done.”</p> + +<p>“I am tired enough,” said the Philosopher, “for I have been travelling +all yesterday, and all this day and the whole of this night I have been +going also, so I would be glad to sit down anywhere.”</p> + +<p>They sat down under the bush and the Philosopher lit his pipe. In the +open space where they were there was just light enough to see the smoke +coming from his pipe, but scarcely more. One recognized a figure as a +deeper shadow than the surrounding darkness; but as the ground was dry +and the air just touched with a pleasant chill, there was no discomfort. +After the Philosopher had drawn a few mouthfuls of smoke he passed his +pipe on to the next person, and in this way his pipe made the circuit of +the party.</p> + +<p>“When I put the children to bed,” said the Thin Woman, “I came down the +road in your wake with a basin of stirabout, for you had no time to take +your food, God help you! and I was thinking you must have been hungry.”</p> + +<p>“That is so,” said the Philosopher in a very anxious voice: “but I don’t +blame you, my dear, for letting the basin fall on the road—”</p> + +<p>“While I was going along,” she continued, “I met these good people and +when I told them what happened they came with me to see if anything +could be done. The time they ran out of the hedge to fight the policemen +I wanted to go with them, but I was afraid the stirabout would be +spilt.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher licked his lips.</p> + +<p>“I am listening to you, my love,” said he.</p> + +<p>“So I had to stay where I was with the stirabout under my shawl—”</p> + +<p>“Did you slip then, dear wife?”</p> + +<p>“I did not, indeed,” she replied: “I have the stirabout with me this +minute. It’s rather cold, I’m thinking, but it is better than nothing at +all,” and she placed the bowl in his hands.</p> + +<p>“I put sugar in it,” said she shyly, “and currants, and I have a spoon +in my pocket.”</p> + +<p>“It tastes well,” said the Philosopher, and he cleaned the basin so +speedily that his wife wept because of his hunger.</p> + +<p>By this time the pipe had come round to him again and it was welcomed.</p> + +<p>“Now we can talk,” said he, and he blew a great cloud of smoke into the +darkness and sighed happily.</p> + +<p>“We were thinking,” said the Thin Woman, “that you won’t be able to come +back to our house for a while yet: the policemen will be peeping about +Coille Doraca for a long time, to be sure; for isn’t it true that if +there is a good thing coming to a person, nobody takes much trouble to +find him, but if there is a bad thing or a punishment in store for a +man, then the whole world will be searched until he be found?”</p> + +<p>“It is a true statement,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“So what we arranged was this—that you should go to live with these +little men in their house under the yew tree of the Gort. There is not a +policeman in the world would find you there; or if you went by night to +the Brugh of the Boyne, Angus Óg himself would give you a refuge.”</p> + +<p>One of the Leprecauns here interposed.</p> + +<p>“Noble Sir,” said he, “there isn’t much room in our house but there’s no +stint of welcome in it. You would have a good time with us travelling on +moonlit nights and seeing strange things, for we often go to visit the +Shee of the Hills and they come to see us; there is always something +to talk about, and we have dances in the caves and on the tops of the +hills. Don’t be imagining now that we have a poor life for there is fun +and plenty with us and the Brugh of Angus Mac an Óg is hard to be got +at.”</p> + +<p>“I would like to dance, indeed,” returned the Philosopher, “for I do +believe that dancing is the first and last duty of man. If we cannot be +gay what can we be? Life is not any use at all unless we find a laugh +here and there—but this time, decent men of the Gort, I cannot go with +you, for it is laid on me to give myself up to the police.”</p> + +<p>“You would not do that,” exclaimed the Thin Woman pitifully: “You +wouldn’t think of doing that now!”</p> + +<p>“An innocent man,” said he, “cannot be oppressed, for he is fortified +by his mind and his heart cheers him. It is only on a guilty person that +the rigour of punishment can fall, for he punishes himself. This is what +I think, that a man should always obey the law with his body and always +disobey it with his mind. I have been arrested, the men of the law had +me in their hands, and I will have to go back to them so that they may +do whatever they have to do.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher resumed his pipe, and although the others reasoned with +him for a long time they could not by any means remove him from his +purpose. So, when the pale glimmer of dawn had stolen over the sky, +they arose and went downwards to the cross-roads and so to the Police +Station.</p> + +<p>Outside the village the Leprecauns bade him farewell and the Thin Woman +also took her leave of him, saying she would visit Angus Óg and implore +his assistance on behalf of her husband, and then the Leprecauns and the +Thin Woman returned again the way they came, and the Philosopher walked +on to the barracks.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI</h3> + +<p>When he knocked at the barracks door it was opened by a man with +tousled, red hair, who looked as though he had just awakened from sleep.</p> + +<p>“What do you want at this hour of the night?” said he.</p> + +<p>“I want to give myself up,” said the Philosopher. The policeman looked +at him “A man as old as you are,” said he, “oughtn’t to be a fool. Go +home now, I advise you, and don’t say a word to any one whether you did +it or not. Tell me this now, was it found out, or are you only making a +clean breast of it?”</p> + +<p>“Sure I must give myself up,” said the Philosopher.</p> + +<p>“If you must, you must, and that’s an end of it. Wipe your feet on the +rail there and come in—I’ll take your deposition.”</p> + +<p>“I have no deposition for you,” said the Philosopher, “for I didn’t do a +thing at all.”</p> + +<p>The policeman stared at him again.</p> + +<p>“If that’s so,” said he, “you needn’t come in at all, and you needn’t +have wakened me out of my sleep either. Maybe, tho’, you are the man +that fought the badger on the Naas Road—Eh?”</p> + +<p>“I am not,” replied the Philosopher: “but I was arrested for killing my +brother and his wife, although I never touched them.”</p> + +<p>“Is that who you are?” said the policeman; and then, briskly, “You’re as +welcome as the cuckoo, you are so. Come in and make yourself comfortable +till the men awaken, and they are the lads that’ll be glad to see you. +I couldn’t make head or tail of what they said when they came in last +night, and no one else either, for they did nothing but fight each other +and curse the banshees and cluricauns of Leinster. Sit down there on the +settle by the fire and, maybe, you’ll be able to get a sleep; you look +as if you were tired, and the mud of every county in Ireland is on your +boots.”</p> + +<p>The Philosopher thanked him and stretched out on the settle. In a short +time, for he was very weary, he fell asleep.</p> + +<p>Many hours later he was awakened by the sound of voices, and found on +rising, that the men who had captured him on the previous evening were +standing by the bed. The sergeant’s face beamed with joy. He was dressed +only in his trousers and shirt. His hair was sticking up in some places +and sticking out in others which gave a certain wild look to him, and +his feet were bare. He took the Philosopher’s two hands in his own and +swore if ever there was anything he could do to comfort him he would do +that and more. Shawn, in a similar state of unclothedness, greeted the +Philosopher and proclaimed himself his friend and follower for ever. +Shawn further announced that he did not believe the Philosopher had +killed the two people, that if he had killed them they must have richly +deserved it, and that if he was hung he would plant flowers on his +grave; for a decenter, quieter, and wiser man he had never met and never +would meet in the world.</p> + +<p>These professions of esteem comforted the Philosopher, and he replied to +them in terms which made the red-haired policeman gape in astonishment +and approval.</p> + +<p>He was given a breakfast of bread and cocoa which he ate with his +guardians, and then, as they had to take up their outdoor duties, he +was conducted to the backyard and informed he could walk about there +and that he might smoke until he was black in the face. The policemen +severally presented him with a pipe, a tin of tobacco, two boxes of +matches and a dictionary, and then they withdrew, leaving him to his own +devices.</p> + +<p>The garden was about twelve feet square, having high, smooth walls on +every side, and into it there came neither sun nor wind. In one corner a +clump of rusty-looking sweet-pea was climbing up the wall—every leaf +of this plant was riddled with holes, and there were no flowers on it. +Another corner was occupied by dwarf nasturtiums, and on this plant, +in despite of every discouragement, two flowers were blooming, but its +leaves also were tattered and dejected. A mass of ivy clung to the third +corner, its leaves were big and glossy at the top, but near the ground +there was only grey, naked stalks laced together by cobwebs. The fourth +wall was clothed in a loose Virginia creeper every leaf of which looked +like an insect that could crawl if it wanted to. The centre of this +small plot had used every possible artifice to cover itself with grass, +and in some places it had wonderfully succeeded, but the pieces of +broken bottles, shattered jampots, and sections of crockery were so +numerous that no attempt at growth could be other than tentative and +unpassioned.</p> + +<p>Here, for a long time, the Philosopher marched up and down. At one +moment he examined the sweet-pea and mourned with it on a wretched +existence. Again he congratulated the nasturtium on its two bright +children; but he thought of the gardens wherein they might have bloomed +and the remembrance of that spacious, sunny freedom saddened him.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, poor creatures!” said he, “ye also are in gaol.”</p> + +<p>The blank, soundless yard troubled him so much that at last he called to +the red-haired policeman and begged to be put into a cell in preference; +and to the common cell he was, accordingly, conducted.</p> + +<p>This place was a small cellar built beneath the level of the ground. An +iron grating at the top of the wall admitted one blanched wink of light, +but the place was bathed in obscurity. A wooden ladder led down to the +cell from a hole in the ceiling, and this hole also gave a spark of +brightness and some little air to the room. The walls were of stone +covered with plaster, but the plaster had fallen away in many places +leaving the rough stones visible at every turn of the eye.</p> + +<p>There were two men in the cell, and these the Philosopher saluted; but +they did not reply, nor did they speak to each other. There was a low, +wooden form fixed to the wall, running quite round the room, and on +this, far apart from each other, the two men were seated, with their +elbows resting on their knees, their heads propped upon their hands, +and each of them with an unwavering gaze fixed on the floor between his +feet.</p> + +<p>The Philosopher walked for a time up and down the little cell, but soon +he also sat down on the low form, propped his head on his hands and +lapsed to a melancholy dream.</p> + +<p>So the day passed. Twice a policeman came down the ladder bearing three +portions of food, bread and cocoa; and by imperceptible gradations the +light faded away from the grating and the darkness came. After a great +interval the policeman again approached carrying three mattresses and +three rough blankets, and these he bundled through the hole. Each of the +men took a mattress and a blanket and spread them on the floor, and the +Philosopher took his share also.</p> + +<p>By this time they could not see each other and all their operations were +conducted by the sense of touch alone. They laid themselves down on the +beds and a terrible, dark silence brooded over the room.</p> + +<p>But the Philosopher could not sleep, he kept his eyes shut, for the +darkness under his eyelids was not so dense as that which surrounded +him; indeed, he could at will illuminate his own darkness and order +around him the sunny roads or the sparkling sky. While his eyes were +closed he had the mastery of all pictures of light and colour and +warmth, but an irresistible fascination compelled him every few minutes +to reopen them, and in the sad space around he could not create any +happiness. The darkness weighed very sadly upon him so that in a short +time it did creep under his eyelids and drowned his happy pictures until +a blackness possessed him both within and without “Can one’s mind go to +prison as well as one’s body?” said he.</p> + +<p>He strove desperately to regain his intellectual freedom, but he could +not. He could conjure up no visions but those of fear. The creatures of +the dark invaded him, fantastic terrors were thronging on every side: +they came from the darkness into his eyes and beyond into himself, so +that his mind as well as his fancy was captured, and he knew he was, +indeed, in gaol.</p> + +<p>It was with a great start that he heard a voice speaking from the +silence—a harsh, yet cultivated voice, but he could not imagine which +of his companions was speaking. He had a vision of that man tormented +by the mental imprisonment of the darkness, trying to get away from his +ghosts and slimy enemies, goaded into speech in his own despite lest he +should be submerged and finally possessed by the abysmal demons. For a +while the voice spoke of the strangeness of life and the cruelty of +men to each other—disconnected sentences, odd words of selfpity and +self-encouragement, and then the matter became more connected and a +story grew in the dark cell “I knew a man,” said the voice, “and he was +a clerk. He had thirty shillings a week, and for five years he had never +missed a day going to his work. He was a careful man, but a person with +a wife and four children cannot save much out of thirty shillings a +week. The rent of a house is high, a wife and children must be fed, and +they have to get boots and clothes, so that at the end of each week +that man’s thirty shillings used to be all gone. But they managed to get +along somehow—the man and his wife and the four children were fed and +clothed and educated, and the man often wondered how so much could +be done with so little money; but the reason was that his wife was a +careful woman . . . and then the man got sick. A poor person cannot afford +to get sick, and a married man cannot leave his work. If he is sick +he has to be sick; but he must go to his work all the same, for if he +stayed away who would pay the wages and feed his family? and when he +went back to work he might find that there was nothing for him to do. +This man fell sick, but he made no change in his way of life: he got up +at the same time and went to the office as usual, and he got through the +day somehow without attracting his employer’s attention. He didn’t know +what was wrong with him: he only knew that he was sick. Sometimes he had +sharp, swift pains in his head, and again there would be long hours of +languor when he could scarcely bear to change his position or lift a +pen. He would commence a letter with the words ‘Dear Sir,’ forming the +letter ‘D’ with painful, accurate slowness, elaborating and thickening +the up and down strokes, and being troubled when he had to leave that +letter for the next one; he built the next letter by hair strokes and +would start on the third with hatred. The end of a word seemed to that +man like the conclusion of an event—it was a surprising, isolated, +individual thing, having no reference to anything else in the world, +and on starting a new word he seemed bound, in order to preserve its +individuality, to write it in a different handwriting. He would sit with +his shoulders hunched up and his pen resting on the paper, staring at a +letter until he was nearly mesmerized, and then come to himself with a +sense of fear, which started him working like a madman, so that he might +not be behind with his business. The day seemed to be so long. It rolled +on rusty hinges that could scarcely move. Each hour was like a great +circle swollen with heavy air, and it droned and buzzed into an +eternity. It seemed to the man that his hand in particular wanted to +rest. It was luxury not to work with it. It was good to lay it down on +a sheet of paper with the pen sloping against his finger, and then watch +his hand going to sleep—it seemed to the man that it was his hand +and not himself wanted to sleep, but it always awakened when the pen +slipped. There was an instinct in him somewhere not to let the pen +slip, and every time the pen moved his hand awakened, and began to work +languidly. When he went home at night he lay down at once and stared +for hours at a fly on the wall or a crack on the ceiling. When his wife +spoke to him he heard her speaking as from a great distance, and he +answered her dully as though he was replying through a cloud. He only +wanted to be let alone, to be allowed to stare at the fly on the wall, +or the crack on the ceiling.</p> + +<p>“One morning he found that he couldn’t get up, or rather, that he didn’t +want to get up. When his wife called him he made no reply, and she +seemed to call him every ten seconds—the words, ‘get up, get up,’ were +crackling all round him; they were bursting like bombs on the right hand +and on the left of him: they were scattering from above and all around +him, bursting upwards from the floor, swirling, swaying, and jostling +each other. Then the sounds ceased, and one voice only said to him +‘You are late!’ He saw these words like a blur hanging in the air, just +beyond his eyelids, and he stared at the blur until he fell asleep.”</p> + +<p>The voice in the cell ceased speaking for a few minutes, and then it +went on again.</p> + +<p>“For three weeks the man did not leave his bed—he lived faintly in a +kind of trance, wherein great forms moved about slowly and immense +words were drumming gently for ever. When he began to take notice again +everything in the house was different. Most of the furniture, paid for +so hardly, was gone. He missed a thing everywhere—chairs, a mirror, +a table: wherever he looked he missed something; and downstairs was +worse—there, everything was gone. His wife had sold all her furniture +to pay for doctors, for medicine, for food and rent. And she was changed +too: good things had gone from her face; she was gaunt, sharp-featured, +miserable—but she was comforted to think he was going back to work +soon.</p> + +<p>“There was a flurry in his head when he went to his office. He didn’t +know what his employer would say for stopping away. He might blame him +for being sick—he wondered would his employer pay him for the weeks he +was absent. When he stood at the door he was frightened. Suddenly the +thought of his master’s eye grew terrible to him: it was a steady, cold, +glassy eye; but he opened the door and went in. His master was there +with another man and he tried to say ‘Good morning, sir,’ in a natural +and calm voice; but he knew that the strange man had been engaged +instead of himself, and this knowledge posted itself between his tongue +and his thought. He heard himself stammering, he felt that his whole +bearing had become drooping and abject. His master was talking swiftly +and the other man was looking at him in an embarrassed, stealthy, and +pleading manner: his eyes seemed to be apologising for having supplanted +him—so he mumbled ‘Good day, sir,’ and stumbled out.</p> + +<p>“When he got outside he could not think where to go. After a while he +went in the direction of the little park in the centre of the city. It +was quite near and he sat down on an iron bench facing a pond. There +were children walking up and down by the water giving pieces of bread to +the swans. Now and again a labouring man or a messenger went by quickly; +now and again a middleaged, slovenly-dressed man drooped past aimlessly: +sometimes a tattered, self-intent woman with a badgered face flopped by +him. When he looked at these dull people the thought came to him that +they were not walking there at all; they were trailing through hell, +and their desperate eyes saw none but devils around them. He saw himself +joining these battered strollers . . . and he could not think what he would +tell his wife when he went home. He rehearsed to himself the terms of +his dismissal a hundred times. How his master looked, what he had said: +and then the fine, ironical things he had said to his master. He sat in +the park all day, and when evening fell he went home at his accustomed +hour.</p> + +<p>“His wife asked him questions as to how he had got on, and wanted to +know was there any chance of being paid for the weeks of absence; the +man answered her volubly, ate his supper and went to bed: but he did +not tell his wife that he had been dismissed and that there would be no +money at the end of the week. He tried to tell her, but when he met her +eye he found that he could not say the words—he was afraid of the look +that might come into her face when she heard it—she, standing terrified +in those dismantled rooms...!</p> + +<p>“In the morning he ate his breakfast and went out again—to work, his +wife thought. She bid him ask the master about the three weeks’ wages, +or to try and get an advance on the present week’s wages, for they were +hardly put to it to buy food. He said he would do his best, but he +went straight to the park and sat looking at the pond, looking at the +passers-by and dreaming. In the middle of the day he started up in +a panic and went about the city asking for work in offices, shops, +warehouses, everywhere, but he could not get any. He trailed back +heavy-footed again to the park and sat down.</p> + +<p>“He told his wife more lies about his work that night and what his +master had said when he asked for an advance. He couldn’t bear the +children to touch him. After a little time he sneaked away to his bed.</p> + +<p>“A week went that way. He didn’t look for work any more. He sat in the +park, dreaming, with his head bowed into his hands. The next day would +be the day he should have been paid his wages. The next day! What would +his wife say when he told her he had no money? She would stare at him +and flush and say—’Didn’t you go out every day to work?’—How would he +tell her then so that she could understand quickly and spare him words?</p> + +<p>“Morning came and the man ate his breakfast silently. There was no +butter on the bread, and his wife seemed to be apologising to him for +not having any. She said, ‘We’ll be able to start fair from to-morrow,’ +and when he snapped at her angrily she thought it was because he had to +eat dry bread.</p> + +<p>“He went to the park and sat there for hours. Now and again he got up +and walked into a neighbouring street, but always, after half an hour +or so, he came back. Six o’clock in the evening was his hour for going +home. When six o’clock came he did not move, he still sat opposite the +pond with his head bowed down into his arms. Seven o’clock passed. At +nine o’clock a bell was rung and every one had to leave. He went also. +He stood outside the gates looking on this side and on that. Which +way would he go? All roads were alike to him, so he turned at last and +walked somewhere. He did not go home that night. He never went home +again. He never was heard of again anywhere in the wide world.”</p> + +<p>The voice ceased speaking and silence swung down again upon the little +cell. The Philosopher had been listening intently to this story, and +after a few minutes he spoke “When you go up this road there is a turn +to the left and all the path along is bordered with trees—there are +birds in the trees, Glory be to God! There is only one house on that +road, and the woman in it gave us milk to drink. She has but one son, a +good boy, and she said the other children were dead; she was speaking of +a husband who went away and left her—‘Why should he have been afraid to +come home?’ said she—‘sure, I loved him.’”</p> + +<p>After a little interval the voice spoke again “I don’t know what became +of the man I was speaking of. I am a thief, and I’m well known to the +police everywhere. I don’t think that man would get a welcome at the +house up here, for why should he?”</p> + +<p>Another, a different, querulous kind of voice came from the silence “If +I knew a place where there was a welcome I’d go there as quickly as I +could, but I don’t know a place and I never will, for what good would +a man of my age be to any person? I am a thief also. The first thing I +stole was a hen out of a little yard. I roasted it in a ditch and ate +it, and then I stole another one and ate it, and after that I stole +everything I could lay my hands on. I suppose I will steal as long as I +live, and I’ll die in a ditch at the heel of the hunt. There was a time, +not long ago, and if any one had told me then that I would rob, even +for hunger, I’d have been insulted: but what does it matter now? And +the reason I am a thief is because I got old without noticing it. +Other people noticed it, but I did not. I suppose age comes on one so +gradually that it is seldom observed. If there are wrinkles on one’s +face we do not remember when they were not there: we put down all kind +of little infirmities to sedentary living, and you will see plenty of +young people bald. If a man has no occasion to tell any one his age, +and if he never thinks of it himself, he won’t see ten years’ difference +between his youth and his age, for we live in slow, quiet times, and +nothing ever happens to mark the years as they go by, one after the +other, and all the same.</p> + +<p>“I lodged in a house for a great many years, and a little girl grew +up there, the daughter of my landlady. She used to slide down the +bannisters very well, and she used to play the piano very badly. These +two things worried me many a time. She used to bring me my meals in the +morning and the evening, and often enough she’d stop to talk with me +while I was eating. She was a very chatty girl and I was a talkative +person myself. When she was about eighteen years of age I got so used +to her that if her mother came with the food I would be worried for +the rest of the day. Her face was as bright as a sunbeam, and her lazy, +careless ways, big, free movements, and girlish chatter were pleasant to +a man whose loneliness was only beginning to be apparent to him through +her company. I’ve thought of it often since, and I suppose that’s how it +began. She used to listen to all my opinions and she’d agree with them +because she had none of her own yet. She was a good girl, but lazy in +her mind and body; childish, in fact. Her talk was as involved as her +actions: she always seemed to be sliding down mental bannisters; she +thought in kinks and spoke in spasms, hopped mentally from one subject +to another without the slightest difficulty, and could use a lot of +language in saying nothing at all. I could see all that at the time, but +I suppose I was too pleased with my own sharp business brains, and +sick enough, although I did not know it, of my sharp-brained, business +companions—dear Lord! I remember them well. It’s easy enough to have +brains as they call it, but it is not so easy to have a little gaiety +or carelessness or childishness or whatever it was she had. It is good, +too, to feel superior to some one, even a girl.</p> + +<p>“One day this thought came to me—‘It is time that I settled down.’ I +don’t know where the idea came from; one hears it often enough and it +always seems to apply to some one else, but I don’t know what brought +it to roost with me. I was foolish, too: I bought ties and differently +shaped collars, and took to creasing my trousers by folding them under +the bed and lying on them all night—It never struck me that I was more +than three times her age. I brought home sweets for her and she was +delighted. She said she adored sweets, and she used to insist on my +eating some of them with her; she liked to compare notes as to how they +tasted while eating them. I used to get a toothache from them, but I +bore with it although at that time I hated toothache almost as much as +I hated sweets. Then I asked her to come out with me for a walk. She +was willing enough and it was a novel experience for me. Indeed, it was +rather exciting. We went out together often after that, and sometimes +we’d meet people I knew, young men from my office or from other offices. +I used to be shy when some of these people winked at me as they saluted. +It was pleasant, too, telling the girl who they were, their business and +their salaries: for there was little I didn’t know. I used to tell her +of my own position in the office and what the chief said to me through +the day. Sometimes we talked of the things that had appeared in the +evening papers. A murder perhaps, some phase of a divorce case, the +speech a political person had made, or the price of stock. She was +interested in anything so long as it was talk. And her own share in the +conversation was good to hear. Every lady that passed us had a hat that +stirred her to the top of rapture or the other pinnacle of disgust. +She told me what ladies were frights and what were ducks. Under her +scampering tongue I began to learn something of humanity, even though +she saw most people as delightfully funny clowns or superb, majestical +princes, but I noticed that she never said a bad word of a man, although +many of the men she looked after were ordinary enough. Until I went +walking with her I never knew what a shop window was. A jeweller’s +window especially: there were curious things in it. She told me how a +tiara should be worn, and a pendant, and she explained the kind of studs +I should wear myself; they were made of gold and had red stones in them; +she showed me the ropes of pearl or diamonds that she thought would look +pretty on herself: and one day she said that she liked me very much. I +was pleased and excited that day, but I was a business man and I said +very little in reply. I never liked a pig in a poke.</p> + +<p>“She used to go out two nights in the week, Monday and Thursday, dressed +in her best clothes. I didn’t know where she went, and I didn’t ask—I +thought she visited an acquaintance, a girl friend or some such. The +time went by and I made up my mind to ask her to marry me. I had watched +her long enough and she was always kind and bright. I liked the way she +smiled, and I liked her obedient, mannerly bearing. There was something +else I liked, which I did not recognise then, something surrounding all +her movements, a graciousness, a spaciousness: I did not analyse it; +but I know now that it was her youth. I remember that when we were out +together she walked slowly, but in the house she would leap up and down +the stairs—she moved furiously, but I didn’t.</p> + +<p>“One evening she dressed to go out as usual, and she called at my door +to know had I everything I wanted. I said I had something to tell her +when she came home, something important. She promised to come in early +to hear it, and I laughed at her and she laughed back and went sliding +down the bannisters. I don’t think I have had any reason to laugh since +that night. A letter came for me after she had gone, and I knew by the +shape and the handwriting that it was from the office. It puzzled me to +think why I should be written to. I didn’t like opening it somehow.... +It was my dismissal on account of advancing age, and it hoped for my +future welfare politely enough. It was signed by the Senior. I didn’t +grip it at first, and then I thought it was a hoax. For a long time I +sat in my room with an empty mind. I was watching my mind: there were +immense distances in it that drowsed and buzzed; large, soft movements +seemed to be made in my mind, and although I was looking at the letter +in my hand I was really trying to focus those great, swinging spaces in +my brain, and my ears were listening for a movement of some kind. I +can see back to that time plainly. I went walking up and down the room. +There was a dull, subterranean anger in me. I remember muttering once or +twice, ‘Shameful!’ and again I said, ‘Ridiculous!’ At the idea of age +I looked at my face in the glass, but I was looking at my mind, and +it seemed to go grey, there was a heaviness there also. I seemed to be +peering from beneath a weight at something strange. I had a feeling that +I had let go a grip which I had held tightly for a long time, and I had +a feeling that the letting go was a grave disaster . . . that strange face +in the glass! how wrinkled it was! there were only a few hairs on the +head and they were grey ones. There was a constant twitching of the lips +and the eyes were deep-set, little and dull. I left the glass and sat +down by the window, looking out. I saw nothing in the street: I just +looked into a blackness. My mind was as blank as the night and as +soundless. There was a swirl outside the window, rain tossed by the +wind; without noticing, I saw it, and my brain swung with the rain until +it heaved in circles, and then a feeling of faintness awakened me to +myself. I did not allow my mind to think, but now and again a word +swooped from immense distances through my brain, swinging like a comet +across a sky and jarring terribly when it struck: ‘Sacked’ was one word, +‘Old’ was another word.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how long I sat watching the flight of these dreadful words +and listening to their clanking impact, but a movement in the street +aroused me. Two people, the girl and a young, slender man, were coming +slowly up to the house. The rain was falling heavily, but they did not +seem to mind it. There was a big puddle of water close to the kerb, and +the girl, stepping daintily as a cat, went round this, but the young man +stood for a moment beyond it. He raised both arms, clenched his fists, +swung them, and jumped over the puddle. Then he and the girl stood +looking at the water, apparently measuring the jump. I could see them +plainly by a street lamp. They were bidding each other good-bye. The +girl put her hand to his neck and settled the collar of his coat, and +while her hand rested on him the young man suddenly and violently flung +his arms about her and hugged her; then they kissed and moved apart. The +man walked to the rain puddle and stood there with his face turned back +laughing at her, and then he jumped straight into the middle of the +puddle and began to dance up and down in it, the muddy water splashing +up to his knees. She ran over to him crying ‘Stop, silly!’ When she came +into the house, I bolted my door and I gave no answer to her knock.</p> + +<p>“In a few months the money I had saved was spent. I couldn’t get any +work, I was too old; they put it that they wanted a younger man. I +couldn’t pay my rent. I went out into the world again, like a baby, +an old baby in a new world. I stole food, food, food anywhere and +everywhere. At first I was always caught. Often I was sent to gaol; +sometimes I was let go; sometimes I was kicked; but I learned to live +like a wolf at last. I am not often caught now when I steal food. But +there is something happening every day, whether it is going to gaol or +planning how to steal a hen or a loaf of bread. I find that it is a good +life, much better than the one I lived for nearly sixty years, and I +have time to think over every sort of thing....”</p> + +<p>When the morning came the Philosopher was taken on a car to the big +City in order that he might be put on his trial and hanged. It was the +custom.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"><a id="253"></a> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BOOK_VI_THE_THIN_WOMANS_JOURNEY_AND_THE_HAPPY_MARCH">BOOK VI. THE THIN WOMAN’S JOURNEY AND THE HAPPY MARCH</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVII</h3> + +<p>The ability of the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath for anger was unbounded. +She was not one of those limited creatures who are swept clean by a gust +of wrath and left placid and smiling after its passing. She could store +her anger in those caverns of eternity which open into every soul, and +which are filled with rage and violence until the time comes when they +may be stored with wisdom and love; for, in the genesis of life, love +is at the beginning and the end of things. First, like a laughing +child, love came to labour minutely in the rocks and sands of the heart, +opening the first of those roads which lead inwards for ever, and then, +the labour of his day being done, love fled away and was forgotten. +Following came the fierce winds of hate to work like giants and gnomes +among the prodigious debris, quarrying the rocks and levelling the +roads which soar inwards; but when that work is completed love will come +radiantly again to live for ever in the human heart, which is Eternity.</p> + +<p>Before the Thin Woman could undertake the redemption of her husband by +wrath, it was necessary that she should be purified by the performance +of that sacrifice which is called the Forgiveness of Enemies, and this +she did by embracing the Leprecauns of the Gort and in the presence of +the sun and the wind remitting their crime against her husband. Thus she +became free to devote her malice against the State of Punishment, while +forgiving the individuals who had but acted in obedience to the pressure +of their infernal environment, which pressure is Sin.</p> + +<p>This done she set about baking the three cakes against her journey to +Angus Óg.</p> + +<p>While she was baking the cakes, the children, Seumas and Brigid Beg, +slipped away into the wood to speak to each other and to wonder over +this extraordinary occurrence.</p> + +<p>At first their movements were very careful, for they could not be quite +sure that the policemen had really gone away, or whether they were +hiding in dark places waiting to pounce on them and carry them away +to captivity. The word “murder” was almost unknown to them, and its +strangeness was rendered still more strange by reason of the nearness +of their father to the term. It was a terrible word and its terror was +magnified by their father’s unthinkable implication. What had he done? +Almost all his actions and habits were so familiar to them as to be +commonplace, and yet, there was a dark something to which he was a +party and which dashed before them as terrible and ungraspable as a +lightning-flash. They understood that it had something to do with that +other father and mother whose bodies had been snatched from beneath +the hearthstone, but they knew the Philosopher had done nothing in that +instance, and, so, they saw murder as a terrible, occult affair which +was quite beyond their mental horizons.</p> + +<p>No one jumped out on them from behind the trees, so in a little time +their confidence returned and they walked less carefully. When they +reached the edge of the pine wood the brilliant sunshine invited them to +go farther, and after a little hesitation they did so. The good spaces +and the sweet air dissipated their melancholy thoughts, and very soon +they were racing each other to this point and to that. Their wayward +flights had carried them in the direction of Meehawl MacMurrachu’s +cottage, and here, breathlessly, they threw themselves under a small +tree to rest. It was a thorn bush, and as they sat beneath it the +cessation of movement gave them opportunity to again consider the +terrible position of their father. With children thought cannot be +separated from action for very long. They think as much with their hands +as with their heads. They have to do the thing they speak of in order +to visualise the idea, and, consequently, Seumas Beg was soon +reconstructing the earlier visit of the policemen to their house +in grand pantomime. The ground beneath the thorn bush became the +hearthstone of their cottage; he and Brigid became four policemen, and +in a moment he was digging furiously with a broad piece of wood to find +the two hidden bodies. He had digged for only a few minutes when the +piece of wood struck against something hard. A very little time sufficed +to throw the soil off this, and their delight was great when they +unearthed a beautiful little earthen crock filled to the brim with +shining, yellow dust. When they lifted this they were astonished at its +great weight. They played for a long time with it, letting the heavy, +yellow shower slip through their fingers and watching it glisten in the +sunshine. After they tired of this they decided to bring the crock home, +but by the time they reached the Gort na Cloca Mora they were so tired +that they could not carry it any farther, and they decided to leave it +with their friends the Leprecauns. Seumas Beg gave the taps on the tree +trunk which they had learned, and in a moment the Leprecaun whom they +knew came up.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_200" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="200"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_200.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">He . . . wept in so loud a voice that his comrades swarmed +up to see what had happened to him</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>“We have brought this, sir,” said Seumas. But he got no further, for the +instant the Leprecaun saw the crock he threw his arms around it and wept +in so loud a voice that his comrades swarmed up to see what had happened +to him, and they added their laughter and tears to his, to which chorus +the children subjoined their sympathetic clamour, so that a noise of +great complexity rang through all the Gort.</p> + +<p>But the Leprecauns’ surrender to this happy passion was short. Hard on +their gladness came remembrance and consternation; and then repentance, +that dismal virtue, wailed in their ears and their hearts. How could +they thank the children whose father and protector they had delivered +to the unilluminated justice of humanity? that justice which demands not +atonement but punishment; which is learned in the Book of Enmity but +not in the Book of Friendship; which calls hatred Nature, and Love a +conspiracy; whose law is an iron chain and whose mercy is debility +and chagrin; the blind fiend who would impose his own blindness; that +unfruitful loin which curses fertility; that stony heart which would +petrify the generations of man; before whom life withers away appalled +and death would shudder again to its tomb. Repentance! they wiped the +inadequate ooze from their eyes and danced joyfully for spite. They +could do no more, so they fed the children lovingly and carried them +home.</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman had baked three cakes. One of these she gave to each of +the children and one she kept herself, whereupon they set out upon their +journey to Angus Óg.</p> + +<p>It was well after midday when they started. The fresh gaiety of +the morning was gone, and a tyrannous sun, whose majesty was almost +insupportable, lorded it over the world. There was but little shade +for the travellers, and, after a time, they became hot and weary and +thirsty—that is, the children did, but the Thin Woman, by reason of her +thinness, was proof against every elemental rigour, except hunger, from +which no creature is free.</p> + +<p>She strode in the centre of the road, a very volcano of silence, +thinking twenty different thoughts at the one moment, so that the +urgency of her desire for utterance kept her terribly quiet; but against +this crust of quietude there was accumulating a mass of speech which +must at the last explode or petrify. From this congestion of thought +there arose the first deep rumblings, precursors of uproar, and another +moment would have heard the thunder of her varied malediction, but that +Brigid Beg began to cry: for, indeed, the poor child was both tired +and parched to distraction, and Seumas had no barrier against a similar +surrender, but two minutes’ worth of boyish pride. This discovery +withdrew the Thin Woman from her fiery contemplations, and in comforting +the children she forgot her own hardships.</p> + +<p>It became necessary to find water quickly: no difficult thing, for the +Thin Woman, being a Natural, was like all other creatures able to sense +the whereabouts of water, and so she at once led the children in a +slightly different direction. In a few minutes they reached a well by +the road-side, and here the children drank deeply and were comforted. +There was a wide, leafy tree growing hard by the well, and in the shade +of this tree they sat down and ate their cakes.</p> + +<p>While they rested the Thin Woman advised the children on many important +matters. She never addressed her discourse to both of them at once, +but spoke first to Seumas on one subject and then to Brigid on another +subject; for, as she said, the things which a boy must learn are not +those which are necessary to a girl. It is particularly important that a +man should understand how to circumvent women, for this and the capture +of food forms the basis of masculine wisdom, and on this subject she +spoke to Seumas. It is, however, equally urgent that a woman should be +skilled to keep a man in his proper place, and to this thesis Brigid +gave an undivided attention.</p> + +<p>She taught that a man must hate all women before he is able to love a +woman, but that he is at liberty, or rather he is under express command, +to love all men because they are of his kind. Women also should love +all other women as themselves, and they should hate all men but one man +only, and him they should seek to turn into a woman, because women, by +the order of their beings, must be either tyrants or slaves, and it is +better they should be tyrants than slaves. She explained that between +men and women there exists a state of unremitting warfare, and that +the endeavour of each sex is to bring the other to subjection; but that +women are possessed by a demon called Pity which severely handicaps +their battle and perpetually gives victory to the male, who is thus +constantly rescued on the very ridges of defeat. She said to Seumas +that his fatal day would dawn when he loved a woman, because he would +sacrifice his destiny to her caprice, and she begged him for love of her +to beware of all that twisty sex. To Brigid she revealed that a woman’s +terrible day is upon her when she knows that a man loves her, for a man +in love submits only to a woman, a partial, individual and temporary +submission, but a woman who is loved surrenders more fully to the +very god of love himself, and so she becomes a slave, and is not alone +deprived of her personal liberty, but is even infected in her mental +processes by this crafty obsession. The fates work for man, and +therefore, she averred, woman must be victorious, for those who dare to +war against the gods are already assured of victory: this being the +law of life, that only the weak shall conquer. The limit of strength +is petrifaction and immobility, but there is no limit to weakness, and +cunning or fluidity is its counsellor. For these reasons, and in order +that life might not cease, women should seek to turn their husbands into +women; then they would be tyrants and their husbands would be slaves, +and life would be renewed for a further period.</p> + +<p>As the Thin Woman proceeded with this lesson it became at last so +extremely complicated that she was brought to a stand by the knots, so +she decided to resume their journey and disentangle her argument when +the weather became cooler.</p> + +<p>They were repacking the cakes in their wallets when they observed a +stout, comely female coming towards the well. This woman, when she drew +near, saluted the Thin Woman, and her the Thin Woman saluted again, +whereupon the stranger sat down.</p> + +<p>“It’s hot weather, surely,” said she, “and I’m thinking it’s as much as +a body’s life is worth to be travelling this day and the sun the way it +is. Did you come far, now, ma’am, or is it that you are used to going +the roads and don’t mind it?”</p> + +<p>“Not far,” said the Thin Woman.</p> + +<p>“Far or near,” said the stranger, “a perch is as much as I’d like to +travel this time of the year. That’s a fine pair of children you have +with you now, ma’am.”</p> + +<p>“They are,” said the Thin Woman.</p> + +<p>“I’ve ten of them myself,” the other continued, “and I often wondered +where they came from. It’s queer to think of one woman making ten new +creatures and she not getting a penny for it, nor any thanks itself.”</p> + +<p>“It is,” said the Thin Woman.</p> + +<p>“Do you ever talk more than two words at the one time, ma’am?” said the +stranger.</p> + +<p>“I do,” said the Thin Woman.</p> + +<p>“I’d give a penny to hear you,” replied the other angrily, “for a more +bad-natured, cross-grained, cantankerous person than yourself I never +met among womankind. It’s what I said to a man only yesterday, that thin +ones are bad ones, and there isn’t any one could be thinner than you are +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“The reason you say that,” said the Thin Woman calmly, “is because you +are fat and you have to tell lies to yourself to hide your misfortune, +and let on that you like it. There is no one in the world could like to +be fat, and there I leave you, ma’am. You can poke your finger in +your own eye, but you may keep it out of mine if you please, and, so, +good-bye to you; and if I wasn’t a quiet woman I’d pull you by the hair +of the head up a hill and down a hill for two hours, and now there’s an +end of it. I’ve given you more than two words; let you take care or I’ll +give you two more that will put blisters on your body for ever. Come +along with me now, children, and if ever you see a woman like that woman +you’ll know that she eats until she can’t stand, and drinks until she +can’t sit, and sleeps until she is stupid; and if that sort of person +ever talks to you remember that two words are all that’s due to her, and +let them be short ones, for a woman like that would be a traitor and a +thief, only that she’s too lazy to be anything but a sot, God help her I +and, so, good-bye.”</p> + +<p>Thereupon the Thin Woman and the children arose, and having saluted the +stranger they went down the wide path; but the other woman stayed where +she was sitting, and she did not say a word even to herself.</p> + +<p>As she strode along the Thin Woman lapsed again to her anger, and became +so distant in her aspect that the children could get no companionship +from her; so, after a while, they ceased to consider her at all and +addressed themselves to their play. They danced before and behind +and around her. They ran and doubled, shouted and laughed and sang. +Sometimes they pretended they were husband and wife, and then they +plodded quietly side by side, making wise, occasional remarks on the +weather, or the condition of their health, or the state of the fields of +rye. Sometimes one was a horse and the other was a driver, and then +they stamped along the road with loud, fierce snortings and louder and +fiercer commands. At another moment one was a cow being driven with +great difficulty to market by a driver whose temper had given way hours +before; or they both became goats and with their heads jammed together +they pushed and squealed viciously; and these changes lapsed into one +another so easily that at no moment were they unoccupied. But as the +day wore on to evening the immense surrounding quietude began to weigh +heavily upon them. Saving for their own shrill voices there was no +sound, and this unending, wide silence at last commanded them to a +corresponding quietness. Little by little they ceased their play. The +scamper became a trot, each run was more and more curtailed in its +length, the race back became swifter than the run forth, and, shortly, +they were pacing soberly enough one on either side of the Thin Woman +sending back and forth a few quiet sentences. Soon even these sentences +trailed away into the vast surrounding stillness. Then Brigid Beg +clutched the Thin Woman’s right hand, and not long after Seumas gently +clasped her left hand, and these mute appeals for protection and comfort +again released her from the valleys of fury through which she had been +so fiercely careering.</p> + +<p>As they went gently along they saw a cow lying in a field, and, seeing +this animal, the Thin Woman stopped thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Everything,” said she, “belongs to the wayfarer,” and she crossed into +the field and milked the cow into a vessel which she had.</p> + +<p>“I wonder,” said Seumas, “who owns that cow.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” said Brigid Beg, “nobody owns her at all.”</p> + +<p>“The cow owns herself,” said the Thin Woman, “for nobody can own a thing +that is alive. I am sure she gives her milk to us with great goodwill, +for we are modest, temperate people without greed or pretension.”</p> + +<p>On being released the cow lay down again in the grass and resumed its +interrupted cud. As the evening had grown chill the Thin Woman and the +children huddled close to the warm animal. They drew pieces of cake from +their wallets, and ate these and drank happily from the vessel of milk. +Now and then the cow looked benignantly over its shoulder bidding them +a welcome to its hospitable flanks. It had a mild, motherly eye, and +it was very fond of children. The youngsters continually deserted their +meal in order to put their arms about the cow’s neck to thank and praise +her for her goodness, and to draw each other’s attention to various +excellences in its appearance.</p> + +<p>“Cow,” said Brigid Beg in an ecstasy, “I love you.”</p> + +<p>“So do I,” said Seumas. “Do you notice the kind of eyes it has?”</p> + +<p>“Why does a cow have horns?” said Brigid.</p> + +<p>So they asked the cow that question, but it only smiled and said +nothing.</p> + +<p>“If a cow talked to you,” said Brigid, “what would it say?”</p> + +<p>“Let us be cows,” replied Seumas, “and then, maybe, we will find out.”</p> + +<p>So they became cows and ate a few blades of grass, but they found that +when they were cows they did not want to say anything but “moo,” and +they decided that cows did not want to say anything more than that +either, and they became interested in the reflection that, perhaps, +nothing else was worth saying.</p> + +<p>A long, thin, yellow-coloured fly was going in that direction on a +journey, and he stopped to rest himself on the cow’s nose.</p> + +<p>“You are welcome,” said the cow.</p> + +<p>“It’s a great night for travelling,” said the fly, “but one gets tired +alone. Have you seen any of my people about?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the cow, “no one but beetles to-night, and they seldom +stop for a talk. You’ve rather a good kind of life, I suppose, flying +about and enjoying yourself.”</p> + +<p>“We all have our troubles,” said the fly in a melancholy voice, and he +commenced to clean his right wing with his leg.</p> + +<p>“Does any one ever lie against your back the way these people are lying +against mine, or do they steal your milk?”</p> + +<p>“There are too many spiders about,” said the fly.</p> + +<p>“No corner is safe from them; they squat in the grass and pounce on you. +I’ve got a twist, my eye trying to watch them. They are ugly, +voracious people without manners or neighbourliness, terrible, terrible +creatures.”</p> + +<p>“I have seen them,” said the cow, “but they never done me any harm. Move +up a little bit please, I want to lick my nose: it’s queer how itchy my +nose gets”—the fly moved up a bit. “If,” the cow continued, “you had +stayed there, and if my tongue had hit you, I don’t suppose you would +ever have recovered.”</p> + +<p>“Your tongue couldn’t have hit me,” said the by. “I move very quickly +you know.”</p> + +<p>Hereupon the cow slily whacked her tongue across her nose. She did not +see the fly move, but it was hovering safely half an inch over her nose.</p> + +<p>“You see,” said the fly.</p> + +<p>“I do,” replied the cow, and she bellowed so sudden and furious a snort +of laughter that the fly was blown far away by that gust and never came +back again.</p> + +<p>This amused the cow exceedingly, and she chuckled and sniggered to +herself for a long time. The children had listened with great interest +to the conversation, and they also laughed delightedly, and the Thin +Woman admitted that the fly had got the worse of it; but, after a while, +she said that the part of the cow’s back against which she was resting +was bonier than anything she had ever leaned upon before, and that while +thinness was a virtue no one had any right to be thin in lumps, and that +on this count the cow was not to be commended. On hearing this the cow +arose, and without another look at them it walked away into the dusky +field. The Thin Woman told the children afterwards that she was sorry +she had said anything, but she was unable to bring her self to apologise +to the cow, and so they were forced to resume their journey in order to +keep themselves warm.</p> + +<p>There was a sickle moon in the sky, a tender sword whose radiance stayed +in its own high places and did not at all illumine the heavy world +below; the glimmer of infrequent stars could also be seen with spacious, +dark solitudes between them; but on the earth the darkness gathered +in fold on fold of misty veiling, through which the trees uttered an +earnest whisper, and the grasses lifted their little voices, and the +wind crooned its thrilling, stern lament.</p> + +<p>As the travellers walked on, their eyes, flinching from the darkness, +rested joyfully on the gracious moon, but that joy lasted only for a +little time. The Thin Woman spoke to them curiously about the moon, +and, indeed, she might speak with assurance on that subject, for +her ancestors had sported in the cold beam through countless dim +generations.</p> + +<p>“It is not known,” said she, “that the fairies seldom dance for joy, +but for sadness that they have been expelled from the sweet dawn, and +therefore their midnight revels are only ceremonies to remind them +of their happy state in the morning of the world before thoughtful +curiosity and self-righteous moralities drove them from the kind face of +the sun to the dark exile of midnight. It is strange that we may not be +angry while looking on the moon. Indeed, no mere appetite or passion of +any kind dare become imperative in the presence of the Shining One; and +this, in a more limited degree, is true also of every form of beauty; +for there is something in an absolute beauty to chide away the desires +of materiality and yet to dissolve the spirit in ecstasies of fear and +sadness. Beauty has no liking for Thought, but will send terror and +sorrow on those who look upon her with intelligent eyes. We may neither +be angry nor gay in the presence of the moon, nor may we dare to think +in her bailiwick, or the Jealous One will surely afflict us. I think +that she is not benevolent but malign, and that her mildness is a cloak +for many shy infamies. I think that beauty tends to become frightful as +it becomes perfect, and that, if we could see it comprehendingly, the +extreme of beauty is a desolating hideousness, and that the name +of ultimate, absolute beauty is Madness. Therefore men should seek +loveliness rather than beauty, and so they would always have a friend +to go beside them, to understand and to comfort them, for that is the +business of loveliness: but the business of beauty—there is no person +at all knows what that is. Beauty is the extreme which has not yet swung +to and become merged in its opposite. The poets have sung of this beauty +and the philosophers have prophesied of it, thinking that the beauty +which passes all understanding is also the peace which passeth +understanding; but I think that whatever passes understanding, which +is imagination, is terrible, standing aloof from humanity and from +kindness, and that this is the sin against the Holy Ghost, the great +Artist. An isolated perfection is a symbol of terror and pride, and +it is followed only by the head of man, but the heart winces from it +aghast, cleaving to that loveliness which is modesty and righteousness. +Every extreme is bad, in order that it may swing to and fertilize its +equally horrible opposite.”</p> + +<p>Thus, speaking more to herself than to the children, the Thin Woman +beguiled the way. The moon had brightened as she spoke, and on either +side of the path, wherever there was a tree or a rise in the ground, +a black shadow was crouching tensely watchful, seeming as if it might +spring into terrible life at a bound. Of these shadows the children +became so fearful that the Thin Woman forsook the path and adventured on +the open hillside, so that in a short time the road was left behind and +around them stretched the quiet slopes in the full shining of the moon.</p> + +<p>When they had walked for a long time the children became sleepy; they +were unused to being awake in the night, and as there was no place where +they could rest, and as it was evident that they could not walk much +further, the Thin Woman grew anxious. Already Brigid had made a +tiny, whimpering sound, and Seumas had followed this with a sigh, the +slightest prolongation of which might have trailed into a sob, and when +children are overtaken by tears they do not understand how to escape +from them until they are simply bored by much weeping.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_212" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="212"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_212.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">When they topped a slight incline they saw a light shining +some distance away</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>When they topped a slight incline they saw a light shining some distance +away, and toward this the Thin Woman hurried. As they drew near she saw +it was a small fire, and around this some figures were seated. In a few +minutes she came into the circle of the firelight, and here she halted +suddenly. She would have turned and fled, but fear loosened her knees +so that they would not obey her will; also the people by the fire had +observed her, and a great voice commanded that she should draw near.</p> + +<p>The fire was made of branches of heather, and beside it three figures +sat. The Thin Woman, hiding her perturbation as well as she could, came +nigh and sat down by the fire. After a low word of greeting she gave +some of her cake to the children, drew them close to her, wrapped her +shawl about their heads and bade them sleep. Then, shrinkingly, she +looked at her hosts.</p> + +<p>They were quite naked, and each of them gazed on her with intent +earnestness. The first was so beautiful that the eye failed upon him, +flinching aside as from a great brightness. He was of mighty stature, +and yet so nobly proportioned, so exquisitely slender and graceful, that +no idea of gravity or bulk went with his height. His face was kingly +and youthful and of a terrifying serenity. The second man was of equal +height, but broad to wonderment. So broad was he that his great height +seemed diminished. The tense arm on which he leaned was knotted and +ridged with muscle, and his hand gripped deeply into the ground. His +face seemed as though it had been hammered from hard rock, a massive, +blunt face as rigid as his arm. The third man can scarcely be described. +He was neither short nor tall. He was muscled as heavily as the second +man. As he sat he looked like a colossal toad squatting with his arms +about his knees, and upon these his chin rested. He had no shape nor +swiftness, and his head was flattened down and was scarcely wider than +his neck. He had a protruding dog-like mouth that twitched occasionally, +and from his little eyes there glinted a horrible intelligence. Before +this man the soul of the Thin Woman grovelled. She felt herself crawling +to him. The last terrible abasement of which humanity is capable came +upon her: a fascination which would have drawn her to him in screaming +adoration. Hardly could she look away from him, but her arms were about +the children, and love, mightiest of the powers, stirred fiercely in her +heart.</p> + +<p>The first man spoke to her.</p> + +<p>“Woman,” said he, “for what purpose do you go abroad on this night and +on this hill?”</p> + +<p>“I travel, sir,” said the Thin Woman, “searching for the Brugh of Angus +the son of the Dagda Mór.”</p> + +<p>“We are all children of the Great Father,” said he. “Do you know who we +are?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know that,” said she.</p> + +<p>“We are the Three Absolutes, the Three Redeemers, the three +Alembics—the Most Beautiful Man, the Strongest Man and the Ugliest Man. +In the midst of every strife we go unhurt. We count the slain and the +victors and pass on laughing, and to us in the eternal order come all +the peoples of the world to be regenerated for ever. Why have you called +to us?”</p> + +<p>“I did not call to you, indeed,” said the Thin Woman; “but why do you +sit in the path so that travellers to the House of the Dagda are halted +on their journey?”</p> + +<p>“There are no paths closed to us,” he replied; “even the gods seek us, +for they grow weary in their splendid desolation—saving Him who liveth +in all things and in us; Him we serve and before His awful front we +abase ourselves. You, O Woman, who are walking in the valleys of anger, +have called to us in your heart, therefore we are waiting for you on the +side of the hill. Choose now one of us to be your mate, and do not fear +to choose, for our kingdoms are equal and our powers are equal.”</p> + +<p>“Why would I choose one of you,” replied the Thin Woman, “when I am well +married already to the best man in the world?”</p> + +<p>“Beyond us there is no best man,” said he, “for we are the best in +beauty, and the best in strength, and the best in ugliness; there is no +excellence which is not contained in us three. If you are married what +does that matter to us who are free from the pettiness of jealousy +and fear, being at one with ourselves and with every manifestation of +nature.”</p> + +<p>“If,” she replied, “you are the Absolute and are above all pettiness, +can you not be superior to me also and let me pass quietly on my road to +the Dagda!”</p> + +<p>“We are what all humanity desire,” quoth he, “and we desire all +humanity. There is nothing, small or great, disdained by our immortal +appetites. It is not lawful, even for the Absolute, to outgrow Desire, +which is the breath of God quick in his creatures and not to be bounded +or surmounted by any perfection.”</p> + +<p>During this conversation the other great figures had leaned forward +listening intently but saying nothing. The Thin Woman could feel the +children like little, terrified birds pressing closely and very quietly +to her sides.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said she, “tell me what is Beauty and what is Strength and what +is Ugliness? for, although I can see these things, I do not know what +they are.”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you that,” he replied—“Beauty is Thought and Strength is +Love and Ugliness is Generation. The home of Beauty is the head of man. +The home of Strength is the heart of man, and in the loins Ugliness +keeps his dreadful state. If you come with me you shall know all +delight. You shall live unharmed in the flame of the spirit, and nothing +that is gross shall bind your limbs or hinder your thought. You shall +move as a queen amongst all raging passions without torment or despair. +Never shall you be driven or ashamed, but always you will choose your +own paths and walk with me in freedom and contentment and beauty.”</p> + +<p>“All things,” said the Thin Woman, “must act according to the order of +their being, and so I say to Thought, if you hold me against my will +presently I will bind you against your will, for the holder of an +unwilling mate becomes the guardian and the slave of his captive.”</p> + +<p>“That is true,” said he, “and against a thing that is true I cannot +contend; therefore, you are free from me, but from my brethren you are +not free.”</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman turned to the second man.</p> + +<p>“You are Strength?” said she.</p> + +<p>“I am Strength and Love,” he boomed, “and with me there is safety and +peace; my days have honour and my nights quietness. There is no evil +thing walks near my lands, nor is any sound heard but the lowing of my +cattle, the songs of my birds and the laughter of my happy children. +Come then to me who gives protection and happiness and peace, and does +not fail or grow weary at any time.”</p> + +<p>“I will not go with you,” said the Thin Woman, “for I am a mother and my +strength cannot be increased; I am a mother and my love cannot be added +to. What have I further to desire from thee, thou great man?”</p> + +<p>“You are free of me,” said the second man, “but from my brother you are +not free.”</p> + +<p>Then to the third man the Thin Woman addressed herself in terror, for to +that hideous one something cringed within her in an ecstasy of loathing. +That repulsion which at its strongest becomes attraction gripped her. +A shiver, a plunge, and she had gone, but the hands of the children +withheld her while in woe she abased herself before him.</p> + +<p>He spoke, and his voice came clogged and painful as though it urged from +the matted pores of the earth itself.</p> + +<p>“There is none left to whom you may go but me only. Do not be afraid, +but come to me and I will give you these wild delights which have been +long forgotten. All things which are crude and riotous, all that is +gross and without limit is mine. You shall not think and suffer any +longer; but you shall feel so surely that the heat of the sun will be +happiness: the taste of food, the wind that blows upon you, the ripe +ease of your body—these things will amaze you who have forgotten them. +My great arms about you will make you furious and young again; you shall +leap on the hillside like a young goat and sing for joy as the birds +sing. Leave this crabbed humanity that is barred and chained away +from joy and come with me, to whose ancient quietude at the last both +Strength and Beauty will come like children tired in the evening, +returning to the freedom of the brutes and the birds, with bodies +sufficient for their pleasure and with no care for Thought or foolish +curiosity.”</p> + +<p>But the Thin Woman drew back from his hand, saying “It is not lawful to +turn again when the journey is commenced, but to go forward to whatever +is appointed; nor may we return to your meadows and trees and sunny +places who have once departed from them. The torments of the mind may +not be renounced for any easement of the body until the smoke that +blinds us is blown away, and the tormenting flame has fitted us for that +immortal ecstasy which is the bosom of God. Nor is it lawful that ye +great ones should beset the path of travellers, seeking to lure them +away with cunning promises. It is only at the cross-roads ye may sit +where the traveller will hesitate and be in doubt, but on the highway ye +have no power.”</p> + +<p>“You are free of me,” said the third man, “until you are ready to come +to me again, for I only of all things am steadfast and patient, and +to me all return in their seasons. There are brightnesses in my secret +places in the woods, and lamps in my gardens beneath the hills, tended +by the angels of God, and behind my face there is another face not hated +by the Bright Ones.”</p> + +<p>So the three Absolutes arose and strode mightily away; and as they went +their thunderous speech to each other boomed against the clouds and the +earth like a gusty wind, and, even when they had disappeared, that great +rumble could be heard dying gently away in the moonlit distances.</p> + +<p>The Thin Woman and the children went slowly forward on the rugged, +sloping way. Far beyond, near the distant summit of the hill there was a +light gleaming.</p> + +<p>“Yonder,” said the Thin Woman, “is the Brugh of Angus Mac an Óg, the +son of the Dagda Mór,” and toward this light she assisted the weary +children.</p> + +<p>In a little she was in the presence of the god and by him refreshed +and comforted. She told him all that had happened to her husband and +implored his assistance. This was readily accorded, for the chief +business of the gods is to give protection and assistance to such of +their people as require it; but (and this is their limitation) they +cannot give any help until it is demanded, the freewill of mankind being +the most jealously guarded and holy principle in life; therefore, the +interference of the loving gods comes only on an equally loving summons.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> + +<p>Caitilin Ni Murrachu sat alone in the Brugh of Angus much as she had sat +on the hillside and in the cave of Pan, and again she was thinking. She +was happy now. There was nothing more she could desire, for all that the +earth contained or the mind could describe was hers. Her thoughts were +no longer those shy, subterranean gropings which elude the hand and the +understanding. Each thought was a thing or a person, visible in its own +radiant personal life, and to be seen or felt, welcomed or repulsed, as +was its due. But she had discovered that happiness is not laughter or +satisfaction, and that no person can be happy for themselves alone. So +she had come to understand the terrible sadness of the gods, and why +Angus wept in secret; for often in the night she had heard him weeping, +and she knew that his tears were for those others who were unhappy, and +that he could not be comforted while there was a woeful person or +an evil deed hiding in the world. Her own happiness also had become +infected with this alien misery, until she knew that nothing was alien +to her, and that in truth all persons and all things were her brothers +and sisters and that they were living and dying in distress; and at +the last she knew that there was not any man but mankind, nor any human +being but only humanity. Never again could the gratification of a desire +give her pleasure for her sense of oneness was destroyed—she was not an +individual only; she was also part of a mighty organism ordained, through +whatever stress, to achieve its oneness, and this great being was +threefold, comprising in its mighty units God and Man and Nature—the +immortal trinity. The duty of life is the sacrifice of self: it is to +renounce the little ego that the mighty ego may be freed; and, knowing +this, she found at last that she knew Happiness, that divine discontent +which cannot rest nor be at ease until its bourne is attained and the +knowledge of a man is added to the gaiety of a child. Angus had told her +that beyond this there lay the great ecstasy which is Love and God and +the beginning and the end of all things; for everything must come from +the Liberty into the Bondage, that it may return again to the Liberty +comprehending all things and fitted for that fiery enjoyment. This +cannot be until there are no more fools living, for until the last fool +has grown wise wisdom will totter and freedom will still be invisible. +Growth is not by years but by multitudes, and until there is a common +eye no one person can see God, for the eye of all nature will scarcely +be great enough to look upon that majesty. We shall greet Happiness by +multitudes, but we can only greet Him by starry systems and a universal +love.</p> + +<p>She was so thinking when Angus Óg came to her from the fields. The god +was very radiant, smiling like the young morn when the buds awake, and +to his lips song came instead of speech.</p> + +<p>“My beloved,” said he, “we will go on a journey to-day.”</p> + +<p>“My delight is where you go,” said Caitilin.</p> + +<p>“We will go down to the world of men—from our quiet dwelling among the +hills to the noisy city and the multitude of people. This will be our +first journey, but on a time not distant we will go to them again, and +we will not return from that journey, for we will live among our people +and be at peace.”</p> + +<p>“May the day come soon,” said she.</p> + +<p>“When thy son is a man he will go before us on that journey,” said +Angus, and Caitilin shivered with a great delight, knowing that a son +would be born to her.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_222" style="max-width: 34.375em;"><a id="222"></a> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_222.jpg" alt=""> + <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center">Caitilin danced in uncontrollable gaiety</p></figcaption> +</figure> + +<p>Then Angus Óg put upon his bride glorious raiment, and they went out to +the sunlight. It was the early morning, the sun had just risen and the +dew was sparkling on the heather and the grass. There was a keen stir +in the air that stung the blood to joy, so that Caitilin danced in +uncontrollable gaiety, and Angus, with a merry voice, chanted to the sky +and danced also. About his shining head the birds were flying; for +every kiss he gave to Caitilin became a bird, the messengers of love and +wisdom, and they also burst into triumphant melody, so that the quiet +place rang with their glee. Constantly from the circling birds one would +go flying with great speed to all quarters of space. These were his +messengers flying to every fort and dún, every rath and glen and valley +of Eiré to raise the Sluaige Shee (the Fairy Host). They were birds of +love that flew, for this was a hosting of happiness, and, therefore the +Shee would not bring weapons with them.</p> + +<p>It was towards Kilmasheogue their happy steps were directed, and soon +they came to the mountain.</p> + +<p>After the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath had left the god she visited all +the fairy forts of Kilmasheogue, and directed the Shee who lived +there to be in waiting at the dawn on the summit of the mountain; +consequently, when Angus and Caitilin came up the hill, they found the +six clans coming to receive them, and with these were the people of the +younger Shee, members of the Tuatha da Danaan, tall and beautiful men +and women who had descended to the quiet underworld when the pressure +of the sons of Milith forced them with their kind enchantments and +invincible valour to the country of the gods.</p> + +<p>Of those who came were Aine Ni Eogáil of Cnoc Aine and Ivil of Craglea, +the queens of North and South Munster, and Una the queen of Ormond; +these, with their hosts, sang upon the summit of the hill welcoming +the god. There came the five guardians of Ulster, the fomentors of +combat:—Brier Mac Belgan of Dromona Breg, Redg Rotbill from the slopes +of Magh-Itar, Tinnel the son of Boclacthna of Slieve Edlicon, Grici of +Cruachán-Aigle, a goodly name, and Gulban Glas Mac Grici, whose dún is +in the Ben of Gulban. These five, matchless in combat, marched up the +hill with their tribes, shouting as they went. From north and south +they came, and from east and west, bright and happy beings, a multitude, +without fear, without distraction, so that soon the hill was gay with +their voices and their noble raiment.</p> + +<p>Among them came the people of the Lupra, the ancient Leprecauns of +the world, leaping like goats among the knees of the heroes. They were +headed by their king Udán Mac Audain and Beg Mac Beg his tanist, and, +following behind, was Glomhar O’Glomrach of the sea, the strongest man +of their people, dressed in the skin of a weasel; and there were also +the chief men of that clan, well known of old, Conan Mac Rihid, Gaerku +Mac Gairid, Mether Mac Mintan and Esirt Mac Beg, the son of Bueyen, born +in a victory. This king was that same Udán the chief of the Lupra who +had been placed under bonds to taste the porridge in the great cauldron +of Emania, into which pot he fell, and was taken captive with his wife, +and held for five weary years, until he surrendered that which he most +valued in the world, even his boots: the people of the hills laugh still +at the story, and the Leprecauns may still be mortified by it.</p> + +<p>There came Bove Derg, the Fiery, seldom seen, and his harper the son of +Trogain, whose music heals the sick and makes the sad heart merry; Rochy +Mac Elathan, Dagda Mór, the Father of Stars, and his daughter from the +Cave of Cruachán; Credh Mac Aedh of Raghery and Cas Corach son of the +great Ollav; Mananaan Mac Lir came from his wide waters shouting louder +than the wind, with his daughters Cliona and Aoife and Etain Fair-Hair; +and Coll and Cecht and Mac Greina, the Plough, the Hazel, and the Sun +came with their wives, whose names are not forgotten, even Banba and +Fodla and Eiré, names of glory. Lugh of the Long-Hand, filled with +mysterious wisdom, was not absent, whose father was sadly avenged on the +sons of Turann—these with their hosts.</p> + +<p>And one came also to whom the hosts shouted with mighty love, even the +Serene One, Dana, the Mother of the gods, steadfast for ever. Her breath +is on the morning, her smile is summer. From her hand the birds of the +air take their food. The mild ox is her friend, and the wolf trots by +her friendly side; at her voice the daisy peeps from her cave and +the nettle couches his lance. The rose arrays herself in innocence, +scattering abroad her sweetness with the dew, and the oak tree laughs +to her in the air. Thou beautiful! the lambs follow thy footsteps, they +crop thy bounty in the meadows and are not thwarted: the weary men cling +to thy bosom everlasting. Through thee all actions and the deeds of +men, through thee all voices come to us, even the Divine Promise and the +breath of the Almighty from afar laden with goodness.</p> + +<p>With wonder, with delight, the daughter of Murrachu watched the hosting +of the Shee. Sometimes her eyes were dazzled as a jewelled forehead +blazed in the sun, or a shoulder-torque of broad gold flamed like a +torch. On fair hair and dark the sun gleamed: white arms tossed and +glanced a moment and sank and reappeared. The eyes of those who did +not hesitate nor compute looked into her eyes, not appraising, not +questioning, but mild and unafraid. The voices of free people spoke in +her ears and the laughter of happy hearts, unthoughtful of sin or shame, +released from the hard bondage of selfhood. For these people, though +many, were one. Each spoke to the other as to himself, without +reservation or subterfuge. They moved freely each in his personal whim, +and they moved also with the unity of one being: for when they shouted +to the Mother of the gods they shouted with one voice, and they bowed +to her as one man bows. Through the many minds there went also one mind, +correcting, commanding, so that in a moment the interchangeable and +fluid became locked, and organic with a simultaneous understanding, a +collective action-which was freedom.</p> + +<p>While she looked the dancing ceased, and they turned their faces with +one accord down the mountain. Those in the front leaped forward, and +behind them the others went leaping in orderly progression.</p> + +<p>Then Angus Óg ran to where she stood, his bride of Beauty “Come, +my beloved,” said he, and hand in hand they raced among the others, +laughing as they ran.</p> + +<p>Here there was no green thing growing; a carpet of brown turf spread +to the edge of sight on the sloping plain and away to where another +mountain soared in the air. They came to this and descended. In the +distance, groves of trees could be seen, and, very far away, the roofs +and towers and spires of the Town of the Ford of Hurdles, and the +little roads that wandered everywhere; but on this height there was only +prickly furze growing softly in the sunlight; the bee droned his loud +song, the birds flew and sang occasionally, and the little streams grew +heavy with their falling waters. A little further and the bushes were +green and beautiful, waving their gentle leaves in the quietude, and +beyond again, wrapped in sunshine and peace, the trees looked on the +world from their calm heights, having no complaint to make of anything.</p> + +<p>In a little they reached the grass land and the dance began. Hand sought +for hand, feet moved companionably as though they loved each other; +quietly intimate they tripped without faltering, and, then, the loud +song arose—they sang to the lovers of gaiety and peace, long defrauded +“Come to us, ye who do not know where ye are—ye who live among +strangers in the house of dismay and self-righteousness. Poor, awkward +ones! How bewildered and bedevilled ye go! Amazed ye look and do not +comprehend, for your eyes are set upon a star and your feet move in the +blessed kingdoms of the Shee Innocents! in what prisons are ye flung? To +what lowliness are ye bowed? How are ye ground between the laws and the +customs? The dark people of the Fomor have ye in thrall; and upon your +minds they have fastened a band of lead, your hearts are hung with iron, +and about your loins a cincture of brass impressed, woeful! Believe it, +that the sun does shine, the flowers grow, and the birds sing pleasantly +in the trees. The free winds are everywhere, the water tumbles on the +hills, the eagle calls aloud through the solitude, and his mate comes +speedily. The bees are gathering honey in the sunlight, the midges dance +together, and the great bull bellows across the river. The crow says a +word to his brethren, and the wren snuggles her young in the hedge.... +Come to us, ye lovers of life and happiness. Hold out thy hand—a +brother shall seize it from afar. Leave the plough and the cart for a +little time: put aside the needle and the awl—Is leather thy brother, O +man?... Come away! come away! from the loom and the desk, from the shop +where the carcasses are hung, from the place where raiment is sold and +the place where it is sewn in darkness: O bad treachery! Is it for joy +you sit in the broker’s den, thou pale man? Has the attorney enchanted +thee?... Come away! for the dance has begun lightly, the wind is +sounding over the hill, the sun laughs down into the valley, and the sea +leaps upon the shingle, panting for joy, dancing, dancing, dancing for +joy....”</p> + +<p>They swept through the goat tracks and the little boreens and the +curving roads. Down to the city they went dancing and singing; among +the streets and the shops telling their sunny tale; not heeding the +malignant eyes and the cold brows as the sons of Balor looked sidewards. +And they took the Philosopher from his prison, even the Intellect of +Man they took from the hands of the doctors and lawyers, from the sly +priests, from the professors whose mouths are gorged with sawdust, and +the merchants who sell blades of grass—the awful people of the Fomor . . . +and then they returned again, dancing and singing, to the country of the +gods....</p> +</div> + + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CROCK OF GOLD ***</div> + +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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