The Crock of Gold
by James Stephens
BOOK I
THE COMING OF PAN
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
BOOK II
THE PHILOSOPHER'S JOURNEY
Chapter X
Chapter XI
BOOK III
THE TWO GODS
Chapter XII
BOOK IV
THE PHILOSOPHER'S RETURN
Chapter XIII
BOOK V
THE POLICEMEN
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
BOOK VI
THE THIN WOMAN'S JOURNEY AND THE HAPPY MARCH
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
CHAPTER VII
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.
He left the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath taking
snuff under a pine tree and went into the house.
"God be with all here," said he as he entered.
"God be with yourself, Meehawl MacMurrachu," said the Philosopher.
"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."
"I can give you that," replied the Philosopher.
"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."
"It would not," said the Philosopher.
"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."
The Philosopher drew his chair closer to Meehawl.
"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."
"The person who would deny that--" said Meehawl.
"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."
"It's true enough," said Meehawl. "Have you noticed, sir, that in a litter of pups--"
"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?"
"It would take a wise head to answer that," said Meehawl.
"It would not," said the Philosopher. "Throughout
nature the female tends to polygamy."
"If," said Meehawl, "that unfortunate daughter of
mine is lying dead in a ditch--"
"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 religiohysterical compromises of the Orient."
"I give you my word, sir," said Meehawl, "that I
don't know what you are talking about at all."
"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--"
"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?"
"I did not," said the Philosopher. "Thirdly, it may--"
"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."
"What did she die of?" said the Philosopher.
"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."
"Who was this traveller?"
"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."
"Eh?" said the Philosopher.
"I looked about--" said Meehawl.
"I know," said the Philosopher. "Did you happen to look at your goats?"
"I couldn't well help doing that," said Meehawl.
"What were they doing?" said the Philosopher eagerly.
"They were pucking 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."
"This is very interesting," said the Philosopher.
"Do you tell me so?" said Meehawl.
"I do," said the Philosopher, "and for this reason--
most of the races of the world have at one time or another--"
"It's my little daughter, Caitilin, sir," said Meehawl.
"I'm attending to her," the Philosopher replied.
"I thank you kindly," returned Meehawl.
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."
"Is he one of the old gods, sir?" said Meehawl.
"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?"
"Not an idea in the world."
"Is your daughter beautiful?"
"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."
"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?"
"I am not likely to forget it, and they racking me day
and night with torments."
"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 Og."
"He'd make short work of him, I'm thinking."
"He might surely; but he may take the girl for him-
self all the same."
"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."
"Angus Og is a god," said the Philosopher severely.
"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."
"I'll find him, sure enough," replied the Philosopher.
"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.
The Philosopher lit his pipe.
"We live as long as we are let," said he, "and we get
the health we deserve. Your salutation embodies a re-
flection 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 experi-
ence either carelessly as to what must be, or with a good,
honest curiosity as to what may be."
"There's not much fun in being dead, sir," said Meehawl.
"How do you know?" said the Philosopher.
"I know well enough," replied Meehawl.
CHAPTER VIII
WHEN the children leaped into the hole at the foot of
the tree they found themselves sliding down a dark, nar-
row 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 cham-
ber 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 semi-
obscurity 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 wide-
faced, 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.
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.
"God be with all here," said he.
The Leprecaun who had brought them lifted Brigid
from the floor to which amazement still constrained her.
"Sit down on that little root, child of my heart," said
he, "and you can knit stockings for us."
"Yes, sir," said Brigid meekly.
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.
"Do you know how to turn the heel, Brigid Beg?" said
he.
"No, sir," said Brigid.
"Well, I'll show you how when you come to it."
The other six Leprecauns had ceased work and were
looking at the children. Seumas turned to them.
"God bless the work," said he politely.
One of the Leprecauns, who had a grey, puckered face
and a thin fringe of grey whisker very far under his
chin, then spoke.
"Come over here, Seumas Beg," said he, "and I'll
measure you for a pair of shoes. Put your foot up on
that root."
The boy did so, and the Leprecaun took the measure
of his foot with a wooden rule.
"Now, Brigid Beg, show me your foot," and he meas-
ured her also. "They'll be ready for you in the morn-
ing."
"Do you never do anything else but make shoes, sir?"
said Seumas.
"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 Lep-
recaun. 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."
"Will you let me see your crock of gold?" said Seu-
mas.
The Leprecaun looked at him fixedly for a moment.
"Do you like griddle bread and milk?" said he.
"I like it well," Seumas answered.
"Then you had better have some," and the Leprecaun
took a piece of griddle bread from the shelf and filled
two saucers with milk.
While the children were eating the Leprecauns asked
them many questions-
"What time do you get up in the morning?"
"Seven o'clock," replied Seumas.
"And what do you have for breakfast?"
"Stirabout and milk," he replied.
"It's good food," said the Leprecaun. "What do you
have for dinner?"
"Potatoes and milk," said Seumas.
"It's not bad at all," said the Leprecaun. "And what
do you have for supper?"
Brigid answered this time because her brother's mouth
was full.
"Bread and milk, sir," said she.
"There's nothing better," said the Leprecaun.
"And then we go to bed," continued Brigid.
"Why wouldn't you?" said the Leprecaun.
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.
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.
"There's always a bit of griddle bread or potato cake, and a noggin of
milk for a friend," said he.
"You are very kind, sir," replied Seumas, and his sister said the same
words.
As the Leprecaun walked away they stood watching him.
"Do you remember," said Seumas, "the way he hopped and waggled his leg
the last time he was here?"
"I do so," replied Brigid.
"Well, he isn't hopping or doing anything at all this time," said
Seumas.
"He's not in good humour to-night," said Brigid, "but I like him."
"So do I," said Seumas.
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 stir-about 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 bedswere 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."
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