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Margaret Hill McCarter - "A Master's Degree"

Charles Dickens - "The Lamplighter"

John Clark Ridpath - "James Otis The Pre Revolutionist "

George W. Sands - "Mazelli, and Other Poems"

The Crock of Gold

J >> James Stephens >> The Crock of Gold




The fire was made of branches of heather, and beside
it three figures sat. The Thin Woman, hiding her per-
turbation 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.

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 won-
derment. 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 pro-
truding 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 abase-
ment of which humanity is capable came upon her: a
fascination which would have drawn her to him in scream-
ing 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.

The first man spoke to her.

"Woman," said he, "for what purpose do you go
abroad on this night and on this hill?"

"I travel, sir," said the Thin Woman, "searching for
the Brugh of Angus the son of the Dagda Mor."

"We are all children of the Great Father," said he.
"Do you know who we are?"

"I do not know that," said she.

"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?"

"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?"

"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, there-
fore 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."

"Why would I choose one of you," replied the Thin
Woman, "when I am well married already to the best
man in the world?"

"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 mani-
festation of nature."

"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!"

"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."

During this conversation the other great figures had
leaned forward listening intently but saying nothing.
The Thin Woman could feel the children like little, terri-
fied birds pressing closely and very quietly to her sides.

"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."

"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 al-
ways you will choose your own paths and walk with me
in freedom and contentment and beauty."

"All things," said the Thin Woman, "must act ac-
cording 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."

"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."

The Thin Woman turned to the second man.

"You are Strength?" said she.

"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 chil-
dren. Come then to me who gives protection and happi-
ness and peace, and does not fail or grow weary at any
time."

"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?"

"You are free of me," said the second man, "but from
my brother you are not free."

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 repul-
sion 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.

He spoke, and his voice came clogged and painful as
though it urged from the matted pores of the earth it-
self.

"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."

But the Thin Woman drew back from his hand, say-
ing-

"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 tor-
ments of the mind may not be renounced for any ease-
ment of the body until the smoke that blinds us is blown
away, and the tormenting flame has fitted us for that im-
mortal ecstasy which is the bosom of God. Nor is it
lawful that ye great ones should beset the path of travel-
lers, 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."

"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."

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.

The Thin Woman and the children went slowly for-
ward on the rugged, sloping way. Far beyond, near the
distant summit of the hill there was a light gleaming.

"Yonder," said the Thin Woman, "is the Brugh of
Angus Mac an Og, the son of the Dagda Mor," and
toward this light she assisted the weary children.

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 free-
will 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.

CHAPTER XVIII

CAITILIN NI MURRACHU sat alone in the Brugh of An-
gus 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 m-
dividual 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 Happi-
ness, 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 enjoy-
ment. This cannot be until there are no more fools liv-
ing, 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.

She was so thinking when Angus Og 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.

"My beloved," said he, "we will go on a journey to-
day."

"My delight is where you go," said Caitilin.

"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."

"May the day come soon," said she.

"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.

Then Angus Og 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 spark-
ling 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 mes-
sengers flying to every fort and dun, every rath and glen
and valley of Eire 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.

It was towards Kilmasheogue their happy steps were
directed, and soon they came to the mountain.

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 de-
scended to the quiet underworld when the pressure of the
sons of Milith forced them with their kind enchantments
and invincible velour to the country of the gods.

Of those who came were Aine Ni Eogail 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, Tin-
nel the son of Boclacthna of Slieve Edlicon, Grici of
Cruachan-Aigle, a goodly name, and Gulban Glas Mac
Grici, whose dun 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 multi-
tude, without fear, without distraction, so that soon the
hill was gay with their voices and their noble raiment.

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
Udan Mac Audain and Beg Mac Beg his tanist, and, fol-
lowing 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
Udan 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.

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; Eochy Mac Elathan,
Dagda Mor, the Father of Stars, and his daughter from
the Cave of Cruachan; 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
Eire, 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.

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 morn-
ing, 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 ever-
lasting. 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.

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 self-
hood. 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.

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.

Then Angus Og 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.

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 dis-
tance, 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 every-
where; 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.

In a little they reached the grass land and the dance
began. Hand sought for hand, feet moved companion-
ably 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 be-
wildered 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 lowli-
ness 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! Be-
lieve 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 en-
chanted thee? . . . Come away! for the dance has be-
gun 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. . . ."

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 side-
wards. 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 peo-
ple of the Fomor . . . and then they returned again,
dancing and singing, to the country of the gods....

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