The book begins with the tale of two Philosophers who are ‘wiser than
anything in the world except the Salmon who lies in the pool of Glyn Cagny into
which the nuts of knowledge fall’. These
Philosophers live in the depths of a pine wood and are uncomfortably married to
The Grey Woman of Dun Gortin and the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath (both women of
the Sidhe), by whom they have two children: one boy, Seumas, and one girl,
Brigid. The Philosophers answer all
the questions of anyone who passes by, until one day, one of them decides to
die - on the grounds that he now knows everything and ‘it is all bosh’.
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 movement
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 he was quite slow. In two
more minutes he grew visible 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.
This should give you an idea of the sort of book it is. The Grey Woman laments her husband: '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?'
Which also gives
an idea of the sort of book it is… The Grey Woman follows her husband’s example
and spins herself to death, after which the Thin Woman ‘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.’
Next day, a neighbour, Meehawl MacMurrachu, comes to ask the remaining Philosopher about the whereabouts of a missing washboard, and –
after a surreal conversation on the subject of washing in general (‘Cats are a
philosophic and thoughtful race, but they do not admit the efficacy of water or
soap… 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’) – is advised to look for it in the hole belonging to the
Leprechauns of Gort na Cloca Mora.
Meehawn does so, and finds not a washboard, but a crock of gold. “‘There’s a power of washboards in that,’
said he.” And he takes it.
Which deeply annoys the Leprechauns, who therefore steal
away the children. (‘A community of Leprechauns without a crock of gold is a
blighted and merriless community.’) And in the meantime, Meehawl’s beautiful
daughter Caitlin runs away with the god Pan…and the Philosopher sets out on a
journey to find the god Angus Mac an Óg who may be able to persuade her home –
and the Leprechauns lay ‘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… was that these bodies had been
murdered by the Philosopher for reasons very discreditable to him’ – and the
Police therefore set out after him, to the general terror– and it’s all utterly
wonderful.
If you can read this book aloud in an Irish accent, do so:
if not, at least try to imagine one. It’s a bit like an Irish ‘Wind in the
Willows’ for grown-ups – that's if you like ‘The Piper at the Gates of Dawn’ (as I
do) as well as the comic tricks of Toad. There’s wisdom and laughter and
pathos and joy, and Stephens doesn’t at all mind going over the top, and all in
all you won’t find any other book quite like it. One last quote: a man who’s
been sacked and lost everything, describes himself watching a young couple out in the rain:
There was a big puddle of water close to the kerb, and the
girl, stepping daintily, 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. They were bidding each other goodbye. 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 around 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 over 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.
When she came into the house, I bolted my door and I gave no answer to her knock.
Picture credits: James Mackenzie, from the 1928 Macmillan edition, which can be viewed and read online here: http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/s/stephens/james/crock/
