{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_70146/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_70146","id":"gutenberg_70146","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/70146","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Category: Short Stories","Fantasy fiction","Ireland -- Fiction","Irish Americans -- Fiction","Short stories"],"text":"The Perverse Erse\n\nBy ADRIEN COBLENTZ\n\n[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from\nFantastic Universe March 1960..\nExtensive research did not uncover any evidence that\nthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]\n\n\nThe evening crowd had thinned at Moriarty's in South Bend, and only\nthe regulars were left, a small group at one end of the dark oak bar,\nchatting quietly. At that moment a short gaunt man entered, and in a\nvery thick brogue ordered a glass of Tullamore Dew. Finishing his drink\nhe sighed deeply and put a thick manila envelope on the bar. He sighed\nagain and at this Phineas O'Rourke put down his beer and remarked,\n\"Sure now, that's the most mournful sound I've heard since the day me\ngrandfather fell down the stairs with a case of the real Irish in his\narms; twelve bottles broken, it were.\"\n\nThe stranger turned toward Phineas, and his face had the haunted look\nof a man who has looked upon some incredible catastrophe testing the\nvery limits of man's sanity and barely survived. Again he sighed,\nthen lifted the envelope with his left hand and waved it vaguely in\nPhineas' direction. His voice broke as he spoke. \"I had to, I really\nhad to. After all, as head of the department of research anthropology\nat the university, I'm duty-bound to report this. But they wouldn't\naccept it; in fact, they--politely, of course--suggested I take a\nsabbatical until I got over it. I understand their position, and\nperhaps releasing this information would have a terrible effect on\nErin, but in the name of truth and science, it should be known.\"\n\nAt the mention of possible harm to the Emerald Isle, the whole group\nperked up their ears, and John Gaffney politely asked, \"Is it something\nyou could be telling us about? Sure and it's interested we'd be if it\nhas to do with Ireland.\" The rest of them nodded and added a chorus of\nayes.\n\nThe sad-looking man sighed again, looked at his empty glass and,\nnodding to the bartender, to refill it, began opening the manila\nenvelope.\n\n\"I suppose I ought to introduce myself first. I'm Paul Corscadden,\nassistant professor of anthropology. Though born in the old country,\nI was raised here in the midwest--caught between two cultures, as it\nwere.\"\n\nAt this point, the bartender, caught up in the unfolding of this tragic\nstory, commented, \"But your brogue....\"\n\n\"Yes, of course,\" interrupted the professor, \"it returned during my\nfield trip to county Mayo three months ago. But that's getting ahead\nof the story. Here....\" Reaching into the envelope, he took out a\nmanuscript, \"let me just read the article to you.\"\n\nThe bartender refilled all glasses as the group settled back, lighting\npipes, to listen in intense curiosity tinged with dread somehow\nconveyed by the utter misery in Professor Corscadden's voice.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAN EXPLANATION FOR THE LUPRACAN PHENOMENON AS DISCOVERED IN AN\nINVESTIGATION OF THE CULTURE OF EIRE.\n\n\"Long considered to be wholly mythical, the little Irish elf, commonly\nknown as the Leprechaun, has an enormous amount of folklore associated\nwith it. Such tales as....\" Here the professor interrupted and said,\n\"This is unnecessary; I'm sure you all know the background to this\nfield study; let me get to the crux of the matter.\" And turning to the\nlast pages in the manuscript, he began again.\n\n\"Perhaps the most universally known legend associated with Lupracan\nis that associated with the pot of gold each of the elves is supposed\nto possess. It has been rather universally observed among the natives\nof this island, that if one captures one of these sprites, it will\nbeg desperately to be released. If the captor does not do so, it\nwill next resort to all sorts of trickery and magic. Failing this,\nthe tightfisted individual who maintains his grasp on the little\nman will then be offered a pot of gold, ostensibly the life savings\nof this immortal creature. It is invariably at this point that,\nconditions being what they are in Ireland, the fortunate individual\nwho has contrived to trap a lugharcan ('anthropologists always delight\nin technical terms' interpolated professor Corscadden, using the\ninterruption to sip from his refilled glass and seeming to relax a\nbit as the power of the golden brew began to take effect) agrees to\nthe bargain. There are no known records of what might happen or what\nthe next efforts of the leprechaun might be were his captor to still\nrefuse. Indeed there is something a bit ominous in the absence of such\ninformation. This background material should be borne in mind as I\ndescribe an experience I had while doing research in a hamlet deep in\nthe heart of the area under investigation.\n\n\"On leaving the pub--a logical place for interviewing the local\ntownsfolk--I took what I thought to be a short-cut to my quarters,\nthrough a small wooded area. It was pleasantly shaded and dim.\nSuddenly, in the shadows there was a movement and just as it caught\nmy eye, whatever had moved froze into immobility. As I walked towards\nit to investigate, the creature flushed and ran. With some difficulty\nI pursued it, suddenly realizing it was a little old man! It was\nwith the greatest of difficulty that I was able to maintain my cool,\nscientific detachment as I realized that I was close to the possibility\nof realizing the researcher's dream, the objectivication of certain\ndata previously thought to be spurious. Just at the edge of the wood,\nthe figure stumbled and I was able to get a firm grasp on its arm. It\nspoke in a pathetic voice, pleading to be released (first in Gaelic,\nthen, recognizing my weakness in that tongue, in English), and it\nwould have had to be a cruel man indeed (or one who knew of the pot\nof gold) to have resisted such a piteous request. Notwithstanding, I\nfirmly drew him toward the meadow, intent on getting a clear picture\nof this amazing discovery. The creature's pleadings grew most intense\nat this point, and for a moment, he seemed to change into some sort\nof snake-like creature (an obvious impossibility in Ireland), but\nbefore it was able to do anything else, I had brought it out into broad\nsunlight. The explanation for his terrible need to be released into\nthe shadows and not be publicly viewed became horrendously clear. So\nshocking was my realization of this phenomenon that my hands became\nparalyzed, and I could not hold my captive. With a cry of gratified\nrelief, it fled to the shadows of the woods while I sank to the grass\nin stupefaction.\n\n\"It has been only after full consideration of the tremendous impact\nthat release of this information will have on the peoples of this\nfascinating culture, of the devastating effect it will have on their\nsympathizers in this country and others where their descendants\nhave gone, that I decided that in the interests of science and true\nknowledge the facts _must_ be known. It is therefore with terribly\nmixed emotions and deepest sympathy for those who must be hurt that I\nmake this information public: The leprechaun, for such it must have\nbeen, was, from head to toe, including his hair, a brilliant shade of\norange!\"\n\nA pall of silence hung over the room when Professor Corscadden had\nfinished speaking. With bowed head, the tragic figure slowly replaced\nthe document into the folder, then wiped at the tears on his cheek. The\ngroup, themselves moist-eyed, looked sympathetically at the professor,\nthen quickly averted their eyes to avoid staring at the unsightly\nblotch on his right hand, an orange blotch with an uncanny resemblance\nto a shamrock.","title":"The perverse Erse","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":1287}