Stories and Legends of Travel and History, for Children Part 9

The chief object of curiosity here is the famous "Blarney Stone," about which there is a foolish tradition that whoever kisses it shall be gifted with such shrewdness and eloquence that n.o.body will be able to resist his persuasions. From this comes the expression of "_blarney_"

for cunning and flattering talk. I did not perceive that the people in this neighborhood had any more of this peculiar gift than those of other provinces;--indeed, I should suppose that there was a Blarney stone in every town in Ireland, and that no Irishman, woman, or child had failed to kiss it.

This stone is now on the inside of the highest battlement of the great tower. It was formerly on the outside, some feet from the top, and those who wished to kiss it, were obliged to be let down by their heels--which being a rather disagreeable and dangerous process, Mr.

Jeffries had it removed to its present place. Some learned men say that this is nothing but a spurious stone, after all; and that the real magical stone is yet imbedded in the outer wall, about twenty feet from the top, and bears the name of the great MacCarty. Perhaps it is so--but I don't believe it.

In the grounds about the Castle, or "The Groves," there is many a sweet, dewy, flowery spot, where the gra.s.s, moss, and ivy, are green as green can be, and no sound is heard in the deep shade but the gurgle of water and the warble of birds. Here are some rude steps made in the rock, called "The Witches' Staircase," and a cave, in which it was said a fair Princess remained enchanted for many years. Legends say that the last Earl of Clancarty sunk all his valuable plate in the lake, where it will remain until one of the old race regains possession of the estate. Our guide told us that Lady Jeffries tried to drain the lake, but that though she made a deep opening in the bank, not a drop would run out--"for fear of exposing the plate of the rale lord!" He said, too, that enchanted cows in the MacCarty interest came often at night, and drove the Jeffries cows out of their pastures; and that no earthly cattle had any chance at all against them--for they were furious animals, with "mighty sharp horns." Of course, all this is very absurd, and not half so pretty as the legends we heard everywhere in Ireland of the fairies, or "good people." I will tell you more of these another time. Now I have only room for a little anecdote of the last Lord Clancarty, which I find set down as a great lesson to people to read their Bibles.

When this unfortunate n.o.bleman was going into exile, he told his relative, the beautiful d.u.c.h.ess of Marlborough, that he was certain he could recover his property, if he only had money enough to carry on a lawsuit for it. She did not offer to help him, but she placed in his hands a Bible, saying that he would find in it comfort and support in all his troubles. The young lord thanked her with such a pious face that one would have thought he meant to do little else than study the good book for the next six months. But the rogue never once looked into it, and when, long after, he returned to England, the d.u.c.h.ess asked him for it, and opening it before his eyes, showed him that she had placed between the leaves, bank notes enough to have recovered his estates, now hopelessly lost.

I must say that this account of Lord Clancarty's poverty, and that of his treasure hid in Blarney Lake, do not hang together very well; but, as the Bible story has the best moral, perhaps we had better hold on to that, and let the other go, with the legends of enchanted cows and princesses.

LITTLE NORAH AND THE BLARNEY STONE.

One pleasant summer morning, in 18--, a gay party of English ladies and gentlemen visited the old Castle of Blarney. They strolled along the green sh.o.r.e of the lake, wandered about the wild neglected gardens and "groves," ran up and down the Witches' Staircase, poked their heads into the princesses cave, and then ascended the great tower of the castle. This party was headed by a gentleman of middle age, tall and stately, but very kindly and pleasant in his looks. He wore a military uniform, but was addressed as "my lord." He held by the hand, that is, whenever he could catch her, a smiling rosy, dimple-cheeked little girl, whom he called "f.a.n.n.y," and the rest of the party "Lady Frances."

It was a pretty sight to see her break away from them all, and flit about the ruins and through the dark tangled alleys of the groves, like a bird on the wing. She laughingly skipped up and down the Witches'

Staircase with the rest, but she lingered longest in the haunted cave, looking about her wistfully, as though she expected to see the enchanted princess; and once her father found her peering into a dark green dell, and listening attentively, her dark eyes growing big with expectant awe.

"Why, daughter f.a.n.n.y, what have you there?" he asked. "What wonderful discovery are you making?"

"Hush, father!" she replied, with her small taper finger on her lip, "it's the fairies I'm after--the 'good people,' nurse Bridget has told me so much about. I am sure there must be some of them in this still, shady place. I've found their 'rings' in the fresh, green gra.s.s."

Lord Clare at first smiled at this simple, childish faith, then grew serious, and sitting down on a flowery bank, drew his little daughter on to his knee, and explained to her how the story of fairies was, in the beginning, only a fable of poets and romance-writers, and was now only believed in by ignorant peasants, like her Irish nurse; that, in truth, there were no such beings as the fairies in all the world. When he had finished, he was surprised to see that the child had covered her face with her hands, and that the tears were fast trickling through her fingers. "What is my little daughter weeping for?" he asked.

"For the fairies, papa; the dear, beautiful fairies. I can't believe in them any more."

"But was it not right for papa to tell you the truth, my darling, even though it gave you pain?"

"Yes, I suppose it was. But, oh, papa, somehow things don't look so beautiful as they did when I believed in the 'good people.' Then every bank of moss, or bit of green turf, I thought might be a fairy ball-room. Whenever I saw a flower, or a leaf floating on the water, I thought some fairy might be sailing on it. I was almost sure full-blown roses were the thrones of fairy queens, and buds just opening they were the little baby-fairies' cradles. Oh, it was so beautiful! and then, the kindness and goodness of the wee things, papa; that is, when you did not happen to offend them. They were always helping people out of trouble, especially poor persecuted princes and princesses, and they were such fast friends of good children--at least, so nurse and the fairy books said, and I used to believe so;--now it's all over."

"But, my daughter," said Lord Clare, "we can be better than fairies to one another, if we will; and then, remember, that we have G.o.d's good angels to watch over and help us, when they can."

"Yes," said f.a.n.n.y, brightening up a little, "that is some comfort."

It was soon after this conversation that the party ascended the old crumbly stone steps of the great tower of the castle. After enjoying the fine prospect from the summit for some time, Lord Clare inquired for the famous Blarney Stone.

Rooney, the guide, a shrewd, smooth-tongued fellow, leaned over the ruined parapet, and pointing to a stone, several feet below, replied, "There it is, yer honor, the rale meraculous ould stone. Sure if your lords.h.i.+p would so demane yourself as to kiss it, to-day, you would never have any trouble in governing Irishmen at all. You would have only to spake, and the spirit of fight and rebellion would leave them, and they would be quiet as lambs."

"Indeed! that would be a miracle; but how am I to get at the stone?"

"Oh, that is aisy done. I'll hould your lords.h.i.+p by the heels and swing you over just--all for half a crown, and as much more as yer lords.h.i.+p is plased to give."

"O yes, I remember to have heard of your original way of showing up the Blarney Stone," said Lord Clare, "but how can I be sure that you will not raise your price before raising me. It strikes me that I have heard of your once playing off that trick upon a tourist."

"Ah!" said Rooney, with a sly chuckle, "yer lords.h.i.+p alludes to a mean-souled tailor, from London. He stood where yer lords.h.i.+p stands for more nor an hour, beating me down from half a crown, my lawful fee, to a s.h.i.+lling,--and me with seven children and the wife at home down with the fever. At last, I gave in, and swung him over. He kissed the stone, and then called to me to pull him up. 'Wait a bit, my man,'

says I, 'you gave me only a s.h.i.+lling for letting you down; it's a dale harder job to pull you up. I must have half a crown for that same.'

With that, he began to swear and call me a chate, and threaten me with the police. But I only said, 'my arms is givin' out, and I can't hold on much longer, and if you won't pay me my just demand, I shall be under the necessity of dropping yer acquaintance.' Then he began to beg, for you see, he could look down and see the ugly rocks and the black water more nor a hundred feet below him. But I told him he had bothered so long, and given my arms such a strain, that I could not let him up so aisy. At last, to save his neck, he promised me the half guinea I asked, and paid it as soon as he set foot on the tower. I know it was a big price for the article, but that was his own affair.

And now, begging your lords.h.i.+p's pardon, for proposing such a thing as your kissing the stone after a tailor, shall I have the pleasure of suspending your lords.h.i.+p over the wall, this morning?"

"No, Rooney, you must excuse me. But here is your half crown, all the same," said Lord Clare, with a good-humored smile.

Just at this moment, f.a.n.n.y called the attention of the party to a little girl, about her own age, who had just ascended the tower, and was standing near them, looking about her curiously and wistfully. She was evidently one of the poorest cla.s.s of peasants, for her dress was coa.r.s.e and patched, though clean and tidy. But she was a beautiful child. She had large, dark, tender eyes, and soft curling, brown hair; her arms and hands, though much sunburnt, and her feet, which were bare, were small and gracefully formed. Her face wore now a weary and troubled look, so little befitting a child, that it touched the hearts of all that gay company. One of the gentlemen asked very kindly what it was she wanted. She courtesied, as she answered timidly, "Sure, yer honor, it's the Blarney Stone I'm after. Will you tell me, plase, where I can find it?"

"Why, child," said Lord Clare, "what do you want of the Blarney Stone?"

"Only to kiss it, yer honor. I've come all the way from Bantry, on my two feet, barring a lift now and then on a car, just to do that same--all for the sake of poor Phin."

"And who is Phin?"

"He is my brother, sir--my own brother, and he has gone and 'listed, and it's breaking my mother's heart; and sure, yer honor, if he goes away for a soldier, she will die, and it's all alone in the world I'll be." With that, her little red lips began to quiver, and the tears to fall from her soft, brown eyes.

"But what good will it do Phin, for you to kiss the Blarney Stone?"

asked one of the ladies.

"Whist!" said the child, looking about her, and speaking low, as though afraid of being overheard by some one unfriendly to Phin, "it's just a little plot of my own. I was told that the new lord-lieutenant was coming to Cork, and I knew he could let poor Phin off from being a soldier; so I said nothing to n.o.body, but came up to entrate him. You see I had often heard how this same Blarney Stone would give people an ilegant and moving discoorse; and sure I thought I'd need to kiss it, before I could stand up forninst a great lord, and say my story. That is all, yer ladys.h.i.+p."

"Oh, little girl!" cried f.a.n.n.y, joyfully, "you need not kiss the old stone for that, for my papa is--" Here the impulsive little girl caught a warning look from her father, and paused suddenly, while his lords.h.i.+p took up the conversation with the peasant child.

"What is your name?"

"Norah McCarthy, yer honor."

"Ah, quite a pretty name. Well, Norah, how came this brother of yours to enlist?"

"Och! it all came from going to Darby O'Hallagher's wake."

"What is a wake?" asked f.a.n.n.y.

"A wake, my darling young lady," said Rooney, very politely, "sure it's an entertainment that a man gives after he is dead, when his disconsolate friends all a.s.semble at his house, to discuss his virtues and drink his poteen. There is one who is called a 'keener,' usually an elderly woman, with a touch of madness, or poetry, and a wild rolling eye, who chants a 'keen,' or lamentation; in short, it's a sort of melancholy frolic, where we only drink to drown our sorrow--a good old Irish custom. Now, go on, Norah, my jewel."

"Well, may be Phin was a great mourner for Darby, for he was overtaken in drink that night, and brought shame upon himself, that had always been a dacent and a sober lad; and the next day Mary Nelligan wouldn't spake to him, and even our mother turned her face away from him; and so, with the hot shame at his heart, he went straight to the sergeant and 'listed. He was sorry soon, and Mary was sorry, and mother is just kilt with grief, for she has n.o.body to look to now."

"And to obtain your brother's discharge, you have come on this pilgrimage to Blarney Castle, my poor child?" said Lord Clare, laying his hand gently on the little girl's head.

"Yes, and will yer honor kindly point out the stone to me? for I must go back to Cork this day."

Lord Clare took her by the hand, and leading her to the parapet, pointed down to the stone, imbedded in the outside wall. "Ah," cried Norah, in a tone of dismay and grief, "how can I reach it there? and where am I to get the heart to spake up to the lord-lieutenant for poor Phin?"

Just then, an idea of testing the courage and devotion of the child occurred to Lord Clare. Unwinding from his waist a long silk, military sash, he said, "If you will let me tie this around you, under your arms, and let you down by it, you can kiss the Blarney Stone, and I will draw you up again. Are you brave enough to venture?"

As Norah looked down from what seemed to her a dreadful height, she grew dizzy and shrank back; but when she looked up into the calm, kind eyes of Lord Clare, she took courage, and said she would go. As he tied the sash firmly about her, she said,--"If yer honor finds me heavy you'll not let me fall, for sure you have a colleen (girl) of your own."

She put up a little prayer when she went over the wall, which I doubt not was lovingly listened to, by Him who blessed little children.

Safely she was lowered to the stone, and eagerly she pressed against it her soft red lips, and then called out, "I've done it, yer honor; now pull me up, if you plase."

As Lord Clare lifted her up over the parapet, f.a.n.n.y, in admiration of her courage, rushed forward, flung her arms about her and kissed her--calling her "the best and bravest girl in the world." The ladies and gentlemen of the party all made presents of money, which she received with grateful thanks, but seemed bewildered by their great kindness and in a hurry to get away.

"Where are you going?" asked one.