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 shore 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 "Fanny," 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 Fanny, 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 grass."
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 God's good
angels to watch over and help us, when they can."
"Yes," said Fanny, 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
lordship 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 lordship by the heels and
swing you over just--all for half a crown, and as much more as yer
lordship 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 lordship alludes to a
mean-souled tailor, from London. He stood where yer lordship stands
for more nor an hour, beating me down from half a crown, my lawful fee,
to a shilling,--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 shilling 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 lordship's pardon, for proposing such a thing as
your kissing the stone after a tailor, shall I have the pleasure of
suspending your lordship 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, Fanny 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 class of peasants, for her dress was
coarse 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 nobody, 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 ladyship."
"Oh, little girl!" cried Fanny, 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
lordship 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 Fanny.
"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 assemble 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 nobody 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, Fanny, 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.
"Back to Cork, sure, to find the lord-lieutenant, while the feel of the
Blarney Stone is on my lips."
"But how will you get to speak to him?"
"Ah, then, I cannot tell; but the saints will help me, may be."
"I will tell you what to do," said Lord Clare. "Come to the Royal
Hotel, where he lodges, just after the Review, to-day. I know him, and
will see that orders are given to admit you, at once."
"But hadn't I better wait till his lordship has dined?" asked Norah,
"for I have heard that gentlemen are better natured after dinner."
"Ah, you are a shrewd child," said Lord Clare, laughing, "but you
forget that you have kissed the Blarney Stone, and need not fear even a
hungry lord-lieutenant. Come at the time I set."
"And keep up good courage," whispered Fanny. "You can't expect any
help from the fairies, for there are no such little folks nowadays; but
there are the angels, you know--and my papa, he is almost as good as a
fairy."
At the hour appointed for receiving his humble petitioner, the
lord-lieutenant was standing in his parlor, at the Royal Hotel, with a
group of officers in rich uniforms and ladies in full dress about him.
He was amusing some of the company who had not been with him in the
morning, by an account of the simplicity and heroism of the beautiful
Irish child he had met, when she was shown in, by a pompous
serving-man, in showy livery, who looked very much astonished and
somewhat indignant at being obliged to introduce such a humble little
body to a room full of grand people. But no one cared for his looks.
Norah was dazzled by the sight of so much splendid dress, and went
forward with timid, wavering steps to where she was told the
lord-lieutenant was standing. She stood before him, quite silent for a
moment, her eyes cast down, and a painful blush overspreading her
artless face; then, in a trembling, hesitating voice, she began--"Will
yer honor plase--no, may it plase yer lord-lieutenantship to let our
poor Phin go! Sure, with all these fine soldiers you'll never miss
him, and then"--here she stammered and broke quite down. Covering her
face with her hands, she cried out, half sorrowfully and half in
vexation, "Bad luck to the Blarney Stone! There's no good in it at
all, at all--sorra a word more will it give me to spake."
Lord Clare laughed at this--a pleasant, familiar laugh--and Norah
dropped her hands and looked up full in his face, for the first time
during the interview. In an instant, her eyes flashed joyfully through
their tears, she clapped her hands and cried,--"Blessed Saint Patrick
it is himself!" The next moment, Fanny was at her side, smiling and
whispering joyfully, "Didn't I tell you my papa was almost as good as a
fairy?"
To make a long story short, I will say that Phin McCarthy's discharge
was soon obtained, and Norah McCarthy returned to Bantry, by the public
car, loaded with presents from the generous friends her beauty and
brave devotion had made.
A short time after, as the lord-lieutenant and his party were passing
through Bantry, on their way to Killarney, their travelling car was
surrounded by the McCarthys and Nelligans, (Mary Nelligan was already
Mrs. Phin McCarthy,) all come to return their thanks.
Little Lady Frances was very happy to see her Irish friend, who looked
prettier than ever, in a neat new dress; and drawing her father's face
down to hers, she whispered,--"Oh, papa, dear! won't you take Norah
home with us, to be my little maid?" This thought had already occurred
to Lord Clare, so he proposed it at once to Mrs. McCarthy. Though
feeling greatly honored, the good woman was, at first, unwilling to
part from her darling, and Norah to go so far from her mother; but when
his lordship promised that they should often visit each other, they
gratefully consented.
So Norah went to live in Dublin Castle, as the maid and playmate of
Lady Frances. She was always most kindly cared for, received a good
education, and was treated more as a friend than as a servant by all
Lord Clare's household, for she ever retained her simple, endearing
ways, and was as good as she was beautiful.
When she had been a year or two in his family, Lord Clare one day
explained to her, as well as he could, the curious superstition of the
Blarney Stone,--assuring her that there was in reality no virtue or
power in it whatever. Norah smiled and blushed at his earnest words,
as she answered in her sweet brogue, which she had not yet been
educated out of,--"My Lady Frances told me long ago, that the fairies
were all a pretty fable, and the Blarney Stone was like any other
stone, just. I'll let the fairies go, but," (taking Fanny's hand and
kissing it,) "by your lordship's leave and hers, I will stand by the
Blarney Stone, for the good fortune it has brought me."
A Visit to the Lakes of Killarney.