CHAPTER IV.
HOW THE PIPER BECAME A PETRIFACTION.
Alike delighted and surprised at thus finding Mary Mahony a sharer inthe emotions which so wildly filled his own heart, Remmy Carrollreturned to Fermoy, in that particular mood which is best denoted by thetopsy-turvy description--"he did not know whether he stood upon his heador his heels." He rested until evening at a friend's, and was notunwilling to have some hours of quiet thought before he again committedhimself to commerce with the busy world. About dusk, he started with hisfriend for a farmer's, on the Rathcormac side of Corran Thierna, wherethere was to be a wedding that night, at which Remmy and his pipes wouldbe almost as indispensable as the priest and the bridegroom.
As they were passing on the mountain's base, taking the soft path on theturf, as more pleasant than the dusty highway, a little lower down,Remmy suddenly stopped.
"There's music somewhere about here," said he, listening.
"May-be it's only a singing in your head," observed Pat Minahan. I'veknown such things, 'specially if one had been taking a drop extraovernight."
"Hush!" said Remmy, "I hear it again as distinctly as ever I heard thesound of my own pipes. There 'tis again: how it sinks and swells on theevening breeze!"
Minahan paused and listened. "Sure enough, then, there is music in theair. Oh, Remmy Carroll, 'tis you and the lucky boy, for this must befairy music, and 'tis said that whoever hears it first, as you did, issurely born to good luck."
"Never mind the luck," said Remmy, with a laugh. "There's the fairy ringabove there, and I'll be bound that's the place it comes from. There'sfox-glove, you see, that makes night-caps for them; and there'sheath-bells that they have for drinking-cups; and there's sorrell thatthey have for tables, when the mushrooms aren't in; and there's thegreen grass within the ring, as smooth as your hand, and as soft asvelvet, for 'tis worn down by their little feet when they dance in theclear light of the full moon. I am sure the music came from thatfairy-ring."
"May-be it does," replied Minahan, "and may-be it doesn't. If youplease, I'd rather move on, than stand here like a pillar of salt, for'tis getting dark, and fairies aren't exactly the sort of people I'dlike to meet in a lonely place. 'Twas somewhere about here, if Iremember right, that Phil Connor, the piper, had a trial of skill withthe fairies, as to who'd play best, and they turned him into stone,pipes and all. It happened, Remmy, before your father came to theseparts,--but, surely you heard of it before now?"
"Not I," said Remmy; "and if I did, I wouldn't heed it."
"Oh, then," said his companion, with an ominous shake of the head atRemmy's incredulity, "it's all as true as that you're alive and kickingat this blessed moment. I heard my mother tell it when I was a boy, andshe had the whole of it from her aunt's cousin's son, who learned theins and outs of the story from a faymale friend of his, who had it onthe very best authority. Phil Connor was a piper, and a mighty fineplayer entirely. As he was coming home from a wedding at Rathcormac, onefine moonshiny night, who should come right forenenst him, on this verysame mountain, but a whole bundle of the fairies, singing, and skipping,and discoursing like any other Christians. So, they up and axed him, inthe civilest way they could, if he'd favor them with a planxty on hispipes. Now, letting alone that Phil was as brave as a lion, and wouldnot mind facing even an angry woman, let alone a batch ofhop-o'-my-thumb fairies, he never had the heart to say no when he wascivilly axed to do anything.
"So Phil said he'd oblige them, with all the veins of his heart. Withthat, he struck up that fine, ancient ould tune, 'The Fox-hunter'sJig.' And, to be sure and sartain, Phil was the lad that could play:--nooffence to you, Remmy, who are to the fore. The moment the fairies heardit, they all began to caper, and danced here and there, backward andforward, to and fro, just like the motes you see dancing in thesunbeams, between you and the light. At last, Phil stopped, all of asudden, and they gathered round him, the craturs, and asked him why hedid not go on? And he told them that 'twas dying with the drought hewas, and that he must have something to wet his whistle:--which same isonly fair, particularly as far as pipers is concerned.
"'To be sure,' said a knowledgeable ould fairy, that seemed king of themall, 'it's but reasonable the boy is; get a cup to comfort him, thedacent gossoon.' So they handed Phil one of the fairy's fingers full ofsomething that had a mighty pleasant smell, and they filled a hare-bellcup of the same for the king. 'Take it, me man,' said the ould fairy,'there isn't a headache in a hogshead of it. I warrant that a guager'srod has never come near it. 'Twas made in Araglyn, out of mountainbarley,--none of your taxed Parliament stuff, but real Queen's 'lixir.'Well, with that he drank to Phil, and Phil raised the little dawnymeasure to his lips, and, though it was not the size of a thimble, hedrank at laste a pint of spirits from it, and when he took it away fromhis lips, that I mightn't, if 'twasn't as full as 'twas at first.Faith, it gave Phil the boldness of a lion, that it did, and made him sothat he'd do anything. And what was it the _omadhaun_ did, but challengethe whole box and dice of the fairies to beat him at playing the pipes.Some of them, which had tender hearts, advised him not to try. But themore they tried to persuade him, the more he would not be persuaded. So,as a wilful man must have his way, the fairies' piper came forward, andtook up the challenge. Phil and he played against each other until thecock crew, when the lot all vanished into a cave, and whipped Phil awaywith them. And, because they were downright mad, at last, that Philshould play so much better than their own musicianer, they changed poorPhil, out of spite, into a stone statute, which remains in the cave tothis very day. And that's what happened to Phil Connor and the fairies."
"You've made a pretty story of it," said Remmy; "it's only a pity itisn't true."
"True!" responded Minahan, with tone and action of indignation. "Whathave you to say again it? It's as true as Romilus and Ramus, or theIrish Rogues and Rapparees, or the History of Reynard, the Fox, andReynardine, his son, or any other of the curious little books thatpeople do be reading--that is, them that _can_ read, for diversion'ssake, when they've got nothing else to do. I suppose you'll be sayingnext, that fairies themselves ain't true? That I mightn't, Remmy, but'twouldn't much surprise me in the laste, to hear you say, as PaddySheehy, the schoolmaster, says, that the earth is round, like an orange,and that people do be walking on the other side of it, with their headsdownwards, and their feet opposite to our feet!"
"And if I did say so?" inquired Remmy, who--thanks to his schooling fromthe redoubtable Tim Daly--happened to know more of the Antipodes thanhis companion.
"Faith, Remmy, if you did say so, I know one that would misbelieve you,and that's my own self. For it stands to reason, all the world to aChany orange, that if people was walking on the other side of the world,with their feet upwards and their heads down, they'd be sure to fall offbefore one could say 'Jack Robinson.'"
To such admirable reasoning as this, Remmy Carroll saw it would be quiteuseless to reply, so he allowed Minahan to rejoice in the advantage,usually claimed by a female disputant, of having "the last word."
They proceeded to the farmer's, Minahan, as they went along,volunteering a variety of particulars relative to the PetrifiedPiper--indulging, indeed, in such minuteness of detail, that it mighthave been taken for granted that he had, personally, seen and heard thematters he described.
It is to be feared that Remmy Carroll was but a so-so listener. He hadno great faith in fairies, and his mind was just then preoccupied withthoughts of his own darling Mary Mahony. At last, Minahan's conversationended, for they had reached the farmer's house, where Remmy and hispipes received the very warmest of welcomes.
You need not fear that I have any intention of inflicting a descriptionof the marriage upon you. It is enough to say that the evening was oneof thorough enjoyment--Irish enjoyment, which is akin to a sort ofmirthful madness. Perhaps Remmy was the only person who did notthoroughly enter into the _estro_ of the hour, for though successfullove may intoxicate the mind, it subdues even the highest spirits, andembarrasses while it d
elights. There is the joy at the success--thegreater if it has been unexpected--but this is a joy more concentratedthan impulsive. Its seat is deep within the heart, and there itluxuriates, but it does not breathe its secret to the world,--it keepsits treasure all to itself, at first, a thing to be thought of andexulted over privily. Love, when successful, has a compelling powerwhich subdues all other feelings. The causes which commonly move a man,have little power when this master-passion fills the breast.
In compliance with the custom at all wedding-feasts in Ireland, thecompany freely partook of the national nectar (by mortals calledwhiskey-punch), which was as plenty as tea at an ancient maiden'sevening entertainment, where sally-lun and scandal are discussedtogether, and a verdict is given, at one and the same time, uponcharacter and Souchong. Remmy, of course, imbibed a fair allowance ofthat resistless and potent mixture, the boast of which is, that "thereis not a headache in a hogshead of it." Blame him not. The apostle ofTemperance had not then commenced his charitable crusade. How couldmortal man refuse the draught, brewed as it specially had been for himby the blushing bride herself, who, taking a dainty sup out of the hornwhich did duty for a tumbler, had the tempting gallantry to leave a kissbehind--even as "rare Ben Jonson" recommends. What marvel, if, when somany around him were rapidly passing the Rubicon of the cup, Remmyshould have taken his allowance like "a man and a brother"--no, like aman and a piper,--particularly, when it is remembered that Love, as wellas Grief, is proverbially thirsty. Still, Remmy Carroll had not exceededthe limits of sobriety. He had drank, but not to excess--for his failingwas not in that wise. And even if he had partaken too freely of thecharmed cup, it is doubtful whether, with strong passion and excitedfeeling making a secret under-current in his mind on that evening, anyquantity of liquor could have sensibly affected him. There are occasionswhen the emotions of the heart are so powerful as to render it almostimpossible for a man, even if he desired it, thus to steep his senses inforgetfulness.
Remmy, therefore, was not "the worse for liquor"--although he certainlyhad not refrained from it. Minahan, on the other hand, who was quite aseasoned vessel, most buoyant in the ocean of free-drinking, and to whoma skinful of strong liquor was quite a god-send, had speedily and easilycontrived to get into that pleasant state commonly called"half-seas-over,"--that is, he was not actually tipsy, but merry andagreeable; and as he insisted on returning to Fermoy, though he wasoffered a bed in the barn, the trouble of escorting him devolved onRemmy.
They left the house together, lovingly linked arm-in-arm, for Minahanthen had a tendency to zig-zag movements. The next day, Minahan wasfound lying fast asleep, with a huge stone for his pillow, near thefootpath, at the base of Corran Thierna. It was noticed by one of thosewho discovered him, that his feet were within the fairy-ring which Remmyhad observed on the preceding evening. But of Remmy himself there was notrace. If the earth had swallowed him up, he could not have vanishedmore completely. His pipes were found on the ground, near Minahan, andthis was all that remained of one who, so often and well, had wakedtheir soul of song.
The whole district became alarmed; for, independent of regret andwonder, on account of Remmy's personal popularity, a serious thing in acountry district is the loss of its only Piper. At length, Father TomBarry, the parish priest of Fermoy, thought it only his duty to pay adomiciliary visit to Minahan, to come at the real facts of the case, andsolve what was felt to be "a most mysterious mystery."
Minahan was found in bed. Grief for the sudden loss of his friend hadpreyed so heavily upon his sensitive mind, that, ever since that fatalnight, he had been drowning sorrow--in whiskey. It was now the third daysince Remmy Carroll's disappearance; and when Father Tom entered thehouse, he found Minahan sleeping off the combined effects of afflictionand _potheen_. He was awakened as soon as could be, and his firstexclamation was, "Oh, them fairies! them thieves of fairies!" It wassome time before he could comprehend the cause of Father Tom's visit,but even when he did, his words still were, "Oh, them fairies! themthieves of fairies! they beat Bannagher, and Bannagher beats the world!"
A growl from the priest, which, from lay lips, might have been mistakenfor an execration, awoke Minahan to his senses--not that he was evertroubled with a superfluity of them. He testily declared his inabilityto tell his story, except upon conditions. "My memory," said he, "isjust like an eel-skin, your Reverence. It don't stretch or becomeproperly limber until 'tis wetted." On this hint, Father Tom sent for asupply of Tommy Walker;[5] and after summarily dispatching a noggin ofit, Minahan thus spoke:--
"'Twas Remmy and myself, your Reverence, that was meandering hometogether, when, as bad luck would have it, nothing would do me, beingpretty-well-I-thank-you at that same time, but I must make acommencement of discourse with Remmy about the fairy people: for, yourworship, I'd been telling him before, as we went to the wedding of PhilConnor, who was transmographied into a stone statute. Well and good,just as Remmy came right forenent the fairy-ring, says he, ''Faith, Iwould not object myself to have a lilt with them!' No sooner had he saidthe words, your honor, than up came the sweet music that we heard thenight before, and with that a thousand lights suddenly glanced up fromthe fairy-ring, just as if 'twas an illumination for some greatvictory. Then, the music playing all the while, myself and Remmy set ourgood-looking ears to listen, and, quick as I'd swallow this glass ofwhiskey--here's a good health to your Reverence!--a thousand dawnycreatures started up and began dancing jigs, as if there was quicksilverin their heels. There they went, hither and thither, to and fro, far andnear, coursing about in all manner of ways, and making the earth tremblebeneath 'em, with the dint of their quickness. At last, your Reverence,one of them came out of the ring, making a leg and a bow as genteel asould Lynch, the dancing-master, and said, 'Mister Carroll,' says he, 'ifyou'd please to be agreeable, 'tis we'd like to foot it to your pipes(and you should have seen the soothering wink the villain gave as hesaid the words), 'for,' says he, ''tis ourselves have often heard tellof your beautiful playing.' Then the weeny little mite of a fairy fixedhis little eyes upon Remmy, and, that I mightn't, if they did not shinein his head like two coals of red fire, or a cat's eye under a blanket!
[5] At that time, the two great whiskey-distillers in Cork were Thomas Walker and Thomas Wise,--respectively carrying on their business in the South and North suburbs of the city. Both are alluded to in Maginn's celebrated song, "Cork is the Aiden for you, love, and me." The verse runs thus:--
"Take the road to Glanmire, the road to Blackrock, or The sweet Boreemannah, to charm your eyes; If you doubt what is _Wise_, take a dram of Tom Walker, And if you're a _Walker_, top off Tommy Wise."
"'I'm no player for the likes of ye,' says Remmy, modest-like. Butthey'd take no excuse, and they all gathered around him, and what withsootherin' words, and bright looks, and little pushes, they complatelyput their _comehether_ upon him, and coaxed him to play for them, andthen, the cajoling creatures! they fixed a big stone for a sate, and hestruck up _Garryowen_, sharp and quick, like shot through a holly-bush.Then they all set to at the dancing, like the blessed Saint Vitus andhis cousins, and surely it was a beautiful sight to look at. The dawnycreatures worn't much bigger than your middle finger, and all natelydressed in green clothes; with silk stockings and pumps, andthree-cocked hats upon their heads, and powdered wigs, and silk sashesacross their breasts, and swords by their sides about the size of abroken needle. 'Faith, 'twas beautiful they footed it away, andremarkable they looked.
"Well, your honor, _he_ was playing away like mad, and they were allcapering about, male and faymale, young and old, just like the Frenchwho eat so many frogs that they do ever and always be dancing, when oneof the faymale fairies come up to Remmy's elbow, and said, in a voicethat was sweeter than any music, 'May-be, Mister Carroll, you'd be dry?'Then Remmy looked at her a moment, till the faymale fairy hung down herhead, quite modest. 'Well,' says Remmy, 'you _are_ a nice littlecreature, and no words about it!' She looked up at him, and her cheeksgot as red as a fi
eld-poppy, with delight at Remmy's praising her;--forfaymales, your Reverence, is faymales all the world over, and a littleblarney goes a great way with them, and makes them go on as smoothly asa hall-door upon well-oiled hinges. Then, she asked him again if he didnot feel dry, and Remmy said he'd been to a wedding, and wasn't dry inparticular, but he'd just like to drink a good husband to her, and soon,and many of them. So, she laughed, and blushed again, and handed him alittle morsel of a glass full of something that, I'll be bound for it,was stronger, any how, than holy water. She kissed the little glass ashe took it, and he drank away, and when he was handing her back theglass, his eyes danced in his head again, there was so much fire inthem. So, thinking that some of the same cordial would be good for myown complaint, I calls out to Remmy to leave a drop for me. But, whoop!no sooner had I said the words, than, all of a sudden, the whole tote ofthem vanished away, Remmy throwing me his pipes, by way of keepsake, ashe dashed down through the earth with the rest of them. I dare say hedid not want to be bothered with the pipes, knowing that in the place hewas going to be could use those that Phil Connor had taken down before.And that's all that I know of it."
Here Minahan, overpowered with grief and the fatigue of speaking,perpetrated a deep sigh and a deeper draught, which exhausted theremnant of the whiskey.
"But, Minahan," said Father Barry, "you certainly don't mean to pass offthis wild story for fact."
"But I _do_, your Reverence," said Minahan, rather testily. "Sure nonebut myself was to the fore, and it only stands to reason that as onepiper wasn't enough for the fairies, they seduced Remmy Carroll away,bad cess to 'em for that same. And, indeed, your worship, I dreamed thatI saw him last night, made up into a stone statute, like poor PhilConnor; and sure there's great truth in dreams, entirely."
Father Barry, of course, did not believe one word of this extraordinarystory, but his parishioners did, and therefore he eschewed the heresy ofpublicly doubting it. He contented himself with shaking his head,somewhat after the grave fashion of a Chinese Mandarin in a grocer'swindow, whenever this subject was alluded to, and this Burleighindication, as well as his silence, obtained for him an immensereputation for wisdom.
There was one of his congregation who shared, to the full, the goodpriest's disbelief of Minahan's "tough yarn" about the fairies. This wasMary Mahony, who was convinced, whatever had befallen Remmy,--and herfears anticipated even the worst,--that he had not fallen into the handsof the fairies. Indeed, she was bold enough to doubt whether there weresuch beings as fairies. These doubts, however, she kept to herself. Poorthing! silently but sadly did she miss her lover. She said not one wordto any one of what had passed between them on the memorable day of hisdisappearance. But that her cheek grew pale, and that melancholy gentlybrooded in the deep quiet of her eyes, and that her voice, always low,was now sad and soft as the mournful murmur of the widowed cushat-dove,even vigilant observation could notice little difference in her. Not aday passed without her father lamenting Remmy's absence, and when hespoke approvingly of our vanished hero, tears would slowly gather in hereyes, and her heart would swell with a sorrow all the deeper forsuppression. It was great consolation for her to find, now that he wasgone, how all lips praised the good qualities of Remmy Carroll. It ispleasant to feel that one's love is not unworthily bestowed.
Meantime, the deportation of Remmy, by the fairies, became dulyaccredited in Fermoy and its vicinity. If he had solely and whollyvanished, it might have been attributed to what Horatio calls "a truantdisposition;" but his pipes were left behind him, circumstantialevidence of Minahan's narrative. Mightily was this corroborated, a fewmonths after, when Gerald Barry, the priest's nephew, being out one day,coursing on Corran Thierna, discovered a sort of cave, the entrance towhich had been concealed by the huge rock which lay close to the magiccircle of the fairies! His terrier had run into it, after a refractoryrabbit, who would not wait to be caught, and, from the length of hisstay, it was conjectured that the cave must be of immense extent. Trueit is, that no one harbored the audacious thought of examining it; forwhat mortal _could_ be so reckless as to venture into the stronghold ofthe "good people,"--but the very fact of there being such a cavity underthe rock, dignified with the brevet-rank of a cavern, satisfied theFermoy folks that Remmy Carroll was within it, changed into a PETRIFIEDPIPER!
Some weeks later, Gerald Barry's dog again ran into the cave, andremained there until the young man, unwilling to lose a capital terrier,dug him out with his own hands; for neither love nor money could temptany one else to do such a fool-hardy exploit. He declared that themysterious cave was no cave, but only an old rabbit-burrow! All the oldwomen, in and out of petticoats, unanimously announced that it was clear("as mud in a wineglass," no doubt), that the cave _had_ been there,but that the fairies had changed the whole aspect of the place, toprevent the discovery of their petrified victims; for, argued they, ifthey could make men into marble statues, they certainly must possess theminor power of making a cave look as insignificant as a rabbit-burrrow.Logic, such as this, was sufficient to settle the mooted point, and thenit became a moral and physical certainty, in the Fermoy world, that PhilConnor and Remmy Carroll were petrified inmates of the mountain cavern!
When, some eighteen months after this, it was Gerald Barry's ill-fortuneto break his collar-bone by a fall from his horse, in a steeple-chase,there arose a general conviction, in the minds of all the Fermoybelievers in fairy-lore, that _this_ was a punishment inflicted upon himby "the good people," for his impertinent intrusion into their peculiarhaunts.