I am fulfilling my long-standing promise - here is the first example of the art of shanakha. My story will be about the famous Raftery, one of the renowned traveling entertainers of Connacht, who was rightfully considered the most amazing shanahi in all of Crivin, as I was able to see for myself.
[Shanahy is a traveling storyteller and musician in Ireland.]
Just, mind you, I’ll retell this story to you as my heart desires.
So...
Raftery was more than just a violinist—he was a person. The greatest man and best violinist that ever walked the earth in leather shoes. The world did not know a heart more generous than his.
ABOUT! in his violin one could hear the howling of the wind, and the breath of the sea, and the whisper of a banshee under the willows, and the complaint of a snipe on a heather swamp. It sounded the loneliness of the swamps and the beauty of the skies, the whistle of the blackbird and the song of the lark, the light tread of thousands and thousands of fairies, the tramp of their little feet in the night dance until dawn.
[Banshees are the name given to spirits in Ireland who foretell death.]
His melody, like the wind among the reeds, either fell or ran away, carrying along the listeners who always surrounded him. And the blackest soul brightened, pride gave way to meekness, and severity melted like snow in May.
People flocked from all over Ireland to hear him. Every inch of land between the four seas knew of his glory. People forgot hunger and thirst, heat and cold, being in the power of his music. The sounds of his violin reverberated in every corner of the human heart. And although he could easily have become the richest in his region, his best clothing remained a shabby jacket.
He despised money. Love! Only love is the only thing he knew and worshiped. To him she was everything in the world.
Only love - the delight of his heart - could bring him out of the grave and bring him to the wedding of Dinny McDermott and Mary.
And only love, only love, was their wealth - brave Dinny and beautiful Mary on the night they got married. They returned from the church to four empty walls: cold water and the darkness of the night outside the window - that’s all.
But what did they care about that, since they married for love? Mary refused the miser himself, McGlenachy of Hillhead, with all his cows, pastures and fishing trips. And Dinny boldly turned away from Nancy Moore of Mervach with her hundred pounds, seven calves and two chests with a dowry of pure flax, which he would have received with just a finger. But he took Mary as his wife.
And so they found themselves alone in their miserable shack on their wedding night, instead of feasting, as is usually the case. Alone - yes, yes! After all, all reasonable people were simply indignant that both missed the opportunity to get rich and improve their affairs - an opportunity sent by heaven itself - these calves and Nancy Moore's money; fishing, pastures and twenty cows of that miser to boot.
A? Missing such great offers as if it were so is nothing! And get married at breakneck speed, like some fools, without having a half-ruble to their name.
But all these smart guys couldn’t understand where they were going! - that Dinny and Mary simply fled from the temptation to succumb to general prudence and marry with gold - so they married for love. Well, and of course, all the respectable people turned away from them and left the couple in love alone, completely alone, but full of love for each other on this first night after their wedding.
But then the latch was lifted, and a hunched old man with a violin under his already blackened green jacket entered their house. He said good evening and sat down on the chair that Dinny had pulled for him closer to the fire.
“Well, I’ve come a long way,” said the violinist. - And I’m hungry! If, good people, you gave me something for dinner, I would thank you.
- Ha! Ha! Ha! - They both laughed together. — Dinner? So know, although we just got married today, we have nothing but love for dinner. Really! If we had at least something to fill our stomachs with, we would gladly and wholeheartedly give a large share to you or some other guest.
- How! - the guest exclaimed. — Did you get married only for love? And you don’t even have anything to throw in the pot?
- Certainly! - both answered. - Ha! Ha! Ha! And now we are paying for all this.
“And it’s not such a high price,” says Mary.
- Quite inexpensive! - says Dinny.
- God bless you! - said the violinist, who had been watching them from under his brows all this time. - If so, you will not lose money. - And asks: - Have you ever heard the story about Raftery?
- Raftery? Of course! Or are you laughing at us? Only the deaf or the dead have not heard of the great Raftery. Then the old violinist puts the violin and bow on his lap and says:
- Well, send a message to the neighbors so that they can come and bring wedding gifts. And not just any, but the best, they say, Raftery himself will play at the wedding.
- Raftery? - they both exclaimed when the speech returned to them.
“Well, yes, Raftery is me,” says the violinist, picking up his violin again.
So both their hearts jumped with joy, and all worldly worries disappeared like fog from the mountains.
The news, like a forest fire, spread throughout the area: Raftery himself, the great Raftery, about whom even a child in the cradle had heard, but whom rare lucky people were able to see, would play at Dinny McDermott's wedding! Everyone seemed to have lost their heads, abandoned work and, forgetting about greed, grabbed the best gifts for the newlyweds and hurried to their house.
Barney Brogan brought smoked pork belly, and Jimmy McDoy brought a leg of lamb. Eamon Og arrived, bent double under the weight of a whole sack of potatoes, and Mrs. McCollin, like a mountain, had her arms full of bed linen. The linen that Molly McArdle brought was rivaled only by the Sorcht Rua flannel. But they were not inferior to a barrel of Paddy's butter, nicknamed the Ghost, and Róisín Hilafteri's oatcakes, which could be useful for future use. Even Bakah Boog brought his gift: sugar and tea. To everyone's amazement, the famous curmudgeon Matta Mac-a-Nearn appeared, barely dragging a basket of quacking ducks and cackling geese.
Oh, it would take a huge barn to bury all the wealth that Dinny and Mary dumped that night - whole piles of goods and sundries, these wedding gifts. And Raftery thanked every man and every woman for them with a simple nod of his head. They thought to themselves: even if they were three times rich, they would still remain in unpaid debt to Raftery. They were afraid to even slurp loudly at this wedding feast - and the feast was truly a success, the best feast in the whole area, so everyone decided then - so as not to miss a word or a joke, which Raftery kept making from his place of honor at the table. His jokes pierced and stung and stung, and yet they made even those for whom he directly stepped on a favorite blister laugh.
Well, our couple, Dinny and Mary, were proud of their wedding dinner, the best, richest, most joyful the green mountains of Ireland had ever seen! Yes, they had something to be proud of. Moreover, every child of those guests who visited them that night told their children's children who graced the place of honor at the table at Dinny McDermott's wedding that night.
And when the feast was over and everything was tidied up, Raftery put his chair right on the table in the corner, sat down, threw the violin over his shoulder and ran his bow across it. Everyone who was there held their breath: they heard the howling of the wind in the violin, and the breath of the sea, the whisper of a banshee under the willows, and the complaint of a snipe on the heather swamp. The beauty of the sky and the loneliness of the swamps sounded in her, and the whistle of the blackbird, and the song of the lark, and the light tread of thousands and thousands of fairies, the tramp of their little feet in the night dance until dawn.
Like the wind among the reeds, his tune fell and then ran away, carrying with him the breathless listeners. And the darkest soul brightened, pride gave way to meekness, and severity melted like snow in May. And there was no one among them who, having at least once heard his music and fallen under its sweet spell, would not have wished to remain in their power forever.
But then the moment came to pay the violinist for his services, and then Raftery took his hat and walked around with it - no violinist had ever done this before.
And so, whoever, captivated by his game, vowed to give himself sixpence, gave a shilling, and whoever decided to give a shilling, was generous with a whole crown. And when Raftery went around to everyone in the house, the hat turned out to be full, even with a top.
And after that, every single one of them - of course, the magic spell of the music was still at work - shook Dinny's hand, kissed Mary on the lips, asked God to bless their marriage and went home. And after them, Raftery put his violin under his old, already blackened green jacket, shook hands with the dumbfounded Dinny, kissed Mary and, instructing God to take care of their happiness, set off. Both just opened their mouths, widened their eyes and could not utter a word.
And only the old man’s hat, filled to the brim with silver, which remained on the table, returned Mary’s ability to speak.
- He forgot his hat with money! - she screamed.
- Wait, I’ll call him now! said Dinny, rushing to the door.
But before he had time to find himself there, the door opened and Pat the Peddler entered the house with the words:
- God help you!
“Drop your bag, Pat,” Dinny shouts to him, “quickly bring back that old man with the violin you just met!”
- What the hell else? asks Pat.
- Yes Raftery! Raftery! You have now met the great Raftery himself! He played at our wedding and forgot his hat with money. Run after him!
“Raftery,” Pat repeats. -Are you crazy? Yes, Raftery, I helped bury his grave three weeks ago, in County Galway. Poor wanderer!
“Yes, Raftery...” he repeats to himself, sadly shaking his head, while Dinny and Mary froze, thunderstruck, in the middle of the room. - Raftery, a poor rich man who could have died a rich man, but went to the other world with three halfpence in his pocket, without a whole shirt on his shoulders. Raftery! Ugh, abyss!
Needless to say, Raftery was not only a violinist, he was a man, the best of the best! A man and a violinist. No one equal to him has ever walked the earth in leather shoes; there has never been a more generous heart in the world than his.
ABOUT! in his violin one could hear the howling of the wind, and the breath of the sea, and the whisper of a banshee under the willows, and the complaint of a snipe on the heather swamp. It sounded the loneliness of the swamps, and the beauty of the skies, and the song of the lark, and the light tread of thousands and thousands of fairies, the tramp of their little feet in the night dance until dawn.
Like the wind among the reeds, his tune fell and then ran away, carrying the listeners along with it. And the blackest soul brightened, pride faded, and the hardest heart became soft as wax.
People flocked from all over Ireland to hear his violin; his fame spread over every inch of land between the four seas. People forgot hunger and thirst, heat and cold, while his enchanting music sounded. The sounds of his violin echoed in every corner of the human heart. And although he could easily have become the richest in his region, his best clothing remained a shabby jacket.
He despised money. Only love. Love was the only thing he knew and worshiped. To him she was everything in the world. Music, Beauty and Love - these are his wealth, which he left behind when going to the grave. Yes, with three halfpence in his pocket, a torn shirt on his shoulders, he died a rich man, our Raftery...
In the old days they said:
It is worthy to praise God, but a wise man will not curse the devil.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru