When I read now of the remarkable scholars who astonish all mankind, I am saved from a feeling of awe by turning to the memory of a cherished place by the fireplace in the house of Tuathal O Slitheen in those distant times when I was a young and self-satisfied schoolmaster at Glen Quach and believed that I was a fount of wisdom, unmatched in learning from the very borders of Carn na Uin to the seashore at Banlagh and from the gorge Barnes Mor to the cliffs of Slav League - yes, this is how I remember the treasured place near the blazing hearth in the house of Tuatala and his story about the scientist Fiorgal, told, perhaps, not without intent, which I was not able to understand at the time.
Much water has passed under the bridge since the time of the scientist Fiorgal: whoever complained about toothache then forgot to think about it for a whole thousand years. In those days, the scientists of Ireland were known and honored throughout the world. Having comprehended all earthly wisdom, the famous Irish scientists were so proud of their glory that they went on trips to the east and west and challenged any of the famous sages to the most intricate argument that could be imagined.
When such an extraordinary competition in learning was announced between two great, self-satisfied learned men, the doctor abandoned his patient, although he had not yet had time to give up his soul to God, the groom abandoned his bride, and the sentry - his post, although he saw the invading army, the king - his throne, and the beggar - his bag - in a word, everyone was ready to crush himself into a cake, just to see who would put whom on both shoulder blades. Everyone simply went crazy because of these disputes, and the country began to fall into complete decline, and neither the old nor the young expected this, while there were still enough fools with whom one could argue about who of all the scientists in Ireland was the wisest.
When this fury reached its highest point - the scientists were crowned with glory, and the country was on the brink of destruction - the most learned of scientists, whose name, in addition to all his titles, was Fiorgal the Scientist, returned to his homeland from his wanderings. This man, having mastered all the knowledge that could be acquired in Ireland, then wiped out all the colleges in Europe and Asia, challenging the greatest philosophers there to debate and competition and each time emerging victorious, and besides enriching his magnificent knowledge in each new country that he visited. His name and fame thundered throughout the world, and now Fiorgal is back in Ireland, in his native Kerry.
The news of his return struck fear into all the Irish sages.
Arriving in Kerry, Fiorgal did not eat or drink until he sent a summons to the High King of Ireland in Tara to the strongest of his strong scholars, whom the king had the custom of keeping at his court in considerable numbers. This was a challenge to the last competition for the world championship, and in this dispute it was forbidden to explain in words - only with signs. Fiorgal set the day and month of his arrival in Tara. On that day it should have been decided - eternal glory to this city or eternal shame.
But I must tell you that the king of Ireland was a very sensible man and knew very well that his entourage was ready at any moment to raise the people against him and disgracefully deprive him of his crown. Therefore, when he woke up in the morning, the first thing he did was grab his head: is his crown in place...
The challenge of Fiorgal the Scientist puzzled the king like no one else in his kingdom, although he didn’t show it. The courtiers were very happy with him - everyone except the scientists, of course. The royal sages became famous throughout the world, because until that day they had never known defeat and always emerged victorious in everything. However, now they realized that they could not resist Fiorgal the Scientist, because he had completely defeated and disgraced all of Europe, and he would defeat and disgrace them even more so.
The closer the day of the great dispute, appointed by the learned Fiorgal, approached, the worse the king’s sages felt; sorrow and despondency reigned among them. And finally they came in a crowd to the king and begged him to save them and the royal court from dishonor in the eyes of the whole world in any way.
And well, the royal heart was touched, and even the stony heart would have softened at the sight of their sorrowful state. Without delay, the king immediately began to rack his brains about what to do.
And listen! From time to time, the king heard talk about a certain black-moustached man, extremely smart, named Dark Patrick. He lived among the Donegal hills, and although he never set foot in any college, and he did not even have to hold books in his hands, everyone around him knew about his clear and sober mind. He solved many amazing mysteries when he was asked to do so, but remained as modest as he was poor. He lived peacefully in a small hut, cultivated his own piece of land and wanted nothing better than the respect of his neighbors, poor people like himself.
The king sent a messenger to Donegal for Dark Patrick to come to the palace in Tara. And when Patrick arrived, the king told him everything and asked how he could help.
And Dark Patrick shook his head and said:
- I don’t know. Learning, he says, is a tricky thing. But I will try to do what I can, but I can’t guarantee that it will help.
“Okay,” said the king, submitting to fate. Dark Patrick tried to find out who was the most stupid at court: he couldn’t tell white from black. And everyone said with one voice - Johnny One-Eye, the son of an apple merchant. You couldn’t find someone more stupid than him, not only at court, but in all of Ireland, even if you searched it from end to end.
“Well,” Patrick said then, “so Johnny One-Eye should beat Fiorgal the Scientist.”
The wise men of the court rebelled: would it be, they asked the king, that His Majesty would allow some village jester, this Dark Patrick from Donegal, to bring eternal shame on His Majesty, on themselves and on the whole country?!
But Dark Patrick said:
“My lord, perhaps one of your scientists himself wants to meet Fiorgal and defeat him?” If so, your good name is not in danger, and you don’t need me at all, and therefore I wish you all the best and move back to the north.
And he looked around the crowd of sages, wanting to see which of them wanted to oppose Fiorgal. But the learned men only looked at each other, but not one dared to look the king in the eyes and say: “I will meet him!” “If so,” said the king, “since not one of you dares to speak out against Fiorgal, by what right do you prevent this good man from doing what he wants?”
What is true is true.
Finally, the great Phi-orgal himself arrived, and with him his formidable retinue of the strongest scientists in Munster. Fior-gal barely bowed to the king - he was so great and arrogant. He walked into a large hall, prepared especially for the competition - for him and his companions, who were the very flower of learning - and sat down on a throne on one side of the platform in front of an astonished crowd of onlookers, scholars and nobles, who filled the hall to capacity. He then challenged his opponent to begin the contest.
There was no face on the royal scholars, while the rest of the spectators, and there were thousands of them, could hardly restrain themselves from bursting out laughing at the sight of Johnny One-Eye in a professor's robe, as he was led into the hall, helped to climb onto the platform and sit on the throne opposite the famous Fiorgal.
Fiorgal, with a wry smile on his lips, looked at the hero who dared to oppose him. The contemptuous look that Johnny One-Eye gave him in response delighted the entire room and instilled joy in the royal heart.
When the king saw that everything was ready, he rang the bell. This meant: the opponents could begin the competition - the most glorious of all that Ireland had known!
Fiorgal the Scientist began. He raised one finger in front of his opponent, and at the same moment Johnny showed him two fingers, to which Fiorgal raised three fingers. Then the royal hero shook his fist at him. Fiorgal took out a dark red cherry and ate it, Johnny One-Eye responded by eating a green gooseberry.
The spectators, in frantic excitement, immediately decided: no matter what all this meant, the matter was turning against Johnny, since he even darkened his face with anger.
Fiorgal quickly took an apple out of his pocket and picked it up. Then Johnny picked up half a loaf of bread, which he pulled out from his bosom. He was simply furious - everyone saw it - while Fiorgal remained calm, like a trout in a lake.
Fiorgal brought the apple to his mouth and took a bite. At the same moment, Johnny stood up with bread in his hand and threw it right at Fiorgala's head, so much so that he even knocked him off his feet!
Then the royal scholars jumped up from their seats with the intention of driving Johnny One-Eye away and quartering him, but before they had time to open their mouths, Fiorgal the Scholar, who had jumped up from his seat before them, crossed the platform, grabbed Johnny’s hand in his own and shook it. And then he turned to the numb spectators and said:
- Gentlemen! Of my own free will and loudly, I admit that for the first time in many years of my glorious life, Fiorgal the Scholar has been defeated! Everyone was struck like thunder:
“I traveled all over the world,” continued Fiorgal, “visited many famous colleges, entered into disputes with the greatest scientists of the world, but I was destined to come to Tara to the scientists of the High King to meet the wisest and most amazing scientist, who, thanks to his all-comprehending wisdom, surpassed me in everything and beat me in this dispute. But I am not defeated,” he said, “I am proud that fate brought me defeat from a unique genius!”
Then the king stood up and said:
– Be so kind as to explain to the gentlemen gathered here what happened between your learned lordship and my learned hero.
“I’ll explain now,” said Fiorgal. “I started by raising one finger, and that meant: there is one God.” To which this most learned man rightly noted, raising two fingers, that, besides God the Father, we remember two more: the son and the holy spirit. Then, thinking that I had caught it cleverly, I raised three fingers, which was supposed to mean: “Don’t you have three gods?” But your great scientist showed up here too: he immediately clenched his fist, answering that God is one in three persons.
I ate a ripe cherry, saying that life is sweet, but the great sage replied, swallowing a green gooseberry, that life is not sweet at all, but it is all the better that it is sour. I took out an apple, saying that, as the Bible teaches us, the first gift of nature to man was fruit. But the learned man corrected me by showing me the bread and declaring that man had to get it by the sweat of his brow.
Then, calling upon all my intelligence, knowledge and inspiration, I took a bite of the apple to say: “Here you are. Explain if you can.” But here - just think! - this noble and unique genius throws his bread at me and, without allowing me to come to my senses, knocks me off my feet. And this, as you yourself understand, reminds us that it was the apple that caused the fall of Man. I'm defeated! Eternal shame and dishonor to me. I only ask for one thing - let me go in peace and consign me to eternal oblivion.
This is how the Scientist answered King Fiorgal.
And so, with shame and disgrace, Fiorgal the Scholar and his retinue left the royal castle with their tails between their legs. And around Johnny One-Eye, who listened to Fiorgal’s speech with his mouth open, all the great doctors and scientists of the king gathered. They lifted him onto their shoulders and made a complete circle with him three times around the courtyard of the royal castle. Then they lowered him to the ground and forced the king to hang Johnny with his own hands with all the badges, medals and scientific orders that were available in the kingdom, so that the poor fellow’s back even bent from the heavy burden.
“And now,” said the king, rising from the throne, “I will remind you that there is one more person whom we forget, but whom it is a sin for us not to remember and not to honor.” I'm talking about Dark Patrick from Donegal. Let him respond and come forward!
From the far corner of the room, from under the choir, a black-mustachioed man rose and bowed to the king.
“Dark Patrick,” the king turned to the black-haired man from Donegal, “I would like to leave you at my court.” I will give you any salary you name, and all your work will always be at my fingertips, so that I can get advice from you at any time. So name your salary and, whatever it is, it is yours!
“Your Grace,” answered Dark Patrick, “accept from the bottom of my heart my deepest gratitude for your condescension and kindness towards me, the unworthy.” But forgive me if, before answering your proposal, I venture to exercise the right of every Irishman to ask one question.
“Speak,” said the king.
And Dark Patrick turned to the completely taken aback Johnny One-Eye, who was hunched over under the weight of his medals, and, pointing at him, said:
– My question will be to this learned man sitting on the platform. “To all those present,” he turned to Johnny, “Fiorgal the Scientist has graciously communicated here his interpretation of the silent dispute that took place between you and in which you, with the help of your genius, beat the world’s first scientist. Could you do the honor of everyone present and tell us what you yourself think about this?
- Why don’t I tell you, I’ll tell you! – answered Johnny, that is, excuse me, a learned man. - There is nothing simpler. This same pareno that you set against me, and I have never met a more shameless slacker in my life, fortunately. So, first he needed to touch my personality: he lifted his finger up to tease me that I was one-eyed. Well, I got mad and showed him two fingers, saying that my one eye is worth your two. But he mocks more and more and shows three fingers, so that you also want to amuse yourself: here, they say, in front of you are three eyes for two. I showed him my fist so that he would know what awaits him if he doesn’t calm down. But then he ate a cherry and spat out the pit, saying that he didn’t care about me. And I ate a green gooseberry, - they say, and I don’t give a damn about you with all your giblets. When the wretch took out an apple to remind me that I was only the son of a small apple merchant, I pulled out the twopenny loaf that I was carrying home for dinner just about the time I was captured and dragged here. Yes, so I pulled out the bread - I couldn’t find anything heavier at hand - so that he would know that if he didn’t come to his senses, I would smash his head. But the sneer brought the end to himself: he lifted the apple to his mouth and took a bite from it, saying that when you were a young man, you often stole apples from your poor lame old mother and ran away with them to eat them on the sly. This was the last straw! I threw a loaf of bread at this evil spirit right between the eyes and knocked him down. Here’s a great victory for you,” Johnny finished.
- Greatest victory! – repeated Dark Patrick. “And I,” he turned to Johnny, “congratulate you, your academic degree, and all the learned men present here, on such an amazing victory!”
“Indeed, a huge victory,” said the king, taking a pinch of tobacco. “And I order you, learned gentlemen,” he continued, “to take your learned head to the most magnificent chambers of our glorious castle and henceforth to show him all possible honor and respect.” Well, what will happen to you, Dark Patrick? - asked the king.
“That’s exactly what I was going to say now,” answered Dark Patrick. “Unfortunately, I have to refuse your gracious offer, Your Majesty.” It is not fitting for such a dark and poor mountaineer as I to remain at your court, where such great learned men as I have had the honor to observe reside. Learning, as I have already dared to note, is a tricky thing! I thank you with all my heart and humbly, Your Majesty,” he bowed low to the king, “and I wish you good health!” And now it’s time for me to hit the road to a small hut in the middle of the Donegal marshes.
His Majesty tried this way and that to restrain Dark Patrick, but to no avail. Patrick tied his bundle to the stick with which he always traveled, and anyone who decided to look after him would have seen how this little man walked alone but cheerfully along the road to the north.
In the old days they said:
A house without a child, dog or cat is a house without love and joy.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru