SNIPPET: Blarney Castle is famous as the place of tourist pilgrimage to kiss a stone on its top rampart to acquire "the gift of gab." The stone's origin is shrouded in myth. The tradition goes back to the late 16th century, when QUEEN ELIZABETH I was trying to plant loyal English settlers in Ireland to tighten her grip on the rebellious island. She demanded that the Irish clan chiefs recognize the crown (rather than the clan chiefs) as the legitimate titleholder of all lands. One of those chiefs was Cormac MacCARTHY, Lord of Blarney Castle who was supposedly loyal to the queen. He was clever enough never to disagree with the Queen; rather, he would avoid acquiescing to her demands by sending a never-ending stream of lengthy and deceptive excuses (disguised with flattery) while maintaining his native Gaelic loyalties. Frustrated, the Queen declared his verbiage nothing but "blarney." .

Jean, You write that ".....the (Blarney) stone's origin is shrouded in myth. The tradition goes back to the late 16th century......... I recently came into possession of a centuries-old piece of parchment which tells the amazing tale of how the Blarney Stone came to be. The faded and weathered writing was very difficult to interpret. It appears to be a kind of diary kept by a court scribe or medieval fly-on-the-wall. I can best paraphrase the content of the document as follows. Many centuries ago the King of Blarney (a guy called Cormac McCarthy) was going through his castle accounts and came to the conclusion that his income would no longer cover the upkeep of the castle. He was depressed by the idea of having to cut his entertainment budget by 90% simply to have the moat dredged and the drawbridge repaired. He was mulling over this when his court jester, O'Brien, came in and said "Sire, I know how to bring in some money". The King sat bolt upright on his throne and instantly decided to take some quality time with the jester. "Speak, fool" he said, his mood already lightening. "Well, Sire, we could attract Tourists to the castle and get them to pay entry". "What are Tourists, fool ?". "I saw them on my travels in the Orient, Sire. They are overweight people in Bermuda shorts and flowered shirts with fat wallets. They visit castles and pay the owners large amounts of money for postcards". "Postcards, O'Brien ? What are postcards ? We don't have any postcards to sell". "Postcards are the castle proprietor's godsend, Sire. They are little pieces of cardboard bearing a cheap picture. The tourists write on them and send them home. They cost 2 cents to make and sell for 2.50. I've already got the scribes onto it. They are designing our Castle Postcard and it will be on the way to the printers this evening. "Amazing.."..." said the King, "but hold on, how do we get these Tourists to come here ? We are way off the beaten track on an island way out in the Atlantic". "I've thought of that too, Sire" replied the jester. "We will hire wandering minstrels to go around the world and put about the story that there is a Stone in our castle which, when kissed, gives the kisser the Eternal Gift of the Gab. We'll call it The Blarney Stone. I tell you, they'll come in their droves. The B&Bs around here will be filled to capacity." King made a quick note to buy up all the local B&Bs and favour the jester in the next pay review but then he suddenly stopped and frowned, as if a snag had occurred to him. "But wait a moment, this stone doesn't exist, fool". The jester smiled, savouring the moment. "As from today, Sire, it exists. You remember that stone that Robert the Bruce gave you last time you were over at his place ? You remember how you hauled it all the way home from Scotland and were complaining about what a useless present it was and you left it at the back of the courtyard ? Well, the builders were doing up the battlements last month and they ran out of stones and they used that stone to plug one of the gaps. It looks great and, what's more, with that Robert the Bruce story behind it has a History. It's perfect ! Let me show you it.". They went out to look at the Stone. "But how can anyone kiss that stone, fool ? It's way below the parapet". "Now that, O King, is the really neat bit ! We'll lower the Tourists down to the Stone by their feet so that they kiss it upside down ! Whaddya think ? Great, huh ?". "Lower the Tourists down to the Stone by their feet so that they kiss it upside down ? What a weird idea. Why so complicated ?" "That's the killer, Sire. That's the killer. All the loose change will fall out of their pockets into that basket down there by the moat. See it ? Slays you, right ? I knew it would. Also, Sire, there is a legal spinoff to it. You see, many of these Tourists are from America, an island across the seas. Some of them, if they don't get the Gift of the Gab, may consider bringing a product liability suit against us. Such lawsuits are very popular in their country. But, Sire, who is going to go to a court and publicly explain that they paid money to an Irishman to hold them by the feet so that they could hang down a castle wall and kiss a stone and acquire a facility called The Gift of the Gab. Would anyone want that getting into the local newspaper ? Of course not ! The Blarney Stone will seal their lips for ever. The King's eyes - hitherto boggling at the possibilities - softened as he turned to O'Brien and put a fatherly arm around his shoulder. "You know, O'Brien, I've underestimated you, I've underestimated you. As a reward for your brilliant idea I'm going to give you - in perpetuity, mind you - the concession on a Cheap Trinket stand at the entrance to the Keep". And so the Blarney Stone came into being. Paddy