Making an old story new

Valerie Coghlan

Ireland has a tradition of storytelling, much of it lying firmly within the oral and bardic traditions. When native stories were recorded they were given little recognition in any ‘official’ sense, during the years of colonization of Ireland. It wasn’t until the late 19^th century, during what was known as the ‘Irish Revival’ or ‘Renaissance’, that much of Irish traditional culture, literature and crafts began to be valued. Collections of the ‘old stories’ were made during this time. The collections of Eoghan O’Curry, Lady Augusta Gregory, P.W. Joyce, T.W. Rolleston are some of the most significant, and it is to a largely on their recensions that more recent publications are based.

In the years following Irish independence (1922), it was mainly though school text books that familiarity with many of these stories was maintained. There was little publishing, especially for children, in Ireland until the last quarter of the 20^th century, when rising prosperity and improved standards in education created a demand for books by Irish writers.

One of the best known stories is ‘The Children of Lir’, one of ‘the Three Sorrows of Irish Storytelling’. It is a tragic and powerful story, and one which seems to pervade the popular imagination in Ireland, exemplified by the way in which it turns up in most of the illustrated collections of Irish tales published both in Ireland and elsewhere in the past decade.

The story of the four children of King Lir takes place at the time of the Tuatha de Dannan, the people of the god Danu, who were some of the earliest inhabitants of Ireland. Lir's beloved wife died, leaving him to bring up four children, one girl, Fionnula, and three boys: Aed, Conn and Fiacra. To provide a mother for his children Lir married again - a beautiful woman called Aoife. All went well for sometime, but Aoife becoming jealous of the time that Lir spent with his children brought them to the shore of Lake Derravarragh in County Westmeath. There she changed them into four swans. Under the terms of the spell they must spend three hundred years on Derryvaragh, three hundred years on the tempestuous Sea of Moyle between Ireland and Scotland, and three hundred years off the Errislannan Penninsual on the west coast of Ireland, near the island of Inish Glora. After this, they were to regain human form when they hear the sound of a bell, signifying the passing of the old order to the new. Taking some little pity on them, Aoife allowed the swan children to retain human speech and gives them the gift of beautiful singing voices.

When Aoife returned to Lir’s fort without the children the king was enraged and turned her into a demon of the air. He then removed, with his entourage, to the shores of the lake where he gained comfort from talking to the children and where his court listened to their singing. Eventually Lir died, and the time came for the swan children to fly to the Sea of Moyle. Here they endured 300 years of great hardship on a cold and cruel sea. It is from here that a famous image comes: Fionnula (who in most retellings is the spokeswoman for the four) sheltered her brothers - one under each wing and one under her breast feathers. At last the time came for them to fly to Erris for the final part of their enchantment. Again, in many retellings a scene is described where they fly over what was their father’s fort to see that everything is now covered with nettles and thistles, prefiguring it seems the old passing and the coming of the new. For, on the island of Inis Glora, they heard a bell, fulfilling the final part of Aoife’s curse. The bell is rung by a man, variously described as a monk, a saint, a hermit, and in some versions is named as Saint Kemoc or Saint Mochamhog. He befriended the swans, and again depending on which retelling you read, blessed them or baptized them, and put silver chains around their necks. Eventually the children became old and were metamorphosed into human shape again, upon which they died, and sometimes it is at this moment that they receive the Christian rites. The hermit/saint buried them, in a scene frequently described or visualized, with Fionnula again sheltering her brothers upon each side of her and at her breast.

This is the bones of the tale; there are various embellishments in some of the retellings, and 'The Children of Lir' is similar to tales from many other countries. The Christian stamp is very obvious on what may indeed be a very old story from pre-Christian times in Ireland.

Although its origins are very unclear, the story is, in fact, placed within the oldest of the four ‘cycles’ of Irish storytelling, the Mythological cycle. This contains a series of tales concerning the battles between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the demonic Formorians. There is no written version of the story until the 14^th or 15^th century, and nor is there any written mention of such a story. Dáthí Ó hÓgain suggests that the story may have its origins in a migratory legend, ‘The Knight of the Swan’, from either Britain or France. There are indeed swan stories from a number of different cultures, some of which have similarities with ‘The Children of Lir’. Other commentators have suggested that the story, or one similar to it, was handed down orally long before it was ever written, and that it was Christianised with the introduction of the holy man with the bell and the baptism of the children. T.W Rolleston recounts the befriending of the swans by a young farmer, Evric, on the Errislannan Peninsula, and tells us that it was from Evric that the story was handed down. Whatever its origins it is now one of the best known of Irish myths, and has captured the imagination of a wide public. Jewellery based on the four swans is available, they have been featured on postage stamps, there is an advertisement for mineral water showing on Irish television at present based around the story of the four swan children, hand-made chocolates carrying the name ‘Lir’ are on sale, composer Patrick Cassidy has written a ‘Children of Lir’ suite - the list is long.

‘The Children of Lir’ is included in almost all of the recent collections of Irish myths for children, although a number of its elements suggest that it is not entirely suitable for children - this, of course, can be said about collections of myths from most cultures. Certainly, there is a tragic aspect which makes this story well-deserving of its inclusion as one of ‘The Three Sorrows of Irish Storytelling’. Like many other stories from Irish mythology its ‘Christian’ ending points up the tension between the old order and the new, between the old pagan beliefs and the newer Christian God. Also, its Christian ending to some extent mitigates the tragedy: Lir and his children are reunited in death. It was these features which made it a popular choice for inclusion in school text books. It had a particular resonance in the newly independent, nationalistic, strongly Roman Catholic Ireland of the early and mid-twentieth century, echoing the ‘romantic nationalist’ element of the Irish Literary Revival of the late nineteenth century when the words of the Irish composer Thomas Moore were sung in the polite drawing rooms of London:

                                    Break not, ye breezes your chain of repose,

While murmuring mournfully, Lir’s lonely daughter

Tells to the night-star her tale of woes.

Sadly, O Moyle to the winter-wave weeping,

Fate bids me languish long ages away;

Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping,

Still doth the pure light her dawning delay!

There are sentiments here which, at the time, it would not have been possible to express in a more political idiom in an English setting!

While publishing for children in Ireland in recent times has been variously described as ‘flowering’ and ‘blossoming’, picture book publishing still lags behind. There are several reasons for this. The first is economic. Picture books are expensive to produce. Those that have been published are mostly in co-editions, and have either been bought in from abroad or have been originated in Ireland but published in conjunction with British and American publishers. The picture books published in Ireland are either set in an indeterminate place, or else have a setting in ancient Ireland. Again, the reason for the interest in the past is to a considerable extent based on economics. Collections of legends are sure of an educational market. They are part of the school curriculum, and have a ready market in teachers, librarian and parents. There is also a nostalgic element in producing such books, and certainly they are in the main traditional in their visual imagery. Perhaps too, these books may be considered ‘safe’ by publishers, in particular Irish publishers. Until recently there was little examination of the lives of Irish children in their literature, and even still there are no picture books published in Ireland which in any way reflect the lives of Irish children.

All except one of the illustrated versions of this story published within the past eight years considered here are in collections. Again, with the exception of one, they tend to stick to a fairly simple retelling of the story. What is considered here is how six artists have chosen to depict this story.

But before looking at these books, we might consider illustrations from two books published in the early twentieth century, when Irish myths and legends were undergoing serious scrutiny and were also reaching a wider audience. Neither of these books was for children. But both were influential texts, and are cited as the source for recent retellings, and in Finbarr O'Connor's image of Fionnula, Lir's daughter, as she is transformed into a swan, we see echoes of the clothes worn by Lir's courtiers in Rolleston's book.

T.W. Rolleston’s Myths and Legends of the Celtic Race was published in London, by Harrap, in 1911. It is illustrated by Stephen Reid, a Scottish artist. Here we see what are described as ‘the Danann folk’, Lir’s court, listening to the music of the swans on Lake Derravarragh. The influence of the Arts and Crafts movement can be seen in the costumes of the courtiers. A number of prominent figures in the Irish Revival were also involved with William Morris and with a renewed interest in design. Lily and Lolly Yeats, sisters of W.B. Yeats, both worked with William Morris before setting up their own Celtic design companies.

The second illustration is from Charles Squire’s Celtic Myth and Legend published in London by Gresham in 1912. Here we see Lir confronting the swans. This is from a painting by J.H.F. Bacon, who incidentally also in 1912 painted the coronation portrait of King George V and Queen Mary. It is more 'traditional' in its interpretation, but shows the focus to be on Lir, evident in many of the illustrations of this story.

The O’Brien Book of Irish Fairy Tales and Legends , text by Una Leavy and illustrated by Susan Field, who is an English illustrator was co-published by the O’Brien Press in Dublin and Orchard Books in the UK. The Irish publishers have had a considerable input into the illustrations, as Field’s originals were far more Anglo-Norman in setting and costume. The final result is very ‘Celtic’ in its tone. For example, where we observe Lir on the shores of the lake, cradling the children, their necks curving into a Celtic knot, and Celtic motifs decorate the pages.

Next, we have Favourite Irish Fairy Tales, text by Sionbhe Lally and illustrated by Finbarr O’Connor. This was published in Dublin by Poolbeg Press. It is the simplest of the retellings, and in fact the swan children do not die at the end but continued to live with the ‘holy man’ … ‘glad that their years of sorrow were ended’. O’Connor’s style is elaborate, and at times dramatic. While it owes something to the influences of the Irish Revival it is interpreted in a late 20^th century style. And indeed Fionnula is rather more than a child in illustrations of her before her transformation. In fact, O'Connor's images of Aoife and Fionnula hint at sexual jealousy on the part of Aoife. This poses an interesting tension between a very 'innocent' and child-friendly text and illustrations which are far darker, and contain much more adult emotions.

Thirdly, let’s look at Tales from Old Ireland by Malachy Doyle and illustrated by Niamh Sharkey, published in the UK by Barefoot. Of the versions considered here, it is the one which achieves the most sympathetic balance between author and illustrator. Sharkey is a young Irish artist, who is rapidly making a name for herself with her very distinctive oil on gesso highly stylised illustrations. Doyle’s narrative style is that of an oral storyteller, and his words are well-caught by Sharkey. Characteristically, her palette is muted and tonal. And even in a tragic story she conveys humour and exuberance.

The most recent collection was published this year by Oxford University Press in the UK. The retelling is by Ita Daly, an Irish author. The illustrations are by Bee Willey, who, like Niamh Sharkey, invests her characters with a certain amount of sprightly humour and an underlying sense of mischief.

The Names Upon the Harp, text by Marie Heaney and illustrated by P.J. Lynch is for an older audience, and I suspect that the publishers, Faber and Faber, have their eyes on an adult American audience with this. It is the most detailed of the versions of the story discussed here. Lynch’s watercolours demonstrate a distinct Pre-Raphaelite influence, although not so evident in the ‘Children of Lir’ - his nod to Dante Gabriel Rosetti is more obvious in other stories in the book.

The final book is an American publication, The Children of Lir by Sheila McGill-Callahan and illustrated by Gennady Spirin. In a note at the back of the book it says that it is ‘loosely based on an Irish myth’, and indeed it is fairly loose in its interpretation and presentation of this story. However, it very firmly states on the title page and on the cover that it is ‘The Children of Lir’. While various versions of the story exist, McGill-Callahan has introduced elements which do not seem to belong in any version. Perhaps in an attempt to maintain gender balance the children are presented as two girls and two boys, but interestingly it is ‘Cormac’, one of the boys who is the spokesperson for the group, rather than Fionnula, daughter of Lir, who in all the well-known accounts is the character who says the most, and indeed Fionnula vanishes in this account - the daughters are called Maeve and Liban. A whale called Jasconius plays a central role in this book, and again in none of the ‘traditional’ versions is there any mention of a whale. Perhaps this is a conflation of the Lir story with that of the voyage of Saint Brendan the Navigator in which a whale does play a part. Spirin’s illustrations situate the story at approximately the period of the earliest known written version, but they have a decidedly central European rather than Celtic or Irish tone.

In all of the books discussed none of the illustrators does much more than echo the words. The artists are all very circumspect in their approaches and seem to be reticent about amplifying the text. They are also quite traditional in style, with exception of Sharkey and to some extent Willey. Lynch conveys an emotional intensity not present in the other collections; all of which tend to distance the reader, perhaps with their child audience in mind.

While artists must respect the integrity of a story, there are numerous examples of stories where an artist causes us to look at them afresh and to re-evaluate the centrality of its meaning, for example Anthony Browne’s Hansel and Gretel , in which he imbues the tale with a relevancy for the life of his reader, without loosing any of the essence of the tale. Apart from a few comic book style publications with little or no great merit, Irish publishers and artists, so far and possibly for reasons outlined earlier, have been cautious. Perhaps this will change if children’s book publishing in Ireland continues to grow in confidence and sophistication of approach.

In my selection of an Irish myth to discuss, I am aware that the one I chose seems to have little or no verifiable origin earlier than the 14^th century, and some commentators place its origins as later, making any claim for it to be a true Irish myth somewhat spurious. But this is why this story exemplifies the shifting nature of mythological narrative, apart from its being a strong story with much to engage the listener or reader, it is also emblematic of Irish life in the past hundred years or so. Tied to notions of Irish nationalism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, it now participates in the newer Ireland where it is used to sell chocolates and to advertise mineral water. But perhaps the most powerful symbolic use of this legend still is in the Garden of Remembrance in Dublin where Ossian Kelly’s great bronze statue celebrates the four swans rising into the air as symbols of Irish independence. And, I would suggest, that it is this symbolic association which, in the popular imagination in Ireland and perhaps elsewhere, imbues the story with its potency for today.

Ita Daly and Bee Willey Irish Myths and Legends. Oxford, Oxford University Press

Malachy Doyle and Niamh Sharkey Tales from Old Ireland London, Barefoot Books

Marie Heaney and P.J. Lynch The Names Upon the Harp London, Faber and Faber

Soinbhe Lally and Finbarr O’Connor Favourite Irish Fairy Tales. Dublin, Poolbeg Press

Una Leavy and Susan Field The O’Brien Book of Irish Fairy Tales and Legends. Dublin, O’Brien Press

Sheila MacGill-Callahan and Gennady Spirin The Children of Lir. Andover, Hampshire, Ragged Bears

Lady Augusta Gregory Complete Irish Mythology London, John Murray 1904

P.W. Joyce Old Celtic Romances : Tales from Irish Mythology. London, David Nutt 1879

Kennedy, Máire Irish Myths, Legends, Folk and Fairy Tales. Coghlan, V. & Keenan, C., eds.The Big Guide to Irish Children's Books Dublin, Irish Children's Book Trust 1996

Dáthaí Ó hÓgain Myth, Legend and Romance. An Encyclopedia of the Irish Folk Tradition London, Ryan Publishing 1990

T.W. Rolleston, Celtic Myths and Legends London, Gresham Publishing Company, [1890]

Charles Squire Celtic Myth and Legend: Poetry and Romance. London, Gresham Publishing Company 1912

Ella Young Celtic Wonder Tales Dublin, Talbot Press 1923

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