P. O' Conaire's Memorial Project — American Appreciation of Great Artiste

The Galway Observer, March 22, 1930

The name and fame of the late Padraic O'Conaire, is not confined to his native land.

Writing in the current issue of the "Irish World" New York, Miss Maire Hastings says: —

In a recent issue of the "Galway Observer" just to hand, there come the great news that Galway will honour the memory of her gifted son Padraic O'Conaire.

At a meeting of the Galway Urban Council Professor L. O "Brian and T. Concannon, stated that a representative committee had taken steps to erect a memorial to the late Padraic O' Conaire. They suggested as a suitable site for the memorial, Eyre Square, Galway. The Chairman (Mr. Young) said he was sure the Council would be unanimous in granting permission. Mr. Faller said — "I think so. When the statue of Lord Dunkellin was taken down permission was not asked." Mr. Kelly proposed that the necessary permission be granted, Mr. Faller seconded, and the proposition was passed.

And so Galway will be greater, will be more Irish, in the honoring of Padraic, a true descendant of Amergin, the first poet of the Gael.

Aodh De Blacam, in his monumental work 'Gaelic Literature Surveyed" (the Talbot Press, Dublin), hails him as a master. He writes: —

"Padraic O'Conaire is a Connacht story—teller who owes his racy modern style to O'Leary's example. It is claimed for him that he ranks among the best short story writers of contemporary Europe. Certainly, his gift for drawing scenes and characters in a few strokes, his power of holding the reader, and the ingenuity of his stories — every one of them has in it something unique that makes it worth retelling — render him the most original of the revival writers. No more virile spirit has appeared since the great men of the 17th Century.

Sometimes, Padraic O' Conaire writes of droll fellows met in the tavern or at the fair, He is equally at home with gentle and with simple. He can write of the stir in a bishop's soul when the fires of insurrection redden the distant sky, and, he can give us, with a choking thrill, the scorn of the Irish officers for the grotesque King James.

Most of all, he draws Irish womanhood with a wonderful vividness, in beauty, in smockery, in sorrow. O' Conaire has romance of place as well as of person, and can call up the mystery that sails into harbor with a western boat. Yet his chief interest is in men and women; and he has left us the most comprehensive a gallery of Irish characters that we possess. Chivalry tempers all his pages.

Padraic O'Conaire has left to us an enduring monument in his work, and so that all, who read these pages, and who are blessed with the love of the tradition of the Gael, may know of this treasure, I am setting down in detail the names of his varied books. For myself, I must say, that the very mention of his name gives me great pride and pleasure. I keep these books close at hand, so that I may absorb something of their greatness and of their beauty. Most of them (eight of them), have already been reviewed in this column. They are all published by the Talbot Press.

For those who are not yet conversant with the Gaelic, "The Land of Wonders," "The Woman at the Window", and "Field and Fair", will serve as an illuminating introduction to the genius of Padriac O'Conaire.

"Field and Fair" in my opinion is a perfect little gem. I keep a bookmark in it, and take a peep in it regularly at the splendid illustrations, and I am getting to know by heart the glorious tribute to F. R. Higgins to his Gaelic friend, who was, and always will be Padriac O'Conaire of Galway.

"Respects are paid to one loved by the people:

Ah, was he not — among our mighty poor —
The sudden wealth cast on those pools of darkness,
Those bearing, just, a star's faint signature;
And so he was to me, close friend, near brother,
Dear Padraic of the wide and sea—cold eyes —
So lovable, so courteous and noble,
The very West was in his soft replies.
"Ah, they'll say: Padraic's gone again exploring;
But now down glens of brightness, O he'll find
An alehouse overflowing with wise Gaelic.
That's braced in vigor by the bardic mind,
And, there his thoughts shall find their own forefathers —
In minds to whom our heights of race belong,
In crafty men, who ribbed a ship or turned
The secret joinery of song."