Irish Books and Irish People

by Stephen Lucius Gwynn

Stephen Lucius Gwynn (1864-1950) was an Irish journalist, biographer, author, poet and Protestant nationalist politician and MP. in the House of Commons. He served as officer with an Irish regiment during World War I. After graduating he spent ten years from 1886 tutoring as a schoolmaster, for a time in France which created a lifelong interest in French culture, as expressed in Praise of France (1927). By 1896 he had developed an interest in writing, becoming a writer and journalist in London focusing on English themes, until he came into contact with the emerging Irish literary revival. This was the beginning of a long and prolific career as a writer covering a wide range of literary genres, making the eighteenth century his particular specialism. He wrote numerous books on travel and topography of his own homeland. Gwynn returned to Ireland in 1904 when he entered politics. From the 1920s Gwynn devoted himself to writing, covering political events as Irish correspondent to the Observer. His other works include: John Redmond's Last Years (1919) and Irish Books and Irish People (1919).

Genres: Ireland

120 pages, Hardcover

First published January 7, 2008

About the author

Stephen Lucius Gwynn was an Irish journalist, soldier, poet and politician.

Reviews

[Debbie Zapata · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a collection of essays talking about Ireland, its literature, its political climate of the times (from 1897 to 1918), and its people. In his introduction, written in 1919, the author himself admits that most issues covered in the essays would seem dated. And yes, even by then the book would seem out of step, and in our modern times they feel a bit like reading ancient history. So many of the issues he touches upon have long been settled!

BUT some things stand forever, and books can be one of those things. I knew this title would be dangerous for my Someday Lists, and sure enough it was. Thanks to Mr. Gwynn's summaries of various volumes, I now have a dozen or so new additions to a list I keep where I jot down interesting-sounding books mentioned in other books. From Charles James Lever to Maria Edgeworth; from Gods and fighting men; the story of the Tuatha de Danaan and of the Flanna of Ireland recorded by Lady Gregory to
The High Deeds of Finn and Other Bardic Romances of Ancient Ireland collected by T W Rolleston, my Told You So! list is now bursting at the seams with Irish literature old and new.

The main thing I noticed about the earlier essays here was that they dealt with Irish literature written in English. I kept wondering what happened to the ancient epics: would they be mentioned at all or simply ignored? Finally came a section called Literature Among The Illiterates, with two essays: The Shanachy and The Life Of A Song. These were the most glorious pieces in the book. Here is a sample.

If to be literate is to possess a knowledge of the language, literature, and historical traditions of a man's own country—and this is no very unreasonable application of the word—then this Irish-speaking peasantry has a better claim to the title than can be shown by most bodies of men. I have heard the existence of an Irish literature denied by a roomful of prosperous educated gentlemen; and, within a week, I have heard, in the same county, the classics of that literature recited by an Irish peasant who could neither write nor read. On which part should the stigma of illiteracy set the uglier brand?

Here then was a type of the Irish illiterate. A man somewhere between fifty and sixty, at a guess; of middle height, spare and well-knit, high-nosed, fine-featured, keen-eyed; standing there on his own ground, courteous and even respectful, yet consciously a scholar; one who had travelled too—had worked in England and Scotland, and could tell me that the Highland Gaelic was far nearer to the language of the old days than the Irish of to-day; finally, one who could recite without apparent effort long narrative poems in a dead literary dialect. When I find an English workman who can stand up and repeat the works of Chaucer by heart, then and not till then I shall see an equivalent for James Kelly.

I would have loved to be a fly on the wall in the cottage while Gwynn was writing down the poems Kelly spoke for him. Who knows how many people there are left in our times who can do what Kelly did? I think it would have been almost like meeting one of the traveling bards of ancient Greece.

The last few essays here lost my interest, dealing more with politics than with books, and I just skimmed them. But my thanks to Stephen Gwynn for his 'outdated' essays nonetheless. I will think of them when Someday comes and I read the brave deeds of Finn mac Cumhaill and Cuchulain.