How little are Ireland's little people?
Not as little as some of their illustrators would have us believe. To understand the appearance of fairies you must recall their first arrival in Ireland and choose between two versions of the story.

So whether you believe the fairies to be gods with magic powers, or ex-angels with heavenly powers, you are not dealing with 'wee folk' or gauzy-winged elves, but with awesome beings whose friendship and assistance are essential if life is not to be a series of disasters.

As man grew more self-confident and self-centred, his belief and interest in the fairy world diminished and, as a consequence, the appearance of those sidhe (pronounced shee) or fairies with whom he came in contact, diminished also. For it is said that the stature of the fairies is in direct proportion to the belief in them by the onlooker. Indeed, few mortals are selfless enough to endure the sight of fairies in their full majesty. As belief in them decreased, the fairies displayed, more and more, the malevolent side of their nature.

These Daoine Sidhe, or fairy people of Ireland, belong to one or other of the two classifications of Irish Sidhe, the trooping sort and the solitaries. The trooping fairies are cheerful, sometimes mischievous, spending most of their time in activities closely resemblng those of the mortal world: feasting, singing, dancing, love-making but above all making music. Occasionally they band together as the Slua Sidhe or fairy host and and in the guise of a wind carry out raids or abductions on the human world. But for the most part they are content to live in their own kingdom and bother us seldom.

But the solitary fairies are another matter. Serious and self-sufficient by nature they scorn the careless, pleasure-filled life of the trooping fairies and are disliked by them in turn. The sober mortal world attracts the personality of the solitary fairy and he is the one with whom most contact is made and whose activities and appearance have been recorded in tales and ballads for generations.

The growing interest in other worlds and other levels of existence is producing a strong revival of interest in this fairy world of Ireland. Collections of folktales are being published and re-published at an unprecedented rate and illustrators (for fairy and folktales have always been considered suitable subjects for illustration) are in demand.

But just how well do these artists serve their subjects? Let us reflect on the best-known of the Irish fairies -the shoe-making leprechaun and his alter-ego or close cousin the cluricaun. (No one is quite sure whether the well-dressed, wine-soaked cluricaun is actually the hardworking leprechaun on a night out or whether he is a close relative. The physical resemblance is striking). The leprechaun is one of our solitary fairies and reliable descriptions of him abound. He is not good-looking, his face is as wrinkled as an old apple and his height is about that of a ten year old boy. But he is stocky and incredibly swift— take your eye off him and he's away like a greased pig. He is industrious, tricky, fond of a jar and user of foul language. He dresses sombrely — grey coat, sturdy leather apron and sometimes a cocked hat. And despite his bad habits he has captured the imagination and respect of Irish people down the centuries. (The cluricaun is given to bright colours and lace and can usually be found draining a cask in a gentleman's cellar).

Now from all this, it is obvious that a leprechaun could not sit on or under a toadstool, he could not be held in one hand and, unless you had spent some time with a cluricaun, you would find it difficult to trip over him on a country lane. There is no mention of pointed ears — they belong to a different nationality of fairy — and it is said that should he not be wearing his cocked hat, you could pass a leprechaun on the street and not know it. This is the quality that has eluded many of the illustrators of Irish fairy lore. This quality of intimacy between the fairy and the mortal worlds. The real fear of fairies in Ireland comes, not from their remoteness or their strangeness, but from their ability to insinuate themselves into our world and then reveal their fairy qualities. Take the pooka for example. He is essentially an animal spirit whose most common manifestations are as a goat (he is the ancestor of Puck) and as a large black horse. In the guise of a horse he displays burning yellow eyes, smells of sulphur and speaks with a human voice. So the real terror is that any black horse could be the pooka and if you must come close to one you watch for his eye, sniff and above all pray that he won't speak to you. To depict the pooka as an outer-space creature might initially be more horrifying but to instil a fear of black horses is surely more subtle and more in keeping with the devious side of the fairy mind.

Arthur Rackham by the power of his draughtmanship and his influence on other illustrators, 'invented' a fairy world which is being perpetuated with varying degrees of success. The quaint, the grotesque, the beautiful inhabitants of the fairy world were depicted with great skill and even greater imagination. But the interpretations hardly varied. The worlds of Grimm, Stephens and Lewis Carroll were peopled by the same creatures — an international fairy world had been created. A similar fate has befallen many of the legendary Irish heroes who inhabit Tir na nOg (the land of eternal youth) with the fairy hosts. They have been depicted as Roman legionaries, Saxon kings and, more recently as comicbook strongmen. For a true interpretation look at the illustrations by Louis le Brocquy for the epic story of the Tain. Here no attempt has been made to identify or characterise the heroes but strong, suggestive shapes leave the eye free to fill in the detail from our own imagination and the harmony between text and picture is complete. It is a matter of regret that, during his long working life, Jack B. Yeats was seldom commissioned to illustrate fairy or folk tales. When he did, as in 'The turf-cutters donkey', he managed to suggest an almost matter-of-fact relationship between the mortals and the fairies. His leprechaun is reluctantly led down a mountain, his talking eagle is ignored by passers-by and in the forest the marching heroes blend with the trees and become part of the forest. This is the essence of illustration, not to record the events of the story but to complement and intensify them.

This complementing requires an illustrator whose pictures emerge from a deep appreciation of the story and are not merely interjected in a style which developed from a different tradition or as a solution to some other problem. Happily a few young illustrators are emerging who have the ability and the insight to re-interpret the great wealth of Irish fairy lore and the true face of the Daoine Sidhe may once again be seen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

All Copyrights © are acknowledged where applicable.
Material reproduced here is for educational and research purposes only.