As next Monday is the anniversary of Pádraic Ó Conaire’s death we thought to relate some stories about him.
Austin Clarke in his autobiography Penny in the Cloud tells us that “Pádraic Ó Conaire called one night to the offices of the Connacht Tribune to collect ten shillings due to him for an essay. The editor, Tom ‘Cork’ Kenny gave him the half-note and he handed it back to him in payment of a loan. They left the office and went down the road to a public house. On their way, they met a professor from the University College, a perfervid Gael. Pádraic drew him aside and asked for the loan of ten bob to stand his friend a drink. The professor, weary, no doubt, of being touched too often in the Irish language, said he had no change. When the sound of his footsteps faded away down the street, Pádraic turned to the editor and said in a grave tone which was unlike him: “The day will come when that man will unveil a statue to me”. That day came. The professor was Liam Ó Briain.
A magazine called Féile na nGaedheal published in London in 1937 carried the following story: “A language teacher was sitting in a wood one summer day reading an Irish book which had recently been published. A tramp appeared and struck up a conversation but the teacher told him he was reading a difficult Irish book, and wished for quietness. “A good occupation; I wouldn’t mind having a go at it myself,” the tramp replied. The teacher, somewhat incensed, declared that he could not read a line of it, but he rejoined that he would undertake to read ten. Finally in an effort to get rid of him, the teacher bet him five bob that he would not read three lines.
The tramp took the book, and turning to the first page, read the opening lines with perfect fluency and intonation. Then, closing the book, he recited the rest of the book without a flaw. As the loser paid up, the ‘tramp’ smiled and said “I am Pádraic Ó Conaire, who wrote the book. I am on my way to Dublin to draw some money due to me upon it. I had no money left and wondered how I might live until I got to Dublin. The five shillings I’ve got from you will help me along finely.”
Kay Donnellan, an MA graduate wrote in the UCG Annual of 1929/30 as follows: “His faults were numerous, many of them lovable. Much has been written of him, very little of which is satisfactory. Of what use is it to gloss over his failings? Of still less use is it to treat him as a decadent genius. Pádraic was never ashamed of what he did or was. His standards were not those of the rest of the world, perhaps he had no standards, but who can say Pádraic ever injured him; ever wished anyone ill? If charity be the greatest of virtues, who more virtuous than him? Anything he did, he did earnestly, zealously, enthusiastically, were it only to amuse a few youngsters, and show them the gaiety and beauty that lay hidden in their school work”.
Eileen Corr, who was Padraic’s daughter, once wrote “He was a clerk in the Board of Education, based in Whitehall and he did some Irish exam using the name Patrick Conroy, to get an increase in pay. The examiners asked Douglas Hyde to correct the paper but he was too busy and recommended that they ask Pádraic Ó Conaire, the well-known Gaelic scholar to do it. They did not know it was the same Patrick Conroy that worked for them. My father corrected his own paper but only awarded himself ninety five marks because he said he wasn’t happy with one or two of the answers”.
His other daughter, Kathleen Eyecott said of him: “He cared little, if anything at all, for his appearance. His hat and shabby suit were his trademark and his pockets were always guaranteed to contain some stale plug tobacco, an apple, some nuts and a bottle with the remains of a ‘drop for the road’. He loved to talk about wild flowers and he could tell me the history and names of all the wild flowers. In Galway, he would collect flowers from the hedges and we would walk along the country roads, he with flowers in his hat, and me with flowers in my hair where he had fixed them.”
My own favourite Ó Conaire story is about the time some of his friends were trying to get him to go on the dry for Lent. “Forty days and forty nights, sure there’s no light in that tunnel at all”. So they asked him if he would try it for the week of the Men’s Mission. That was a reasonable request and he agreed and he attended a number of the ceremonies until the Thursday evening when the sermon was all about the evils of alcoholic drink. The Redemptorist was piling it on, getting louder and louder until he bashed the pulpit and roared “And tell me, is there anything worse on this earth than the demon drink”. Ó Conaire was heard loudly to say “Ah jaze, the thirst!”
Our two images today capture much of the character of the man discussed above.
Brendan McGowan is currently working on a biography of Ó Conaire and he has already unearthed a lot of new material on the author. He wonders if any readers might have photographs, documents, articles, stories or artefacts relating to Pádraic, and if so, he would be very interested in hearing from you. Any material you might loan him will be cared for and returned. His mobile is 085 833 1148, his email is [email protected] and he can also be reached at Galway City Museum. So, if you think you can help, please get in touch with him.
