#padraic colum

[uwmspeccoll]

Publishers' Binding Thursday

I found this week's Publishers' Binding Thursday selection while simply browsing the stacks. I noticed the spine first, and when I pulled the book out saw the three, bright, galloping horses on the cover. The book is The Boy Apprenticed to an Enchanter by Irish poet, author and folklore collector Padraic Colum (1881-1972). It was published by the Macmillan Company in 1920 with illustrations by American illustrator Dugald Stewart Walker (1883-1937). This book is part of our Historical Curriculum Collection of children's books.

The cover is a cream bookcloth with blue, yellow, and black color stamping. A white horse, a yellow horse, and a black horse rear up as a cloud of dust rises behind them on a blue background. The title is in a cream banner at the top and is stamped in yellow with a black outline. The title, author's name, and illustrator's name are stamped on the spine, with the publisher stamped at the bottom.

View more Publishers' Binding Thursday posts.

-- Alice, Special Collections Department Manager

[lux-vitae]

Odysseus Victorious Over the Suitors of His Wife, illustration by Willy Pogany for Padraic Colum’s The Adventures of Odysseus and the Tale of Troy (1918)

[have-you-read-this-short-fiction]

"When the King of the Cats Came to King Connal's Dominion" is available to read here

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1913 – Also known as “The Great Dublin Lockout”, the Dublin Transport Strike, led by Jim Larkin and James Connolly, begins.

The Great Dublin Lockout starts and one of the most bitter and divisive labour disputes in Irish history will run until February 1914 when starving workers are forced back to work. Five years previously, in 1908, at a time when Irish labourers were working in atrocious conditions, Union organiser Big Jim Larkin founded the Irish Transport and General Workers Union (ITGWU). The 1913 Lockout…

[victusinveritas]

Credit to @thechestnuthead for tracking down the following info on this.:

It's an illustration by Willy Pogany of The golden fleece and the heroes who lived before Achilles by Padraic Colum

https://archive.org/details/goldenfleeceandh00colurich/mode/1up

[peaceofheartt]

An Old Woman of the Roads, Padraic Colum

[alphareleasemedia]

The Old Woman of the Roads -- Padraic Colum

O, to have a little house! To own the hearth and stool and all! The heaped-up sods upon the fire, The pile of turf against the wall!

To have a clock with weights and chains And pendulum swinging up and down! A dresser filled with shining delph, Speckled and white and blue and brown!

I could be busy all the day Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor And fixing on their shelf again My white and blue and speckled store!

I could be quiet there at night, Beside the fire and by myself, Sure of a bed; and loth to leave The ticking clock and the shining delph!

Oh! but I'm weary of mist and dark, And roads where there's never a house or bush, And tired I am of the bog, and the road, And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!

And I am praying to God on high, And I am praying Him night and day, For a little house--a house of my own-- Out of the wind's and the rain's way.

[the-evil-clergyman]

Illustrations from Padraic Colum's The Children of Odin by Willy Pogany (1920)

[clawmarks]

The Six Who Were Left in a Shoe - Padraic Colum, Dugald Stewart Walker, ill. - 1923 - via Internet Archive

[mermaidenmystic]

"Then he came from where he was hiding and gave her the swanskin."

"King of Ireland's son returns the swanskin of Fedelma the youngest daughter of the Enchanter, as the three daughters were wading in the lake."

Padraic Colum's book "The King of Ireland's Son" ~ 1916 ~ Willy Pogny (Hungarian illustrator, 1882-1955)

[jacques-le-fataliste-23]

Dugald Stewart Walker, illustration for 'The Girl Who Sat by the Ashes' by Padraic Colum, 1919

Via: https://www.instagram.com/p/DA3otjqIody/

[thebeautifulbook]

THE BOY APPRENTICED TO AN ENCHANTER by Padraic Colum. (New York: Macmillan, 1923). Illustrated by Dugald Stewart Walker.

source

[mybookof-you]

From The Boy Who Knew What the Birds Said by Padraic Colum, 1918.

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1972 – Death of Longford poet and playwright, Padraic Colum. He was one of the leading figures of the Irish Literary Revival.

Padraic Colum was an Irish poet, novelist, dramatist, biographer and collector of folklore. He was one of the leading figures of the Celtic Revival. Colum wrote and met a number of the leading Irish writers of the time, including W. B. Yeats, Lady Gregory and Æ. He also joined the Gaelic League and was a member of the first board of the Abbey Theatre. He became a regular user of the National…

[id0ntkn0w0101]

Myth Inspo- Cupid and Psyche (1.2.23)

Welcome to Myth Inspo, a series of posts where every once in a while, I summarize a myth from various civilizations for anyone to use as inspiration in their writing, art, or just enjoy reading.

DISCLAIMER: All myths are summarized and described based on Great Myths of the World by Padraic Colum. Any historical inaccuracies are not my fault, but if you nicely correct me, I may update the post with the new information. Additionally, myths were mainly shared via word-of-mouth, so many myths have different versions depending on region. Be sure to read any content warnings, as many myths in history cover topics that may be disturbing or upsetting to some. Thank you for reading!

Content Warning(s): Forced marriage, possible noncon (in my source, consent is unclear), attempted suicide

A king and queen had three daughters, and though all of them were beautiful, none could hold a candle to Psyche. Some said that Venus herself, in all her heavenly beauty, had come down to the heavens to live as Psyche. Men no longer sailed to the goddess of beauty's shrines, and instead sailed to pay their devotions to Psyche.

Venus didn't take kindly to her shrines being empty and sent her son Cupid to get vengeance by making her a "slave to an unworthy love". But as Cupid gazed upon the maiden, he no longer wanted to fulfill his mother's wishes, and fell completely in love with Psyche.

Though men all over sought Psyche, none sought her for marriage. The king, unsure of why his youngest and fairest daughter had not yet been married, consulted an oracle. The oracle told the man to place his daughter, adorned for marriage, on the top of a mountain. She said not to expect a mortal son-in-law, and that he would take Psyche was feared by the gods and the bodiless souls in the Styx.

Knowing the oracle's proclamation could not be avoided, the king and queen prepared their youngest her dreaded wedding and took her to the mountain. On her way there, she yelled scorned at the people who had doomed her by comparing her to the goddess of beauty herself before being placed at the top of the mountain and abandoned.

Zephyrus, a gentle wind, carried the girl down to a flowery meadow below as she slept. She awoke to see a house, held up by cedar wood and ivory, it's golden and silver accents glinting in the sunlight. As she gazed upon the dwelling and all the forest creatures around it, she knew this must be the dwelling of one of the immortal gods.

Voices whose mouths she could not see offered her rest and a feast. After she slept and bathed, she found a banquet dedicated to her. That night, her new groom came to her when the candles were unlit and left before dawn, and she was officially a wife. The next night he returned, and again before dawn departed. This routine continued, candles remaining unlit, for several more days. One night, her lover told her that her sisters were coming to the mountain to search for her and that, in case they were to find the meadow, she had to swear she wouldn't let them see her or know she was there. He warned that if they found out she was there, sorrow and destruction would befall the both of them.

The girl wept, and her lover knelt to her side. "Do as you will," he said, "But know that my warning is true." He told her that if she chose to talk to them again, she may give them all the gifts she desired to give, but never to give in to their notions of him and how he had still not shown himself to her, because if she did, they would never embrace again.

-|-

Psyche's sisters went to the mountain to search for traces of their youngest sibling, and as their voices and cries grew louder, the breeze Zephyrus carried them down the mountain just as he had done for Psyche. When her sisters happened across the house, Psyche led them into it and showed them all the wondrous treasures that could be found there. She told them her husband, a young man, spent the majority of his days hunting upon the mountain. She loaded them all up with arms full or riches and called for Zephyrus to carry them back to the mountaintop.

Psyche's sisters returned home, full of envy for their sister's marriage. One of the sisters said that her husband might be one of the Gods and that, through his love for the beautiful Psyche, may make her a goddess. Already jealous of her, the idea of the people's words about Psyche being a goddess being realized filled them with rage. They went to Psyche and told her that she was living in folly and had forgotten that the oracle prophesized her to be married off to some beast. They said people had seen a terrible beast entering the house at night "And thou art to be a mother," they shouted, "The beast only waits for the babe to be born to devour both the babe and thee!"

Psyche, moved by their words and forgetting her husband's warning and her promises to him, told her sisters the truth that she had yet to see the man's face. They told her to hide a lit lamp behind a curtain and a knife in her bed and, when she heard the man sleeping, to light up his face and to cut his head off. That night she prepared to execute her sisters' plans but was shocked at who laid in her bed with her. There, her bridegroom, was Love himself, the god Cupid.

Psyche knelt down and kissed the sleeping man, but a drop of oil from her lamp burned his skin and he awoke to find her there. Disgusted by her lack of faith in him, he grabbed his bow and quiver from the foot of the bed and left Psyche there. She found him at dawn but could not cry out to him. "Foolish Psyche," he said, "My mother wished upon you a baseless love and, rather than accept the better alternative, you instead go against my warning and betray me." Cupid flew away.

Psyche ran once the man had flown out of her vision and, upon finding the river, cast herself into it. Pan, the god of the rivers, pulled her from the water. "Cupid is a god won by service," he said to the sobbing woman, "If you wish to win him back, give him thy service."

-|-

And so, Psyche ran to find her husband, who was in his mother's home in agony from the wound that had been left in his heart by that damned oil lamp. She swore to incur the good will of the other gods and goddesses in hope Cupid would then forgive her and ran to the nearest temple. Ceres, the goddess of agriculture, saw her crying at her temple and told her that Venus was tracking her around the world to punish her, and yet she was at the temple taking care of things that Ceres was responsible for. Psyche begged Ceres to let her rest among the grain, tired from her long journey and needing a break, but Ceres refused. “Truly your tears move me,” the goddess said, “But I wouldn’t dare incur the wrath of my kinswoman. Leave as fast as you can before she finds you here.”

Psyche, full of newfound hopelessness, ran again. She found another temple in the woods and threw herself on its steps, calling out to the goddess Juno for help. “Willingly dost thou help those in childbirth,” she called, “So deliver me from the peril that is upon me.” Juno, sister and wife of Jupiter, answered, “I might be inclined to answer your prayer, but against the will of Venus whom I have loved as a daughter, I may not grant what thou dost want.” Filled with more dismay, Psyche left the temple, deciding to find Venus and surrender herself to the scorned goddess in hopes of lesser punishment and seeing the man she loved.

Venus, laying eyes upon her, laughed. “Thou finally deigned to make salutations to thou mother-in-law. Now will I see to it that thou makest thyself a dutiful and obedient daughter-in-law.” She mixed every type of grain and seed together, telling Psyche to separate all the grains before that evening. Knowing she could never complete the task alone, Psyche simply sat by the pile in sorrow, until an ant came by and took pity on the girl. “Take pity for the wife of Love,” the ant told his friends, “And help to hasten her task.” And all the ants worked together to separate the grain and swiftly left. Venus returned that night, full of anger, said the work was not her own and told her to instead go across the torrent and retrieve some shreds of wool from the golden sheep that lied on an island.

Psyche went forth, and as she stood by the deep river she contemplated how to rest beneath its depths, until the green reed, lowly mother of music, spoke to her. “Oh Psyche,” she said, “Do not pollute these waters with your self-destruction. Lie down and rest until evening when the flock is soothed and then pull their fleece from the tree branches, they walked under.” Psyche did as the kind reed said, returning to Venus with fleece in hand. The goddess, not quite happy with her receiving help yet again and not done punishing her, sent her to the peak of a mountain with a crystal vial to retrieve water from the river that waters the Stygian fields.

Psyche went up the mountain, but only to contemplate how she should end her life. But she happened upon a slippery rock, and underneath the rock was the source of the stream. Serpents jutted their heads from the water, foretelling her destruction. A mighty eagle, whose voice boomed the voice of Jupiter, king of the gods, came to her. “Didst thou think thou may steal water from the stream even the gods think terrible,” he exclaimed, before taking the vial and filling it with water. He passed it back to the woman, and Psyche ran back to Venus.

The goddess was once again angry, giving her another task. “Take this small casket to Prosperpine,” she said, “And tell her Venus would have her beauty for one day’s use. Carry whatever she gives you in this casket and make haste returning from the Queen of Hades.” Psyche left and hastily climbed to the top of a high tower, content to jump off and make her journey to Hades swift, but the tower spoke. “Wretched maiden,” it said, “If your breath dost stop, you will indeed venture to Hades, but with no way to return back to Venus. Go to the nearby mountain, for in that mountain is a vent to Hades. Take with you barley bread soaked in hydromel, and two pieces of money in thy mouth. When thou come to the River of the Dead, you must give Charon, the ferryman, one of the coins in such a way that he pulls it from your lips. Offer no person or creature you see your time or pity along your journey, not even the old crones you will see by the riverbed spinning.”

The tower continued, “Offer one of your cakes of bread to the watchdog at the gates and enter to find Prosperpine herself. Do as you must, offering the other cake to the dog and the other coin to the ferryman as you exit. Remember, do not look in the casket at what the Queen of Hades gives you.” Psyche took heed of what the stones of the tower said and, upon entering the lonely house of Prosperpine, knelt at the goddess’ feet. Refusing all rest and nourishment offered to her, Psyche waited patiently as the goddess filled the casket in secret, shut it, and returned it to Psyche.

Psyche made her way back to her scorned goddess. Venus picked up the casket, saying, “I have in my hands the divine loveliness. Should I touch it, I will have beauty enough that would please whom I seek.” She lifted the lid, and inside was sleep only. A sleep like death overcame Psyche, and she lay upon the ground. Eros, healed from his wound and wishing for his wife back, flocked to his mother’s chambers to find Psyche laying there in a deep sleep. After shaking her and awakening her with the tip of his arrow, he flew to the highest court of Heaven. Jupiter waited for him and deigned him worthy of that which he sought. The gods were all called together, and Psyche, though born mortal, was made the immortal wife of Love, and bore him a daughter called Voluptus.

[spokenrealms]

The King of Ireland's Son

This is a lovely collection of children’s tales collected and interpreted by Padraic Colum which he first published in 1916. It is very much like a continuous poem using some brilliant characters from many a traditional tale told around the hearth. A charming narrative dedicated to Padraic’s beloved Ireland. Amazon/Audible • iTunes