
The Lore (and lure) of the Faeries
- Darren Jerome
- Jan 26
- 4 min read
The M18 Ennis Bypass (County Claire, Ireland) was finally completed in 1999. This after ten years of debate as to where it should go. In the end, the decision was taken to re-route the short stretch of road in order to avoid harming a single, solitary tree.
So what, you might ask, was so sacred about this particular tree? Were there any special environmental or ecological considerations which contributed to its protection? Did it belong to a species that was unique or endangered?
The tree was a white thorn. Long considered the ancient home of the faerie folk and, in this case, a tree thought to be actively contested by warring faerie sects. Any damage or dislodgement, therefore, would most surely lead to all manner of misfortune being visited upon those involved in its removal, or, for that matter, the unsuspecting motorists passing where it once stood. For the wrath of the faeries, you see, is boundless, and not something which should be knowingly tested.
Edie Lenihan was a driving force behind the efforts which led to the tree being saved. A gifted storyteller and well-regarded expert in faerie lore, he brought the full weight of his persuasive talents to bear in championing the cause. In the end, Edie’s petition, combined with that of several others, won the day, convincing decision makers at the time that this was no tree to be messed with.
Search for Edie Lenihen on YouTube and you’ll immediately see why he was, arguably, an ideal advocate. Aside from having tremendous oratory skill, his talks are richly compelling and replete with the deeply ingrained mythos of Ireland. The stories he shares have been passed on through generations, and, for many, still strike a chord. Told with zeal and precision, they convey folklore in a manner that can cause even the most cynical to rethink what is real, and what is make believe.
Mr. Lenihen is far from alone in this calling, of course. He is part of a long line of great Irish poets and storytellers who share a similar passion for faerie lore. Perhaps most notable among them is great Nobel laureate WB Yeats himself, who awakened, or maybe just helped to rekindle, an appreciation of Irish mythos through his own timeless stories and poems. Think of Yeats, and poems such as “The Stolen Child” come to mind, with its haunting verse like the one below:
Come away, O human child,
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand
But does it still resonate? I would argue that, if it does, it is because his writings stem from a sincere belief. Yeats’ words are rooted in his countless conversations with everyday folk. His research into the lore of the faeries was immense, and largely contained in the two books “Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry” and “The Celtic Twilight”, published in 1888 and 1893, respectively. Richly detailed, the works touch on everything from personal encounters to exploring the multiple varieties and sects of faeries, along with theories as to their respective origin.
For example, were the faeries an ancient race long ago driven into hiding? Or were they cast out of heaven, perhaps? Many a scholarly treatise has since been written which further explores these origin stories in considerable detail — far too much for a blog such as this to do proper justice. Suffice to say, it is heady stuff. And, at its heart, it suggests that our visible world, at least the world we inhabit, may overlap with all manner of things which have long preceded us and that we, most likely, will never even remotely understand.
Belief in the mystic realm is by no means an Irish phenomenon, of course. I defy anyone to point to a place on a map where such a history does not exist. In fact, a 2023 paper authored by Jackson and Bastion entitled “Supernatural beliefs have featured in every society throughout history” states that nearly all historical societies surveyed had supernatural explanations for phenomena such as disease (96%), natural disasters (92%) and drought (90%).
Faeries, for example, feature heavily across the once-Celtic world, including Scotland and Wales. Delve into Scandinavian mythology, and you find ample reference to elves, dwarfs, goblins and ogres. Stories of the Qallupilluit were told to generations of Inuit children in Canada’s far north — a terrible monster who would snatch them up should they venture too close to the shifting sea ice. Behave badly, German children were once advised, and you might just be taken by the horrible Krampus come Christmas.
Of course, generally speaking, the current focus of such mythical creatures is entertainment-based — as a fun distraction from everyday life. The Krampus, whose appearance was once enough to send fear into the hearts of many, now parade in fun, family-friendly events. Our exposure to ogres, faeries and trolls has been reduced to movies and cartoons. Arguably, belief in their existence has all but vanished. Even in Ireland. According to a 2009 article published in the Irish Times, less than ten percent still believes in the existence of fairies. It might be even less than that now.
But scratch the surface, Edie Lenihen suggests, and you just might find that such beliefs have not been fully extinguished. That there may still be some kernel of appreciation, even reverence, for the mystic world which we in some way intersect.
The Latoon Faerie Bush is still there; it stands as a silent testament to an ancient idea not so readily dismissed. And, for the countless travellers who continue to navigate round its ample branches, it is a quiet nod to the invisible, unfathomable unknown. A subtle suggestion that perhaps, as Yeats opined many years back, “Everything exists, everything is true, and the earth is only a little dust under our feet.”
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