For methinks 'tis you are my father,
And for fear lest men of Eire should see
Me retreating from your fierce grapple."
"Then," said James, "the son spoke for to tell him the reason he
couldn't spake at the first":--
"I took pledges to my mother
Not to give my story to any single man,
If I would give it to any under the sun,
It is to your bright body I would tell it."
("Complimenting him, like," said James.) Then he recited the stanza
which tells by implication how in the long duel Cuchulain was at last
driven to use the irresistible stroke of Sgathach's teaching:--
"I lay my curse on my mother,
That she put me under pledge;
But if it were not for the feat of magic
I had not been got for nothing."
(It is a fine phrase surely, "You had paid dear in blood before you
mastered me.")
Cuchulain answers groaning, with a wail for the lineage that is cut off:
"I lay my curse on your mother,
For she destroyed a multitude of young ones;
And because the treachery that was in her
Left your smooth flesh reddened."
Then comes, with the boy's dying word, the revelation of the most tragic
moment in the fight.
"Cuchulain, beloved father,
Is it not a wonder you did not know me
When I cast my spear crooked and feebly
Against your bush of blades."
Where will you find a finer stroke of invention? The boy, tongue-tied by
his pledge, knows his father and feels his defence failing against the
terrible onset; he would not, if he could, be the victor, but he thinks
of a way within the honour of his bond which may awaken knowledge of
him; and he casts his javelin with a clumsiness not to be looked for in
the champion "that tied Conall." It is useless, the battle madness is in
Cuchulain, he thinks only of conquest, an end to the supple, quick
parrying, and he throws the gaebulg, a spear of dragon's bones bristling
with points (his "bush of blades"), with the magic cast that there is no
meeting. And now there is nothing left to him but the lamentation,
"Och, och! Great is my madness!
I lifting here my young lad!
My son's head in my one hand,
His arms and his raiment on the other.
"I, the father that slew his son,
May I never throw spear nor noble javelin;
The hand that slew its son,
May it win torture and sharp wounding.
"The grief for my son I put from me never,
Till the flagstones of my side crumble,
It is in me, and through my heart,
Like a sharp blaze in the hoar hill grasses.
"If I and my heart's Connlaoch
Were playing our kingly feats together,
We could range from wave to shore
Over the five provinces of Erin."
The penultimate stanza, with its magnificent closing image and its truly
AEschylean hyperbole, is not even suggested in Miss Brooke's version. It
is, perhaps, the finest thing in the poem; but I hardly know any ballad
finer as a piece of dramatic narrative; and the resonant verse, strongly
rhymed (in the Gaelic assonances), and copiously stressed with
alliteration, bears out the theme.
These, I trust, are critical opinions. But if the collector would have a
special weakness for a vase which his own spade had unearthed, I may be
prejudiced in favour of the poem, which I got in the sweat of my brow
from very probably the one man living who knew it in that form.
Tellers of old Irish fairy tales about enchanted princes, magic cocks
and hens, and the like, are still numerous; but it is very rare to find
a man who keeps living the old poetry which was made, perhaps, in the
twelfth century. Yet while any survive the tradition is still there; the
song still lives, for I did not spend my hours without feeling that this
old man could respond to any emotion that the song-maker put into the
sound and the meaning and the associations of his words. There are still
those to whom the Irish even of the twelfth century is no dead language.
Even if it were, no doubt the songs made in it might still be strong in
life, as are to-day those of Homer and a hundred others. But in the case
of these smaller literatures, once the tongue itself has ceased to be
heard, dumbness and paralysis fall upon what might else be so full of
vitality. And a song has more than its own life, it has power to
quicken, to breed. If any one considers that legend of the son and
father (found in many languages, yet in none, I think, more finely
shaped), it is easy to see how from age to age it may revive itself in
new forms, entering into other shapes, as Helen's figure adorns not her
own story only, but the praise of a thousand women. Let it be understood
that this legend is only one of a cycle, and that the song which I wrote
down was only the barest fraction of James Kelly's repertory. Indeed, he
was vexed that I should take it as a specimen, for he himself "had more
conceit in" the lays that tell of Finn and his companions, and I could
have filled a volume, and maybe several volumes, from his recitations.
These songs may die, the language may die, the Irish race may be
swallowed up in England and America. But it is my belief that the strong
intellectual life which made of Ireland a home of the arts before the
Normans came across channel may, like many another life in nature,
spring after centuries of torpor into vigour and fertility again. That
is the belief and hope of many of us; but nothing has rendered me so
confident in it as to find this work of a strong and fine art not laid
aside and neglected, but honoured and current to-day, and, though in a
poor man's cottage, living with as full a life as when it was chanted at
the feasts of princes.
IRISH EDUCATION AND IRISH CHARACTER.
Education in Ireland has been organised by the State in accordance with
English ideas. Had English influence been able to bring about any large
measure of conformity between the two countries, there would have been
little or no need for a separate paper on moral training in Irish
schools. But what conformity there is, is purely superficial; and
although free development has been hindered, and Irish institutions for
teaching are less characteristic than they would have been if entirely
left to themselves, still the moral influences which emerge wherever
pupils and teachers are brought together reveal themselves in Ireland,
and reveal themselves as Irish. The object of this paper, then, is to
illustrate, so far as possible, the nature and the symptoms of these
distinctive influences.
First of all, it may be said broadly that no ordinary person in Ireland
contemplates the possibility of teaching morality apart from religion;
and by religion is meant emphatically this or that particular creed.
Almost every school maintained by the State is managed locally by a
clergyman, who appoints the teacher, and public feeling is so strong on
the matter that in any neighbourhood even a small group of families of
any particular denomination is always provided with a separate school of
its own. Of late, indeed, opinion has begun to agitate for associating
the laity with the clergy in the management of schools; but this does
not indicate any desire to lessen the importance given to the part
played by religion in education.
Further, so far as Catholic Ireland is concerned, an immense proportion
of the teaching both in primary and secondary schools is done by members
of religious orders, and in these, of course, there is no conception of
separating moral influences from religious. There is, however, no
evidence known to me that even in the few Protestant schools which are
partly or wholly under lay control any duties, other than those of
ordinary school work, are inculcated except as part of a Christian's
religious obligations. This entire state of things is due to the fact
that positive Christian belief, and the practice of religious
observances, are everywhere in Ireland very general, and among the
Catholic population almost universal. It is also hardly necessary to
point out that in many respects the standard of Irish morality is so
high that the example of Ireland may be quoted with confidence in
support of the view which makes moral teaching necessarily a part of
religion.
But from such broad generalities there is not much to be gathered, and I
proceed to examine in some detail the existing institutions--beginning
at the top with higher education.
It follows from what has been said that, in the general opinion of
Irishmen, there can be no positive moral influence where there is no
religious teaching; and for that reason a university without a school of
theology or arrangements for corporate worship is, to Irishmen, a
university deficient in moral safeguards. This accounts for the fact
that Catholic opinion was much less opposed to the Protestant
University of Dublin than to the more modern Queen's Colleges, which,
designed by England to provide for her wants of Ireland, excluded
religion entirely from their purview. This provision satisfied no one,
except to some extent the Presbyterians, who accepted Queen's College,
Belfast, with some alacrity, though in practice demanding that its head
should always be a staunch professor of their own persuasion. But
Catholics as a body refused to accept either the University of Dublin
with its Protestant atmosphere or the "godless" Queen's Colleges; and
since Ireland is mainly a Catholic country, and the National University
has not yet created a tradition, it is clear that not much can be
gleaned on the subject of Irish ideas of moral training from Irish
universities.
Yet Trinity College is well worth study, for in it we have a free
growth, typifying both in its virtues and in its defects the ruling
Protestant class, landed and professional. Here, unquestionably, the
chief moral influence is that of the Church, felt, as at Oxford,
directly through the chapel services and sermons, and indirectly through
the presence of a large body of theological students. The second of
these influences is specially strong in Dublin, because these students
have an organisation of their own in the University Theological Society,
and also because the work of the Divinity School at Dublin comprises
much that is done in England by the training colleges. I should
therefore be inclined to put the positive influence of dogmatic religion
higher at Dublin than at Oxford.
On the other hand, the vaguer humanitarian enthusiasms which are more or
less allied to Socialism, and with which the High Church party
willingly allies itself, have, I think, much less hold in Trinity than
at the English universities; though the movement which sends so many
brilliant young Englishmen into work (temporary or permanent) in the
East End of London has its parallel in the recently organised Social
Service Society, which attempts something for the reclamation of Dublin
slums. Again, in regard to more definitely political aspirations, Irish
Protestants are somewhat unfortunately situated. Trinity as a whole has
no sympathy with the ideals that appeal to Ireland as a nation, and it
always seems to lack first-hand touch with the best English thought,
whether Liberal or Tory. This isolation from the main movement of Irish
thought and feeling on the one hand, and on the other, this enforced
separation from the current of English life, keep the place a little
old-fashioned; and to generate enthusiasm, ideals and feelings need a
certain freshness. If it be held (as I should hold) that a university's
main moral function is to produce enthusiasts rather than merely decent
citizens, in this respect, I think, Trinity fails.
In regard to the less direct influences, a good deal may be noted. The
general trend of life in Trinity is towards frugality, just as at Oxford
it is towards extravagance. Consequently, money is less of an advantage,
poverty less of a drawback than at the English universities; the
standard of living is more uniform; and in the society of which the
university is typical, and which it influences, respect for wealth as
wealth is noticeably rare. Again, the idea of education is more
disciplinary than in England. Irishmen go to college, not to acquire
culture by contact, but to learn certain definite things; and the
university, in its anxiety to find out if the task is being learnt,
multiplies examinations. The same idea pervades all Irish education--the
old-fashioned demand for a positive result in knowledge; and if it leads
to an excessive value set upon these tests, it also goes far to
discourage idleness.
In another matter Trinity College is typical of Irish ideas generally.
Games are simply taken as games, not as a main business of life in which
success may even have a marketable value. Everybody recognizes their
physical use, and more than that, their use as a means of bringing men
together. But nobody in Ireland, save here and there a stray apostle of
English notions, talks of the moral lessons to be acquired by fielding
out or by patient batting. Compulsory games at school are practically
unknown; nobody plays unless he wants to; so that the duffer does not
experience the questionable moral advantage of physical discomfort and
frequent humiliation, and the naturally painstaking or excellent athlete
gets no more than his fair chance of exercising his gifts. And these are
less likely to have an undue importance in their possessor's eyes,
because they will not of themselves lead him to a position of great
distinction in an Irish university.
Unfortunately, Trinity College is the only place in Ireland--unless
perhaps a saving clause should be made for Queen's College,
Belfast--which offers what is meant by a university life. The National
University, whether in Dublin, Cork or Galway, brings young men together
only in classes and in one or two debating societies. Yet even so, I
question whether, in some ways, life does not beat stronger in it than
in Trinity; whether the moral influences proper to a university, the
enthusiasm, the contagion of generous ideas, are not here more strongly
felt. The reason for this view must be given.
Trinity has never been the University of Ireland. It is ceasing to be
the University of Protestant Ireland, for Protestants, who can afford to
do so, send their sons increasingly to Oxford or Cambridge, and Trinity,
which has not known how to create a true and special function for
itself, is becoming merely a cheap substitute for these English
institutions. And the reason for this is a moral reason which goes to
the root of many questions connected with Irish education. Should Irish
schools and colleges seek to educate citizens for the Empire, or
citizens for Ireland? During the last half century, while the
Imperialist idea has been developing in England, Trinity has thrown all
its moral weight into support of that idea. But the Imperialist idea in
England is very different from the same idea as viewed in Canada or New
Zealand or Australia; and universities in these countries address
themselves particularly to local needs. In the section of Ireland which
Trinity represents, local patriotism is held to conflict with Imperial
patriotism, and one has to observe that Trinity's Imperialism is
forwarding tendencies which are leaving her drained. Nationalists may
respect the sincerity of convictions so pressed in defiance of a local
interest; but a university, whose main emotional appeal is directed
towards evoking primarily an enthusiasm for England, cannot be of much
use to Nationalist Ireland. Catholics may (and do) respect the
thoroughness of the religious teaching, and the strong grip which
Protestantism keeps on the university; but a university which
inculcates morals through a Protestant religion is not precisely
suitable to Catholics. Yet Catholics and Nationalists alike infinitely
prefer a university or a college or a school with strong Protestant
beliefs, or strong Imperialist patriotism, to an institution with
neither beliefs nor patriotism at all. The colourless and merely
scholastic ideals of the Queen's Colleges, and the huge examining
machinery known as the Royal University, typified in their total lack of
moral influences all that was worst in the educational system under
which Ireland labours.
I pass to a brief examination of the boarding schools, institutions
which have never flourished in Ireland. Nearly all Protestants and many
Catholics, if they can afford it, send their sons to England to be
taught. The ideals of the English Public School have reacted so strongly
upon Irish Protestant schools that nothing need be said of these--not
one of which has ever, within living memory, had a continuous
prosperity. The important Catholic schools are managed by the great
teaching orders, especially by the Jesuits, and managed at astonishingly
low cost. They give everywhere more than value for the fees which they
receive. No unendowed institution could compete with them; and it
practically comes to this, that the regular clergy subsidise education
with their own unpaid labour and even with their own funds, in order to
maintain their influence over the faith and morals of their country.
Whether it might be more to the advantage of Irish parents to pay more
and get something different, is another question; but those of us who
least like the exclusive delegation of these important functions to the
priesthood, cannot but admire the thoroughness and consistency with
which the Catholic priesthood's idea is carried out. It would be hard to
overstate the moral effect of that vast organised system of
self-sacrifice and self-suppression.
Three or four points may be noted in relation to these schools. One is,
that in all classrooms and playgrounds, a master is always present.
Comparing this with the system in vogue at many English schools, under
which a boy out of school hours is always forced to live in public by
rules which compel him either to be playing some game or looking on
while others play, I prefer the system of frank supervision, as leaving
more individual freedom and choice of pursuits, and as making serious
bullying impossible. Generally, the idea that it is good for a boy to be
knocked about without stint is foreign to Irish ideas. A pleasant and
characteristic feature of Jesuit schools is the habit of telling off
some boy to act as companion and cicerone to a newcomer for his first
week or fortnight; and the ridiculous English fashion which prescribes
that the smallest fag should be described as a "man" is unknown.
Christian names, not surnames, are used generally. The unpopularity of
boarding schools in Ireland is due to the great value set upon home
life; and an Irish boarding school is far less distinct from home life
than an English one.
English eyes would be surprised and a good deal shocked by the presence
of a billiard table in every playroom; yet it may fairly be argued that
it is wise to limit the number of things that have the fascination of
the forbidden. A more serious criticism would address itself to the
permitted slovenliness. Untidiness amounts to a national vice in
Ireland, and, though one may overstate its gravity, the secondary
schools could and should do much more to remedy this national defect
than they are at present doing. At one first-class Irish
establishment--admirably equipped with buildings, playground, and all
other appliances--boots used to go unblacked from one end of the month
to the other. The boys who come here come largely from the well-to-do
farming class, in whose homes, in many ways so pleasant and worthy of
respect, there is often a lamentable lack of that charm which comes of
notable housewifery. The young men who return from this school will be
less apt than they should be to value good housewifery in their wives
and mothers.
But of all sinners in this regard the State is the chief offender. Under
the Code of the National Board of Education a national schoolmaster or
mistress is bound to teach cleanliness and decency by precept and
example. He or she is paid an average wage (without allowances) of
thirty shillings or one pound a week according to sex; and out of that
an appearance befitting superior station has to be maintained--for in
Ireland the schoolmaster has always a position of some dignity. For the
school the State provides four bare walls, a roof, not always
weatherproof, and a few desks. Firing is not provided. Decoration is
subject to inspection, and any picture which can be held to have a
religious or remotely political bearing is a gross offence against the
Code. It follows, in practice, that bare walls are kept bare, though not
clean; and let it be remembered that Catholicism, if left to itself, in
education always trusts greatly to the appeal to the eye. In every
Catholic school uncontrolled by the State the emblems of religion are
everywhere present. National schools under State control, even in places
where there is not a Protestant child within twenty miles, are
rigorously forbidden the use of any such embellishment. On the other
hand, Protestant schools which would gladly, and, as I think, most
laudably, furnish themselves with pictures recalling such memories as
the shutting of the Derry gates, come under the same tyranny of
compromise. Taste and culture are the expression of an individuality,
and individuality is forbidden to Irish teachers in State employ. The
State puts a schoolmaster into a schoolhouse, without adequate payment
for himself, without adequate provision either for building or the
upkeep of building; it bids him to keep it clean, but pays no servant to
wash or sweep; and, while enjoining the absence of dirt, it checks and
hampers that desire to decorate, which is the positive side of order and
taste. The result is, broadly, slatternly schools.
There could hardly be a better moral influence in Ireland than
tastefully and brightly decorated schools, cleanly kept. But to secure
this the State must provide money, and must give individual freedom.
Instead of that, it adapts its institution to the lowest standard of
living; and the raggedest child out of the dirtiest cottage will
probably be in full keeping with his environment when he takes his place
in class.
The same tyranny of compromise sterilises the whole teaching on the
moral side. Nothing must be taught anywhere which could offend any
susceptibility--except in the hour licensed for the teaching of
denominational religion. There must be no appeal to Irish patriotism,
whether it be of Protestant or Catholic. Irish history may not be taught
as a subject, and, until lately, anything bearing on it, however
remotely, was tabooed. The poem _Breathes there a man with soul so dead_
was struck out of a lesson book, lest it should encourage sedition.
To-day certain accepted books on Irish history may be used as readers;
the Irish language may be taught, and is taught; and gradually with
these changes new moral influences are coming in. Irish children are
being encouraged to remember their nationality. Yet, meanwhile, the
teacher, who is to instruct them in the duties of a good citizen, is
debarred from taking any part in local politics, from serving on any
local council. He is forbidden, in fact, to be himself a good citizen;
forbidden to be anything more than the colourless instrument of a system
of compromise and countercheck. Nothing is more certain than this, that
to get a good teacher you need a man's whole personality; you must
enlist all his beliefs and his feelings in the exercise of that moral
function of education which can never be fulfilled by a mere machine for
imparting the rudiments. Man everywhere, but especially in Ireland, is,
as Aristotle said, a political animal. The State in Ireland, when
organising education, tries as far as possible to eliminate the man and
produce the pedagogue.