one, and whoever spells it will get the pins;--spell a red rogue wid
three letters. You, Micky! Dan? Jack? Natty? Alick? Andy? Pettier? Jim?
Tim? Pat? Body? you? you? you? Now, boys, I'll hould you that my little
Andy here, that's only beginning the _Rational Spelling Book_, bates you
all; come here, Andy, alanna: now, boys, If he bates you, you 'must all
bring him a little _miscaun_ of butter between two kale leaves, in the
mornin', for himself; here, Andy avourneen, spell red rogue with three
letthers.”
_Andy_.--“M, a, t--Mat.”
“No, no, avick, that's myself, Andy; it's red rogue, Andy--hem!--F--.”
“F, o, x--fox.”
“That's a man, Andy. Now boys, mind what you owe Andy in the mornin,
God, won't yez?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I will, sir.”
“And I will, sir.”
“And so will I sir,” etc., etc, etc
I know not whether the Commissioners of Education found the monitorial
system of instruction in such of the old hedge schools as maintained an
obstinate resistance to the innovations of modern plans. That Bell and
Lancaster deserve much credit for applying and extending the principle
(speaking without any reference to its merits) I do not hesitate to
grant; but it is unquestionably true, that the principle was reduced
to practice in Irish hedge schools long before either of these worthy
gentlemen were in existence. I do not, indeed, at present remember
whether or not they claim it as a discovery, or simply as an adaptation
of a practice which experience, in accidental cases, had found useful,
and which they considered capable of more extensive benefit. I remember
many instances, however, in which it was applied--and applied, in my
opinion, though not as a permanent system, yet more judiciously than
it is at present. I think it a mistake to suppose that silence, among a
number of children in school, is conducive to the improvement either
of health or intellect, that the chest and the lungs are benefited by
giving full play to the voice, I think will not be disputed; and that a
child is capable of more intense study and abstraction in the din of a
school-room, than in partial silence (if I may be permitted the word),
is a fact, which I think any rational observation would establish. There
is something cheering and cheerful in the noise of friendly voices about
us--it is a restraint taken off the mind, and it will run the lighter
for it--it produces more excitement, and puts the intellect in a better
frame for study. The obligation to silence, though it may give the
master more ease, imposes a new moral duty upon the chil--the sense of
which must necessarily weaken his application. Let the boy speak aloud,
if he pleases--that is, to a certain pitch; let his blood circulate; let
the natural secretions take place, and the physical effluvia be thrown
off by a free exercise of voice and limbs: but do not keep him dumb and
motionless as a statue--his blood and his intellect both in a state
of stagnation, and his spirit below zero. Do not send him in quest of
knowledge alone, but let him have cheerful companionship on his way;
for, depend upon it, that the man who expects too much either in
discipline or morals from a boy, is not in my opinion, acquainted
with human nature. If an urchin titter at his own joke, or that of
another--if he give him a jab of a pin under the desk, imagine not that
it will do him an injury, whatever phrenologists may say concerning the
organ of destructiveness. It is an exercise to the mind, and he will
return to his business with greater vigor and effect. Children are not
men, nor influenced by the same motives--they do not reflect, because
their capacity for reflection is imperfect; so is their reason: whereas
on the contrary, their faculties for education (excepting judgment,
which strengthens my argument) are in greater vigor in youth than in
manhood. The general neglect of this distinction is, I am convinced,
a stumbling-block in the way of youthful instruction, though it
characterizes all our modern systems. We should never forget that they
are children; nor should we bind them by a system, whose standard is
taken from the maturity of human intellect. We may bend our reason to
theirs, but we cannot elevate their capacity to our own. We may produce
an external appearance, sufficiently satisfactory to ourselves; but, in
the meantime, it is probable that the child may be growing in hypocrisy,
and settling down into the habitual practice of a fictitious character.
But another and more serious objection may be urged against the present
strictness of scholastic discipline--which is, that it deprives the
boy of a sense of free and independent agency. I speak this with
limitations, for a master should be a monarch in his school, but by no
means a tyrant; and decidedly the very worst species of tyranny is
that which stretches the young mind upon the rod of too rigorous a
discipline--like the despot who exacted from his subjects so many
barrels of perspiration, whenever there came a long and severe frost. Do
not familiarize the mind when young to the toleration of slavery, lest
it prove afterwards incapable of recognizing and relishing the principle
of an honest and manly independence. I have known many children, on
whom a rigor of discipline, affecting the mind only (for severe corporal
punishment is now almost exploded), impressed a degree of timidity
almost bordering on pusillanimity. Away, then, with the specious and
long-winded arguments of a false and mistaken philosophy. A child will
be a child, and a boy a boy, to the conclusion of the chapter. Bell
or Lancaster would not relish the pap or caudle-cup three times a day;
neither would an infant on the breast feel comfortable after a gorge of
ox beef. Let them, therefore, put a little of the mother's milk of human
kindness and consideration into their straight-laced systems.
A hedge schoolmaster was the general scribe of the parish, to whom all
who wanted letters or petitions written, uniformly applied--and these
were glorious opportunities for the pompous display of pedantry; the
remuneration usually consisted of a bottle of whiskey.
A poor woman, for instance, informs Mat that she wishes to have a letter
written to her son, who is a soldier abroad. “An' how long is he gone,
ma'am?”
“Och, thin, masther, he's from me goin' an fifteen year; an' a comrade
of his was spakin' to Jim Dwyer, an' says his ridgiment's lyin' in the
Island of Budanages, somewhere in the back parts of Africa.”
“An' is it a lotther of petition you'd be afther havin' me to indite for
you, ma'am?”
“Och, a letthur, sir--a letthur, master; an' may the Lord grant you all
kinds of luck, good, bad, an' indifferent, both to you and yours: an'
well it's known, by the same token, that it's yourself has the nice
hand at the pen entirely, an' can indite a letter or petition, that the
priest of the parish mightn't be ashamed to own to it.”
“Why, thin, 'tis I that 'ud scorn to deteriorate upon the superiminence
of my own execution at inditin' wid a pen in my hand; but would you feel
a delectability in my supersoriptionizin' the epistolary correspondency,
ma'am, that I'm about to adopt?”
“Eagh? och, what am I sayin'!--sir--masther--sir?--the noise of the
crathurs, you see, is got into my ears; and, besides, I'm a bit bothered
on both sides of my head, ever since I heard that weary _weid_.”
“Silence, boys; bad manners to yez, will ye be asy, you Lilliputian
Boeotians--by my hem--upon my credit, if I go down to that corner, I'll
castigate yez in dozens: I can't spake to this dacent woman, with your
insuperable turbulentiality.”
“Ah, avourneen, masther, but the larnin's a fine thing, any how; an'
maybe 'tis yourself that hasn't the tongue in your head, an' can spake
the tall, high-flown English; a wurrah, but your tongue hangs well, any
how--the Lord increase it!”
“Lanty Cassidy, are you gettin' on wid your Stereometry? _festina, mi
discipuli; vocabo Homerum, mox atque mox_. You see, ma'am, I must tache
thim to spake an' effectuate a translation of the larned languages
sometimes.”
“Arrah, masther dear, how did you get it all into your head, at all at
all?”
“Silence, boys--_tace--' conticuere omnes intentique ora tenebant_.'
Silence, I say agin.”
“You could slip over, maybe, to Doran's, masther, do you see? You'd do
it betther there, I'll engage: sure and you'd want a dhrop to steady
your hand, any how.”
“Now, boys, I am goin' to indite a small taste of literal correspondency
over at the public-house here; you _literati_ will hear the lessons for
me, boys, till afther I'm back agin; but mind, boys, _absente domino
strepuunt servi_--meditate on the philosophy of that; and, Mick
Mahon, take your slate and put down all the names; and, upon my
soul--hem--credit, I'll castigate any boy guilty of _misty mannes_ on
my retrogadation thither;--_ergo momentote, cave ne titubes mandataque
frangas_.”
“Blood alive, masther, but that's great spakin'--begar, a judge couldn't
come up to you; but in throth, sir, I'd be long sarry to throuble you;
only he's away fifteen year, and I wouldn't thrust it to another; and
the corplar that commands the ridgment would regard your handwrite and
your inditin'.”
“Don't, ma'am, plade the smallest taste of apology.”
“Eagh?”
“I'm happy that I can sarve you, ma'am.”
“Musha, long life to you, masther, for that same, any how--but it's
yourself that's deep in the larnin' and the langridges; the Lord incrase
yer knowledge--sure, an' we all want his blessin', you know.”
“Home, is id? Start, boys, off--chase him, lie into him--asy, curse
yez, take time gettin' out: that's it--keep to him--don't wait for me;
take care, you little spalpeens, or you'll brake your bones, so you
will: blow the dust of this road, I can't see my way in.”
THE RETURN.
“Well, boys, you've been at it--here's swelled faces and bloody noses.
What blackened your eye, Callaghan? You're a purty prime ministher, ye
boxing blackguard, you: I left you to keep pace among these factions,
and you've kicked up a purty dust. What blackened your eye--eh?--”
“I'll tell you, sir, whin I come in, if you plase.”
“Ho, you vagabones, this is the ould work of the faction between the
Bradys and the Callaghans--bastin' one another; but, by my sowl, I'll
baste you all through other. You don't want to go out, Callaghan. You
had fine work here since; there's a dead silence now; but I'll pay you
presently. Here, Duggan, go out wid Callaghan, and see that you bring
him back in less than no time. It's not enough for your fathers and
brothers to be at it, who have a right to fight, but you must battle
betune you--have your field days itself!”
(Duggan returns)--“Hoo--hoo--sir, my nose. Oh, murdher sheery, my nose
is broked!”
“Blow your nose, you spalpeen you--Where's Callaghan?”
“Oh, sir, bad luck to him every day he rises out of his bed; he got a
stone in his fist, too, that he hot me a pelt on the nose wid, and then
made off home.”
“Home is id? Start, boys, off--chase him, lie into him--azy, curse yez,
take time gettin out; that's it--keep to him--don't wait for me; take
care you little salpeens or you'll brake your bones, so you will: blow
the dust of this road, I can't see my way in it.”
“Oh! murdher, Jem, agra, my knee's out' o' joint.”
“My elbow's smashed, Paddy. Bad luck to him--the devil fly away wid
him--oh! ha I ha!--oh! ha! ha! murdher--hard fortune to me, but little
Mickey Geery fell, an' thripped the masther, an' himself's, disabled
now--his black breeches split too--look at him feelin' them--oh! oh! ha!
ha!--by tare-an'-onty, Callaghan will be murdhered, if they cotch him.”
This was a specimen of scholastic civilization which Ireland only could
furnish; nothing, indeed, could be more perfectly ludicrous than such a
chase; and such scenes were by no means uncommon in hedge-schools, for,
wherever severe punishment was dreaded--and, in truth, most of the hedge
masters were unfeeling tyrants--the boy, if sufficiently grown to make
a good race, usually broke away, and fled home at the top of his speed.
The pack then were usually led on by the master, who mostly headed them
himself, all in full cry, exhibiting such a scene as should be witnessed
in order to be enjoyed. The neighbors, men, women, and children, ran
out to be spectators; the laborers suspended their work to enjoy it,
assembling on such eminences as commanded a full view of the pursuit.
“Bravo, boys--success, masther; lie into him--where's your huntin' horn,
Mr. Kavanagh?--he'll bate yez if ye don't take the wind of him.
Well done, Callaghan, keep up yer heart, yer sowl, and you'll do it
asy--you're gaining' on them, _ma bouchal_--the masther's down, you
gallows clip, an' there's none but the scholars afther ye--he's safe.”
“Not he; I'll hould a naggin, the poor scholar has him; don't you see,
he's close at his heels?”
“_Done_, by my song--they'll never come up wid him; listen to their
leather crackers and cord-a-roys, as their knees bang agin one another.
Hark forrit, boy's; hark forrit! huz-zaw, you thieves, huzzaw!”
“Your beagles is well winded, Mr. Kava-nagh, and gives good tongue.”
“Well, masther, you had your chase for nothin', I see.”
“Mr. Kavanagh,” another would observe, “I didn't think you war so
stiff in the hams, as to let the gorsoon bate you that way--your wind's
failin', sir.”
The schoolmaster was abroad then, and never was the “march of
intellect” at once so rapid and unsuccessful.
During the summer season, it was the usual practice for the scholars
to transfer their paper, slates, and books to the green which lay
immediately behind the school-house, where they stretched themselves on
the grass, and resumed their business. Mat would bring out his chair,
and, placing it on the shady side of the hedge, sit with his pipe in his
mouth, the contented lord of his little realm, whilst nearly a hundred
and fifty scholars, of all sorts and sizes, lay scattered over the
grass, basking under the scorching sun in all the luxury of novelty,
nakedness, and freedom. The sight was original and characteristic, and
such as Lord Brougham would have been delighted with. “The schoolmaster
was abroad again.”
As soon as one o'clock drew near, Mat would pull out his Ring-dial*
holding it against the sun, and declare the hour.
* The Ring-dial was the hedge-schoolmaster's next best substitute for
a watch. As it is possible that a great number of our readers may never
have heard of, much less seen one, we shall in a word or two describe
it--nothing could indeed be more simple. It was a bright brass ring,
about three-quarters of an inch broad, and two and a half in diameter.
There was a small hole in it, which when held opposite the sun admitted
the light against the inside of the ring behind. On this was marked the
hours and the quarters, and the time was known by observing the number
or the quarter on which the slender ray that came in from the hole in
front fell.
“Now, boys, to yer dinners, and the rest to play.”
“Hurroo, darlins, to play--the masther says it's
dinner-time!--whip-spur-an'-away-grey--hurroo--whack--hurroo!”
“Masther, sir, my father bid me ax you home to yer dinner.”
“No, he'll come to huz--come wid me if you plase, sir.”
“Sir, never heed them; my mother, sir, has some of what you know--of the
flitch I brought to Shoneen on last Aisther, sir.”
This was a subject on which the boys gave themselves great liberty; an
invitation, even when not accepted, being an indemnity for the day; it
was usually followed by a battle between the claimants, and bloody noses
sometimes were the issue. The master himself, after deciding to go where
he was certain of getting the best dinner, generally put an end to
the quarrels by a reprimand, and then gave notice to the disappointed
claimants of the successive days on which he would attend at their
respective houses.
“Boys, you all know my maxim; to go, for fear of any jealousies, boys,
wherever I get the worst dinner; so tell me now, boys, what yer dacent
mothers have all got at home for me?”
“My mother killed a fat hen yesterday, sir, and you'll have a lump of
bacon and flat dutch along wid it.”
“We'll have hung beef and greens, sir.”
“We tried the praties this mornin', sir, and we'll have new praties, and
bread and butther, sir.”
“Well, it's all good, boys; but rather than show favor or affection, do
you see, I'll go wid Andy, here, and take share of the hen an' bacon:
but, boys, for all that, I'm fonder of the other things, you persave;
and as I can't go wid you, Mat, tell your respectable mother that
I'll be with her to-morrow; and with you, Larry, _ma bouchal_, the day
afther.”
If a master were a single man he usually went round with the scholars
each night--but there were generally a few comfortable farmers, leading
men in the parish, at whose house he chiefly resided; and the children
of these men were treated, with the grossest and most barefaced
partiality. They were altogether privileged persons, and had liberty
to beat and abuse the other children of the school, who were certain
of being most unmercifully flogged, if they even dared to prefer a
complaint against the favorites. Indeed the instances of atrocious
cruelty in hedge schools were almost incredible, and such as in the
present enlightened time, would not be permitted. As to the state of
the “poor, scholar,” it exceeded belief; for he was friendless and
unprotected. But though legal prosecutions in those days were never
resorted to, yet, according to the characteristic notions of Irish
retributive justice, certain cases occurred, in which a signal, and
at times, a fatal vengeance was executed on the person of the brutal
master. Sometimes the brothers and other relatives of the mutilated
child would come in a body to the school, and flog the pedagogue with
his own taws, until his back was lapped in blood. Sometimes they would
beat him until few symptoms of life remained.
Occasionally he would get a nocturnal notice to quit the parish in a
given time, under a penalty which seldom proved a dead letter in case
of non-compliance. Not unfrequently did those whom he had, when boys,
treated with such barbarity, go back to him, when young men, not so much
for education's sake, as for the especial purpose of retaliating upon
him for his former cruelty. When cases of this nature occurred, he found
himself a mere cipher in his school, never daring to practise excessive
severity in their presence. Instances have come to our own knowledge, of
masters, who, for their mere amusement, would go out to the next
hedge, cut a large branch of furze or thorn, and having first carefully
arranged the children on a row round the walls of the school, their
naked legs stretched out before them, would sweep round the branch,
bristling with spikes and prickles, with all his force against their
limbs, until, in a few minutes, a circle of blood was visible on
the ground where they sat, their legs appearing as if they had been
scarified. This the master did, whenever he happened to be drunk, or
in a remarkably good humor. The poor children, however, were obliged
to laugh loud, and enjoy it, though the tears were falling down their
cheeks, in consequence of the pain he inflicted. To knock down a child
with the fist, was considered nothing harsh; nor, if a boy were, cut,
or prostrated by a blow of a cudgel on the head, did he ever think of
representing the master's cruelty to his parents. Kicking on the shins
with a point of a brogue or shoe, bound round the edge of the sole with
iron nails, until the bone was laid open, was a common punishment; and
as for the usual slapping, horsing, and flogging, they were inflicted
with a brutality that in every case richly deserved for the tyrant, not
only a peculiar whipping by the hand of the common executioner, but a
separation from civilized society by transportation for life. It is a
fact, however, that in consequence of the general severity practised in
hedge schools, excesses of punishment did not often produce retaliation
against the master; these were only exceptions, isolated cases that did
not affect the general character of the discipline in such schools.
Now when we consider the total absence of all moral and religious
principles in these establishments, and the positive presence of
all that was wicked, cruel, and immoral, need we be surprised that
occasional crimes of a dark and cruel character should be perpetrated?
The truth is, that it is difficult to determine, whether unlettered
ignorance itself were not preferable to the kind of education which the
people then received.
I am sorry to perceive the writings of many respectable persons on
Irish topics imbued with a tinge of spurious liberality, that frequently
occasions them to depart from truth. To draw the Irish character as it
is, as the model of all that is generous, hospitable, and magnanimous,
is in some degree fashionable; but although I am as warm an admirer of
all that is really excellent and amiable in my countrymen as any man,
yet I cannot, nor will I, extenuate their weak and indefensible
points. That they possess the elements of a noble and exalted national
character, I grant; nay, that they actually do possess such a character,
under limitations, I am ready to maintain. Irishmen, setting aside
their religious and political prejudices, are grateful, affectionate,
honorable, faithful, generous, and even magnanimous; but under the
stimulus of religious and political feeling, they are treacherous,
cruel, and inhuman--will murder, burn, and exterminate, not only without
compunction, but with a satanic delight worthy of a savage. Their
education, indeed, was truly barbarous; they were trained and habituated
to cruelty, revenge, and personal hatred, in their schools. Their
knowledge was directed to evil purposes--disloyal principles were
industriously insinuated into their minds by their teachers, most of
whom were leaders of illegal associations. The matter placed in their
hands was of a most inflammatory and pernicious nature, as regarded
politics: and as far as religion and morality were concerned, nothing
could be more gross or superstitious than the books which circulated
among them. Eulogiums on murder, robbery, and theft were read with
delight in the histories of Freney the Robber, and the Irish Rogues and
Rapparees; ridicule of the Word of God, and hatred to the Protestant
religion, in a book called Ward's Cantos, written in Hudi-brastic verse;
the downfall of the Protestant Establishment, and the exaltation of
the Romish Church, in Columbkill's Prophecy, and latterly in that of
Pastorini. Gross superstitions, political and religious ballads of
the vilest doggerel, miraculous legends of holy friars persecuted by
Protestants, and of signal vengeance inflicted by their divine power on
those who persecuted them, were in the mouths of the young and old, and
of course firmly fixed in their credulity.
Their weapons of controversy were drawn from the Fifty Reasons, the
Doleful Fall of Andrew Sail, the Catholic Christian, the Grounds of
Catholic Doctrine, a Net for the Fishers of Men, and several other
publications of the same class. The books of amusement read in these
schools, including the first-mentioned in this list, were, the Seven
Champions of Christendom, the Seven Wise Masters and Mistresses of
Rome, Don Belianis of Greece, the Royal Fairy Tales, the Arabian Nights'
Entertainments, Valentine and Orson, Gesta Romanorum, Dorastus and
Faunia, the History of Reynard the Fox, the Chevalier Faublax; to these
I may add, the Battle of Auhrim, Siege of Londonderry, History of the
Young Ascanius, a name by which the Pretender was designated, and the
Renowned History of the Siege of Troy; the Forty Thieves, Robin Hood's
Garland, the Garden of Love and Royal Flower of Fidelity, Parismus and
Parismenos; along with others, the names of which shall not appear on
these pages. With this specimen of education before our eyes, is it not
extraordinary that the people of Ireland should be in general, so moral
and civilized a people as they are?