that "the White House at Washington is largely a reproduction of its
main features, though the American building has a semicircular
colonnaded porch, which rather conceals the likeness." But a resident of
Washington would find little resemblance between the two buildings,
except that they are about the same size and both have windows and a
roof.
The corner stone bears a curious inscription in stilted Latin, which
illustrates the lofty pride of the earls of Kildare. It is addressed to
"The Casual Explorer, who may find it among the stately ruins of a
fallen house, and bids him mark the greatness of the noble builders and
the uncertainty of all things terrestrial, when the men who raise such
splendid monuments can rise superior to misfortune."
There are several other fine old edifices in the neighborhood, but
unfortunately many of the historic houses are passing away from the
families who built and lived in them, and are now being used for public
offices or business purposes.
About half a mile from Trinity College, on the road to Phoenix Park,
is the ancient prison of Dublin, called Newgate, after a similar
institution in London, and it has had a similar history. It has been the
scene of horrible incidents; it has detained many of the purest and
ablest martyrs for Irish liberty within its walls, and a hundred years
ago it was frequently described in sketches of Irish life, in terms
similar to those that were written of the Fleet Prison and Newgate in
London. It was customary to have executions outside the walls in public,
and the night before they were hung favored criminals were allowed to
entertain their friends in a reckless, disgraceful carousal. Such a
scene is described in a ribald song entitled "The Night before Larry was
Stretched."
"Then in came the priest with his book,
And spoke to him smooth and so civil.
Larry tipped him a Kilmainham look,
Then pitched his big wig to the devil;
Then raising a little his head,
To get a swate drop of the bottle,
And painfully sighing he said,
O, the hemp will be soon round my throttle."
Phoenix Park has about eighteen hundred acres of lawn, flower beds,
forest, meadow, and pasture, and nineteen miles of perfect roadway. It
is open to the public at all times and there are no restrictions. A
horseback rider can gallop over the grass anywhere, cricket matches can
be played wherever is most convenient to the players. Racing meetings
are held on the turf several days in each month, the course being laid
out by movable fences. Polo, hockey, football, and all other kinds of
outdoor games are going on all the time, and almost the entire working
population of Dublin may be seen scattered over the park during these
long summer evenings, when one can read outdoors until after nine
o'clock. There is no more beautiful park, and no greater enjoyment is
found in any similar place in the world.
The viceregal lodge, in which the lord lieutenant of Ireland resides
nine months in the year, is in the center of the park, surrounded by an
inclosure of fifteen acres with a garden, stables, and cottages for the
servants. The chief secretary of Ireland and the under secretary have
official residences in the same neighborhood, provided by the state.
Immediately before the windows of the viceregal lodge Lord Frederick
Cavendish, chief secretary for Ireland, and Thomas H. Burke, the under
secretary, were assassinated in 1882. The assassination was witnessed by
the occupants of the lodge, but before they could reach the place the
assassins had escaped. The spot is now marked in an unobtrusive manner.
Phoenix Park was formerly owned by the Knights of St. John. When their
lands were confiscated by Henry VIII. at the time of the Reformation,
the monastery was selected as the official residence of the viceroy.
Additional grounds were purchased later by the Duke of Ormonde, when he
was viceroy, and the great Chesterfield, when he held the office, did
the landscape gardening, which illustrates his exquisite taste. The park
is beautiful always, they say, but it could not be more beautiful than
it is in May, when the hawthorn trees are white with blossom, the furze
bushes are blazing with orange, and the rhododendrons, which grow to
enormous size, are great banks of purple against the rich, deep foliage.
Every flower that grows in that climate seems to be in bloom, and
Phoenix Park looks as if it had just left the hands of the Creator.
VII
THE OLD AND NEW UNIVERSITIES
Imagine a university and a campus of forty-seven acres of lawn and grove
where Trinity Church stands in New York or where the post office stands
in Chicago or St. Louis. In Washington we have something like it in the
mall where the National Museum, the Smithsonian Institution, and the
Agricultural Department are. Trinity College, Dublin, has an equally
expansive setting of green grass and grove and flowering shrubs, cricket
grounds, and tennis courts, surrounded on all sides by business houses,
clubs, and hotels. It is like an island of verdure in the midst of an
ocean of trade and commerce. On one side of the campus the outside world
is kept at bay by a continuous line of dormitories and lecture-rooms
which overlook a busy street from the windows of one wall and a peaceful
lawn from the windows of the other. On the south side the barrier is a
high iron picket fence hidden in a wonderful hedge of hawthorn and
laburnum bushes. On the other side of that hedge are shops, and a
street-car line that leads to the more attractive part of the city.
There are only two entrances to the college green, one at the east end
and the other at the west, and it is nearly a half mile walk from one to
the other across the green and among the buildings. The main entrance
and the main buildings face the Bank of Ireland and look upon Dame
Street, which is the Wall Street of Dublin. There is a little green
crescent to divide the entrance from the street, with bronze figures of
Edmund Burke and Oliver Goldsmith, two of the most distinguished of the
alumni.
The main building is a fine example of architecture, and the house of
the provost, which adjoins it, is a gem of the Elizabethan type. The
other buildings are unpretentious. They are rather low and long and
plain, in excellent proportions, but without particular individuality,
although the engineering building, which stands out on the campus, is an
exquisite example of modern architecture, and Ruskin pronounced it the
most beautiful modern structure in the United Kingdom.
As you enter through a low archway under the main building you come into
a quadrangle formed by a dormitory and an examination hall at the right.
Beyond that is a library. Another dormitory stands on the left, and the
chapel and the dining-hall (the last two have Grecian porticos), and
directly before you a bell tower of beautiful and original design
erected about one hundred years ago. Beyond the first quadrangle is
another, which is gloomy and uninviting. The buildings are plain, and
the dark stone of which they are made is not cheerful. The students call
it "Botany Bay," because of the prison-like style of the architecture
and its uninviting appearance. The buildings surrounding it are
dormitories, and in one of them, No. 11, Oliver Goldsmith roomed. He
wrote his autograph with a diamond upon one of the panes of glass, which
has since been removed and preserved in the library, where it lies in a
case beside the original manuscript of Handel's oratorio, "The Messiah,"
which was given there for the first time in 1745. A portion of it was
written in England, but it was completed in Dublin and sung by a Dublin
choral society immediately after.
In "Botany Bay" is a pump of great age and much history. In early days
it was the focus of academic disorder, and any policeman, sheriff, or
bailiff who dared violate the sacred precincts of Trinity was purged of
his guilt by a thorough ducking. The origin of this form of punishment
is attributed to a famous Dr. Wilder, who for many years was provost of
the college. He happened to be crossing the campus one day, when a
bailiff, who had a writ to serve, was being baited by a group of
students, and called out to them something like this: "Young gentlemen,
be careful that you do not put him under the pump," and they took the
hint.
[Illustration: QUADRANGLE, TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN]
Another version of the story is that Dr. Wilder cried out, "Young
gentlemen, for the love of God don't be so cruel as to nail his ears to
the pump;" and certain authors have claimed that they interpreted him to
mean the reverse, and did what he had forbidden them. But I am assured
by competent authority that the former and more humane version is the
true one, and all agree that ever since those boisterous days every
officer of the law who has been caught within the college grounds has
been given an involuntary bath from "Old Mary."
The war between the students and the police has continued ever since the
foundation of the college, and as the buildings are situated in the very
center of the city these conflicts have been unexpected and more
frequent than they might have been otherwise. In former days "Trinity
boys" never went out of the grounds without their peculiar weapons,
which were the massive keys of their rooms, about six inches long and
weighing a half a pound or more, which they would sling in handkerchiefs
or in the skirts of their gowns and use very effectively for offense or
defense, as the case might be. On one occasion several students were
captured and hustled off from their fellows to a butcher-shop, where
they were hung from the meat hooks. The rumor ran like a prairie fire
that the captives had been impaled, but when the rescuing party arrived
it was discovered that they were hanging only by the waistbands of their
breeches.
The walls of Examination Hall are hung with portraits of eminent men,
and in one corner is a full-length painting of Queen Elizabeth, the
founder. There is a superstition among the students that the picture has
an evil eye, and that whoever sits within her sphere of influence at
examinations is bound to fail. Hence the benches in that neighborhood
are empty. But a certain alcove in the library is quite crowded. Several
full sets of examination papers are preserved from year to year in that
particular alcove, and every day during examination weeks it is filled
with students cramming from them.
Across the quadrangle is the chapel. It is not specially interesting,
although there is some fine wood-carving in the stalls. The students are
required to wear surplices, and look very awkward in them, although the
white gowns light up the room and make it much more cheerful than if
they wore black. When I attended service Sunday morning two-thirds of
the stalls were vacant, although attendance is supposed to be
compulsory. I counted exactly one hundred and four persons present,
including the preacher, the professors, and ten boys in the choir. These
boys belong to the choir of St. Patrick's Cathedral, and are loaned to
the college authorities in order to increase the interest of the Sunday
services. It is considered the finest choir in Ireland, but that isn't
saying much.
The organ in the gallery has a curious history. It was made in the
Netherlands for some church in Spain, and was on its way when the ship
was captured in 1702. The Duke of Ormonde, serving in the fleet, claimed
the organ as his part of the prize money, and presented it to the
college. Many of the old pipes have been replaced, but the case remains
the same. Another interesting relic is a great chandelier which formerly
hung in the House of Commons when the Irish parliament occupied the
building now used for the Bank of Ireland.
Beyond the chapel is a curious-looking recumbent statue made of onyx,
which has been crumbling so rapidly for years that it now bears very
little resemblance to a human form, and the features are entirely
effaced. The students claim that it was intended for Queen Elizabeth,
the founder, but it was really a figure of Luke Chaloner, one of the
first promoters of the institution.
The grounds occupied by the college once belonged to All Hallows
monastery, which was suppressed by Henry VIII. and the property
confiscated. It stood well outside of the city walls and was unoccupied
when, toward the end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a number of Dublin
scholars raised a fund of £2,000 to establish an institution for higher
education. Queen Elizabeth gave the confiscated estates of several rebel
chiefs and James I. increased the endowment, but it was not until the
reign of William and Anne that the college was really prosperous. They
were very generous toward it, and the Irish parliament made liberal
grants. But many a time the fellows have been compelled to melt up the
college plate and resort to other desperate means to find money to pay
for food and fuel.
During the entire history of the institution its faculty and students
have been loyal to the British government and to the Protestant church.
It has refused to receive Roman Catholics into the faculty, and for
centuries Roman Catholics were prohibited from enjoying its advantages
in education. Therefore it is not strange that it is under the ban of
that church, and there has not been a Catholic student upon the rolls
for many years. An Irish Roman Catholic gentleman remarked one day to a
member of the faculty: "If I had wanted to send my son to Trinity I
would have to fight first my priest, second my bishop, and third my
wife. Therefore I sent him to Oxford."
There are now five departments in the university,--the regular academic
department, and schools of law, medicine, theology, and engineering.
There are in attendance to-day twelve hundred and forty-one students.
Although the institution is familiarly known as Trinity College, that is
the title of the academic department, and with its affiliated schools it
constitutes the University of Dublin. The charter bears date of March
24, 1591, under the title of "The College of the Holy and Undivided
Trinity, near Dublin." Previous to 1873 the faculty, the fellows, and
those who held scholarships must be members of the Church of Ireland.
Since then all restrictions or disabilities have been removed, although
the history and traditions of the institution will not permit any
self-respecting Roman Catholic to send his son there.
Rank is strictly recognized among the students. Noblemen, sons of
noblemen, and baronets are matriculated as such under the titles of
nobilis, filius nobilis, and equas; ordinary students are called
pensioners. Sizars are students of limited means, who must make oath
that their fathers' incomes are less than $500 a year, which exempts
them from all fees and gives them their commons or meals free of
expense. Pensioners pay $60 a year, fellow commoners $150, and noblemen
$300. When a young man enters in either of these classes he selects his
tutor and makes application for a room, which is assigned him as
vacancies occur, and he is recorded. A deposit of from $40 to $150 is
required as security against any injury to the property. The room rent
varies from $20 to $100 a year. All students are compelled to attend
chapel, both in the morning at half-past eight and in the evening at
nine o'clock, and wear surplices, but upon certificates may be allowed
to attend one of the Presbyterian churches.
At half-past ten every Saturday morning the junior dean appears at the
hall and reads out the names of all students who have violated the rules
or neglected their duties during the week, and those who are present may
offer excuses, which may or may not be accepted by the dean. If they are
not accepted the student is fined a sum of money in lieu of other
punishment, and these fines are added to the commons fund, which goes to
pay for the meals of the students and is controlled by the "clerk of the
buttery books."
Fellow commoners pay seven shillings and sixpence a week for board,
pensioners five shillings, and members of the nobility ten shillings. A
fine of five shillings a week is imposed upon all students actually
resident in college who do not take their meals at the commons.
Ten students holding scholarships, called "waiters," are annually
appointed to say grace before and after meat in the commons hall, which
must be repeated in Latin in a form prescribed by the statutes of the
college. All students are required to be in the college grounds before
nine o'clock for roll-call. After roll-call no one is permitted to pass
the gates without a written order from the dean. Those who do so are
severely fined.
[Illustration: MAIN ENTRANCE, TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN]
Trinity College is one of the few great institutions of Europe which
give full degrees to women on the same terms as to men. There is no
distinction in rules or conditions or in any other respect. Women are
admitted to all of the several schools--arts, science, engineering, law,
and medicine--on an equal footing. There are now about one hundred in
attendance. At first the university gave degrees to all women who could
pass the regular examinations, and they came here in droves from Oxford,
Cambridge, and other institutions where they had been hearing lectures
but are not given degrees. All they had to do was to enter the
examinations and fulfill the requirements. But two years ago this
practice was stopped, and now no degrees are conferred upon young women
who do not take the full course at Trinity. The fees are the same as for
men--$50. The women students are mostly Irish, although a few English
girls, who are not satisfied with the certificates given them at
Cambridge and Oxford, come over here from Girton and other institutions
and work for the full degrees of B.A., B.S., Ph.D., and even for
diplomas in law and medicine. To accommodate them the university has
recently purchased a fine old mansion in Palmerston Park, where fifty or
sixty girls are now lodged under the care of a matron, subject to rules
similar to those which govern the men students in the dormitories on
University Green. Twenty-two degrees were granted to women in 1908, and
about the same number in 1907, chiefly in the department of arts, which
is the same as our academic courses, and most of the recipients are
intending to be teachers in women's schools and colleges.
The story of the invasion of Trinity College by women is quite
interesting. The charter, which was granted by Queen Elizabeth,
recognizes no distinction of sex, race, or religion, and when Professor
Sylvester, now in the chair of mathematics in one of our American
colleges, was refused a degree at Cambridge because he was a Jew, he
came here, passed his examinations, and was given one. This opened the
gates, and several young women who had been denied degrees at Oxford and
Cambridge came to test their rights. On June 9, 1903, the senate of the
university passed a resolution "that it is desirable that the degrees of
Trinity College, Dublin, shall be open to women, and that his majesty's
government be requested to obtain a king's letter empowering the
university to grant degrees to women on such terms and conditions as may
seem to the board and council, within their respective provinces, on
full consideration, to be most expedient."
On January 16, 1904, "Edward VII., by the Grace of God of the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the British Dominions beyond
the Seas, King, Defender of the Faith, sends greetings to all to whom
these presents shall come, with information that by the advice of our
Right Trusty and Right Well Beloved Cousin and Councillor, William
Humble, Earl of Dudley, Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order;
Lord Lieutenant General and Governor-General of that part of our said
United Kingdom called Ireland, do by these presents authorize and
empower the said Provosts and Senior Fellows and their successors in
office, and the said Senate of the University of Dublin, and the Caput
of the said Senate and all members thereof and all other persons or
bodies whose concurrence is necessary for the granting of degrees, to
interpret the charter and the statutes of said college in such a manner
that women may obtain degrees in the said University, all previous laws,
ordinances, and interpretations notwithstanding."
Under this authority on May 5, 1904, the board adopted rules admitting
women to all lectures, examinations, degrees, and prizes except
fellowships and scholarships, their fees being the same as those for
men, and all the rules applying to them equally, except that in the
medical department "women shall practice dissection separately from men
and medical lectures shall be given them either separately or in
conjunction with men, as the professors may think best."
In June, 1904, the senate also passed "a grace" for giving degrees to
women who had attained a certain prescribed status in the universities
of Oxford and Cambridge, and had passed all the examinations and
fulfilled all the other requirements for the granting of degrees for men
at Trinity.
The regulations require that women shall pay the same fees except those
for the commons (meals); that "except when entering or leaving college
they shall wear caps and gowns upon the college grounds unless
accompanied by a chaperon." They are not expected "to remove their caps
in the presence of the provost and fellows, and may wear them during
lectures and examinations." They are not permitted to visit the rooms of
men students in college unless accompanied by a chaperon. They are
examined separately; they are not required to attend chapel, and Miss
Lucy Gwynn was appointed lady registrar to act generally as adviser to
the women students and to report upon their conduct.
Later it was decreed by the provost and senior fellows that scholarships
should be established for women upon the same terms as men to the value
of $150 a year and exemption from ordinary college dues, and several
women have already obtained them.
The library of Trinity College is one of the most interesting places in
all Ireland and it has two relics which are incomparable in historic and
artistic value. One is the harp of Brian Boru, the greatest king in
Irish history. He ruled all Ireland for forty years, in the tenth and
eleventh centuries, and it is said that he was the only native that ever
was successful in keeping Ireland in peace. This is "The Harp that Once
through Tara's Halls," inspiring that beautiful ballad of Tom Moore. Its
authenticity has been questioned, and some people assert that it once
belonged to Henry VIII. of England, but no loyal Irishman will admit the
possibility of such a thing.
The other relic, which cannot be questioned, is a copy of the four
gospels, known as "The Book of Kells," because it was made by the monks
of a monastery founded in 546 by St. Columkills, or St. Columba,--the
name is spelled both ways,--and the antiquarians think that it dates
back very nearly to that year. It is often described as "the most
beautiful book in the world," and one may easily believe such a claim to
be true. About three hundred pages, eight by fifteen inches in size, are
covered with the most exquisite pen-work that you can imagine, embossed
with gold leaf and illuminated in brilliant water-colors with perfect
harmony and marvelous skill. I have seen all of the great collections of
missals in the world, but have never found so fine and perfect an
example as this. There are many equally fine, but of smaller size, in
the museums in London and the continental cities. Pierpont Morgan has
several specimens of that sort of work, but the "Book of Kells" is
unsurpassed both for its artistic perfection and the size of its pages,
which are two, three, and four times larger than the best of the other
works of the sort. Each page must have required months to execute; each
is different in design and coloring, but is harmonious with the rest,
and it is difficult to say which is the most wonderful and the most
beautiful.