CHAPTER XII.
‘This is all that remains of our village school. Here, in his noisy mansion, sat Phil. Sullivan, wielding his birch as if it had been a sceptre, while his little subjects were ranged around on benches formed of sods, that you may still see along the wall. The fire, when any was required, was made in the centre of the apartment, the fuel being furnished by each scholar daily bringing a turf with him. The door was formed of stakes interlaced withwattles, a loop of which thrown over a crooked nail served the purpose of a lock, and a rude table that the master sat at was all the desk in his school. As they came in at the door, the urchins were obliged to make their best bow, by drawing back the left leg, catching the tuft of hair that hung over the forehead, and bringing their stiff necks to the precise mathematical curve that constituted politeness; while Phil. sat in the middle, sometimes talking English, sometimes Irish, to suit himself to the comprehensionof his pupils. As a specimen of the manner in which he accomplished this, I will give you a journal of my first day at school.
‘While the more advanced scholars were conning their tasks, he taught the younger tyros the alphabet—“Come up here, Pat Geehan,” said he to a red-headed boy, dressed in a grey frieze coat, which came down to his heels, and a pair of old leather breeches, that, only reaching half-way down his thighs, exposed his red measled legs,—“Come, stand up here on the table, and let the boys hear how well you can say your letters.”—Pat mounted with great confidence; but when his phiz, by being raised into the light, became more distinctly seen, “Ubbaboo, tearin’ murder!” exclaimed Phil., “where have you been wid that face? why, man alive, you’ve been kissing the prata pot; and your hair, too, stannin’ up for a price, like the bristles of a fighting pig. Is there no water in the stream? and it would have been no great trouble to draw your fingers through your hair any how.”—Pat very composedly lifted up the tail of his coat, and, spitting upon it, gave his face a wipe that left it streaked like a branded cow—“There now,” said Phil., “blow your nose, and hold up your head like a gentleman. What’s this, avick?” said he, pointing to the first letter of the alphabet—Pat scratched his head—“You don’t know what it is?—small blame to you, for your mother keeps you running after the cows, when you should be at your larnin’; but look up at the couples of the house, and try if you can’t remember it.”—“A,” said Pat.—“Well done! What’s the name of the next one?” Pat hesitated again.—“What do you call the big fly that makes the honey?”—“B.”—“Och you’re a genus, Pat, ready made.” So on he went illustrating in this manner, until he came to the letter O. Having tried Pat’s “genus” with it two or three ways to no purpose, Phil. was getting out of patience—“What would you say if I was to hit you a palthog on the ear?” (suiting the action to the word,)—“O!” cried Pat, clapping his hand upon the afflicted spot, which rung with the blow.—“I knew you would find it,”said Phil.—By the help of this admonition Pat struggled through the rest of the letters,—“Well, you may sit down now, and send up Mick Moriarty.”—Mick was rather farther on than Pat—he was spelling words. After spelling two or three tolerably well, he came to the word “what”—“Well, what does w-h-a-t make?”—Mick was not sure about it—“W-h-a-t,” said Phil., “soundsfat; but,” (conscious of his own error in the pronunciation) “when I say fat, don’t you say fat; but do you say fat your own way.”’
‘Eugene is caricaturing,’ said Mary, ‘Phil. Sullivan was scarcely so bad as he represents; although I must confess his mode of instruction was at times rather ludicrous. Yet it was perhaps better suited to the poor children he had to teach, than that of a more refined instructor; and for all his blundering at the English, there was not one in the county a match for him at Latin or Irish.’
‘That is certainly true,’ said Eugene, ‘it was from him I learned the rudiments of Latin, and he has taught it to half the cow-boys in the parish, to keep them, as he said himself, out o’ longin’. This may account in some measure for the acquaintance with Heathen Mythology, which some of our most ignorant poetasters possess, and which is so profusely and sometimes ridiculously made use of in our songs. I do not mean those blundering songs misnamed Irish, that are written by blockheads as utterly ignorant of the idiom of our language, as they appear to be of common sense; but in songs which, though little known out of Ireland, must be familiar to all who have been any time in the country,—such as the following:—A young man meets a pretty girl in a morning, and falling head and ears in love with her at first sight, he breaks out with this rhapsody:—
Are you Aurora or the goddess Flora?Or are you Venus or the morning sun? &c.
Are you Aurora or the goddess Flora?Or are you Venus or the morning sun? &c.
Are you Aurora or the goddess Flora?Or are you Venus or the morning sun? &c.
Are you Aurora or the goddess Flora?
Or are you Venus or the morning sun? &c.
‘Poor Phil. Sullivan is now no more, and those who once composed his school are dispersed to the four quarters of the globe—a new parish school-house isbuilt, but few attend it, in consequence of some attempt made to interfere with the belief of the children.’
When we left the school-house, we were met by a sedate-looking old gentleman, who saluted us as he passed. ‘That,’ said Eugene, ‘is Father ——, our parish priest, a good and upright man; but eccentric in his manners, and more so in his preaching—that the latter is affected for the purpose of accommodating himself to the comprehension of his hearers, I believe, for he is a man of learning, and shines in conversation, when in company with people who understand him; but if you heard him from the pulpit, I doubt much whether you would be able to refrain from laughing.
‘When the congregation are all composed, with their eyes fixed on him, he begins: “There you are all of ye, looking demure and mim-mouthed, like as many saints, as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouths. Who would think, now, that half-an-hour ago you were busy scandalizing one another, making your remarks on this one’s dress, and that one’s face, while more of ye were bargaining about your pratas and corn; and this is all done when you come here on the pretence of hearing the word of God on the Lord’s-day; but what do you do on the week-days?—why, you curse, and swear, and tell lies, and drink, and fight; and worse than all that, you go scheming about at night, doing mischief to every one that doesn’t please you; and after doing all this, you’ll come to me, hanging a lip like a motherless foal, and a whine in your face, to make your confession, and get absolution for your sins. But how can I give you absolution? people that never think of God, only when the devil’s at their elbow—And when I refuse ye, ye fall to blubbering, and say, O Father —— dear! hear me; what will I do, if you don’t hear me? And what answer can I make ye, only that you’ll go to hell and be damned—and indeed it’s as true as I say it, if you don’t mend your manners, that will be the end of ye. So I would advise you to mind what you’re about, and don’t forget that there’s One above ye, that’s taking note of all your misdeeds. I am sure you know yourselvesthere’s no pleasure in the world in doing what’s wrong, and you all know how contented you feel when you do what’s right. Then take my advice, and ‘make your souls’ without any delay, for the Lord knows which of you may be alive to see next Sunday.”
‘That is but a very imperfect specimen of his powers; for, in this rude style, he is a most merciless dissector of the human heart, and his hearers often wonder how he attains a knowledge of their most secret failings, even when they are not regular in their duty. Rude, however, as his oratory is, at times it is very impressive, and I have often seen his audience in tears. He possesses a strong influence over his flock, and I have frequently seen him plunge into the midst of an hundred fellows who were fighting with sticks, and with his horse-whip disperse the whole of them.
‘There is a very unjust prejudice raised against our clergymen, from the supposition that they encourage or abet the disturbances that agitate this country. Nothing can be more unjust: they not only denounce and excommunicate all concerned in them, from the pulpit, but I have known them risk their lives in the endeavour to prevent outrages. I am sure, take them as a body, that there is not a more useful or exemplary set of men in the world, than the parish priests of Ireland. There are, no doubt, exceptions; but what would become of the character of the clergymen of the Established Church, were individual instances brought forward to criminate the whole body? For my part, although I am a Catholic, and of course must condemn the upholding an expensive church establishment at the charge of people who are not members of it, yet there are many clergymen of that church whom I esteem and respect. With the one belonging to our parish we are on the most friendly terms; his family and ours are almost constantly together, and I am sure love each other sincerely. It would be well for you to bear in mind, that in this countryProtestantandCatholicis not so much the distinguishing name of a religious sect, as it is theshibbolethof a political faction. There is, indeed,very little religion among the zealots on either side,—their own aggrandisement, and the possession of power or popularity, being their ruling motive. Poor Ireland has been torn to pieces between these conflicting parties, and has alternately been the dupe or the victim of the one or the other. Among well-informed and really religious people, these distinctions are little thought of.’
‘Nor should they be,’ replied I; ‘but, in my opinion, the influence of your clergymen over the mind and conscience of their flock extends too far, when used among ignorant and debased people. To restrain them from what is wrong, it may be beneficial, but it can also be turned to a bad purpose; and few intelligent people would like to have their conscience so much in the keeping of men frail and erring in their nature.’
‘Their influence is not so great as you imagine,’ replied Eugene; ‘we exercise a freedom of opinion on many points; for instance, there are many Catholics who cannot believe that all other sects will be eternally lost, and the enlightened of our clergy do not insist upon the point.’
‘It is an article of belief,’ said I, ‘that in my opinion is replete with mischief, and is the strongest weapon in the hands of your adversaries against emancipation. What can we expect, say they, from people who believe we are running the broad road to destruction? Even their pity can only extend so far as to drag us from its brink forcibly, as we would restrain a man from committing suicide. Would there not be an end of our political and religious freedom, the moment they got the ascendancy?’
‘It is certainly the most feasible argument they use,’ replied Eugene; ‘but at most we could not treat you worse than we have been treated, and if knowledge, by enlarging the mind, creates a more liberal feeling, its effects will extend to the poor Catholics as well as others. It is, after all, but a puerile argument; we find Protestants tolerated in France, and other Catholic countries. The evil you dread springs from ignorance,which produces bigotry, intolerance, and persecution, among Protestants as well as Catholics.—But I am sure you must be teazed with our incessantly talking about our country?’
‘Far from it,’ said I, ‘the subject to me is very interesting.’
‘For once,’ said Mary, ‘I am tired of it; let us shift the subject, if you please, to something else.’
‘Then I hope you will conduct us to the fairy haunts in the neighbourhood, and give us some of the traditions about them.’
‘With all my heart,’ said she; ‘but we do not need to travel far—this green mount on our left is said to be a favourite resort of the “good people,” and as its summit commands a view of all the places of note in the neighbourhood, we may seat ourselves there.’ So saying, she led the way.[19]
As we were returning home,—‘I see you are like the rest of your countrymen,’ said she, ‘a good listener; but you take care that we shall not know much of your adventures. You, that have been ranging the world over, amid scenes of every kind, must surely have much more interesting subjects in store, than those who have been always at home.’
‘The life of a soldier is not so varied,’ said I, ‘as you may imagine; there is a sameness in his duty, and so little liberty of his own in all that he does, that he cannot see or feel objects through the same medium as those who travel on pleasure or business. In general, he is secluded in a barrack or a camp from the rest of the world, and therefore there can be little variation in his life at home or abroad. In war, he is placed incircumstances which often strongly excite his mind, but the repetition of even these, soon renders it incapable of the impression. When we had been some time abroad, we went into action with nearly as much indifference as we did any minor point of duty.’
‘Then we are led to believe, from what you say, that soldiers are thus rendered incapable of the finer feelings of humanity.’
‘Under particular circumstances it may have that effect,’ said I, ‘But, after all, there is no class of men so susceptible of feeling, if the proper chord is touched. I know many instances of their disinterested and generous conduct in assisting the distressed; and the story which I am going to relate may exemplify the manner in which their sensibilities may be wrought upon, even in the tumult and excitation of an assault, where, in general, the kindly feelings of nature are entirely excluded.
‘The adventure is not one of my own, but it was related to me by my friend H——, whom you have heard me mention, and whose veracity I cannot question.’
FOOTNOTES:[19]Here I had introduced some fairy traditions, which she recited with all the arch and witty accompaniments of voice and manner, which render even a common story interesting; but having accidentally met with a very entertaining book lately published, entitled, ‘Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland,’ where I find similar stories, related in a style so much superior to mine, that it would have been presumption in me to follow the same track; I have thought it proper to cancel that part of my MS. and must now refer the reader to the above work for the gratification of his curiosity.
[19]Here I had introduced some fairy traditions, which she recited with all the arch and witty accompaniments of voice and manner, which render even a common story interesting; but having accidentally met with a very entertaining book lately published, entitled, ‘Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland,’ where I find similar stories, related in a style so much superior to mine, that it would have been presumption in me to follow the same track; I have thought it proper to cancel that part of my MS. and must now refer the reader to the above work for the gratification of his curiosity.
[19]Here I had introduced some fairy traditions, which she recited with all the arch and witty accompaniments of voice and manner, which render even a common story interesting; but having accidentally met with a very entertaining book lately published, entitled, ‘Fairy Legends and Traditions of the South of Ireland,’ where I find similar stories, related in a style so much superior to mine, that it would have been presumption in me to follow the same track; I have thought it proper to cancel that part of my MS. and must now refer the reader to the above work for the gratification of his curiosity.