HOW IRELAND BECAME THE MOST LEARNED COUNTRY IN EUROPE.

In old pagan times, long before the arrival of St. Patrick, there were schools in Ireland taught by druids. And when at last Christianity came, and was spreading rapidly over the land, those old schools were still held on; but they were no longer taught by druids, and they were no longer pagan, for teachers and scholars were now all Christians.

But as soon as St. Patrick came, a new class of schools began to spring up; for he and the other early missionaries founded monasteries everywhere through the country, and in connexion with almost every monastery there was a school. These were what are called monastic or ecclesiastical schools, for they were mostly taught by monks; while the older schools, being taught by laymen, were called lay schools.

In lay schools was taught what might be called the native learning—the learning that had grown up in the country in the course of ages. It consisted mainly of the following subjects:—To read and write the Irish language; Irish grammar, and rules of poetical composition—a very extensive and complicated subject; geography and history, especially the topography and history of Ireland; and a knowledge of the poetry, and of the historical and romantic tales of the country: while a great many of the schools were for professions—special schools of law, of medicine, of poetry, of history and antiquities, and so forth. In these last the professional men were educated.

These lay schools, being now within the Christian communion, were not abolished or discouraged in any way by St. Patrick or his successors. They were simply let alone, to teach their own secular learning just as they pleased. They continued on, and were to be found in every part of Ireland for fourteen centuries after St. Patrick’s arrival, down to a period within our own memory; but of course greatly changed as time went on. In later times they were much more numerous in Munster than in the other provinces; and they taught—and taught well—classics and mathematics; and often both combined in the same school. I was myself educated in some of those lay schools; and I remember with pleasure several of my old teachers: rough and unpolished men most of them, but excellent, solid scholars, and full of enthusiasm for learning—enthusiasm which they communicated to their pupils. In some respects indeed they resembled the rugged, earnest, scholarly Irishmen of old times, who travelled through Europe to spread religion and learning, as described at pp. 54, 55, farther on. But the famine of 1847 broke up those schools, and in a very few years they nearly all disappeared.

But our business here is mainly with the early monastic schools, which became so celebrated all over Europe. Before going farther it is well to remark that these schools also continued, and increased and multiplied as time went on. They held their ground successfully—as the lay schools did—during the evil days of later ages, when determined attempts were made, under the penal laws, to suppress them; and at the present day they are working all over the country quite as vigorously as in days of yore.

To notice all the monastic schools of old that attained eminence would demand more space than can be afforded here. So we must content ourselves with mentioning the following, all of which were very illustrious in their time:—Bangor (Co. Down), Lismore (Co. Waterford), Clonmacnoise, Armagh, Kildare, Clonard (Meath), Clonfert (Galway), Durrow (King’s Co.), Monasterboice (near Drogheda), Rosscarbery (Co. Cork), and Derry. Besides these, at least twenty-five others, all eminent, are specially mentioned in our old books. Most of these colleges were working, not in succession, but all at the same time, from the sixth century downwards. When we bear in mind that there were also, during the whole period, the lay schools, which, though smaller, were far more numerous—scattered all over the country—we shall have some idea of the universal love of learning that existed in Ireland in those days, and of the general spread of education. No other nation in Europe could boast of so many schools and colleges in proportion to size and population.

Many of the monastic colleges had very large numbers of students. In Clonard there were 3,000, all residing in and around the college; and Bangor founded by St. Comgall, and Clonfert founded by St. Brendan the Navigator, had each as many. And there were various smaller numbers—2,000, 1,500, 1,000, 500—down to fifty.

The students were of all classes—rich and poor—from the sons of kings and chiefs down to the sons of farmers, tradesmen, and labourers; young laymen for general education, as well as ecclesiastical students for the priesthood. All those who had the means paid their way in everything. But there were some who were so poor that they could pay little or nothing: and these ‘poor scholars’ (as they afterwards came to be called) received teaching, books, and often food, all free. But most of even the poorest did their best to pay something; and in this respect it is interesting to compare the usages of those long past times with some features of the college life of our own days. In some of the present American universities there is an excellent custom which enables very poor students to support themselves and pay their college fees. They wait on their richer comrades, bring up the dishes, etc., from the kitchen for meals, and lay the tables: and when the meal is over, they remove everything, wash up dishes and plates, and put them all by in their proper places. In fact, they perform most of the work expected from ordinary servants. For this they receive food and some small payment, which renders them independent of charity.

And the pleasing feature of this arrangement is, that it is not attended with any sense of humiliation or loss of self-respect. During study and lecture hours these same young men, having put by aprons and napkins, and donned their ordinary dress, are received and treated on terms of perfect equality by those they have served, who take on no airs, and do not pose as superiors, but mix with them in free and kindly intercourse as fellow-students and comrades.

All this was anticipated in Ireland more than a thousand years ago; for a similar custom existed in some of the old Irish colleges. The very poor students often lived with some of their richer brethren, and acted as their servants, for which they received food and other kinds of payment. Many of these youths who served in this humble capacity subsequently became great and learned men, as indeed we might expect, for boys of this stamp are made of the best stuff; and some of them are now famed in our records as eminent fathers of the ancient Irish Church.

The greatest number of the students lived in houses built by themselves, or by hired workmen—some, mere huts, each for a single person; some, large houses, for several: and all around the central college buildings there were whole streets of these houses, often forming a good-sized town.

Where there were large numbers great care was taken that there should be no confusion or disorder. The whole school was commonly divided into sections, over each of which was placed a leader or master, whose orders should be obeyed: and over the whole college there was one head-master or principal, usually called a Fer-leginn, i.e., ‘Man of learning’: while the abbot presided over all—monastery and college. The Fer-leginn was always some distinguished man—of course a great scholar. He was generally a monk, but sometimes a layman; for those good monks selected the best man they could find, whether priest or layman.

I suppose those who are accustomed to the grand universities and colleges of the present day, with their palatial buildings, would feel inclined to laugh at the simple, rough-and-ready methods and appliances of the old Irish colleges. There were no comfortable study rooms, well furnished with desks, seats, and rostrums: no spacious lecture halls. The greater part of the work, indeed, was carried on in the open air when the weather at all permitted. At study time the students went just where they pleased, and accommodated themselves as best they could. All round the college you would see every flowery bank, every scented hedgerow, every green glade and sunny hillock occupied with students, sitting or lying down, or pacing thoughtfully, each with his precious manuscript book open before him, all poring over the lesson assigned for next lecture, silent, attentive, and earnest.[3]

Then the little handbell tinkled for some particular lecture, and the special students for this hurried to their places, and seated themselves as best they could—on chair, stool, form, stone, or bank, and opened their books. These same books, too, were a motley collection—some large, some small, some fresh from the scribe, some tattered and brown with age: but all most carefully covered and preserved; for they were very expensive. You now buy a good school copy of some classical author for, say, half-a-crown: at that time it would probably cost what was equivalent to £2 of our present money.

Then the master went over the text, translating and explaining it, and whenever he thought it necessary questioned his pupils, to draw them out. After this he had to stand the cross-fire of the students’ questions, who asked him to explain all sorts of difficulties: for this was one of the college regulations. There were no grammars, no dictionaries, no simple introductory lesson books, such as we have now. The students had to go straight at the Latin or Greek text, and where they failed to make sense, the master stepped in with his help. And in this rugged and difficult fashion they mastered the language.

Yet it was in rude institutions of this kind that were educated those men whose names became renowned all over Europe, and who—for the period when they lived—are now honoured as among the greatest scholars and missionaries that the world ever saw.

The great Irish colleges were, in fact, universities in the full sense of the word, that is to say, schools which taught the whole circle of knowledge: they were, indeed, in a great measure the models on which our present universities were formed. The Latin and Greek languages and literatures were studied and taught with success. In science the Irish scholars were famous for their knowledge of Geometry, Arithmetic, Astronomy, Music, Geography, and so forth. And they were equally eminent in sacred learning—Theology, Divinity, and the Holy Scriptures.

The schools proved their mettle by the scholars they educated and sent forth: scholars who astonished all Europe in their day. Sedulius of the fifth century (whose name is still represented by the family name Shiel), an eminent divine, orator, and poet, travelled into France, Italy, Greece, and Asia, and composed some beautiful Latin hymns, which are still used in the services of the Church. ‘Fergil the Geometer’ went in 745 from his monastery of Aghaboe in Queen’s County to France, where he became famous for his deep scientific learning, and where he taught publicly—and probably for the first time—that the earth is round, having people living on the other side. John Scotus Erigena (‘John the Irish-born Scot’) of the ninth century taught in Paris; he was the greatest Greek scholar of his time, and was equally eminent in Theology. St. Columbanus of Bobbio (in Italy), a Leinsterman, a pupil of the college of Bangor, proved himself, while in France and Italy, a master of many kinds of learning, and was one of the greatest, most fearless, and most successful of the Irish missionaries on the Continent.

These men, and scores of others that we cannot find space for here, spread the fame of their native country everywhere. It was no wonder that the people of Great Britain and the Continent, when they met such scholars, all from Ireland, came to the conclusion that the schools which educated them were the best to be found anywhere. Accordingly, students came from all parts of the known world, to place themselves under the masters of these schools. From Germany, France, Italy, Egypt, came priests and laymen, princes, chiefs, and peasant students—all eagerly seeking to drink from the fountain of Irish learning. And let us bear in mind that in those days it was a far more difficult, dangerous, and tedious undertaking to travel to Ireland from the interior of the European Continent, than it is now to go to Australia or China. But even in much greater numbers than these came students from Great Britain. An English writer of that period, who was jealous of the Irish schools and in very bad humour with his countrymen for coming to them, is nevertheless forced to admit that Englishmen came to Ireland “in fleetloads.” In our Histories of Ireland we have read of the real Irish welcome they received—as recorded by the Venerable Bede and by others—and how the Irish, not only taught them, but gave them books and food for nothing at all! It was quite a common thing that young Englishmen, after they had learned all that their own schools were able to teach them, came to Ireland to finish their education.The more the students crowded to the Irish schools, whether from Ireland itself or from abroad, the more eagerly did the masters strive to meet the demand, by studying more and more deeply the various branches of learning, so as to equal or excel the scholars of other countries. Then Ireland became the most learned country in Europe, so that it came at last to be known everywhere as ‘The Island of Saints and Scholars.’