I pass on to University life in Ireland, the question, I have said, most prominent at this time. Ireland had no Oxford or Cambridge in the Middle Ages; an attempt to establish a University in Dublin failed; science and literature could not grow up in a land distracted by feudal and tribal strife, and in which two Churches were continually at war with each other. Elizabeth founded Trinity College towards the close of her reign, on the site of a monastery that had been suppressed; it was the intention of the queen, and of her two first successors, that this seminary should expand into a University in the true sense, containing a number of colleges within its sphere, and probably open to all students whatever their race or their faith. This happy consummation, however, was made impossible during the long period of civil war and trouble, which only came to an end with that of the seventeenth century. Trinity College remained a single foundation; and, in the era of Protestant ascendency that ensued, when Catholic Ireland lay under the ban of the penal code, it necessarily became an exclusively Protestant place of learning, its dignities, its honours, nay, admission to it, being reserved to members of the Established Church. It had, however, been amply endowed; and, from an early period, it possessed many distinguished worthies, the names of Ussher, of King, of Browne, and of others, being still remembered. Trinity College, strange to say, was very High Church during the reigns of the two last Stuarts and of Anne; its leading divines preached the creed of passive obedience; and it was remarkable for its aversion to Presbyterian Ireland, as was clearly shown in the diatribes of Swift. The college, however, became Whiggish and Low Church during the reign of Walpole—its Provost was appointed by the Crown; and until nearly the close of the eighteenth century, its professorships, its fellowships, its scholarships, its degrees, even entrance to its walls, were strictly confined to the dominant communion of the Anglican Church. But a liberal spirit grew up, and gained strength within it; this appears in many of the admirable writings of Berkeley, breathing the ideas that afterwards inspired Grattan, and in the histories of Leland and Warner, on the whole just to the vanquished Catholic people; and after the almost National movement which produced the Revolution of 1782, Trinity College took a remarkable step, which proved that it was in advance of the politics of that age. In 1793, when the Irish Parliament passed a great measure of Catholic relief, the college made Catholics eligible for its degrees and its minor prizes; and, but that its statutes made this impossible, it would, perhaps, have allowed Catholics to become professors, fellows, and scholars—in short, to have a share in its dignities and its government. Nothing like this was done at Oxford and Cambridge until the nineteenth century had run far its course.
From this time onwards Trinity College, accessible to Presbyterians some years before, received Catholics honourably within its precincts. A few distinguished Catholic Irishmen have obtained the excellent education it has always afforded; and these have been treated with scrupulous fairness; no attempt at proselytising has ever been made or thought of. Their numbers, however, have never been large; and they were necessarily placed in an inferior position, for they could not become professors, fellows, or scholars; the college remained an institution essentially Protestant, even anti-Catholic, in much of its teaching, for example, in the predilection it long showed for Locke. The college continued to thrive and to make progress; the reproach cast on it that she was the ‘silent sister,’ was rather due to the want of publishing enterprise in the Irish capital, than to any deficiency in literary power; at all events, it has long ago been removed; Trinity College has stood for a century in the foremost rank of places of learning famed for scientific eminence. In 1843-44 an attempt was made to introduce Catholics on the foundation, as scholars; but this was prohibited by the statutes; some ‘non-foundation’ scholarships were then endowed; and Catholics were enabled to compete for them. This was the position of the college, when, in 1844-45, after the agitation for Repeal had shown how disaffected Catholic Ireland still was, Peel turned his mind to Irish remedial measures, and among these to a reform of high education in Ireland. His policy was to maintain the Union intact, and all the institutions closely connected with it, but to create institutions, so to speak, alongside of these, to which Irish Presbyterians, and Catholics especially, might freely resort, in complete equality with all Irishmen; he therefore left Trinity College exactly as it was, but resolved to establish and endow places of learning, which he hoped would be popular supplements to it, and would give a University training to students who, as affairs stood, were not on the same level as the favoured Protestants in it. He founded the Queen’s Colleges of Belfast, of Cork, and of Galway; these were supplied with an ample staff of professors, endowed, and given the means to bestow many prizes; and they were affiliated to the Queen’s University, empowered to confer degrees. The principle on which these institutions were formed was, following the so-called liberalism of the time, almost exactly the same as that on which the Irish National Schools had been based. Secular education in them was to be united, religious education was to be kept apart; their students were to learn the things that belonged to this world together; but as to what belonged to another world, this teaching was to be provided by their pastors outside their colleges, and they were not to have it in common. The colleges, and the University, therefore, were essentially seats of non-religious knowledge; religious equality, it was said, could be only thus secured; and residence in the colleges was not required.
The principle pervading the Irish National education system was certainly open to grave objections; these became infinitely stronger, when it was applied to a system of high education in Ireland. Secular instruction could be really combined, and given to children together, when limited to the first rudiments: how could it be combined when it should embrace such subjects as moral philosophy, metaphysics, modern history, nay, physical science, and when taught to young men of the University age? Besides, religious instruction, without a great shock to conscience, could be made a subordinate consideration in mere day schools: how could it, consistently with Christian duty, be practically excluded from a University course, and left to undergraduates to be dealt with as they might think fit, and that at the most critical time of their life? Indifference to the Divine, masked in specious ‘liberal’ phrases, was, in truth, the cardinal feature of this scheme; it would have been severely reprobated by Burke; it was repugnant to the ideas of five-sixths of Irishmen; its tendency was to form minds in superior men, like those of Hume and Gibbon, in inferior men, to produce infidel, even atheistic, sentiments. It was denounced as ‘godless’ in the House of Commons by the High Church party; it was condemned by O’Connell, from the outset, though the men of ‘Young Ireland’ were not adverse; after some hesitation, it was rejected unequivocally by the Irish Catholic bishops,[188] and finally was held up to anathema at the Synod of Thurles. That the bishops were sincere is proved by the fact, that they established the Irish Catholic University a few years afterwards—the first head of this creation was Newman; and the foundation has been maintained ever since, though it could not give a degree, and it received nothing from the State, and its only funds were the contributions of a poor communion, a noble example of self-sacrifice and of a true sense of duty. Meanwhile, the Queen’s Colleges and University were kept up and endowed, at the rate of about £30,000 a year; the College of Belfast has done well, for it falls in with Presbyterian ideas; but the Colleges of Cork and of Galway, notably the last, have been sorry, nay, almost useless, failures; and Peel’s hope that his project would secure a good University training to Irish Catholics of the better class has not been, to any real extent, fulfilled. Trinity College remained for many years unchanged, that is, it gave an admirable education to a very few Catholics; but it continued to be a Protestant institution in its essential nature; its governing body and its hierarchy were all Protestant; its teaching was Protestant in some of its parts; its higher honours were a monopoly of the favoured communion.
The extreme unfairness of this University system, the ascendency secured to Trinity College, which, admirable institution as it was, was practically nearly confined to Protestants of the upper class; the failure, with respect to Catholic Ireland, of the Queen’s Colleges and the Queen’s University, and the large and useless expenditure this involved; above all, the denial to the Catholic University of any share in the bounty of the State, though its claim to it could be hardly doubtful,—attracted the attention of several statesmen, from 1850 to 1870; but nothing was done, or even attempted. The subject was taken up by Mr. Gladstone, with characteristic earnestness, during his first Ministry; he declared that University education in Ireland was ‘a scandal;’ indeed, Irish education of the higher kind was the third branch of the upas tree which threw its baleful shade over the land. He brought in a measure of reform in the session of 1873; it was an ambitious and a comprehensive scheme; but it was much the worst of his Irish reforms of this period; and it ended in complete and disastrous failure. With the historical instinct occasionally seen in his legislation, Mr. Gladstone proposed to revive the idea of Elizabeth and the first Stuarts, and to found a great National University, which was to have the management and control of the higher education throughout Ireland. The governing body of this new institution was to be composed partly of men chosen by the Lord-Lieutenant, and partly of the heads of the colleges to be connected with it; and it was to have the sole power of conferring degrees in Ireland. Trinity College was to hand over to the National University a sum of £12,000 a year, that is, more than a fourth of its endowments from the State; its professorships, its fellowships, its scholarships, in a word, all its prizes, were to be thrown open to all its students whatever their faith; but in most other respects it was not to be essentially changed, except as to the power of granting degrees. Trinity College was to be affiliated to the National University as a dependent college, and so were a number of minor colleges; but this remarkable distinction was made in homage to the ‘liberalism’ of the day: the Queen’s Colleges, that of Galway being suppressed as useless, were to retain the endowments they received from the State, on the ground that they were free to all comers; but the Catholic University was not to obtain a shilling, nor yet other colleges of a sectarian type, on the ground that they were ‘close and exclusive,’ this being the case of all the Catholic colleges that could be affiliated to the new foundation. The Queen’s University was to be abolished, for the National University was to be sole and supreme; and then came provisions, which, strange as they may appear at first sight, were perhaps inevitable under the conditions on which the project was formed. Moral philosophy, metaphysics, and modern history were shut out from the National University course; they might be taught in the colleges, but were to be no part of University learning. And the National University, like the Queen’s Colleges, was to be ‘non-religious;’ its system of education was to be secular and united, that is its students were to be examined together in secular learning, but in religious matters they were to stand apart; religion, indeed, might be a subject of college teaching, but it was not to be heard of within the University walls; in fact, it was probably to be left to the students and their clergy.
This complicated measure, not easy thoroughly to understand, was sustained, for a few days, by the glamour of Mr. Gladstone’s rhetoric. But ere long it arrayed against it an immense preponderance of opinion in Ireland, and was assailed with fatal effect in the House of Commons. The Heads of Trinity College took the initiative in declaring against it; in debates, wise, patriotic, and just alike, they recognised the claims of Catholic Ireland; but they protested against the wrong being done to the great and ancient foundation they represented, and especially against the degradation to which it was subjected by the Bill. Trinity College was to be deprived for no reason of a large part of its revenue; it was to be placed under a governing body, in which nominees of the Castle would be all-powerful—an influence pernicious to its independence and self-government; above all, the National University was to supplant it, and was to exclude from its teaching the noblest studies of the intellect of man. The Platonism which had inspired Berkeley, the records which had animated the genius of Burke, and had been fostered in the Alma mater of these great worthies, were to be banished from a foundation which was to be made the head of University life in Ireland. These sentiments were fully shared by enlightened Irishmen: that moral and metaphysical science and modern history should be virtually proscribed in the University about to be set up, was, as it were, putting out one of the eyes of the intellect, effacing what was best in the map of knowledge. But the most decisive condemnation of the scheme was that pronounced by the Irish Catholic bishops. Like their predecessors of nearly thirty years before, and the Anglican High Church party of that day, they asserted that the project was really ‘godless;’ it was irreligion in the mask of non-religion; its liberalism was in the highest degree illiberal, for it offered their flocks a system of education it was known they would reject; and it was flagrantly, nay, basely, unjust, for while Trinity College, and the Queen’s Colleges, and the Queen’s University, were to remain endowed, the Catholic University and all Catholic colleges were to get nothing from the State. These arguments made their way into the House of Commons, and were vindicated in speeches of great ability. Disraeli dwelt especially on the poverty and the imperfection of a University scheme, in which the finest branches of knowledge were not to enter; he frankly denounced the Bill as ‘atheistic,’ an epithet which Burke assuredly would have fastened on it. Other speakers, notably Ball, a very brilliant Irishman, enlarged on the wrong done to Trinity College, and earnestly advocated the Catholic claims; not only was the minister offering a stone for bread, he was virtually trying to bribe the Irish Catholic into accepting institutions he disliked, and in the attempt was deeply offending his conscience. Notwithstanding the efforts of a powerful Government, the Bill was rejected by the House of Commons; nearly all the Irish members voted against it, and so did the best men of the Liberal party.
The year that witnessed the collapse of Mr. Gladstone’s measure, witnessed, also, a reform of Trinity College conceived in the spirit of the ‘liberalism’ of the hour, and hailed as an illustration of what is called progress. The government, the dignities, and the prizes of the college were thrown open to all without regard to their creed; this was welcomed as ‘University equality’ in the most perfect sense. It is a mistake to suppose that a corresponding change was ever made at Oxford and Cambridge; the extension of their privileges to persons whatever their faith, has, thanks to the exertions of the late Lord Selborne, been strictly confined to lay offices; the religious character and teaching of the Universities have been carefully preserved.[189] Though Trinity College has been made ‘non-religious’ by this measure, and that to such a degree that its governing body might conceivably be composed of avowed atheists, it has, nevertheless, to this day remained a Protestant institution in all essential respects. Its professors, fellows, and scholars have, since 1873, been nearly all Protestants; its Catholic students are not eight in a hundred of the number as a whole; and the chief practical result of the late reform has been to make the heads of the Irish Catholic Church more opposed than before to seeing Catholics enter its precincts. In 1879, Lord Beaconsfield’s Ministry made an attempt to diminish the injustice done to Irish Catholics by the system of University education still in force in Ireland. The Queen’s University was abolished; a Royal University was established, which was enabled to confer degrees on, and to give prizes to, the students of the Catholic University and other colleges; but the Royal University is a mere Examining Board; it is not a University properly so called. One incident connected with this institution deserves attention; the success of the students of Catholic colleges at the Royal University examinations has been so great, that it ought to silence jeers at the ‘superstition’ which keeps them back, the vulgar cant of ignorant prejudice or worse.[190] Meanwhile the iniquities and anomalies of the Irish University system have continued but very little changed.[191] Trinity College remains a Protestant institution well endowed, almost a monopoly of the Protestant upper class in Ireland, practically little resorted to by Irish Catholics; the Queen’s Colleges are avoided by the Irish Catholics, as being ‘irreligious’ if called ‘non-religious,’ though the College of Belfast suits Presbyterian views; they, too, receive a large bounty from the State; but the Catholic University, the true seminary for the upper middle Catholic classes, and now divided into different colleges, is still, as such, left out in the cold. Its students, no doubt, can obtain Royal University degrees, and some of its professors have been placed as examiners on that foundation; but it is the veriest mockery to call this justice when we look at Trinity College and the Queen’s Colleges. ‘The words of scripture are reversed,’ in Macaulay’s language; ‘the rich are filled with good things and the hungry are sent empty away.’
I do not envy those who, whatever their reasons, refuse to acknowledge the wrong done by these arrangements. It will hardly be denied, in the twentieth century, that Protestant ascendency ought not to exist in any sphere of Irish affairs, and that in University life, as in all matters, Irish Catholics ought to have civil equality, and that without a violation of the rights of conscience. It has been triumphantly maintained that, in high education, these conditions are actually fulfilled in Ireland; Trinity College and the Queen’s Colleges are accessible to all students, without regard to their religion or no religion; these have a perfectly equal right to share in the government and the honours of institutions thrown completely open. But those who argue in this way either shut their eyes to facts, or will not perceive that this fine ‘liberalism’ in Ireland works sheer injustice. Catholics are but a handful of students in Trinity College and the Queen’s Colleges compared to what their natural proportion ought to be; Trinity College, if nominally open, is in all essential respects Protestant; the Queen’s Colleges as being ‘non-religious,’ that is, in the view of their Church ‘irreligious,’ are practically avoided by Irish Catholics; yet the State endows Trinity College and the Queen’s Colleges; it starves the Catholic University and other Catholic colleges, which are thus unfairly handicapped by their rivals. If this is not furthering Protestant ascendency in Irish high education, and denying civil equality to Irish Catholics who, in this matter, will not forego the rights of conscience, I do not know what else it can be; it seems to me to be iniquity in no doubtful sense. And are the objections of the Irish Catholics, in this province, as ‘irrational’ and ‘superstitious’ as has been scoffingly said? Reverse the case of Trinity College: suppose that England was a Catholic Power, and that she kept up a great Catholic University in the Irish capital, discountenancing Protestant institutions in many ways, how many Protestants would enter its walls, how soon would the cry of Catholic ascendency be raised? Or suppose that Oxford and Cambridge were made ‘non-religious,’ as the Queen’s Colleges in Ireland are, would not an immense majority of English parents declare that these seats of learning were ‘godless,’ and persistently keep their sons away from them? The simple truth is that the Catholic objections to Trinity College and the Queen’s Colleges are really those which, in this matter, have been entertained by the deepest thinkers; to my mind, at least, they seem perfectly well-founded. As to the statement that these objections are those of the Irish Catholic bishops alone, and are mere ‘superstitious fancies,’ it is enough to reply that, on two occasions, the Irish Catholic laity have distinctly pronounced on this subject, and have declared that they agree with the heads of their Church. And as to the argument that Catholic States do not endow sectarian institutions like the Catholic University and other Irish Catholic colleges, it will be quite time enough to examine this when anything like such a state of things can be found as that which at present exists in Ireland.
One argument, however, seldom frankly set forth, but hinted at in a variety of ways, has been a real obstacle to a reform of this vicious system; it strongly appeals to British national prejudice, of all aberrations of opinion the most difficult to overcome. ‘Popery,’ it is said, is a ‘detestable thing;’ a ‘Protestant’ State ‘must have nothing to do with it;’ to endow a Catholic University in Ireland, therefore, or any colleges of the same complexion, would be ‘sacrificing to Baal,’ or something as wicked. Catholic Ireland must put up with Trinity College and the Queen’s Colleges, which have been made open to all sorts and conditions of men; its ‘conscientious objections’ are mere ‘bigotry.’ This reasoning, which condemns as impious the religion of the greatest part of Christendom, would unfortunately overthrow many arrangements by which provision has been made in our ‘Protestant’ State for Catholic institutions of different kinds; if pushed to its consequences, it would revive the penal code in Ireland, and lead to the confiscation of Catholic charities. But though it has still indirectly an effect on some politicians, it is, in its naked simplicity, only the faith of Mr. Kensit and of those who walk in his footsteps; it is worthy of the philosophy of Lord George Gordon, of the meekness of Orangeism, of the bray of Exeter Hall. For some time a turn in British opinion has happily taken place; ‘liberalism,’ it has been perceived, in Irish University education has failed; Mr. Arthur Balfour has made himself conspicuous in advocating the just claims of Catholic Ireland. Even as I write a Commission is being appointed to consider the whole subject of University life in Ireland; there can be no reasonable doubt that it will fully bring to light the anomalies and the unfairness of the existing system, and will recommend that the Catholic University, and other Catholic colleges perhaps, shall be endowed. In truth, things have already come to such a pass that Trinity College, the one institution of which, it is said, ‘all Irishmen are really proud,’ will, owing to the exceptional favour it receives from the State, be placed in grave danger, and the Queen’s Colleges also, if a Catholic University in Ireland be not established and endowed, in order to secure to the Irish Catholic civil equality, in high education, through the assistance of the State.[192]
On what principles, then, and by what means, is University education in Ireland to be so reformed as to do equal justice to all Irishmen, to place Protestants, Presbyterians, and Catholics on the same level, and, especially, to vindicate the rightful claims of Catholic Ireland? Two leading projects have at least been sketched out: the first, the grander and the more ambitious, but, in my judgment, scarcely possible to carry into effect; the second, more simple, more in harmony with existing facts, and, I think, safer and much more easy to realise. The first scheme, following in some respects the measure of Mr. Gladstone of 1873, but making a marked improvement on it, would aim at establishing and endowing a National University for all Irishmen, which should have a power to confer degrees, in common with the Royal University now existing, and should have an ample professional staff; it should have its examinations for degrees and for other honours. The governing body of this University should be composed of the heads of the colleges affiliated to it—the element of the Castle being excluded, according at least to the best authorities—and Trinity College should not be deprived of any part of its revenues, as it was to be under the Bill of 1873. Two of the Queen’s Colleges probably should be suppressed; but the College of Belfast, which has been successful, should probably be made a Presbyterian college, at least in the main; the endowments it would receive should be, doubtless, increased. High Catholic education should be provided for in this way: The Catholic University should be established and endowed, and placed reasonably on a level with Trinity College, and perhaps other Catholic colleges also; but, in consideration of this assistance from the State, a lay element should be introduced into the Catholic University governing body; this should not be composed wholly of Catholic clergymen; and the teaching body should be composed of men, chosen without regard to religious distinctions, but so constituted that a majority should be Catholics, and that Catholic education should be predominant. Other Catholic colleges might be connected with this institution; and Trinity College, the Catholic University, and the Belfast and all other colleges, should be subordinate to the National University in this sense; their students should be obliged to resort to it, or to the Royal University if they preferred it, in order to pass examinations, and to obtain degrees or other honours, there being thus two Universities of different types in Ireland. Education in all the affiliated colleges should be perfectly free, that is, left to the arrangements made by their governing bodies; but a certain standard of proficiency should exist, which, however, the tests of University examinations would probably secure.
An Irish National University, could it be founded on these lines, would present many attractive features, would realise, indeed, a noble ideal. It would preserve Trinity College as a great place of learning, would give Presbyterian Ireland a college practically its own, and ought to satisfy the legitimate demands of Catholic Ireland. That its dependent colleges should compete with each other for its degrees and honours, and be friendly rivals in the splendid race of learning, would also be an immense advantage; and the Royal University would, doubtless, suffice for students too poor to enter the dependent colleges, and yet aspiring to pass examinations and to obtain degrees. But could a National University of this type be set up in Ireland with a prospect that it would succeed or flourish? Its governing body would be formed of the heads of the colleges connected with it; these would be mainly composed of Catholic and Protestant divines: could these, in the existing state of Ireland, agree as to the University course that ought to be adopted? Suppose that Archbishop Walsh and Dr. Salmon, the venerable provost of Trinity College, were together members of this supreme board. Would the first approve of Locke’s Essay on the Human Understanding as a subject of examination in the University schools? Would the second approve of Bellarmine and even of Bossuet? Dissension, I fear, would be the inevitable result; and in that case ‘the Castle’ would certainly try to gain authority over the governing body, and to place on it nominees of its own, in my judgment, an exceedingly mischievous thing. Very probably, too, the State, in the long run, would deprive Trinity College of some of its revenues, on different pleas that could be plausibly urged; to this there would be the gravest objections. And how could moral philosophy, metaphysics, and modern history, nay, even physical science itself, be made parts of University studies? How could Protestants and Catholics be examined in them in common? Would it not be necessary to exclude them from University teaching, as in the case of Mr. Gladstone’s ill-starred measure—to close the University to the best works of the intellect of man, to deprive it of the most fruitful branches of learning? I fear the idea of a National University, as affairs now stand in Ireland, is not likely to become a reality with results that could be deemed hopeful. No doubt the Royal University does, to some extent, have examinations on these debateable subjects; but they occupy a very small place in its teaching; and in a National University this ought not to be the case.