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 PALGRAVE STUDIES IN
THE HISTORY
OF CHILDHOOD

CONSTRUCTIONS OF THE IRISH

CHILD IN THE INDEPENDENCE
PERIOD, 1910-1940
Edited by
CIARA BOYLAN AND CIARA GALLAGHER
Palgrave Studies in the History of Childhood

Series Editors
George Rousseau
University of Oxford
Oxford, Oxfordshire, UK

Laurence Brockliss
University of Oxford
Oxford, Oxfordshire, UK
Palgrave Studies in the History of Childhood is the first of its kind to
historicise childhood in the English-speaking world; at present no histor-
ical series on children/childhood exists, despite burgeoning areas within
Child Studies. The series aims to act both as a forum for publishing
works in the history of childhood and a mechanism for consolidating the
identity and attraction of the new discipline.

Editorial Board
Matthew Grenby (Newcastle)
Colin Heywood (Nottingham)
Heather Montgomery (Open)
Hugh Morrison (Otago)
Anja Müller (Siegen, Germany)
Sïan Pooley (Magdalen, Oxford)
Patrick Joseph Ryan (King’s University College at Western University,
Canada)
Lucy Underwood (Warwick)
Karen Vallgårda (Copenhagen)

More information about this series at

http://www.palgrave.com/gp/series/14586
 Ciara Boylan · Ciara Gallagher
Editors

Constructions of the
Irish Child in the
Independence Period,
1910-1940
Editors
Ciara Boylan Ciara Gallagher
Galway, Ireland Maynooth, Kildare, Ireland

Palgrave Studies in the History of Childhood

ISBN 978-3-319-92821-0 ISBN 978-3-319-92822-7 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-92822-7

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 Foreword

As we move through the centenary of commemoration of the 1916

Easter Rising, War of Independence and the more contentious Civil War
in Ireland, it would be very easy to forget the plight of the lives of Irish
children during this period. Furthermore, while we have been reminded
of children as participants and victims in the action that took place, par-
ticularly during the Rising, we have talked far less of their social being
and cultural and educational experiences. The editors are to be particu-
larly praised for bringing together a set of accounts that recall the edu-
cational, social and cultural construction of children’s lives during the
period. The diversity of knowledge and understanding by contributors is
particularly noteworthy in that this relates to a time where children were
without rights and voiceless and living in a ‘seen but not heard’ era in
Ireland. Worse still, the neglect and what was deemed to be acceptable
physical and emotional abuse of thousands of children in Irish schools by
teachers and others was left unsaid and to this day has never been prop-
erly addressed.
As the twentieth century progressed, the idea of children’s rights
began to emerge more forcefully, gradually impacting on Ireland. In
1924, the Geneva Declaration of the Rights of the Child was adopted
by the League of Nations; in 1959, the Declaration of the Rights of
the Child was approved by the UN, and in 1989, the Convention
on the Rights of the Child was adopted by the UN. Ireland rati-
fied the Convention in 1992 while more recently the Department of
Children and Youth Affairs was established in 2011 and the ‘Children’s

v
vi    Foreword

Referendum’ was passed in 2012. During the period when the concept
of children’s rights was gradually being adopted, a wide range of brilliant
child activists emerged who contributed to the social, cultural and emo-
tional development of children in a responsive and respectful way in
the classroom (formally), in the community (informally) and in wider
society. In my role as UNESCO Chair in Children, Youth and Civic
Engagement, I am committed to the construction of the child as an
active agent, with full rights, who should be enabled to co-determine the
trajectory of their development on the path to adulthood. I and many
others need to learn from the past, both from negative constructions of
children as passive and without rights and from those who remained on
the side of children.
This book does not just add to our scholarly knowledge of how chil-
dren were constructed in Ireland in the past and is outstanding in doing
so, but also highlights how our approach to children has changed for
the better while perhaps suggesting that in some ways things have not
changed enough. As such, the volume acts as ‘moral anchor’ to adults
in listening to and supporting children. This is not just to the benefit of
themselves and their families, but of all civic society.

Galway, Republic of Ireland Prof. Pat Dolan

March 2018
 Preface

The idea for this volume arose from both editors’ involvement in the
National Collection of Children’s Books (NCCB) project, a two-year
interdisciplinary project that examined children’s books held in five
libraries with a view to bringing to light the richness of children’s books
collections in Ireland. The project examined both educational and lit-
erary texts, producing a centralised online catalogue of over 250,000
books and a database of short descriptive analyses of noteworthy texts,
paying particular attention to texts of Irish interest or with a connection
to Ireland. One of the benefits of working on the NCCB project was
the glimpses that were gained into the sheer diversity and complexity
of material created for children in Ireland or existing within children’s
books collections in Ireland during any given period over the last num-
ber of centuries. The possibilities of the material created for children dur-
ing the independence period held particular resonance and interest as we
entered into the early stages of the Decade of Commemorations 2012–
2022. The project had highlighted not only the broad interdisciplinary
interest in children’s books as forms of cultural production, but also the
ways in which texts for children can be used to inform our ideas of his-
toric Irish childhood from a variety of perspectives: historic, educational,
literary and sociological. The potential significance of a volume examin-
ing various forms of cultural production and modes of reaching children
in the independence period presented itself clearly to the editors.
The volume is supported by the UNESCO Child and Family Research
Centre at NUI, Galway. The examination of historic Irish childhood

vii
viii    Preface

presented here is framed within the context of UNESCO’s rights-based

vision of youth and childhood that celebrates the active participation of
young people in the life of the nation, not only as future adult actors but
also as valued citizens with inherent rights. In this global vision of child-
hood, the young are seen as active citizens whose education, personal
development and civic participation are regarded as integral to the life of
the nation and the global community. Such a view contrasts starkly with
a perception of children as passive recipients of value systems and citi-
zens to be moulded (or indeed totems to which the nation turns to fulfil
the symbolic needs of ideologies such as nationalism). This volume will
explore how children were ‘constructed’ in Ireland at the birth of the
independent nation, and in doing so provides an opportunity to reflect
on how Irish society’s approach to its youngest citizens has evolved and
changed since 1922.

Galway, Ireland Ciara Boylan

Maynooth, Ireland Ciara Gallagher
 Contents

1 Introduction 1
Ciara Gallagher and Ciara Boylan

Part I Education and Learning

2 Concepts of Children and Childhood from an

Educational Perspective 1900–1940: Context,
Curriculum and Experiences 25
Thomas Walsh

3 The Church of Ireland’s Response to Changes in the

National School Curriculum in Post-independence
Ireland 1922–1940 49
Martina Relihan

4 A Treasure-House for the Young: Free Public Libraries

and the Irish Child 67
Máire Kennedy

ix
x    Contents

Part II Literature and Language

5 Drama for Children in the Irish Free State: Sinéad

De Valera’s Plays for Schoolchildren 97
Kate Harvey

6 Jimín Mháire Thaidhg and Constructions of Childhood

in Irish-Language Children’s Literature in the
Independence Period, 1910–1940 115
Róisín Adams

7 ‘For Children or Nuns’: Language and Ideology in

Irish-Language Translations and Retellings for Children,
1922–1940 139
Caoimhe Nic Lochlainn

8 This Is No Country for Young Girls? Irish Girlhood

in the Revolutionary Period 165
Susan Cahill

9 ‘Stories of Ancient Days’: Mythological Constructs

of Childhood in Independence Ireland 187
Rebecca Long

Part III Material Culture and Organised Activity

10 Toys, Material Culture and Play Space in Ireland:

The Iveagh Trust Play Centre 207
Vanessa Rutherford

11 ‘Set Up Before the People’: Images and Ideals of Boys’

Clothing in Ireland, c.1910–1940 229
Hilary O’Kelly

12 The Boy Scouts in Ireland: Urbanisation, Health,

Education, and Adolescence, 1908–1914 257
Brendan Power
 Contents    xi

13 ‘A Youth Tainted with the Deadly Poison of Anglicism’?

Sport and Childhood in the Irish Independence Period 279
Richard McElligott

Index 307
 Notes on Contributors

Róisín Adams is Curriculum Development Manager with the

Irish-language education company Coláiste na hÉireann/Gaelchultúr,
and she also lectures on their Postgraduate Diploma in Translation
Studies. She has a BA in English Literature and Modern Irish from
Trinity College Dublin, and a Ph.D. from the same institution. Her dis-
sertation examined the development of Irish-language children’s litera-
ture between the years 1926 and 1967. Along with Claire Marie Dunne
and Caoimhe Nic Lochlainn, she was co-editor of the essay collection
Thar an Tairseach: Aistí ar Litríocht agus ar Chultúr na nÓg (2014).
Ciara Boylan is Researcher at the UNESCO Child and Family Research
Centre, National University of Ireland, Galway. Her research inter-
ests and publications cover the history and philosophy of education,
publishing for children, and educational policy and practice.
Dr. Susan Cahill is an Associate Professor in the School of Irish Studies,
Concordia University, Montréal. Her research interests include Irish girls’
literary cultures, children’s and YA fiction, and contemporary Irish liter-
ature, particularly women’s writing. Her monograph, Irish Literature in
the Celtic Tiger Years: Gender, Bodies, Memory, was published in 2011.
She has also published two collections of essays on contemporary Irish
writers: Anne Enright (edited with Claire Bracken) and Colum McCann
(edited with Eoin Flannery) and numerous book chapters and journal
articles on subjects ranging from gender and the body in contemporary
Irish fiction, historical children’s literature, to fairytale cinema, and Irish

xiii
xiv    Notes on Contributors

literary girlhood. In Spring 2013, Dr. Cahill was awarded a three-year

FRQSC grant for her project, ‘Ireland’s Daughters: The Literary Cultures
of the Irish Girl, 1870–1922’, and is currently working on a monograph
based on this research.
Ciara Gallagher is an independent scholar and previously worked as a
postdoctoral researcher on the National Collection of Children’s Books
project in Ireland. Her research interests include colonial and postco-
lonial children’s literature, Irish children’s literature and contemporary
Indian children’s literature.
Kate Harvey is Lecturer in Children’s Studies at the National
University of Ireland, Galway, where she teaches courses on children’s
literature, film and the creative arts. Her research interests include adap-
tation for children, Shakespeare in children’s media and theatre for
young audiences. She is also a regular reviewer of children’s books for
Children’s Books Ireland and iBbY Ireland.
Máire Kennedy is retired Divisional Librarian with Dublin City Public
Libraries. Her Ph.D. (1995) examined Irish print culture of the eight-
eenth century. She is author of French Books in Eighteenth-Century
Ireland (2001), two chapters in The Oxford History of the Irish Book,
vol. 3: The Irish Book in English 1550–1800 (2005), and she has pub-
lished widely in Irish and international journals. She is the editor, with
Bernadette Cunningham, of The Experience of Reading: Irish Historical
Perspectives (1999) and, with Alastair Smeaton, of Reading Gulliver:
Essays in Celebration of Jonathan Swift’s Classic (2008). She was series
editor, with Mary Clark, of publications to mark the Dublin City Council
Decade of Commemorations 2012–2022. She is now a research associate
with the Centre for Early Modern History, Trinity College Dublin.
Rebecca Long is a final-year Ph.D. candidate in the School of English,
Trinity College, Dublin. A Government of Ireland Postgraduate Scholar
with funding from the Irish Research Council, she is researching cultural
and mythological heritage in books produced for children in Ireland.
Rebecca has contributed to numerous critical collections on children’s
literature including, Feast or Famine? Food and Children’s Literature
(2014), Neil Gaiman in the 21st Century (2015) and Gender(ed)
Identities: Critical Re-readings of Gender in Children’s and Young Adult
Literature (2016).
 Notes on Contributors    xv

Dr. Richard McElligott lectures in modern Irish history in UCD

and is currently conducting historical research on behalf of the Irish
Government. He has published extensively on the history of Irish sport
and on the Irish revolutionary period. He is a former chairman of the
Sport History Ireland society. His work has appeared in the likes of
Eire-Ireland, Irish Social and Economic History and the Atlas of the Irish
Revolution. He is the author of Forging a Kingdom: The GAA in Kerry,
1884–1934 (2013) and the editor of A Social and Cultural History of
Sport in Ireland (2016).
Caoimhe Nic Lochlainn is Lecturer in Fiontar & Scoil na Gaeilge,
Dublin City University. Her research focuses on Irish-language children’s
literature and culture, and she has recently published her first children’s
book, Scéalta le hInsint don Ghealach.
Hilary O’Kelly lectures at the National College of Art & Design in
Dublin. Specialising in dress, she teaches in the School of Visual Culture
on the undergraduate and M.A. programmes in Design History and
Material Culture. A recent research project, on Irish dress and textiles,
was funded by The Golden Fleece Award and published in 2014 as Cleo,
Irish Clothes in a Wider World. She has written chapters in Chic Thrills:
A Fashion Reader (1992); Old Clothes, New Looks (2005); Making 1916:
Material and Visual Culture of The Easter Rising (2015) and contributed
to Fashion in Photographs 1900–1920 (1992) and Atlas of The Great Irish
Famine (2012).
Dr. Brendan Power holds a Ph.D. in History from Trinity College,
Dublin. A former Irish Research Council Scholar and a postdoctoral
research fellow at Trinity College, Dublin, he has published on various
aspects of uniformed youth organisations in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries.
Martina Relihan’s doctoral thesis explored the attempts by the Church
of Ireland authorities to reach an accommodation with the education
policies of the Irish state in the wake of the political settlement of 1922.
Her work has been published in scholarly journals and books including
Karin Fischer and Deirdre Raftery (eds) Educating Ireland-Schooling and
Social Change (2013). Martina is a frequent visitor to the countries of
the former Yugoslavia. She contributes to RTE Radio 1’s World Report
programme with political analysis from Bosnia-Herzegovina, Macedonia
and Croatia.
xvi    Notes on Contributors

Vanessa Rutherford, M.A., Ph.D. is a Lecturer in the School of

Education, University College Cork. Her research interests and publi-
cations comprise the social, cultural and historical construction of child-
hood in educational literature (school discourses, childhood artefacts)
and science (science-based child rearing/teaching advice, developmen-
tal psychology, anthropology); socio-cultural approaches to learning,
gender, identity and voice; and the history of education in Ireland from
1800. Methodologically, Vanessa’s work engages with discourse analy-
sis and historical inquiry that extends to quantitative research. Vanessa
has lectured at NUI Maynooth, the Open University and Dublin City
University. She is a member of the Royal Academy of Medicine in
Ireland; the Educational Studies Association of Ireland (ESAI); the
Society for the History of Childhood and Youth (SHCY); and the
International Network PLACIM: Platform for a Cultural history of
Children’s Media.
Dr. Thomas Walsh is a Lecturer in the Department of Education of
Maynooth University where he teaches courses on history of education
and education policy. He is also the School Partnership Co-ordinator for
students on placement in schools. Prior to joining the Department of
Education in Maynooth, he worked as a Primary District Inspector with
the Department of Education and Skills, as an early childhood education
development officer and as a primary school teacher. His research inter-
ests include history of education, education policy, teacher education and
early childhood education.
 List of Figures

Fig. 10.1 Front elevation, Iveagh Trust Play Centre 216

Fig. 10.2 Ground floor plan, Iveagh Trust Play Centre.
Source Iveagh Trust records, Bull Alley, Dublin 220
Fig. 11.1 Turlough O’Brien, ‘The Captain’s Son’, in the attire
of an English ‘Public’ School, Our Boys, November 1914.
Image Courtesy of the National Library of Ireland 234
Fig. 11.2 Turlough O’Brien, ‘The Captain’s Son’ in ancient Irish
costume, Our Boys, November 1914. Image Courtesy
of the National Library of Ireland 237
Fig. 11.3 Mast Head, Our Boys, 1914 (and continuing to c.1918).
Image Courtesy of the National Library of Ireland 239
Fig. 11.4 Editor’s Page, Our Boys, 1914, including two of the boys
from the front-page masthead image. Image Courtesy
of the National Library of Ireland 240
Fig. 11.5 Illustration of Padraic Pearse and a young boy, Clarion
Reader, Junior, 1934. Image Courtesy of the National
Library of Ireland 243
Fig. 11.6 Our Boys, September 1914. Image Courtesy of the National
Library of Ireland 245
Fig. 11.7 O’Connell Schools, Dublin, 1934. Photograph of 40 boys,
aged about 9 or 10 years old, wearing a mixture of jumpers
and suits, with a variety of open and closed collars. Image
author’s collection 248
Fig. 11.8 O’Connell Schools, February 1935. The same class as
Fig. 11.7, now dressed in Confirmation suits with school
cap, crest and medal. Image author’s collection 249

xvii
xviii    List of Figures

Fig. 11.9 Murphy, the schoolboy in tweed suit (e.g. 28 September

1939, right), more than a year after his initial appearances
dressed in blazer, flannel and school cap (e.g. 28 April 1938,
left). Image Courtesy of the National Library of Ireland 250
Fig. 11.10 Three covers of Our Boys, July 1922; 4 August 1927; 11
April 1935. Image Courtesy of the National Library of
Ireland 251
 List of Tables

Table 4.1 Books issued by location 75

Table 4.2 Fiction suitable for girls in Capel Street Library
(numbers refer to titles held) 82
Table 4.3 Fiction suitable for boys in Capel Street Library
(numbers refer to titles held) 83
Table 12.1 Membership of the Irish Boy Scouts, 1911–1913 260
Table 12.2 Membership of the UK Boy Scouts excluding Ireland, 1911 260

xix
 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Ciara Gallagher and Ciara Boylan

Focusing on the period before and after the foundation of the Irish
Free State in 1922, this volume explores how children were constructed
by various actors in Ireland including the state, youth organisations,
churches, charities, individual authors and publishers, and asks what pos-
sibilities were projected onto Irish youth during a period of instability
and change. The history of childhood in Ireland is a new and rapidly
emerging area of research; a number of recent publications, conferences
and events testify to this burgeoning interest.1 Associated areas of study
such as the sociology of childhood in Ireland and children’s litera-
ture studies, are likewise of recent origin.2 Though the study of child-
hood, both contemporary and historic, was relatively late to develop
in an Irish context, the momentum at present suggests a sense of mak-
ing up for lost time. One of the noteworthy features of the history of
childhood is the fruitful cross-fertilisation of a variety of disciplines—in
particular literature, language studies, history, education and sociology—
that has characterised the research output.

C. Gallagher (*)
Maynooth, Ireland
C. Boylan
Galway, Ireland

© The Author(s) 2018 1

C. Boylan and C. Gallagher (eds.), Constructions of the Irish Child
in the Independence Period, 1910-1940, Palgrave Studies in the History
of Childhood, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-92822-7_1
2 C. GALLAGHER AND C. BOYLAN

The contributors to this interdisciplinary volume were approached

because their research explores the broad variety of ways in which the
Irish child was constructed by individuals and organisations who directly
addressed children and youth, and impacted on their lives through social
and cultural activities like education, sport, youth groups and cultural pro-
duction ranging from literature to clothing. The volume explicitly aims to
capture a broad range of constructions of the child and, reflecting this,
covers themes that include gender, religion, social class and the politics
of identity, citizenship and nation-building. Defining the boundaries of
childhood is a notoriously fraught exercise, and contributors were left to
determine those boundaries in their own research. The result is a volume
that covers children’s early years to the later teenage years across the island
of Ireland. Contributors were asked to address the ‘independence period’,
generously defined here as 1910–1940, but not necessarily to cover the
entire period (though some chose to do so). In this regard, the editors
were keen not to imply or even presuppose the idea of a sudden break
with the past when Ireland gained independence in 1922, but rather to
allow any continuities, discontinuities or abrupt disruptions after inde-
pendence to emerge organically from the research. In short, a considera-
ble degree of latitude was afforded to the scholars whose work is included
here in order to capture as diverse a view of childhood in early twentieth-­
century Ireland as was possible. The result is a singularly wide-ranging
volume that gathers together examinations of schools, public libraries, lit-
erature, clothing, play spaces, youth organisations and sport.

The ‘Constructed’ Child

This volume is not about the ‘symbolic’ child who appears as an arche-
type or projection of a society’s aspirations or anxieties. Nor is it about
the ‘real’ historic child embedded in their varied lived experiences. Rather
this book is concerned with the constructed child. The constructed child
is representative rather than symbolic or real. He or she is an epitome
created in the minds of adults to represent the entire of his or her peer
group. As the essays in this volume reveal so clearly, the policymaker, the
librarian, the Boy Scout troop leader, the clergyman, the publisher and
the children’s author all constructed a different Irish child to represent a
broader cohort. The constructed child exists; she lives and breathes and is
encountered by adults in a variety of settings. However, she is simultane-
ously an abstraction from reality, a generalisation and often an ideal.
 1 INTRODUCTION 3

Much of the international scholarship on the history of childhood is

concerned with the ways in which adults represented, conceptualised
and constructed children and childhood.3 More recently scholars have
begun to attempt a more thorough excavation of the lives of children
in order to see how they lived in the world. As Sarah-Anne Buckley and
Susannah Riordan summarise, the historiography has moved from how
children were represented to what children experienced at the hands
of the state and other agencies, to an attempt to discover the authentic
voice and experience of children.4 In Ireland, perhaps because this his-
toriography was relatively late in emerging, these issues are often being
considered simultaneously.5
Scholars examining the evolving constructions of the child in Europe
and North America over time have highlighted two divergent con-
cepts of children and childhood, categorised by Jenks as the Dionysian
and Apollonian image of the child.6 The Dionysian image, which reso-
nated with and was influenced by, the Christian doctrine of Original Sin,
presented the child as inherently corrupt, wilful, sensual and knowing,
ontologically not much different from an adult. The child in this schema
therefore required strict moral discipline to acquire virtuous habits, and
his or her socialisation required authoritarian educational methods to
inculcate moral precepts and reign in emotional excess. The alternative
image of childhood, the Apollonian, saw the child as innately innocent
and inherently good. This vision found its first clear exposition in the
eighteenth century, in Locke’s infant as tabula rasa and more pointedly
in Rousseau’s groundbreaking novel about education, Emile (1762),
which proposed that, given their innate innocence, children should be
allowed to develop ‘naturally’. In pedagogic terms, this meant adopting
‘child-centred’ experiential forms of learning to teach basic life skills. The
nineteenth-century Romantic conceptualisation of childhood as a time
of blissful innocence, joy and indeed ‘quasi-divine understanding lost in
becoming adult’ added a near-mystical aura to childhood.7
While Jenks acknowledges that the two images could coexist
within the same time period, he linked Dionysian concepts with the
‘old European order’ characterised by strict (and constricting) codes
of behaviour and the Apollonian concept to ‘the new order of mod-
ern industrial society’ with its increasing emphasis on individuality and
­individual freedom.8 However, the trajectory of Apollonian approaches
was uneven, patchy and slow. For example, child-centred pedago-
gies that reflected the Apollonian image of the child were only firmly
4 C. GALLAGHER AND C. BOYLAN

embedded in educational policy and practice during the second half of

the twentieth century; mass state-funded education in the nineteenth
and early twentieth centuries was dominated by a disciplinary, authori-
tarian approach that laid an emphasis on ‘useful’ knowledge and moral
discipline.
Any reliance on such overarching transnational concepts of child-
hood tends to gloss over the variety of ways in which children were
constructed, socialised, discipline, educated, cared for and loved in
a given place and period.9 The challenge for historians of childhood is
to examine how such overarching theoretical constructions interacted
with other political, social and ideological processes in society and with
detailed examinations of how adults constructed children within par-
ticular settings. The attention paid in the historiography of childhood to
themes like the evolution of the nation-state, the operations of imperial-
ism and nationalism and examinations of gender has offered important
insights into how the child was constructed.10 The use of more ‘ground
up’ approaches providing detailed examples of how children were con-
structed in a specific time and place by particular actors has also informed
views of how the child is constructed. The social construction of the
child can therefore be approached in three ways: using broad theoretical
frameworks, drawing on existing histories of themes such as nationalism,
religion, class and gender, and by providing more detailed examples of
how children were constructed. All three function as mutually informing
areas of scholarship. The approach taken in this volume is to examine
how adults constructed children in a particular milieu and in doing so
it sheds light on the operations of colonialism, nationalism, gender and
on broader theoretical constructs of the child in an Irish context.

Irish Exceptionalism
Scholars who engage with any aspect of the history of Ireland are often
called to address the issue of Irish ‘exceptionalism’, that is, to suggest
whether Ireland conformed to wider trends, was a law unto itself, or
some combination of the two. The history of childhood is no differ-
ent in this regard, and though this volume does not take a comparative
approach, many of the essays address the influence of international ideas
and processes or are suggestive of the tensions between these and con-
structions of the child in Ireland. The development of mass state-funded
education in the nineteenth century might be taken as an illustrative
 1 INTRODUCTION 5

example of the ways in which the Irish experience both mirrored and
diverged from wider trends. In the shadow of the French Revolution
and confronting the dislocating effects of mass proletarianisation in the
wake of the industrial revolution, European nation-states consolidat-
ing their power in the nineteenth century sought ways to protect the
rights of property, maintain social hierarchies and contain the disruptive
and potentially revolutionary forces of social unrest, as well as grappling
with the challenge of uniting often quite heterogeneous populations
divided by religion and ethnicity into a cohesive whole. The state in the
nineteenth century was deeply concerned with moulding productive,
compliant citizens as a matter of its own survival, and in this light, the
emergence of state-funded mass education in Europe and North America
has been viewed as a fundamental part of the state-building enterprise,
with the aim of creating ‘literate, useful and law-abiding citizens’.11
In Ireland, a state-funded national education system was founded in
1831, almost forty years before its equivalent in England. This reflected
the deep concerns of the British political establishment that Ireland was
particularly susceptible to social instability, violence and unrest as a result
of a number of factors including the intensity of sectarian divisions, the
threat of popular Catholic nationalism which had advanced under Daniel
O’Connell and the seemingly chronic and exceptional nature of Irish
poverty. To frame this another way: the union with Britain in its political,
social and cultural guises required an interventionist process of assimi-
lation if it was to succeed. The non-denominational education system
operated on the assumption that Irish children, particularly the children
of the Catholic poor who formed the vast majority of the population,
must be converted into law-abiding, British citizens who could contrib-
ute to Irish progress. This entailed disseminating practical knowledge
on everything from husbandry to housekeeping, religious and moral
education focused on the inculcation of prized Victorian virtues like pru-
dence, forethought and industry, and even elementary lessons in classical
political economy to curb any radical impulses. Irish history, geography
and literature were a minimal component of the curriculum and the Irish
language was non-existent.12 The colonial or quasi-colonial assimila-
tionist impulse differentiated the Irish education system from equivalent
attempts by the state to educate the masses in the rest of the UK, while
even in colonial India in the late nineteenth century the British state
proved itself unwilling to commit the necessary resources and left the
education of the native population to Christian missionaries.13
6 C. GALLAGHER AND C. BOYLAN

The level of religious control over education that evolved in Ireland

was also notable. In their efforts to deliver secular mass education,
European states were often forced into compromises with the various
churches. In Germany, for example, the state relented to pressures and
funded separate Protestant and Catholic school systems. Other states
were more successful in defending secularism in education, in particular
France, and it has been noted that the ‘broad pattern of mass education
across much of Europe was that it became secularised gradually post-­
Enlightenment, culminating in the almost marginalisation of religiously
branded education in western Europe after the Kulturkampf ’.14 In
Ireland, the state allowed denominationalism to become the educational
reality in what was theoretically a non-denominational system. Clergy of
different denominations managed and oversaw the operation of schools
at a local level and the system operated as a denominational system from
its earliest years.15 The Protestant and Catholic churches’ control of the
education system was consolidated in the decades after independence,
a period of particularly close alliance between the Catholic Church and
the state. After 1922, efforts at moulding a compliant citizenry were in
effect recast as efforts to revive the Irish language as a living ­vernacular,
cultivate a deep patriotic attachment to the nascent Irish nation and
promote a strong commitment to the Catholic faith. All of the above is
enough to suggest that while state-funded education conformed to gen-
eral trends for mass education as an arm of state-building, it did not fit
any external international template easily.
In the period under consideration in this volume, 1910–1940, those
who constructed the Irish child—the state, churches, civil society organ-
isations, commercial interests and individuals—continued to draw upon
and reflect the influence of outside ideas, and the essays gathered here
to a significant extent confirm that the construction of Irish child-
hood was influenced by concerns prevalent elsewhere, without looking
identical. What emerges from the volume is a sense that recognisable
themes—Dionysian and Apollonian images of the child, aspirations to
mould lawful and loyal citizens, the desire to inculcate middle-class
respectability in poorer children, concerns about the inherent threat
posed by working-class youth left unattended, the role of the education
system—took on a distinctive local colour. At times, certainly, these out-
side ideas and processes were applied and adapted unproblematically to
Irish conditions, but at other times tensions emerged between outside
 1 INTRODUCTION 7

ideas and the nationalist project as it constructed the Irish child. The
overall view of the volume accords with the conclusion of the editors
of a recent special edition of the Journal of the History of Childhood
and Society that ‘Ireland was not cut off from the educational, social,
religious, political, and economic discourses and ideologies surround-
ing the upbringing of children in the past. Yet because of its location,
and British colonial influence vying with Gaelic culture from the 1500s
onwards, the study of Irish childhood provides a particularly rich narra-
tive of dualities, cultural hybridity, and the ability of children to adapt to
new circumstances’.16

Volume Parts
The challenge for the editors of such a wide-ranging and diverse col-
lection of essays is to ensure that the contrasts between different con-
structions of the child and the connections and continuities are
simultaneously available to the reader. In this regard, any division of
chapters would undoubtedly have proven unsatisfactory. The volume
is broken into three parts: Education and Learning, Literature and
Language, and Material Culture and Organised Activity, as these repre-
sent the three broad spheres in which the Irish child was constructed.
However, it is immediately necessary to note that these areas overlap in
certain respects. For example, given the central role of education and the
school system in a child’s life, essays concerning the details of a child’s
school life are spread out across each of the parts and not confined solely
to the part on Education and Learning. Children’s experience of read-
ing material encountered in school forms part of the issues explored
in Part II on Language and Literature, for instance in the chapter by
Kate Harvey on the school plays of Sinéad de Valera, while Richard
McElligott’s essay on sport in Part III includes a discussion of sport in
schools. Key themes also range across parts, in particular, class, gender
and nationalism.

Part I: Education and Learning

The section on Education and Learning examines two arenas in which
the state reached vast numbers of children, including those from lower
socio-economic backgrounds: schools and public libraries. Thomas
Walsh’s chapter traces the evolution of the concept of children and
8 C. GALLAGHER AND C. BOYLAN

childhood in Ireland and provides an overview of how both of these

were constructed within the primary school curriculum in the opening
decades of the twentieth century. The chapter begins by examining the
concept of children inherent in the Revised Programme of Instruction
of 1900, which resonated strongly with international developments
and was informed by an Apollonian idea of the child and of educa-
tion as the means of eliciting her or his innate goodness. By contrast,
the narrow curriculum introduced in Ireland following independ-
ence was informed by a Dionysian idea of the child underpinned by
the twin pillars of nationalism and Catholicism, a conceptualisation
influenced by the Catholic Church but accepted by state. Indeed, the
state’s own particular emphasis on imbuing the curriculum with cul-
tural nationalism likewise led to an educational approach that deni-
grated the status of the child as an autonomous agent and focused on
knowledge transmission. In effect, as Walsh argues, there was little
divergence between the social values upheld by church, state and citi-
zens in the period which combined to reinforce the subordinate status
of children.
Martina Relihan also examines the education system but focuses on
the relationship between the Church of Ireland and the government
between 1922 and 1940. In particular, she considers how the Church
of Ireland authorities attempted to adapt to the Free State’s curricu-
lar priorities which centred on the revival of the Irish language as the
spoken language of the people and the inculcation of pride in a native
culture which was defined exclusively in Catholic and nationalist terms.
If the Free State authorities idealised the Irish child as Catholic, Gaelic
and Irish-speaking, enlisting the education system in the ambitious
aim of making this a reality, this construction was clearly challenged
by the members of the main minority faith. The Church of Ireland,
faced with this new educational reality, was forced to deal with issues
such as the nationalist content of school textbooks, the difficulty of
transporting pupils to its scattered network of schools and the curric-
ular dominance of the Irish language. In general, accommodation was
reached between the state and the Church of Ireland authorities, which
mitigated the tensions caused by two competing constructions of the
Irish child.
Máire Kennedy explores the period 1910–1940 as a key phase in
the development of the network of public libraries in Ireland, cen-
tral to which was a focus on library services for children. The aim of
 1 INTRODUCTION 9

self-improvement and the inculcation of moral values in readers, which

formed part of the public library ethos from its foundation in the nine-
teenth century, combined in the independence period with a concern to
create a national consciousness. In this latter sense, public libraries paral-
leled the nation-building efforts of schools. However, as Kennedy points
out, unlike the education system, public library policymakers looked
outward and drew on progressive international models of library provi-
sion for young readers, for example, trends in America and Britain on
the importance of having dedicated spaces for children and appointing
librarians specifically to run the children’s sections in libraries. There was
therefore an impulse to allow more room for creative exploration and
encourage wide reading habits and participation through various library
events in a way that quite often appeared to emphatically differentiate
itself from the school system.
However, if libraries looked outward for progressive models of prac-
tice, these efforts were fundamentally designed to foster a kind of moral
citizenship based on self-improvement. One is left with a sense of tension
between an impulse to allow children’s imaginations to roam free and
the goals of socialisation. In constructing the child as a (future) ‘moral
citizen’ of Ireland, a further contradictory impulse emerged as libraries
sought to provide literature of a distinctly ‘Irish’ kind as well as ‘the best’
of English-language literature, reflecting libraries’ dual emphasis on fos-
tering a strong sense of national identity and creating a cultivated citi-
zenry based on essentially Victorian bourgeois values. In Kennedy’s view,
this impulse ultimately produced conservative reading lists.

Part II: Literature and Language

Part II, Literature and Language, includes contributions that discuss lit-
erary production for children in the period asking how authors, publish-
ers and the texts themselves constructed Irish childhood. The impulses
of creating a new national and often nationalist consciousness that
emerge as a feature in the chapters in Part I are also manifested through-
out the essays in this part, in ways that chime with and diverge from
the essays on education. Kate Harvey’s chapter focuses on the school
plays of Sinéad De Valera and explores the role of drama in education
in this period. She demonstrates how De Valera’s plays were aligned, in
form and content, with the nationalist ideals of the period, specifically as
promulgated through the education system, and reflected in the modes
10 C. GALLAGHER AND C. BOYLAN

of performances preferred by nationalist groups. Yet, at the same time,

as Harvey argues, De Valera’s plays were much more than an attempt at
constructing an uncritical, unvariegated nationalist citizen. Instead, what
is revealed through Harvey’s analysis is a space carved out for the child
reader and participant, whereby interaction and engagement within the
script of the play were possible, and where gendered assumptions and
the complexity of the Irish colonial context were drawn upon and illu-
minated. Though distinctly in line with the values of contemporary edu-
cational policy and the emphasis it placed on nationalism and, above all,
the Irish language, these dramas exert pressure on these parameters set by
the education system. Harvey explores De Valera’s interest in a progres-
sive American pedagogical movement, Creative Dramatics. In her analysis
of the effect of De Valera’s interest in this movement, Harvey suggests a
space within these dramas where children could engage with the script of
the play, and perhaps by extension, with the script of the nation.
Róisín Adams’ essay explores the development of Irish-language chil-
dren’s literature in the independence period and argues that this period
can be divided into two phases: before and after the foundation of the
State publisher An Gúm in 1926. Prior to the establishment of An Gúm,
much of the Irish-language reading material produced for children in
and about Ireland was keenly attuned to the ideological power of chil-
dren’s literature. Yet, surprisingly, this awareness of the power of con-
structing the child with a view to nation-building is apparently absent in
the output of Irish-language children’s literature from An Gúm, visible
in the material translated from English that was at best irrelevant to the
cultural, social and political context in Ireland, and at worst antithetical
to it. Parallels may be noted in the State’s attitude to the child appar-
ent in Thomas Walsh’s exploration of the curriculum after independence,
which rendered the child as a vehicle for the transmission of knowledge,
rather than focusing on the development of a holistic or a more nuanced
concept of an ‘ideal citizen’. This attitude is echoed in the ways in which
An Gúm appears to have constructed the child as primarily a means for
the propagation of the Irish language, with little apparent regard for a
more thoroughgoing construction of the child as an active citizen. In
contrast, Adams’ exploration of Pádraig Ó Siochfhradha’s Jimín Mháire
Thaidhg, re-published by An Gúm in this period, situates the publication
of this text as firmly outside both the inattentiveness of the corpus of
material translated from English and the often dogged nationalism found
in works from the period prior to 1926.
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as it appeared in human affairs, which, however, he concealed from
the multitude. (Arist. Rhetoric, lib. vii. c. 5.)
With regard to moral predictions on individuals, many have
discovered the future character. The revolutionary predisposition of
Cardinal Retz, even in his youth, was detected by the sagacity of
Cardinal Mazarine. He then wrote a history of the conspiracy of
Fresco, with such vehement admiration of his hero, that the Italian
politician, after its perusal, predicted that the young author would be
one of the most turbulent spirits of the age! The father of Marshal
Biron, even amid the glory of his son, discovered the cloud which,
invisible to others, was to obscure it. The father, indeed, well knew
the fiery passions of his son. “Biron,” said the domestic Seer, “I
advise thee, when peace takes place, to go and plant cabbages in thy
garden, otherwise I warn thee thou wilt lose thy head upon the
scaffold!”
Lorenzo de Medici had studied the temper of his son Piero; for we
are informed by Guicciardini that he had often complained to his
most intimate friends that “he foresaw the imprudence and
arrogance of his son would occasion the ruin of his family.”
There is a singular prediction of James the first, of the evils likely
to ensue from Laud’s violence, in a conversation given by Hacket,
which the King held with Archbishop Williams. When the King was
hard pressed to promote Laud, he gave his reasons why he intended
to “keep Laud back from all place of rule and authority, because I
find he hath a restless spirit, and cannot see when matters are well,
but loves to toss and change, and to bring things to a pitch of
reformation floating in his own brain, which endangers the
stedfastness of that which is in a good pass. I speak not at random;
he hath made himself known to me to be such a one.” James then
relates the circumstances to which he alludes; and at length, when
still pursued by the Archbishop, then the organ of Buckingham, as
usual, this King’s good nature too easily yielded; he did not, however,
without closing with this prediction: “Then take him to you! but on
my soul you will repent it!”
The future character of Cromwell was apparent to two of our great
politicians. “This coarse, unpromising man,” observed Lord
Falkland, pointing to Cromwell, “will be the first person in the
kingdom if the nation comes to blows!” And Archbishop Williams
told Charles the First confidentially, that “There was that in
Cromwell which foreboded something dangerous, and wished his
Majesty would either win him over to him, or get him taken off!”
The incomparable character of Buonaparte, given by the Marquis
of Wellesley, predicted his fall when highest in his power. “His
eagerness of power,” says this great Statesman, “is so inordinate; his
jealousy of independence so fierce; his keenness of appetite so
feverish, in all that touches his ambition, even in the most trifling
things, that he must plunge into dreadful difficulties. He is one of an
order of minds that by nature make for themselves great reverses.”
After the commencement of the French Revolution, Lord
Mansfield was once asked when it would end? His Lordship replied,
“It is an event without precedent, and therefore without prognostic.”
The fact is, however, that it had both; as our own history, in the reign
of Charles the First, had furnished us with a precedent; and the
prognostics were so plentiful, that a volume of passages might be
collected from various writers who had foretold it.
There is a production, which does honour to the political sagacity,
as well as to his knowledge of human nature, thrown out by Bishop
Butler in a Sermon before the House of Lords, in 1741; he calculated
that the unreligious spirit would produce, some time or other,
political disorders, similar to those which, in the 17th century, had
arisen from religious fanaticism. “Is there no danger,” he observed,
“that all this may raise somewhat like that levelling spirit, upon
Atheistical principles, which in the last age prevailed upon
enthusiastic ones? Not to speak of the possibility that different sorts
of people may unite in it upon these contrary principles!” All this
has literally been accomplished!
If a prediction be raised on facts which our own prejudice induce
us to infer will exist, it must be chimerical. The Monk Carron
announces in his Chronicle, printed in 1532, that the world was
about ending, as well as his Chronicle of it; that the Turkish Empire
would not last many years; that after the death of Charles V. the
Empire of Germany would be torn to pieces by the Germans
themselves. This Monk will no longer pass for a prophet; he belongs
to that class of Chroniclers who write to humour their own
prejudices, like a certain Lady-prophetess who, in 1811, predicted
that grass was to grow in Cheapside about this time!
 Even when the event does not always justify the prediction, the
predictor may not have been the less correct in his principles of
divination. The catastrophe of human life, and the turn of great
events, often turn out accidental. Marshal Biron, whom we have
noticed, might have ascended the throne instead of the scaffold;
Cromwell and De Retz might have become only the favourite
generals, or the ministers of their Sovereigns. Fortuitous events are
not included within the reach of human prescience; such must be
consigned to those vulgar superstitions which presume to discover
the issue of human events, without pretending to any human
knowledge. In the science of the Philosopher there is nothing
supernatural.
Predictions have sometimes been condemned as false ones, which,
when scrutinize may scarcely be deemed to have failed: they may
have been accomplished, and they may again revolve on us. In 1749,
Dr. Hartley published his “Observations on Man;” and predicted the
fall of the existing governments and hierarchies, in two simple
propositions; among others—
Prop. 81. It is probable that all the civil governments will be
overturned.
Prop. 82. It is probable that the present forms of Church
government will be dissolved.
Many indeed were terribly alarmed at these predicted falls of
Church and State. Lady Charlotte Wentworth asked Hartley when
these terrible things would happen? The answer of the predictor was
not less awful: “I am an old man, and shall not live to see them.” In
the subsequent revolutions of America and France, and perhaps
latterly that of Spain, it can hardly be denied that these predictions
have failed.
The philosophical predictor, in foretelling some important crisis,
from the appearances of things, will not rashly assign the period of
time; for the crisis he anticipates is calculated on by that inevitable
march of events which generate each other in human affairs; but the
period is always dubious, being either retarded or accelerated by
circumstances of a nature incapable of entering into his moral
arithmetic. There is, however, a spirit of political vaccination which
presumes to pass beyond the boundaries of human prescience,
which, by enthusiasts, has often been ascribed to the highest source
of inspiration; but since “the language of prophecy” has ceased, such
pretensions are not less impious than they are unphilosophical. No
one possessed a more extraordinary portion of this awful prophetic
confidence than Knox the reformer: he appears to have predicted
several remarkable events, and the fates of some persons. We are
informed that when condemned to a galley in Rochelle, he predicted
that “within two or three years, he should preach the Gospel at St.
Giles’s, in Edinburgh,” an improbable event, which nevertheless
happened as he had foretold. Of Mary and Darnley, he pronounced
that, “as the King, for the Queen’s pleasure, had gone to mass, the
Lord, in his justice, would make her the instrument of his
overthrow.” Other striking predictions of the deaths of Thomas
Maitland, and of Kirkaldly of Grange, and the warning he solemnly
gave to the Regent Murray, not to go to Linlithgow, where he was
assassinated, occasioned a barbarous people to imagine that the
prophet Knox had received an immediate communication from
heaven.
An Almanack-maker, a Spanish friar, predicted, in clear and
precise words, the death of Henry the Fourth of France; and Pierese,
though he had no faith in the vain science of Astrology, yet, alarmed
at whatever menaced the life of a beloved Sovereign, consulted with
some of the King’s friends, and had the Spanish almanack before his
Majesty, who courteously thanked them for their solicitude, but
utterly slighted the prediction: the event occurred, and in the
following year the Spanish friar spread his own fame in a new
almanack. This prediction of the Spanish friar was the result either of
his being acquainted with the plot, or from his being made an
instrument for the purposes of those who were. It appears that
Henry’s assassination was rife in Spain and Italy before the event
occurred.
Separating human prediction from inspired prophecy, we can only
ascribe to the faculties of man that acquired prescience which we
have demonstrated, that some great minds have unquestionably
exercised. Its principles have been discovered in the necessary
dependance of effects on general causes, and we have shewn that,
impelled by the same motives, and circumscribed by the same
passions, all human affairs revolve in a circle; and we have opened
the true source of this yet imperfect science of moral and political
prediction, in an intimate, but a discriminative, knowledge of the
past. Authority is sacred when experience affords parallels and
analogies. If much which may overwhelm, when it shall happen, can
be foreseen, the prescient Statesman and Moralist may provide
defensive measures to break the waters, whose streams they cannot
always direct; and the venerable Hooker has profoundly observed,
that “the best things have been overthrown, not so much by
puissance and might of adversaries, as through defect of council in
those that should have upheld and defended the same[33].”
“The philosophy of history,” observes a late writer and excellent
observer, “blends the past with the present, and combines the
present with the future; each is but a portion of the other. The actual
state of a thing is necessarily determined by its antecedent, and thus
progressively through the chain of human existence, while, as
Leibnitz has happily expressed the idea, the present is always full of
the future. A new and beautiful light is thus thrown over the annals
of mankind, by the analogies and the parallels of different ages in
succession. How the seventeenth century has influenced the
eighteenth, and the results of the nineteenth, as they shall appear in
the twentieth, might open a source of PREDICTIONS, to which, however
difficult it might be to affix their dates, there would be none in
exploring into causes, and tracing their inevitable effects. The
multitude live only among the shadows of things in the appearance
of the PRESENT; the learned, busied with the PAST, can only trace
whence, and how, all comes; but he who is one of the people and one
of the learned, the true philosopher, views the natural tendency and
terminations which are preparing for the FUTURE.”
 FATALISM, OR PREDESTINATION.

Under the name of materialism things very different from those

generally understood are designated: it is the same with respect to
fatalism. If it be maintained that every thing in the world, and the
world itself, are necessary; that all that takes place is the effect of
chance or of blind necessity, and that no supreme intelligence is
mixed with, nor in fact mixes with existing objects; this doctrine is a
kind of fatalism, differing very little from atheism. But this fatalism
has nothing in common with the doctrine which establishes the
innateness of the faculties of the soul and mind, and their
independence upon organization. We cannot, then, under the first
consideration, be accused of fatalism.
Another species of fatalism is that which teaches that in truth there
exists a Supreme Being, creator of the universe, as well as of all the
laws and properties connected with it; but that he has fixed those
laws in so immutable a manner, that every thing that happens could
not happen otherwise. In this system, man is necessarily carried
away by the causes that compel him to act, without any participation
whatever of the will. His actions are always a necessary result,
without voluntary choice or moral liberty; they are neither
punishable or meritorious, and the hope of future rewards vanishes,
as well as the fear of future punishment.
This is the fatalism with which superstitious ignorance accuse the
physiology of the brain[34], that is the doctrine relative to the
functions of the most noble organization in the world. “I have
effectually proved,” says Dr. Gall, “that all our moral and intellectual
dispositions are innate; that none of our propensities or talents, not
even the understanding and will, can manifest themselves
independent of this organization. To which also may be added, that it
does not depend upon man to be gifted with organs peculiar to his
species, consequently with such or such propensities or faculties.
Must it now be inferred that man is not the master of his actions,
that there exists no free will, consequently neither a meritorious nor
an unworthy act?”
Before this conclusion is refuted, let us examine with the frankness
worthy of true philosophy, how far man is submitted to the
immutable laws of his Creator, how far we ought to acknowledge an
inevitable necessity, a destiny, or fatalism. To unravel confused
ideas, is the best method of placing truth in its clearest point of view.
Man is obliged to acknowledge the most powerful and determined
influence of a multitude of things relative to his happiness or misery,
and even over his whole conduct, without of himself being able either
to add to, or subtract from that influence. No one can call himself to
life; no one can choose the time, the climate, or the nation in which
he shall be born; no one can fix the manners, laws, customs, form of
government, religious prejudices, or the superstitions with which he
shall be surrounded from the moment of his birth; no one can say, I
will be master or servant, the eldest son or the youngest son; I will
have a robust or a debilitated state of health; I will be a man or a
woman; I will have such or such a constitution: I will be a fool, an
idiot, a simpleton, a man of understanding, or a man of genius,
passionate or calm, of a mild or cross nature, modest or proud,
stupid or circumspect, cowardly or prone to voluptuousness, humble
or independent: no one can determine the degree of prudence or the
foolishness of his superiors, the noxious or useful example he shall
meet with, the result of his connexions, the fortuitous events, the
influence of external things over him, the condition of his father and
mother, or his own, or the source of irritation that his desires or
passions will experience. The relations of the five senses with
external things, and the number and functions of the viscera and
members, have been fixed in the same invariable manner; so nature
is the source of our propensities, sentiments, and faculties. Their
reciprocal influence, and their relations with external objects, have
been irrevocably determined by the laws of our organization.
As it does not depend upon ourselves to have or see when objects
strikes our ears or our eyes, in the same manner our judgments are
necessarily the results of the laws of thought. “Judgment, very
rightly,” says Mr. Tracy, “in this sense is independent of the will; it is
not under our controul, when we perceive a real relation betwixt two
of our perceptions, not to feel it as it actually is, that is, such as
should appear to every being organized as ourselves, if they were
precisely in the same situation. It is this necessity which constitutes
the certainty and reality of every thing we are acquainted with. For if
it only depended upon our fancy to be affected with a great thing as if
it were a small one, with a good as if it were a bad one, with one that
is true as if it were false, there would no longer exist any thing real in
the world, at least for us. There would neither be greatness nor
smallness, good nor evil, falsehood nor truth; our fancy alone would
be every thing. Such an order of things cannot even be conceived; it
implies contradiction.
Since primitive organization, sex, age, constitution, education,
climate, form of government, religion, prejudices, superstitions, &c.
exercise the most decided influence over our sensations and ideas,
our judgments and the determination of our will, the nature and
force of our propensities and talents, consequently over the first
motives of our actions, it must be confessed that man, in several of
the most important moments of his life, is under the empire of a
destiny, which sometimes fixes him like the inert shell against a rock;
at others, it carries him away in a whirlwind, like the dust.
It is not then surprising that the sages of Greece, of the Indies,
China and Japan, the Christians of the east and west, and the
Mahomedans, have worked up this species of fatalism with their
different doctrines. In all times our moral and intellectual faculties
have been made to take their origin from God; and in all times it has
been taught that all the gifts of men came from heaven; that God has,
from all eternity, chosen the elect; that man of himself is incapable of
any good thought; that every difference between men, relative to
their faculties, comes from God; that there are only those to whom it
has been given by a superior power who are capable of certain
actions; that every one acts after his own innate character, the same
as the fig tree does not bear grapes, nor the vine figs, and the same
that a salt spring does not run in fresh water; lastly, that all cannot
dive into the mysteries of nature, nor the decrees of Providence.
It is this same kind of fatalism, this same inevitable influence of
superior powers, that has been taught by the fathers of the church.
St. Augustine wished this very same doctrine to be preached, to
profess loudly in the belief of the infallibility of Providence, and our
entire dependence upon God. “In the same manner, he says, no one
can give himself life, no one can give himself understanding.” If some
are unacquainted with the truth, it is, according to his doctrine,
because they have not received the necessary capacity to know it. He
refutes the objections that might be urged against the justice of God:
he remarks that neither has the grace of God distributed equally to
every one the temporal goods, such as address, strength, health,
beauty, wit, and the disposition for the arts and sciences, riches,
honors, &c. St. Cyprian at that time had already said, that we ought
not to be proud of our qualities, for we possess nothing from
ourselves.
If people had not always been convinced of the influence of
external and internal conditions relative to the determination of our
will, upon our actions, why, in all times and among every people,
have civil and religious laws been made to subdue and direct the
desires of men? There is no religion that has not ordained abstinence
from certain meats and drinks, fasting and mortification of the body.
From the time of Solomon the wise down to our own time, we know
of no observer of human nature that has not acknowledged that the
physical and moral man is entirely dependant on the laws of the
creation.
 DIVINATION,

Is the art or act of foretelling future events, and is divided by the

ancients into artificial and natural.

Artificial Divination,
Is that which proceeds by reasoning upon certain external signs,
considered as indications of futurity.
 Natural Divination,
Is that which presages things from a mere internal sense, and
persuasion of the mind, without any assistance of signs; and is of two
kinds, the one from nature, and the other by influx. The first is the
supposition that the soul, collected within itself, and not diffused, or
divided among the organs of the body, has, from its own nature and
essence, some foreknowledge of future things: witness what is seen
in dreams, ecstasies, the confines of death, &c. The second supposes
that the soul, after the manner of a minor, receives some secondary
illumination from the presence of God and other spirits.
Artificial divination is also of two kinds; the one argues from
natural causes; e. g. the predictions of physicians about the event of
diseases, from the pulse, tongue, urine, &c. Such also are those of the
politician, O venalem urbem, et mox peuturam, si emptorem
inveneris! The second proceeds from experiments and observations
arbitrarily instituted, and is mostly superstitious.
The systems of divination reducible under this head, are almost
incalculable, e. g. by birds, the entrails of birds, lines of the hand,
points marked at random, numbers, names, the motion of a sieve,
the air, fire, the Sortes Prænestinæ, Virgilianæ, and Homericæ; with
numerous others, the principal species and names of which are as
follows:—

Axinomancy,

Was an ancient species of divination or method of foretelling future

events by means of an axe or hatchet. The word is derived from the
Greek, αξινη, securis; μαντεια, divinatio. This art was in
considerable repute among the ancients; and was performed,
according to some, by laying an agate stone upon a red hot hatchet.

Alectoromantia,
Is an ancient kind of divination, performed by means of a cock,
which was used among the Greeks, in the following manner.—A
circle was made on the ground, and divided into 24 equal portions or
spaces: in each space was written one of the letters of the alphabet,
and upon each of these letters was laid a grain of wheat. This being
done, a cock was placed within the circle, and careful observation
was made of the grains he picked. The letters corresponding to these
grains were afterwards formed into a word, which word was the
answer decreed. It was thus that Libanius and Jamblicus sought who
should succeed the Emperor Valens; and the cock answering to the
spaces ΘΕΟΔ, they concluded upon Theodore, but by a mistake,
instead of Theodosius.

Arithmomancy,

Is a kind of divination or method of foretelling future events, by

means of numbers. The Gematria, which makes the first species of
the Jewish Cabala, is a kind of Arithmomancy.

Belomancy,

Is a method of divination by means of arrows, practised in the East,

but chiefly among the Arabians.
Belomancy has been performed in different manners: one was to
mark a parcel of arrows, and to put eleven or more of them into a
bag; these were afterwards drawn out, and according as they were
marked, or otherwise, they judged of future events. Another way was,
to have three arrows, upon one of which was written, God forbids it
me; upon another, God orders it me; and upon the third nothing at
all. These were put into a quiver, out of which one of the three was
drawn at random; if it happened to be that with the second
inscription, the thing they consulted about was to be done; if it
chanced to be that with the first inscription, the thing was let alone;
and if it proved to be that without any inscription, they drew over
again. Belomancy is an ancient practice, and is probably that which
Ezekiel mentions, chap. xxi. v. 21. At least St. Jerome understands it
so, and observes that the practice was frequent among the Assyrians
and Babylonians. Something like it is also mentioned in Hosea, chap.
vi. only that staves are mentioned there instead of arrows, which is
rather Rhabdomancy than Belomancy. Grotius, as well as Jerome,
confounds the two together, and shews that they prevailed much
among the Magi, Chaldeans, and Scythians, from whom they passed
to the Sclavonians, and thence to the Germans, whom Tacitus
observes to make use of Belomancy.

Cleromancy,

Is a kind of divination performed by the throwing of dice or little

bones; and observing the points or marks turned up.
At Bura, a city of Achaia, was a temple, and a celebrated Temple of
Hercules; where such as consulted the oracle, after praying to the
idol, threw four dice, the points of which being well scanned by the
priests, he was supposed to draw an answer from them.

Cledonism.

This word is derived from the Greek κληδων, which signifies two
things; viz. rumour, a report, and avis, a bird; in the first sense,
Cledonism should denote a kind of divination drawn from words
occasionally uttered. Cicero observes, that the Pythagoreans made
observations not only of the words of the gods, but of those of men;
and accordingly believed the pronouncing of certain words, e. g.
incendium, at a meal, very unlucky. Thus, instead of prison, they
used the words domicilium; and to avoid erinnyes, said Eumenides.
In the second sense, Cledonism should seem a divination drawn
from birds; the same with ornithomantia.

Coscinomancy.

As the word implies, is the art of divination by means of a sieve.

 The sieve being suspended, after repeating a certain form of words,
it is taken between two fingers only; and the names of the parties
suspected, repeated: he at whose name the sieve turns, trembles or
shakes, is reputed guilty of the evil in question. This doubtless must
be a very ancient practice. Theocritus, in his third Idyllion, mentions
a woman who was very skilful in it. It was sometimes also practised
by suspending the sieve by a thread, or fixing it to the points of a pair
of scissars, giving it room to turn, and naming as before the parties
suspected: in this manner Coscinomancy is still practised in some
parts of England. From Theocritus it appears, that it was not only
used to find out persons unknown, but also to discover the secrets of
those who were.

Capnomancy,

Is a kind of divination by means of smoke, used by the ancients in

their sacrifices. The general rule was—when the smoke was thin and
light, and ascended straight up, it was a good omen; if on the
contrary, it was an ill one.
There was another species of Capnomancy which consisted in
observing the smoke arising from poppy and jessamin seed, cast
upon burning coals.

Catoptromancy,

Is another species of divination used by the ancients, performed by

means of a mirror.
Pausanias says, that this method of divination was in use among
the Achaians; where those who were sick, and in danger of death, let
down a mirror, or looking-glass, fastened by a thread, into a fountain
before the temple of Ceres; then looking in the glass, if they saw a
ghastly disfigured face, they took it as a sure sign of death; but, on
the contrary, if the face appeared fresh and healthy, it was a token of
recovery. Sometimes glasses were used without water, and the
images of future things, it is said, were represented in them.
 Chiromancy,

Is the art of divining the fate, temperament, and disposition of a

person by the lines and lineaments of the hands.
There are a great many authors on this vain and trifling art, viz.
Artemidorus, Fludd, Johannes De Indagine, Taconerus, and M. De le
Chambre, who are among the best.
M. De le Chambre insists upon it that the inclinations of people
may be known from consulting the lines on the hands; there being a
very near correspondence between the parts of the hand and the
internal parts of the body, the heart, liver, &c. “whereon the passions
and inclinations much depend.” He adds, however, that the rules and
precepts of Chiromancy are not sufficiently warranted; the
experiments on which they stand not being well verified. He
concludes by observing, that there should be a new set of
observations, made with justness and exactitude, in order to give to
Chiromancy that form and solidity which an art of science demands.

Dactyliomancy.

This is a sort of divination performed by means of a ring. It was

done as follows, viz. by holding a ring, suspended by a fine thread,
over a round table, on the edge of which were made a number of
marks with the 24 letters of the alphabet. The ring in shaking or
vibrating over the table, stopped over certain of the letters, which,
being joined together, composed the required answer. But this
operation was preceded and accompanied by several superstitious
ceremonies; for, in the first place, the ring was to be consecrated with
a great deal of mystery; the person holding it was to be clad in linen
garments, to the very shoes; his head was to be shaven all round, and
he was to hold vervein in his hand. And before he proceeded on any
thing the gods were first to be appeased by a formulary of prayers,
&c.
The whole process of this mysterious rite is given in the 29th book
of Ammianus Marcellinus.
 Extispicium,

(From exta and spicere, to view, consider.)

The name of the officer who shewed and examined the entrails of
the victims was Extispex.
This method of divination, or of drawing presages relative to
futurity, was much practised throughout Greece, where there were
two families, the Jamidæ and Clytidæ, consecrated or set apart
particularly for the exercise of it.
The Hetrurians, in Italy, were the first Extispices, among whom
likewise the art was in great repute. Lucan gives us a fine description
of one of these operations in his first book.

Gastromancy.

This species of divination, practised among the ancients, was

performed by means of words coming or appearing to come out of
the belly.
There is another kind of divination called by the same name, which
is performed by means of glasses, or other round transparent vessels,
within which certain figures appear by magic art. Hence its name, in
consequence of the figures appearing as if in the belly of the vessels.

Geomancy,

Was performed by means of a number of little points or dots, made

at random on paper; and afterwards considering the various lines
and figures, which those points present; thereby forming a pretended
judgment of futurity, and deciding a proposed question.
Polydore Virgil defines Geomancy a kind of divination performed
by means of clefts or chinks made in the ground; and he takes the
Persian magi to have been the inventors of it. De invent. rer. lib. 1, c.
23.
⁂ Geomancy is formed of the Greek γη terra, earth; and μαντεια,
divination; it being the ancien custom to cast little pebbles on the
ground, and thence to form their conjecture, instead of the points
above-mentioned.

Hydromancy, ὑδροματεια,

The art of divining or foretelling future events by means of water;

and is one of the four general kinds of divination: the other three, as
regarding the other elements, viz. fire and earth, are denominated
Pyromancy, Aeromancy, and Geomancy already mentioned.
The Persians are said by Varro to have been the first inventors of
Hydromancy; observing also that Numa Pompilius, and Pythagoras,
made use of it.
There are various Hydromantic machines and vessels, which are of
a singularly curious nature.

Necromancy,

Is the art of communicating with devils, and doing surprising things

by means of their aid; particularly that of calling up the dead and
extorting answers from them. (See Magic.)

Oneirocritica,

Is the art of interpreting dreams; or a method of foretelling future

events by means of dreams.
From several passages of Scripture, it appears that, under the
Jewish dispensation, there was such a thing as foretelling future
events by dreams; but there was a particular gift or revelation
required for that purpose. Hence it would appear that dreams are
actually significative of something to come; and all that is wanting
among us is, the Oneirocritica, or the art of knowing what: still it is
the general opinion of the present day that dreams are mere chimera,
induced by various causes, have no affinity with the realization of
future events; but having, at the same time, indeed, some relation to
what has already transpired.
 With respect to Joseph’s dream, “it was possible,” says an old
author, “for God, who knew all things, to discover to him what was in
the womb of fate; and to introduce that, he might avail himself of a
dream; not but that he might as well have foretold it from any other
accident or circumstance whatever; unless God, to give the business
more importance, should purposely communicate such a dream to
Pharoah, in order to fall in with the popular notion of dreams and
divination, which at that time was so prevalent among the
Egyptians.”
The name given to the interpreters of dreams, or those who judge
of events from the circumstances of dreams, was Oneirocritics. There
is not much confidence to be placed in those Greek books called
Oneirocritics; they are replete with superstition of the times. Rigault
has given us a collection of the Greek and Latin works of this kind;
one of which is attributed to Astrampsichus; another to Nicephorus,
the patriarch of Constantinople; to which are added the treatises of
Artimedorus and Achmet. But the books themselves are little else
than reveries or waking dreams, to explain and account for sleeping
ones.
The secret of Oneirocritism, according to all these authors,
consists in the relations supposed to exist between the dream and the
thing signified; but they are far from keeping to the relations of
agreement and similitudes; and frequently they have recourse to
others of dissimilitude and contrariety.

Onomancy, or Onomamancy[35],

Is the art of divining the good or bad fortune which will befall a man
from the letters of his name. This mode of divination was a very
popular and reputable practice among the ancients.
The Pythagoreans taught that the minds, actions, and successes of
mankind, were according to their fate, genius, and name; and Plato
himself inclines somewhat to the same opinion.—Ausonius to Probus
expresses it in the following manner:—
Qualem creavit moribus,
Jussit vocari NOMINE
Mundi supremus arbiter.
 In this manner he sports with tippling Meroe, as if her name told
she would drink pure wine without water; or as he calls it, merum
mereim. Thus Hippolytus was observed to be torn to pieces by his
own coach horses, as his name imported; and thus Agamemnon
signified that he should linger long before Troy; Priam, that he
should be redeemed out of bondage in his childhood. To this also
may be referred that of Claudius Rutilius:—
Nominibus certis credam decurrere mores?
Moribus aut Potius nomina certa dari?

It is a frequent and no less just observation in history, that the

greatest Empires and States have been founded and destroyed by
men of the same name. Thus, for instance, Cyrus, the son of
Cambyses, began the Persian monarchy; and Cyrus, the son of
Darius, ruined it; Darius, son of Hystaspes, restored it; and, again,
Darius, son of Asamis, utterly overthrew it. Phillip, son of Amyntas,
exceedingly enlarged the kingdom of Macedonia; and Phillip, son of
Antigonus, wholly lost it. Augustus was the first Emperor of Rome;
Augustulus the last. Constantine first settled the empire of
Constantinople, and Constantine lost it wholly to the Turks.
There is a similar observation that some names are constantly
unfortunate to princes: e. g. Caius, among the Romans; John, in
France, England and Scotland; and Henry, in France.
One of the principal rules of Onomancy, among the Pythagoreans,
was, that an even number of vowels in a name signified an
imperfection in the left side of a man; and an odd number in the
right.—Another rule, about as good as this, was, that those persons
were the most happy, in whose names the numeral letters, added
together, made the greatest sum; for which reason, say they, it was,
that Achilles vanquished Hector; the numeral letters, in the former
name, amounting to a greater number than the latter. And doubtless
it was from a like principle that the young Romans toasted their
mistresses at their meetings as often as their names contained
letters.
“Nævia sex cyathis, septem Justina bibatur!”

Rhodingius describes a singular kind of Onomantia.—Theodotus,

King of the Goths, being curious to learn the success of his wars
against the Romans, an Onomantical Jew ordered him to shut up a
number of swine in little stys, and to give some of them Roman, and
others Gothic names, with different marks to distinguish them, and
there to keep them till a certain day; which day having come, upon
inspecting the stys they found those dead to whom the Gothic names
had been given, and those alive to whom the Roman names were
assigned.—Upon which the Jew foretold the defeat of the Goths.

Onycomancy, or Onymancy.

This kind of divination is performed by means of the finger nails.

The ancient practice was, to rub the nails of a youth with oil and soot,
or wax, and to hold up the nails, thus prepared, against the sun;
upon which there were supposed to appear figures or characters,
which shewed the thing required. Hence also modern Chiromancers
call that branch of their art which relates to the inspection of nails,
Onycomancy.

Ornithomancy,

Is a kind of divination, or method of arriving at the knowledge of

futurity, by means of birds; it was among the Greeks what Augury
was among the Romans.

Pyromancy,

A species of divination performed by means of fire.

The ancients imagined they could foretel futurity by inspecting fire
and flame; for this purpose they considered its direction, or which
way it turned. Sometimes they added other matters to the fire, e. g. a
vessel full of urine, with its neck bound round with wool; and
narrowly watched the side in which it would burst, and thence took
their prognostic. Sometimes they threw pitch in it, and if it took fire
instantly, they considered it a favourable omen.