I can still visualise it: a massive structured edifice, settled slightly away from the city’s main thoroughfare on the edges of Monasterenagh, in County Kildare’s vicinity.
The natives referred to it as the Hulk. This structure was an ancient charter school, dating back to 1762. Surprisingly, it was repurposed as a residence for local clans during the 20th century.
One of my schoolmates lived there, and I used to visit occasionally. Additionally, my uncle resided there for a spell after his wedding.
He described the rooms as chilly and dim; thus, they had to keep the lights and fireplace burning perpetually, even in the warmer months.
His spouse claimed to hear the cries of children during the night, even though there were no children present. When they discovered a new dwelling, she was more than pleased to bid goodbye to the place, as it left her skin haunted with minute particles.
I personally found a sense of mystery, discomfort and fright engulfing the building, given its formidable, misunderstood, trembling façade. It did not help that local folklore suggested that children were interred in the garden at the building’s rear.
This visual stirred my thoughts and stimulated my interest in the school’s past.
The charter schools were initiated by Protestant Bishops in 1733 when they implored King George II to endow them with a royal charter, permitting them to set up an Incorporated Society to propagate the faith across the nation.
At that epoch, the country was in turmoil. An alarming portion of the population, almost a quarter, was decimated or banished due to the plantations. Additionally, the population experienced extensive losses because of the desolation and devastation triggered by Cromail. These occurrences have borne lasting implications over the centuries.
During the 1600s, the landed gentry seized control of the nation by usurping the rural land, leading to the defeat and impoverishment of the Catholics. Despite the Penal Laws (beginning from 1695) being a critical element of their rule, they had been unsuccessful in persuading the Catholics to embrace the official faith. As such, they needed to adopt a subtler course of action.
Their strategy involved establishing charter schools to instruct the children in a manner that could induce conversion. The authorities recognised the great value the Irish people placed on education from their willingness to finance it through hedge schools and believed they could be drawn in this way.
The local magnate, the Earl of Drogheda, allocated two acres of land for a kindergarten and a charter school in Monastereigh. A schoolmaster and a schoolmistress, both exemplary Protestants, were assigned to the school, despite having no teaching qualifications or experience and lacking knowledge of the country’s native language and history.
Poor Catholic children were enrolled at schools which also aimed to supply labour for the fresh landowners. The children had to learn the recognised faith and the English language. They were provided with meals and lodging, and their parents were assured that their children would be taught to read and write and be trained in suitable vocations.
Parents, at the time, struggled to nourish their children; hence, they were prepared to relinquish them to the schools. However, the promises were not fulfilled. The children didn’t manage to acquire reading or writing skills as the majority of their time was spent crafting nets to generate income for the schoolmasters. Harsh physical punishment was common, and children born out of wedlock were particularly ostracised.
Skin infections were rife among the students, but these got treated to ensure their work wasn’t impacted. By 1758, there were 53 charter schools accommodating children below the age of six. These institutions were overseen by committees comprising Protestant clergy and regional noblemen.
There was no inspection regime in place, making it evident that conditions in the schools were less than favourable. Despite severe penalties, children often ran away. Additionally, traders hesitated to employ apprentices from these schools due to their ineptitude in reading and writing and dispirited demeanour.
In 1787, acclaimed humanitarian John Howard reported to the House of Commons in London following an inspection of the Monasterenagh school facility. The institution housed 78 children, both male and female, who lived in squalid conditions with unclean sleeping areas and bedding. Howard’s observations corroborated suspicions that the headmaster, under the guise of a chemist, was administering incorrect treatments to the students, evidenced by the rising death toll at the school.
Howard portrayed the children as weak and malnourished, lacking proper clothing, diet, and education. An earlier report from 1761 had uncovered the grim discovery of twenty small bodies concealed in the woodshavings at the school’s rear carpentry area.
Eventually, state funding ceased for the poorly-managed institutes, resulting in 2,000 children being either returned home or transitioned to other institutions. ‘The Hulk,’ as the school was known locally, closed its doors in 1828. It later transitioned into a grain warehouse and subsequently provided much-needed housing for underprivileged families in the last century.
I recently made a hasty visit to inspect the current state of ‘The Hulk.’ It stands desolate, locked, and in a state of decay, its only inhabitants being cattle, ivy and birds. Its designation as an architectural treasure by An Taisce is bewildering to me.
As I surveyed the deteriorating landscape, I found my mind racing, imagining the atrocities of the past hidden behind the crumbling plaster and time-worn door slab. I envisioned the menacing sight of the brutal headmaster’s stick thumping on the workshop table, as he threatened punishment for the nervously huddled children.
However, the most haunting image that filled my mind was the tiny bodies emerging from the carpentry wood chips. I was left wondering about the fate of these innocent souls who were entrusted to ‘The Hulk’ and never returned to their families. The children received cruelty instead of protection.
Does the earth conceal even more old secrets and spectres at the rear of other such schools?