‘The Villager’
Happy the man who far from strife
In shades paternal leads his life
Stranger to ills that fortune brings,
From bed at early twilight springs
Before the cock salutes the morn
Or hunters sound the echoing horn
Ere thro’ the canvas shuttles play1
Or lark salutes the rising day
By health and vigour taught to toil
To drive the team or turn the soil
Or by his task yon towering oak
Bows its tall head beneath his stroke
And thus employ’d with double force
Time urges on his rapid course
Till sol2 has lost his mighty power
Of gilding o’er the cloud-top’d tower
Then without guide he measures o’er
The path so often trod before
By fire or candle light made gay
He sits and chats the night away
Like Joseph3 faithful to his trust
Honest himself thinks all men just
From bribes and fell corruption free
No gold charms him to infamy
Tho’ boys well versed in letter’d lore
Say blessings may be found in schools
And weak as water pen down rules
He wisely has the truest wealth
Possessing competence and health.
June – 27th. 1841.
‘My dear Tyndall’
When I read your poetical effusion4 I felt at a loss for a topic on which I might compose some lines in verse, till the present state of our ever-to-be-distracted and ill-fated country5 presented itself to my views. Alas! I said, are the natives of old Erin6 to be eternally pitted against each other by the crafty wiles and cunning tricks of those political knaves, who are enjoying the loaves and fishes,7 whilst the peasantry are labouring under the most heart-felt privations in many parts of the Island. I shall never broach this subject again, as I hold in abhorence all notions of politics. The reason that compelled me to mention the subject in this letter is, that you may understand the motives which induced me to compose a few paltry lines on the contented villager.
I am a very bad poet and were it not that there was something of magic in your splendid lines, I would not presume to write one word in meter; I deem myself no adept in prose, much less in rhyme. Pardon any thing incongruous in the poetical prelude to my letter.
I informed you in my last letter that Ford and Whealan8 were determined to be present in Professor Murphy’s school9 whenever the public examination should take place. The examination has passed over and my boys were spectators. But observe, Murphy thought to keep Ford out. The Revd Mr Murphy, who is my friend, linked Ford to the Professor’s10 desk and suggested to the doctor not to presume to preclude any person from appearing in a school instituted by the public and the government.
Sheehan went through his usual routine of business; so much so that he pronounced the whole clique a set of dan-dra-heads.11 And why not? read the following –
Sheehan asked the grammar class was the following sentence correct English: ‘I intended to have come last week.’ The lads proved to be very idiots on the occasion and surely so they ought, for their learned and plumbean professor12 insinuated to them when they failed that conjunctions connect the same moods and tenses of verbs. Now by what kind of insertion Murphy could introduce a conjunction into the sentence I leave you to judge. I must now wish you farewell for some time
Your ever faithful teacher | John Conwill
RI MS JT/1/11/3519
LT Transcript Only
thro’ the canvas shuttles play: the villager is engaged in weaving canvas – a strong or coarse unbleached cloth made of hemp or flax (OED) – on a handloom in his cottage.
sol: the sun.
Like Joseph: Despite being sold into slavery by his brothers, Joseph subsequently remained true to his family (Genesis 37–50).
your poetical effusion: letter missing.
the present state … ill-fated country: This letter was written during the run-up to the bitterly fought election in Carlow at a time of social unrest when Tyndall’s uncle Caleb fired at the radicals agitating in support of Daniel O’Connell, Jnr.
old Erin: romantic name for Ireland.
the loaves and fishes: Although this phrase, which is based on several passages in the gospels, usually refers to feeding the multitude, Conwill here uses it to refer to the luxury of the political elite contrasted with the povery of the multitude.
Whealan: a pupil at Ballinabranna School.
Professor Murphy’s school: The teacher at the National School for Boys at Leighlin Bridge was James Murphy (d. 1845), the Catholic curate of Leighlin parish, 1839–42 (M. Nevin, A Watershed in the Ecclesiastical History of Leighlin Parish (Carlow: M. Nevin, 2009), p. 41).
the Professor’s: presumably Professor Murphy’s.
dan-dra-heads: presumably dunderheads, thus stupid people.
plumbean professor: plumbean means leaden; thus Conwill dismisses the professor as possessing a dull intellect. There is also a word-play on ‘Plumean professor’, being the title of the professor of Astronomy and Experimental Philosophy at the University of Cambridge.
Please cite as “Tyndall0069,” in Ɛpsilon: The John Tyndall Collection accessed on 27 April 2024, https://epsilon.ac.uk/view/tyndall/letters/Tyndall0069