The phrase "an island of scholars" is quoted somewhat cynically nowadays, says John A. Murphy, emeritus professor of history at UCC, but he believes "there is a respect for scholarship among the Irish public, and this is demonstrated at summer schools". Prof Murphy has been a guest speaker at many of the summer schools, most often the Merriman in Co Clare.
"This respect is reciprocal," he observes. "The lecturers like to display their wares to the public and they are not above basking in a certain amount of adulation."
The summer schools, having kicked off back in June, are now in high season. Some of the oldest and largest take place this month, including the Parnell, the Yeats and the Merriman; other, smaller favourites are the McGill and the Humbert. Such schools represent a welcome opportunity to escape to the lovely landscapes of Wicklow, Sligo or Clare to enjoy the twin delights of intellectual debate and late-drinking (Prof Murphy describes the Merriman as "an irresistible combination of intellectual endeavour and mild debauchery"). They are also a boost to the local economy.
Lovers of the veg-out, read-a-pulp-novel-on-a-Mediterranean-beach variety of holiday may marvel at the appeal of this uniquely Irish institution. But the draw is undoubtedly strong, given the dizzying proliferation of summer schools and the fact that speakers and scholars can be relied upon to turn up year after year.
"The importance of summer schools will be recognised when the social history of the country is written," believes Declan Kiberd, professor of Anglo-Irish literature and drama at UCD and a familiar face on the summer school circuit (this year he has already given a lecture at the Goldsmith Summer School in May, and will address the Lady Gregory Autumn Gathering in September).
He traces the origin of the summer school back to the 1950s when the government established An Tostal, "a summer festival for returned emigrants".
"I suspect that a number of local summer schools evolved from this celebration of place, including the Yeats Summer School in Sligo. It was and still is a rediscovery of an intense experience of locality, a reaction to an increasingly amorphous modern world." He goes back further, to the 1890s, to find early forerunners of the Irish summer school in the "utter democracy" of the Gaelic League movement, and in the Fabian societies in Britain: "This went against the class nature of society with a Utopian university for all for a couple of weeks in the summer." He adds with a smile that in both countries, these events were condemned by clerics who suspected that the young men and women were up to more than just book learning on those long summer nights.
Another regular speaker at summer schools is Terence Brown, professor of Anglo-Irish literature at TCD, who is currently working on a critical biography of Yeats. "I do a couple each summer because people twist my arm," he says dryly. "It is really a service you perform for the general public." The fees are low, he says, not more than £50 or £100, and preparing the lecture can be a chore. But invariably it becomes an interesting task, such as the talk he prepared for the Gerard Manley Hopkins Summer School last month, on Hopkins and the Irish poets.
"The summer school is an extraordinary and good Irish institution," he believes. "It challenges academics to make their thoughts accessible outside the academy. It reflects the fact that academics do not own the knowledge. The knowledge is free for everyone." He was looking forward to speaking at the 39th Yeats Summer School this week: "I go to the Yeats school often: it's a chance to meet other scholars in the field. It draws a distinguished international panel."
Summer schools also host their fair share of poets: "In the old days, the poet went from place to place and from chieftain to chieftain; now he goes from summer school to summer school," quips poet John Montague, recently appointed Ireland Professor of Poetry.
He is a regular at the Carleton Summer School: "I'm from Tyrone, so it's my own stomping ground." He is often to be found at the Allihies Summer School in west Cork, near his current home, and was also a guest at the Hewitt Summer School in Antrim last month: "The Hewitt has an extra value because of the tensions in the North in July. To come back to civilised exchange is a great relief."
His partner, US-born Elizabeth Wassell, has immortalised the Irish summer school in her recent novel, The Honey Plain, most notably the Allihies School: "It is lovely. Groups of American students come for a week at a time to Allihies to study music or creative writing." Her novel is gently satirical in tone: "I make incessant fun of the endless seminars about Irish identity, but in reality I find them interesting and provocative."
Brian Farrell, recently appointed chairman of the new Arts Council, has been a speaker at many of the summer schools, most often the Merriman and the Parnell (at which he is chairing sessions this year). "The summer school is the natural extension of adult education. I've met people who, because of being stimulated by what they've learned at a summer school, have turned up at UCD to do degrees." Another praiseworthy factor is the involvement of the local community: "At both the Parnell and the McGill this is very strong," he adds.
"The local ones are great, they depend a lot on local support because they all have trouble with funding," notes Dr Anne Fogarty, lecturer in English at UCD and director of the James Joyce Summer School in Dublin. She believes Irish summer schools play a vital role in cultural tourism, attracting visitors and introducing them to Irish culture and history, and should therefore receive more financial support: "The Joyce school was sponsored by Bailey's but they pulled out last year. We now rely on students' fees, which means we can't offer as many scholarships."
A lot of the invited speakers operate without full expenses: "They usually fund part of the trip themselves, perhaps building it around some research." She herself does not receive a fee. "We are contacted by Dublin Tourism each year for our dates. They list us in various calendars of events they print. But we don't get any funding from them, even though most of our students come back to Ireland again, and some become summer school junkies, going to several other schools too."
Fritz Senn, director of the Zurich James Joyce Foundation, is a frequent lecturer at the Joyce Summer School: "It is exotic and colourful, with professors from Korea and Japan. I look forward to it to see what kind of crew will assemble." He is not in favour of invited speakers only staying for a day: "I like to stay for a week, so I can take part in the discussions, and be around for the students. The most important things happen outside the lectures, when students come up and buttonhole you with questions."
Devoted students, many of whom turn up every year, are the backbone of the summer school. Treasa MacManus and her husband Peadar have been attending the Merriman every year since 1972: "It is one of the most stimulating weeks of the year for both of us." She goes to the set-dancing classes at mid-day, and the ceilis at night: "This is something you can do at the Merriman that other schools don't offer." She also likes the strong Irish language component and the variety of the lectures on "major national issues". She adds: "There's a lot of craic in the pubs. And romances do happen, although some are fairly temporary." Mairead Maume from Cork has been travelling to the Parnell Summer School in Co Wicklow every year since 1990. The school suits her interest in history and her curiosity about the North: "They kept inviting people to speak from all sides in the North. It helped me to understand the situation." She likes the "lovely setting" of the school in Avondale, the musical evenings, the excursions, and last but not least, the "beautiful barm brack".
Eamonn Cantwell, a retired engineer, rarely misses attending the Yeats Summer School: "It never gets boring. There are so many facets to Yeats: his poetry, plays, prose, politics, the time he lived in, the setting up of the Abbey, I could go on. It is tremendous to see Michael and Anne Yeats turning up. There is a sense of Yeats not being too far away, especially as Michael looks just like his father." He also likes the location of the school: "Sligo is a very attractive place and is closely associated with Yeats. Summer schools on university campuses can be a bit isolated and are not situated anywhere near where the writer was from."
One of the unexpected delights of the summer school has to be the variety of people you meet: "You get computer scientists and high court judges all mixing in," says Anne Fogarty. "It's fascinating finding out people's life stories." Declan Kiberd agrees, recalling his time as director of the Yeats Summer School: "I met a woman of about 55 who had read all of Yeats's poetry. She worked as a cook in a hospital in Canada. She suddenly discovered there was this kind of holiday you could take, for people who loved poetry, as she did." He also encountered "an oil widow from Texas": "She was convinced she was in contact with Yeats on an astral plane. She wrote a poem about it which finished with the line, `Hang on there, Willy, I'm coming up'."
