L & H: The Literary and Historical Society 1955 - 2005

A Review Article by John Feighery, SVD

Issue 377, vol.95, Spring 2006

This book is an anthology with more than sixty contributors, many of whom have achieved eminence in their chosen professions. Some furnish only a page or two, whereas others offer much longer recollections of their giddy university days. There is an impressive unity of tone considering that fiftyyears of a fast-changing Ireland are described. A certain degree of repetition is inevitable. But numerous contributors write as vividly as they once spoke to the L&H, so that ancient intrigues and battles, even if unknown to the reader, still remain compelling.

Frank Callanan, who edited this book, does well to re-publish an article written in March 1935 by Brian O'Nolan (Flann O'Brien]. In this polemical piece O' Nolan mocks those who are concerned for politeness and fairness within the L&H. For him power is the over-riding priority: "the first principle of public speaking is to compel the attention of your audience". Referring to the L&H attendance, characterised by Callanan as "murderously impatient", O'Nolan vehemently justifies their right not to be bored. His conclusion that the L&H "has been the sternest test of public speaking in Ireland" is one with which many contributors concur.

There is very little pulling of punches by past members about the scene of their past glories and disgraces. Suzanne Kelly puts it like this: "The wit was puerile and misogynistic ... The sight of the baying mob in full stride, pulsating, red-faced and boisterous fascinated me". She argues that, while individually pleasant, as a group the L&H audience "became loathsome, a hydra-headed monster baying for blood". Another disenchanted female voice, that of Patricia Hourican, recalls: "the pack loved nothing so much as a catastrophe. They howled for a disaster". These female perspectives help to explain why until recent times very few women became auditors of the L&H. On the other hand, many young men, who were not inclined to kick lumps out of one another on the rugby field, were happy to do so in the debating chamber. As Charles Lysaght (whose essay on James Meenan closes the republished companion volume on the earlier years) observes with characteristic insight, only too often the L&H crossed the borderline between liveliness and anarchy.

When first attempted, speaking in public is an ordeal for most people. But when facing the L&H bear-pit - populated as it was with devastating no-holds-barred hecklers - bravery or foolhardiness of a special kind was required. Maurice Biggar describes how "Nervous orators grasped the lectern, hanging on for dear life as they confronted the serried ranks rising steeply before them". John Horgan reports that his maiden speech found him "catatonic with fright". Maeve Binchy recalls that on the day of her debut she got sick three times - "there was a blood-red mist and a roaring in my ears". Maev-Ann Wren, only the second female auditor (1978-9); explains that these distressing reactions could continue long after one's debut. Debating night came and "your mouth is dry, palms clammy, heartbeat surely audible, a pulse pounding in your ears"

Those rare students who dared to defy and managed to subdue the turbulent hordes of the L&H were, inevitably, very different in their personalities. But certain characteristic qualities were commonly found. Once again, Suzanne Kelly provides a provocative, though surely exaggerated, pen-picture of the successful L&H speaker: "The auditors were always men who spoke loudly, loved themselves and the sound of their voices". Undoubtedly, many auditors fitted those descriptions but not all did so. Some very successful individuals dominated the house through the sheer integrity of their personalities and by their fluent and intelligent presentation of their ideas. As noted repeatedly in this history, serious speakers were often chosen as L&H auditors in preference to charismatic entertainers.

What, then, were the essential gifts of a speaker who could earn the attention and respect of the L&H? Michael McNicholas mentions the "congenital absence of humility required of a great debater". Gus Martin is quoted pointing to the importance of vitality, vehemence and rebelliousness. These are, indeed, some of the characteristics of a self-confident speaker. Modesty, deference and graciousness are, however regrettably, seldom prized. On the contrary, sheer brazenness was much more likely to carry the day. Self-belief had to be projected, however ludicrous one's argument. As Aidan Matthews observes - "Nothing deterred us from the exercise of free speech, not even the cosmic vastness of our ignorance". At all costs, fear must never be shown or the wolves were quickly at your throat! Style and technique had much more significance than logic or content. After all, speakers were often required to argue against their personal convictions. As such the L&H has been a wonderful training-ground for the constant stream of high-flying barristers, who first displayed their fine feathers among it ranks. In Patrick Healy's marvellous phrase, the L&H was a "circus of contrived passions", one where much of the applause went to the clowns, the acrobats and the tightrope walkers.

It is easy to denigrate the frequent self-importance and bad behaviour of the L&H. But there is no denying that its leading speakers usually became remarkably successful in the law, the media, academic life and other careers that valued eloquence and self-confidence. Adrian Hardiman notes that. of eleven auditors known to him. seven went into law, two into journalism, one each into medicine and diplomacy. Joe Ambrose, himself not an admirer of the L&H establishment, acknowledges that through it he came to know "a substantial chunk of Ireland's twenty-first century power élite". Admittedly, the majority of this élite came from well-off Dublin homes and reflected their parents' conservative values. Paul Brady (auditor 2000-1) summarises in this book's epilogue the political character of the L&H in this way:" It remains a stubbornly centrist assembly, consistently unimpressed by sirens of either an extreme liberal or conservative bent. As ever, it punishes presumption and mediocrity from whatever source".

For many decades the L&H was a stronghold of students with a traditional Fine Gael allegiance. Their destiny was the Four Courts, however, rather than Leinster House. Students with serious political aspirations tended to concentrate their energies in the Student Representative Council. Remarkably few of the L&H stars over the last half-century became politicians. Whatever about tomfoolery in their golden youth, these were serious people when it came to a choice of career.

Again and again, the writers in this anthology make the point that, for all their vaunted rebellious spirit, L&H members had little sympathy for the violent Republicanism of the IRA or for the more extreme proposals of the contemporary revolution in public morality, such as abortion, euthanasia and legalised prostitution. Perhaps it is not fanciful to see a connection between this underlying respect for the established political and religious order and the fact that so many of the outstanding personalities in the L&H attended Jesuit schools. In the period covered by this book Gonzaga, in particular, made a hugely disproportionate contribution to the L&H. Its first generation of speakers was inspired by Joseph Veale SJ,, one of the greatest Irish educationists of the last century. But that tradition of excellence in oratory continued long after this remarkable teacher took his talents to new endeavours.

Almost all of the writers in this volume look back to their L&H years with fond recollection. We hear that for some the L&H was the best part of their UCD experience - in itself a mini-university in its variety of personnel and influence. Ruth Dudley Edwards describes the Cambridge Union as "deadly dull" in comparison and Charles Lysaght found that even his Presidency of that august body "offered no thrill comparable to winning the attention of an unruly crowd at the L&H"

Inevitably, a golden sheen tends to enhance adolescent triumphs and disasters. It was a time in students’ lives when their hormones and high spirits were at their zenith. Whether speakers were genuinely gifted or just desperate to impress, the L&H offered UCD's finest stage. In an evocative phrase, Kyran Fitzgerald recalls how "the peacocks were out, shrieking from inside the building". No doubt, hindsight would reveal once-acclaimed feats of student oratory as essentially vapid and demagogic. Battles for gold-medals and auditorial positions, while intensely exciting at the time, could quickly seem as hollow as so many other forms of worldly achievement. John Moynes wittily captures the moral ambiguity of success at the L&H: "I had joined the L&H after being told it was full of arrogant know-alls and I wanted a society I could feel at home in".

The famous L&H humour, which sent hundreds of students into paroxysms of mirth, was frequently infantile, vulgar or otherwise offensive. A juvenile obsession with bodily functions was only too typical. In this respect the humour of the L&H is, of course, no different from that of most families, clubs or social gatherings. But truly talented humorists often graced the L&H, speakers who could turn any occasion to their advantage. My own favourite joke from this anthology occurred during a debate on the North of Ireland when the speaker, Julian Clare, was persistently interrupted by a very drunk young woman of strong republican persuasion. After her forcible and noisy removal, Clare waited a moment and then remarked "It wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't my sister". If like me you find that very funny, or if on the contrary you find it distinctly tasteless may reveal whether or not you were born to belong to that special confraternity - a grateful, one-time member of the L&H.
 

John Feighery SVD has worked as a priest in Ireland and in Brazil.