Defacing The School Chapel...Part 2
May 4th 2008 06:15
The Headmaster, who was also the head monk, titled Prior, swaggered slowly towards me, his face a surly mask of malice. He stopped beside me and then looked out to the entire senior school assembly; behind me was a long line of monks, many wearing their long cloaks, the hoods hiding their faces, the scene was terrifyingly Dickensian.
“THIS BOY IS THE FIRST CHILD TO DEFACE THE SCHOOL CHAPEL!” the Prior ferociously bellowed. The collective gasp from the assembled boys was enormous, the atmosphere reminded me, (in recollection) of a medieval trial, where the heretic was paraded just before execution. In fact, this thought is highly apt, considering the long history of this ancient Order of monks and what they used to do, for the fear of, and love of, Christ.
“HE WILL NOW BE TAKEN DOWN TO THE JUNIOR SCHOOL AND FLOGGED BY THEIR HEADMASTER TO THE MAXIMUM ALLOWED BY LAW.”
Private schools in those days were exempt from the usual limitations for corporal punishment. Government schools were only allowed to strike a child six times in any one session and only one session per day. Private schools, in particular Catholic ones, were exempt from such restrictions. My old school was allowed to strike six times in, one session, however, it was also allowed as many sessions in one day, as deemed necessary.
For some boys, instilling the “fear of God” was a long, arduous and painful process.
The Prior did not ever speak to me personally, nor did he look at me again, once he was on the quadrangle. His icy stare was harpooned into my soul only during that initial descent on the stairs. He did glower at my eldest brother, which was a usual occurrence, for my brother was one of the school ‘trouble makers.’ My brother later told me the Prior had summoned him to his rooms, after assembly, and informed him that my behaviour was most likely a mirror of the morals, or lack of them, that my brother possessed, so the Prior flogged my brother every day for a week, as a corrective and instructional panacea.
I was not very popular at home after that.
The junior school Head Master then appeared, looking again like the wrath of Satan, and then led me briskly down the centre of the oval to the junior school, which was housed in another old dilapidated mansion, surrounded by pepper trees.
First, you are told to hold out your right hand, then your left hand, and each time the hand is struck, across the up facing palm. Then, when the number reaches four, you are told to bend over and touch your toes, and your bottom is then struck the balance of the punishment.
The monks had many canes of varying length and thickness, to suit the ‘crime.’ The cane used for the ‘worst crimes’ was long and thick. The damage it did was so severe, it often ruptured veins in the hands, sometimes wrists, when the monk’s aim was off line. After punishment, in an act of Christian compassion, you are excused bad hand writing for the rest of the day, because the bruising swelled so much, you could not grip your pen properly.
Usually, bad hand writing was cause for punishment.
For someone in my position, such lenience was not allowed. However, I had bad handwriting anyway, so one always expected to be in trouble; looking sideways, talking, day dreaming, getting spelling mistakes, running, laughing, not addressing a monk, or a lay teacher, appropriately, all these acts, and many more besides, were met with firm punishment.
Maybe, it is no wonder that one of our boys was the first to burn the American flag in public, and get arrested for it. Vietnam was unpopular among the older boys, who knew once they turned eighteen, they were up for conscription, “the draft.” This was done by your birth date. No one wanted to get shot, I suppose, which seems reasonable actually.
I ‘wear’ a ruptured vein to this day, in my hand; I think it is called an eyot, a small pool, or island, where the vein wall has distended in one spot.
I will never forget that day, and the ferocity of the punishment.
A grown man, inflicting multiple strikes with every part of his strength, on a small, match stick thin child. The cane was brought up and over the head, the monk pivoting on one heal, to get a good balance with which to maximise the force.
But, I liked the monks. In the play (theatre) season, they insisted girls were cast from girl colleges, not dress up boys in drag, which is what most other schools did in those days. They were tough, straight talking, and believed their duty was to mould the child into a man, to make him a ‘man of the world.’
They managed to do this with many boys sent to their care and, intriguingly, the Prior of the original school, in merry olde England, was to say to an Old Boy friend of mine, he passed in the street one day, after he had hailed the monk’s attention, (the old monks were often pickled in thought and brandy, while cocooned in their cowls, as they swaggered down the street), “Teach you did we? Tell me, what do you do now?” the monk asked. As my friend began to open his mouth to answer, the old Prior, who couldn’t remember him anyway said, “Don’t tell me, you are either a con man or an actor!” My friend was aghast, for he was an actor.
After admitting his career choice, in astonished voice, the old monk began to stroll away without further comment. He then heard the monk mutter from under the cloak’s hood, “That’s all we ever produced, con men or actors!”
I left the school three years later, to attend another one run by a very different Order, so the monks’ ‘affect’ was diminished one could say, although, I did end up working in theatre and film!
an alma mater of olde
“THIS BOY IS THE FIRST CHILD TO DEFACE THE SCHOOL CHAPEL!” the Prior ferociously bellowed. The collective gasp from the assembled boys was enormous, the atmosphere reminded me, (in recollection) of a medieval trial, where the heretic was paraded just before execution. In fact, this thought is highly apt, considering the long history of this ancient Order of monks and what they used to do, for the fear of, and love of, Christ.
“HE WILL NOW BE TAKEN DOWN TO THE JUNIOR SCHOOL AND FLOGGED BY THEIR HEADMASTER TO THE MAXIMUM ALLOWED BY LAW.”
Private schools in those days were exempt from the usual limitations for corporal punishment. Government schools were only allowed to strike a child six times in any one session and only one session per day. Private schools, in particular Catholic ones, were exempt from such restrictions. My old school was allowed to strike six times in, one session, however, it was also allowed as many sessions in one day, as deemed necessary.
For some boys, instilling the “fear of God” was a long, arduous and painful process.
The Prior did not ever speak to me personally, nor did he look at me again, once he was on the quadrangle. His icy stare was harpooned into my soul only during that initial descent on the stairs. He did glower at my eldest brother, which was a usual occurrence, for my brother was one of the school ‘trouble makers.’ My brother later told me the Prior had summoned him to his rooms, after assembly, and informed him that my behaviour was most likely a mirror of the morals, or lack of them, that my brother possessed, so the Prior flogged my brother every day for a week, as a corrective and instructional panacea.
I was not very popular at home after that.
The junior school Head Master then appeared, looking again like the wrath of Satan, and then led me briskly down the centre of the oval to the junior school, which was housed in another old dilapidated mansion, surrounded by pepper trees.
First, you are told to hold out your right hand, then your left hand, and each time the hand is struck, across the up facing palm. Then, when the number reaches four, you are told to bend over and touch your toes, and your bottom is then struck the balance of the punishment.
The monks had many canes of varying length and thickness, to suit the ‘crime.’ The cane used for the ‘worst crimes’ was long and thick. The damage it did was so severe, it often ruptured veins in the hands, sometimes wrists, when the monk’s aim was off line. After punishment, in an act of Christian compassion, you are excused bad hand writing for the rest of the day, because the bruising swelled so much, you could not grip your pen properly.
Usually, bad hand writing was cause for punishment.
For someone in my position, such lenience was not allowed. However, I had bad handwriting anyway, so one always expected to be in trouble; looking sideways, talking, day dreaming, getting spelling mistakes, running, laughing, not addressing a monk, or a lay teacher, appropriately, all these acts, and many more besides, were met with firm punishment.
Maybe, it is no wonder that one of our boys was the first to burn the American flag in public, and get arrested for it. Vietnam was unpopular among the older boys, who knew once they turned eighteen, they were up for conscription, “the draft.” This was done by your birth date. No one wanted to get shot, I suppose, which seems reasonable actually.
I ‘wear’ a ruptured vein to this day, in my hand; I think it is called an eyot, a small pool, or island, where the vein wall has distended in one spot.
I will never forget that day, and the ferocity of the punishment.
A grown man, inflicting multiple strikes with every part of his strength, on a small, match stick thin child. The cane was brought up and over the head, the monk pivoting on one heal, to get a good balance with which to maximise the force.
But, I liked the monks. In the play (theatre) season, they insisted girls were cast from girl colleges, not dress up boys in drag, which is what most other schools did in those days. They were tough, straight talking, and believed their duty was to mould the child into a man, to make him a ‘man of the world.’
They managed to do this with many boys sent to their care and, intriguingly, the Prior of the original school, in merry olde England, was to say to an Old Boy friend of mine, he passed in the street one day, after he had hailed the monk’s attention, (the old monks were often pickled in thought and brandy, while cocooned in their cowls, as they swaggered down the street), “Teach you did we? Tell me, what do you do now?” the monk asked. As my friend began to open his mouth to answer, the old Prior, who couldn’t remember him anyway said, “Don’t tell me, you are either a con man or an actor!” My friend was aghast, for he was an actor.
After admitting his career choice, in astonished voice, the old monk began to stroll away without further comment. He then heard the monk mutter from under the cloak’s hood, “That’s all we ever produced, con men or actors!”
I left the school three years later, to attend another one run by a very different Order, so the monks’ ‘affect’ was diminished one could say, although, I did end up working in theatre and film!
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Comment by tlcorbin
Coffee Quip
A Global Citizen
Paranormal Paranormal
Is Why
Alaska Chronicle
Sleezer's World
I'm grew up being beaten on so frequently, that joining the US Marine Corps was a respite from the violence. I understand your angst about the past and applaud you for sticking to your career choice(s).
As for the church, it's probably best that we don't engage one another in a pissing contest; I have no great love for priests of any kind.
Raven
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
however, I disagree with any 'blanket' disregard, or criticism; even for priests, politicians and whomever, as there are always exceptions, and sometimes I wonder about the secret motivations and agendas behind a lot of attacks on the Catholic church today.
However, as you probably know, I am no fan of the Vatican, especially the people within its corporate entities, for they are murderers, before, and after the fact, and/or complicitous by ommission for doing nothing about the murder of John Paul 1, one and all, should be excommunicated.
cheers
fog
P.S. I forgot to write a small reflective piece on the monks, which I may do now, as it demonstrates what is wrong with the celebacy control of the clergy.
Comment by Lilla
Enviro Warrior
An Extra Ordinary Life
Dream Herald
Hard reading my friend *shaking my head* hard reading... no blanket rulings here, but from a heart ruled and filled with compassion, a few trecherous thoughts... Gosh, Fog, I thought you were talking about a past life from 1100 AD?
I was lucky to avoid Catholic school for a more public one, for I should surely have ended up killing a monk or two... or ended up dead myself ... such is/was my nature even then.
I am so struck by sadness at your tale I can comment no further - more so, because I know you are certainly not alone in this madness that was.
I also admire your ability to write about it all and move on.
Bravo, Karma bites us all in the Bum, even Monks and Nuns...
Lilla ...
Comment by Mountain Fog
Infognito
thanks for those very kindly considered thoughts!
Indeed, no one escapes, not even the government officials and instruemnts of our secular society, that think they may act undetected and with total impunity...they are very wrong on that score!
Anyhoo, it is best to reason the matter, then get angry and then allow yourself to forgvie, thereby releasing the hold.
All those monks just did what was not only allowed by law, but encouraged in the home and by the State.
So, society as a whole is to blame, for not realizing they needed to find another 'way' to reach those they felt were needing correction.
It applies today too, in many ways, as we lock up then release, but do not properly treat perpetrators, who need a huge amount of non-judgemental therapy in order for them to realize hwta has happened in their life, and how never to allow that to happen again.
cheers,
fog
P.S. Sorry about the 'sermon'..hehe!!
Comment by Lilla
Enviro Warrior
An Extra Ordinary Life
Dream Herald
I just finished reading a book called "Empty Cradles" by Margaret Humphreys about how there was a British "Stolen generation," who were shipped to Perth to become "the working class' (Slaves) to the gentry of the 1950's and 60's, who feared being overun by Asians.
As you can imagine the church orphanaged fuled this human trade, even to the point of a special home office that "stole" parented children from schools....!
I am again left to wonder what would be the eventual outcome of the human race, if you removed all the laws which allowed only a select few to hold the power of all the religious teachings ... oh, but wait a minute, that's what is already happening, isn't it?
About time.
I look forward to your post post and am going there now...
Cheers
Lilla ...