In the following pages I propose to offer a little picture of
school-life four hundred years ago, culled from an old Latin dialogue
book which was published anonymously in the fifteenth century under the
title 'Es tu scholaris?' and went through many editions in different
countries. All through the Middle Ages boys were supposed to speak Latin
in school, and this with some reason, since if they meant to be scholars
when they grew up, to be able to speak and write Latin fluently would be
far more useful to them than the acquisition of any single modern
language. But no doubt it did not come easily to them, and our anonymous
author seems to have thought that it might not come quite easily to
their masters to show them how to do it, since, as we shall see, he
wrote his book for use in the humbler kind of schools, where the master
himself might be a man of no great learning. In fact he begins by
pointing out the inconvenience of a master not being able to answer his
boys' questions, and to obviate this offers some ready-made dialogues on
what he considered suitable topics.
[9] Reprinted from the King's College School Magazine by leave of
the editor.
All the earlier dialogues begin with the words from which the book takes
its title--Are you a scholar? 'Es tu scholaris?' says the master. 'Sum,'
says the boy, ('knowing the language'), and then begin the variations.
[Illustration: FROM THE FLORES POETARUM, S.A.]
The cruellest of these is a kind of 'fool's mate' (to borrow a term from
chess), in which the master asks, 'What gender is sum?' and it is to be
hoped used his victory mercifully if his victim fell into the trap. When
the first variations are exhausted we come to a 'Where are you a
scholar?' to which the correct answer is 'Here and everywhere, and in
all honest places,' honest places being subsequently defined as of four
kinds, that is to say, at church, at school, at home with one's parents
and in the company of able men (ecclesia, scola, domus propria circa
parentes et convivium peritorum virorum). Of a sudden the master waxes
humorous and demands 'Es tu scutellavarius,' a portentous word which
apparently means a 'washer-up,' since the boy emphasises his denial by
explaining that he does _not_ wash plates in the kitchen (quod non lavo
scutellas in coquina). On this there follows some talk about religion,
and we then approach scholastic topics with the question, 'Do you know
Latin?' 'I do,' answers the boy, with happy confidence, and then in
reply to the further question, 'What is Latin?' is made to return the
remarkable answer, that Latin is a very noble idiom taking its origin
from the fountains of the Greeks (nobilissimum ideoma ex fontibus
Graecorum ortum habens). Comparative philology was in its infancy in
those days, and as even now there are worthy people who believe that
English is derived from German, we need not throw stones.
The next pages contain some interesting talk on the four chief books in
use in grammar schools, the 'Tabula' or horn-book on which was written
the Lord's Prayer, the moral sayings of 'Cato,' the accidence of
Donatus, and the syntax and prosody of Alexander Gallus; but we must
hurry on to the more human side of our text-book. There are 'verba
obedientiae' helping the boy to assure his master that for the future he
will be very careful not to anger him (de cetero vos[10] commovere
percavebo), suggestions for defence where a fault could be denied, and
ready-made excuses where it was obvious. I regret to say that there are
also ready-made 'verba accusationis': 'Please Sir, Jones has torn my
grammar' (Joannes Donatum meum dilaniavit) or 'That boy called me the
son of a thief' (Ille mihi dixit filium furis). These are evidently tips
for whiners in the school itself, but we have a more awful picture in
the demand, 'Wherefore, honoured Sir, I earnestly beg you to take steps
against evil-doings and punish these fellows scholastically.' No doubt
Brown minor had run into some dignity in the street, and this is the
formula with which the dignity demanded that Brown should be 'hoisted,'
which I take to be the meaning of 'scolastice corrigatis.'
[10] In this very medieval Latin the master is always addressed as
'vos,' never as 'tu,' the use of the singular, except to inferiors
or as a mark of affection, being regarded as an insult.
For invitation to dinner and the offering of gifts there are quite a
bewildering set of forms, reminding us that school-fees in those days
were often paid in kind. In the offering and acceptance of these there
is much politeness on each side. The boy begs that the smallness of his
present may be excused on account of his poverty and goodwill, or
promises that if the master will honour his parents at dinner the best
cheer they can provide shall be set before him. The master, on his side,
replies that he is quite unworthy of these entertainments, but lest he
should seem to despise them he will certainly come. (Nimium est non enim
sum dignus cum parentibus tuis prandere. Ne autem me dicant eorum
prandium spernere comparebo libenter.) There are also forms of
invitation for boys to use to their friends, and Jones (using the polite
plural) asks Brown to dinner to-morrow at his parents' request.
Some of the shorter remarks seem to apply to a boarding school. 'Dear
master, with your permission, I should like to take a bath' says one
boy: another asks that he may go and lay the table, a third that he may
take the clothes to the washerwoman! A boy whose mother has called for
him addresses his petition for leave to the Precentor, and we may guess
therefore that these boarding-schools were attached to churches or
monasteries, and that the boys, like the monks themselves, had to do
much of their own household work.
The boys are given plenty of tips for talk among themselves. 'Why were
you late to-day?' asks one, and is reminded that bed is warm and sleep
sweeter than honey. One boy sees a priest coming into the school and
hopes he will ask for a holiday. His fellow says they have had several
holidays lately and doubts if another will be granted. The gloomy side
of medieval school-life is not left unrepresented. 'How often have you
been punished to-day?' is one of the questions, and as if the
alternative answers 'semel--bis--ter--quater,' were not enough, they are
crowned with the cruel prophecy 'et iterum cras corrigeris.'
The last paragraph of the book is concerned with the appointment, duties
and behaviour of monitors. They are called 'monitors' nowadays because,
I suppose, they jog memories as to what is the next day's work, and in
other ways prevent crime. In those days they were called 'custodes,'
chiefly I am afraid because they kept the rods. 'You've got to appoint
monitors, Sir,' says a boy. 'You be monitor, then,' 'Please, Sir, I've
only just been monitor, and it's not my turn.' 'Who ought to be
appointed then?' 'This is the boy, Sir, both because it's his turn and
because he knows how to get you long and nasty rods!' That is one
dialogue. Here is another, boy with boy. 'Have you been putting down the
boys who made a disturbance and ran as they came out of church?' 'I
have.' 'Have you been putting me down?' 'I have; Jones saw you running
in the street and gave me your name to be put down.' 'Dear monitor, take
my name off, lest I be punished, and I'll ask my mother to give you a
big bun (magnum panem).' 'Hold your tongue, then, and I'll take it
off'--whereat the boy thanks heaven, and we gather that there was rather
a bad tone in the schools in which 'Es tu Scolaris?' was in use. It must
also be said that if the boys talked as they were taught, they talked
very bad Latin.
The edition from which I have taken these notes has no 'woodcuts.' If it
had had one it would probably have been something of the nature of this
picture from an English grammar book, in which the master is shown armed
with the usual birch. The grammars of those days were in fact so bad
that it was held to be impossible for any one to learn them without the
additional notes offered by a rod. But for my first illustration (p.
100), I have taken a more human and, I think, a more lifelike picture,
from a 'Flores Poetarum' printed at Florence about 1500. No doubt by the
time boys came to study poetry they had reached a more mature stage, and
were treated better. But these young scholars look boyish and vivacious
enough, and I would fain hope that this is a true picture of a
Florentine classroom. A Venetian book goes even beyond this,
anticipating the methods of the Newest Educators, for in a woodcut to
it, while the elder students are shown as solemnly attending to a
lecture, two little boys are studying their A B C on the floor, with a
small dog to help them. But this picture is so plainly imaginative that
I will not even show it.
[Illustration]