"Nothing can be dearer to a man
than a father he is proud of."
Some days after this interview, Robert, the count, and Julia were
travelling toward l'Auvergne. If the dead could feel in their cold graves,
certainly Robert's mother would have felt a deep and holy joy in seeing her
son and her husband kneeling on her tomb. But their eyes were not on the
grave, but raised toward heaven, and Robert saw the same vision which had
appeared to him in his youth, and he cried out: "I see it! O my father, I
see it! She blesses us."
The name of Dormeuil was effaced from the modest stone, and that of
Countess de Verceuil substituted, to the great astonishment of the people
of the surrounding country. Then the count visited the little house which
had fallen in ruins, and here Robert called up a thousand tender memories,
and thanked God for the manifestation of his love in permitting him to find
his father. But it was not for the rank he would have in the world, nor for
the titles society would look upon with jealous eyes, nor for this
wonderful elevation of his talent, which dazzled and made him happy. It was
the power which God had put into his hands, to enable him to do good to
others, and the knowledge of the future of repose and comfort he could
ensure to the two objects of his early affection, good Madame Gaudin and
the old soldier of the guard. It was of them that he thought when he said.
"I am rich." How he longed to see Paris, and to be folded again to the
hearts of his friends, from whom he had so long been separated. His father,
seeing his impatience, smiled at the projects he formed for them, but was
none the less anxious to know them and thank them for the cares they had
bestowed on his son. At last they arrived, and when they reached the house
a cruel thought crossed Robert's mind, that they might be "no more." His
heart beat, and he scarcely dared to knock, but listened a moment, and--oh!
what happiness--two well-known voices fell upon his ear. One said: "Six
months have passed since his last letter, and no news of our dear child.
What can have happened him?" "You must have patience, good woman," said the
other voice, "he can't always find opportunities to write. I believe the
reason he does not write is, that be intends to come some day soon." "Ah! I
know he is not sick, and it is the faith of Cyprien says it. The Lord is
too just to make so good a boy ill."
Completely reassured, Robert knocked and entered immediately. Two cries
came at the same time from two hearts that joy suffocated. Robert raised
Madame Gaudin in his arms; her too sudden surprise had overwhelmed her with
emotion, and Cyprien cried, "It is you, it is you!" wiping away a tear. "I
am happy, now, Mister Robert. I knew you would come back, but I have had a
time consoling this poor woman, who saw everything in blackness and
despair."
Robert pressed the faithful soldier to his heart, then covered Madame
Gaudin with caresses, enquired for her health, and wished to know if either
of them had suffered in any way since he left them. When the confusion of
this sudden meeting had subsided a little, both Cyprien and dame Gaudin
perceived that Robert had no luggage. "Where are your effects, my child?"
said the good woman. Robert smiled, and said he had left them at home, "How
at home? And do you not intend to remain with us, my dear Robert?" "Yes, of
course, but we will live in another house, and I will take you to your new
home." She opened her astonished eyes, and followed Robert, who descended
the steps, and, calling a carriage, made his friends get in, and directed
the coachman to drive them all to No. 110, rue Grenelle, Saint Germain.
{205}
On the way Madame Gaudin tried to draw from him his secret, but all
attempts were useless, for he took delight now in teasing her. Stopping in
front of the hotel where his father was, he took the arm of his worthy
benefactress and conducted her to the saloon where the Count de Verceuil
waited. "Father," said he, as he entered, "here is the excellent woman who
has taken the place of a mother to me, and who for my sake generously
sacrificed all she had." "Madam," said the count with amiable courtesy,
"excuse me that I did not come for you myself, as it was my duty to do, but
I wished to allow Robert the pleasure of surprising you. You are at home
here, madam, in the house of my son, and I hope you will always be his
friend." "Your son?" she said, half stupefied. "Who, then, is your son? Ah!
I know," she cried with lively anguish, a secret sentiment of jealousy
coming into her heart; "it is Robert. God is just, and has given him this
recompense. What I have done for your son, monsieur, anyone else would have
done in my place, for no one could have helped loving so good and generous
a child. But I do not merit so much kindness at your hands. I am only a
poor creature, without either education or manners, so how can I live with
you?" "These things are of little value in my eyes, my dear madam. What I
honor in you, and what all honest and virtuous people would consider above
everything else, is the nobleness of your soul and the virtues of which you
have given so bright an example. You will give me great pain if you refuse
an offer that comes from the heart, and that I make you in my name and the
name of my son. We will live and enjoy together the favors God has been
pleased to bestow upon us. And you will be ours, my brave Cyprien" said the
count, taking the hand of the old soldier. "I know you love my son, and
this entitles you to my friendship. Will you accept it?" "Oh! yes; with all
my heart," replied Cyprien, looking affectionately at Robert, who was
watching silently the interview between his father and his friends.
His father was kind and good, and often he blessed the day they met.
Nothing can be dearer to a man's heart than a father he is proud of. Robert
had experienced this feeling for his mother, whom he venerated almost as
much as God. She was to him the type of every virtue. His misfortunes and
affliction had entirely changed his father, and to the vain pleasures of
the world had succeeded the practices of religion and the duties of the
Christian. All the virtues he admired in his mother he found in the
paternal heart, tried in the crucible of adversity. In a word, the father
was worthy of the son as the son was worthy of the father, and a sweet
harmony reigned in this family, bound to each other by the tenderest ties.
All rank was effaced, and the noble count, the heir of a great name and an
immense fortune, and the old woman and the old soldier lived with no other
desire than to make each other happy. Robert did not give up his
profession, and his name is now illustrious in the world of art! He married
his cousin Julia de Moranges, and crowned with joy and happiness the last
days of his father, who now sleeps the sleep of the just. Thus ends our
story. We have tried to trace the struggling life of Robert, and its
glorious recompense. We have tried faithfully to reproduce his touching
virtues and the noble and beautiful sentiments that adorned his soul, and
also to inspire our young readers with a desire to imitate him. We have
tried to show the efficacious and all-powerful help of religion in
nourishing the teachings of a Christian mother, and that a good and
persevering child can overcome all obstacles. Have we, then, succeeded and
obtained your approbation? If there are among you, my dear readers, some
poor little orphans like Robert, call down the blessings of your mother
upon your heads, and, though she lives in heaven, she will watch over you
with tender solicitude, and the God of the motherless will be your sure
refuge and your final Saviour.
{206}
Think not that you can live without constant prayer to God, the author of
your beings and the giver of every good and perfect gift. Put your whole
trust and confidence in him and his mercy, and whether obscurity or fame be
yours, always remember that he knows best, and places you in whatever
position best suits you. Should he give you the transcendent gift of
genius, you must struggle hard to obtain its rewards, and, whatsoever you
do, remember to do it for the honor and glory of God and the good of
mankind; and then, when you are called to leave this life for that better
world where all cares cease, you can welcome death, which will open for you
the gate of life, and exchange with joy the changing scenes of earth for
the unfading bliss of heaven!
------
Original.
Confiteor.
"Confess therefore your sins
one to another."--St. James v. 16.
By Richard Storrs Willis.
When to God alone I make confession,
Why, my shameful heart! so light thy task?
While so deep the shame and the emotion
When to man thou must thy guilt unmask?
Only here we find the true abasement:
More than God we dread the eye of man!
Hence the justice that, by heaven's ordaining,
Human guilt a human eye should scan!
Ah! how oft, by some great sin o'ermastered,
Hearts in secret pray, but all in vain!
Not till human ear has heard the story
Peace descends and Guilt can smile again!
Thus must sin requite both earth and heaven;
Since 'gainst man the wrong as well as God!
Just amends are due the Heavenly Father--
Due my brother of this earthly sod!
Ye who fain would find a peace that's vanished.
Heaven demands no long, desponding search!
Seek the kind, attentive ear of Jesus,
Seek his listening human ear--the Church!
------
{207}
From The Contemporary Review.
Mediaeval Universities. [Footnote 46]
[Footnote 46: This article is not written by a Catholic, which the
reader will easily see from some of its expressions. With these
exceptions the article is very interesting.--C. W.]
Universities are not mentioned in mediaeval documents before the beginning
of the thirteenth century. At that period, however, they stand before the
eyes of the historian already fully developed, and in the very prime of
vigorous manhood, without offering any clue as to their birth and lineage,
except such as they bear visibly imprinted in their very nature. This
remark holds good only for the most ancient universities--_Paris,
Oxford_, and _Bologna_--all the other institutions of the kind
being easily traced to their foundation, and recognized as copies of the
ancient types. There are, indeed, documents extant which refer the
foundation of the three mentioned universities to a very respectable
antiquity, and according to which Paris claims Charlemagne as its founder;
Oxford, Alfred the Great; Bologna, the Emperor Theodosius II.; and Naples,
the Emperor Augustus. But these documents are each and all the fabrications
of later times, which, agreeably to mediaeval disregard of critical
investigation, could easily spring up and find credence, because they
supplied by fables what could not be gained by historic evidence, the halo
of remote antiquity. Setting, therefore, apart these spurious credentials,
we prefer to trace the lineage of our venerable institutions as near as
possible to their source by reading and interpreting the record they bear
of themselves.
Twice during the middle ages the church saved literature from utter ruin:
first when barbarous nations overflooded Europe in the great migration, and
a second time during the confusion which arose upon the death of
Charlemagne. Science was indeed the _enfant trouvé_, to take care of
which there was no one in the wide world but the church alone. Under its
fostering care literature and learning started on a new career in the
asylums erected in the schools of abbeys, monasteries, and convents--a
career, however, characterized by a peculiar timidity, which shrank from a
critical analysis of sacred and profane literature alike--abhorring the
latter for its savor of heathenism, revering the former with too much awe
to subject it to dissecting criticism. In this narrowness of space, this
timidity of development, the youthful plant might have been stunted in its
growth, but for the breath of life which the genius of human civilization
imparted to its feeble offshoot to rear it to the full vigor of manhood.
This inspiration again proceeded from the church, which made the very
marrow of her substance over to the school, that it might feed on it and
wax strong, so as to become the bearer of mediaeval civilization, the
leader of society in science and education. At a period when the church had
given form to its doctrines by investing them in a dogmatic garb, so as to
remove them from beneath the ruder or careless touch of experimenting
heresy, faith was satisfied, and in its satisfaction felt secure from any
perilous raid on its domain. Hence, it became less timid in facing the
dissecting-knife of the philosopher; nay, on the contrary, it soon detected
the new additional strength it might derive from the disquisitions of
philosophical science; and thus it came to pass that the dogma of the
church left the bosom of the mother that gave it birth, and placed itself
under the guardianship of the school.
{208}
The result of this transmigration is but too evident. First of all, the
interest of philosophical inquiry was duly regarded by obtaining by the
side of faith its share in the cultivation of the human mind, and, on the
other hand, the dogma or symbol of faith, which hitherto had evaded the
grasp of human intellect, and therefore assumed the position of a power
which, though not hostile, was yet not friendly to the aspirations of the
human mind, now turned its most intimate and faithful ally. The motto of
this alliance between dogma and philosophy--the well-known "Credo ut
intelligam"--is the key-note of scholasticism. Thus, then, theology became
the science of the school, when the dogma was completely confirmed and
established, and the school sufficiently developed to receive it within its
precincts; and this alliance, which produced a Christian philosophy in
scholasticism, was the principal agent also in bringing about a new phase
of the mediaeval school in the _Studium Generale_ or
_University_.
From the earliest centuries it had been a practice with the Christian
church in newly converted countries to erect schools by the side of
cathedrals. Where our Lord had his temple, science had a chapel close by.
These cathedral schools became in the course of time less exclusively
clerical, at the same rate as the chapters of cathedrals turned more
secular in their tendencies. In consequence of this metamorphosis the
cathedral school attracted a large number of secular students, while the
monastic schools more properly limited themselves to the education of the
clerical order. But for all that the cathedral school bore a decidedly
clerical character. The bishop continued to be the head of the schools in
his diocese, and through his chancellor _(cancellarius)_ exercised
over the students the same authority as over all others that stood under
episcopal jurisdiction. Very often we meet with several or many schools
connected with different churches of one and the same diocese. In this case
each school had its own "rector," but all of them were subject to the
supervision and jurisdiction of the bishop, or his representative the
chancellor. Though they followed their literary and educational pursuits
each within its own walls and independently of the others, yet on certain
occasions they were reminded of their consanguinity of birth and their
relationship to the church, when on festive celebrations, such as the feast
of the patron saint of the diocese, rectors, teachers, and students of the
different schools rallied round the banner of their diocesan, and appeared
as one body under their common head, the bishop. Thus we see the cathedral
schools brought nearer to each other by two agencies of a uniting
tendency--the jurisdiction of the bishop and their relation to the church.
That which had grown spontaneously out of the circumstances of the time
awaited only the "fiat" of the mighty to accomplish its metamorphosis, and
assume its final shape in the _Studium Generale_. The church required
an able expositor of her dogmas, a subtle defender of her canonical
presumptions, and both she found in the school. Popes then granted
privileges and immunities to the cathedral and monastic schools of certain
cities, and these schools, following the impulse and tendencies of the age,
united in corporations and became universities. Under the circumstances it
must appear a vain attempt to search for documentary evidence as to the
first foundation of the three ancient universities. We can only adduce
facts to show when and where such establishments are first mentioned, and
yet we must not draw the conclusion that universities are contemporary with
those documents which first bear direct testimony to their existence. For
we all know that in primitive ages, when new institutions are gradually
being developed, centuries may pass before the new-born child of a new
civilization is christened, and receives that name which shall bear record
of its existence to future generations.
{209}
As far back as the eleventh century, we find at _Paris_ schools
connected with the churches of _Notre Dame, St. Geneviève, St.
Victor,_ and _Petit Pont_, but it appears doubtful whether they had
been united in a _Studium Generale_ before the end of the twelfth
century. The first direct mention of a "_university_" at Paris is made
in a document of the year 1209. _Oxford_ may, in point of antiquity,
claim equality at least with Paris; and the assumption that Alfred the
Great planted there, as elsewhere, educational establishments is certainly
not without some plausibility. Concerning the existence of monastic schools
in that town previously to the twelfth century, not a doubt can be
entertained; but to refer the foundation of Oxford University to the times
of Alfred the Great is simply an anachronism. Oxford, quite as much as
Paris, or rather more so, bears in the rudimentary elements of its
constitution the unmistakable traces of its origin in the cathedral and
monastic schools. _Bologna_ was one of the most ancient law schools in
Italy. Roman law had never become quite extinct in that country; and in the
great struggles between spiritual and temporal power, ever and again
renewed since the eleventh century, it was ransacked with great eagerness
for the purpose of propping up the claims of either pope or emperor, as the
case might be. The Italian law schools, therefore, enjoyed the patronage of
powers spiritual and temporal, which raised them to the summit of fame and
prosperity, and then again dragged them to the very verge of ruin by
involving them in the struggles and consequent miseries of the two parties.
The Emperor Frederick Barbarossa well understood how to appreciate the
vantage-ground which presented itself in the codices of the ancients for
the support of imperial presumptions, and consequently he expressed his
favor and good-will to the lawyers of Italy by confirming the ancient law
school at Bologna--a confirmation which was combined with extraordinary
privileges to professors and students sojourning in that town, or engaged
on their journey there or back. Bologna may, therefore, be regarded as a
privileged school or university since the year 1158, without, however,
being such in the later acceptation of the term, that is, endowed with the
four faculties. Concerning this distinction we shall have to advance a few
remarks hereafter.
The term university (universitas), in its ancient signification, denotes
simply a community, and may, therefore, be applied to the commune of a
city. Hence, the distinction will be evident between the expression
"_Universitas Bolognae_" and "_Universitas Studii
Bonnensis_"--the commune of Bologna, and the community of the university
of Bologna. The elder title of a university is _Studium_, a term
applied to every higher school, and supplied with the epithet
_Generale_ either from the fact of divers faculties being taught, or
students of all nations being admitted within its pale. The most
distinctive trait of the Generale Studium is manifested in the social
position it had gained as a corporate institution invested with certain
rights and privileges, like all other guilds or corporations of the middle
ages. The university was the privileged guild, the sole competent body from
which every authority and license to teach science and literature emanated.
The man upon whom it conferred its degrees was, by the very fact of gaining
such distinction, stamped as the scholar, competent to profess and teach
the liberal arts. The graduate, however, gained his social position not by
the act of promotion, but by the privileges which the governing heads of
church and state had connected with that act. Hence, it was considered an
indispensable condition that a newly erected university should be confirmed
in its statutes and privileges by the pope, the representative of the whole
community of Christians. The universities having gained a social position,
their members were henceforth not merely scholars declared as such by a
competent body of men, but they also derived social advantages which lay
beyond the reach of those who stood outside the pale of the university.
{210}
A short sketch of the universities erected in different European countries
after the pattern of the three parent establishments may suffice to give
our readers an idea of the zeal and emulation displayed by popes and
emperors, princes and citizens, in the promotion of learning and
civilization.
In the year 1204 an unfortunate event befell Bologna. Several professors,
with a great number of scholars, removed from that place to _Vicenza_,
where they opened their schools. This dismemberment of the university of
Bologna must have had its cause in some--we do not learn exactly what--
internal commotion. The secession was apparently of very little effect, for
the university of Vicenza, to which it had given rise in 1204, ceased to
exist in the year 1209, most probably in consequence of the professors and
scholars returning to the alma of Bologna as soon as this could be
opportunely done. A more detailed account has been handed down to us
concerning the secession of 1215, when Rofredo da Benevento, professor of
civil law, emigrated from Bologna to _Arezzo_, and erected his chair
in the cathedral of that city. A crowd of scholars followed the course of
the great master. From letters written by Pope Honorius between 1216 and
1220, it would appear that the citizens of Bologna, in order to prevent the
dismemberment of their university, tried to impose upon the scholars an
oath, by which they were to pledge themselves never, in any way, to further
the removal of the Studium from Bologna, or to leave that school for the
purpose of settling elsewhere. The students, however, refused to take this
oath of allegiance, a refusal in which they were justified by the pope, who
advised them rather to leave the city than undertake any engagement
prejudicial to their liberties. The result was the rise of the university
of Arezzo, where, besides the ancient schools of law, we find in the year
1255 the faculties of arts and medicine. From a similar dissension between
the citizens and scholars seems to have been caused the emigration to
_Padua_, where the secessionist professors and scholars established a
university which soon became the successful rival of Bologna.
In the year 1222 the Emperor Frederick II., from spite to the Bolognese,
and a desire of promoting the interests of his newly erected university of
_Naples_, commanded all the students and professors at Bologna who
belonged as subjects to his Sicilian dominions to repair to Naples. The
non-Sicilian members of the Alma Bonnensis he endeavored to allure by
making them the most liberal promises. At any other time this ungenerous
stratagem might have resulted in the entire ruin of the university of
Bologna; this city, however, being a member of the powerful Lombard League,
could afford to laugh at Frederick's decrees of annihilation. As long as
its founder and benefactor was alive, the university of Naples enjoyed a
high degree of fame and excellence among the studia of Italy, for Frederick
spared neither expense nor labor in the propagation of science and
literature.
Pope Innocent IV. erected the university of _Rome_ about the year
1250, and conferred upon it all the privileges enjoyed by other
establishments of the kind. But the praise of having raised that university
to its most flourishing condition, and endowed it with all the faculties,
is due to Pope Boniface VIII.
Lombardy owed its literary fame to the noble Galeazzo Visconti, who formed
the design of erecting a university close to Milan which should provide for
the increased wants in science and education among the population of that
capital and the surrounding cities.
{211}
The site chosen for the purpose was _Pavia_, which had for a long time
been the resort of literati of every description who had been educated in
the neighboring university of Bologna. The new university soon acquired
great fame, enjoying the special patronage of the Emperor Charles IV. of
Germany.
The French universities were organized after the model of Paris, but most
of them had to be contented with one or several of the faculties, exclusive
of theology, which was, and continued to be, a privileged science reserved
to Paris and a few of the more ancient universities. Thus we see that
_Orleans_, where a flourishing school of law had existed since 1284,
was provided in 1312 with the charters and privilege of of the Studium
Generale. _Montpelier_ University, according to some historians, was
founded in 1196 by Pope Urban V.; but with certainty we can trace its
famous school of medicine only as far back as the year 1221. To this was
added the faculty of law in 1230, and Nicolas IV. finally established, in
1286, the faculties of civil and canon law, medicine and arts.
_Grenoble_, _Anjou_, and a few others, though entitled to claim
the privileges of the Studium Generale, hardly ever exceeded the limits of
ordinary schools, whether in arts, law, or medicine.
The system of centralization, which at that time had already gained the
upper hand in the church and state of France, impressed its type on social
and scientific life as well. Paris became the all-absorbing vortex which
engulfed every symptom of provincial independence; and the Alma Parisiensis
developed in her bosom, as spontaneous productions of her own body, the
colleges which were founded on so grand a scale as to outweigh in
importance all the minor universities, each college forming, so to say, a
"universitas in universitate." This observation holds good for England and
the English universities.
Turning our attention to Germany, we find, in accordance with the social
conditions of the country, the development of academic life taking a
somewhat intermediate course between the Italian universities on the one
side, and Paris and Oxford on the other. Though emperors and territorial
princes vie with each other in the promotion of educational establishments,
Germany nevertheless bears a close resemblance to Italy in so far as in
both countries the opulent citizens are among the first to exert themselves
in the propagation of science and the diffusion of knowledge. The
university of _Prague_, founded by the Emperor Charles IV. in 1318,
was soon followed by that of _Vienna_, founded in 1365 by Albertus
Contraetus, duke of Austria, and _Heidelberg_, erected by Rupert of
the Palatinate, and confirmed by the pope in 1386. The university of
Cologne owed its origin to the exertions made by the municipal council, who
succeeded in gaining a charter from Pope Urban VI. in 1388. _Erfurt_
also is mainly indebted to the zeal of the citizens and the town council
for its erection, which took place in 1392. _Leipzig_ was founded, in
its rudiments at least, in 1409 by the Elector Frederick I. of Saxony, but
it started into the full vigor of academic life under the impulse imparted
to it by the immigration of two thousand students, Catholic Germans, who,
to escape Hussite persecution, had departed in a body from the university
of Prague.
Spain, which we should expect to see forward in promoting institutions of
learning, did not much avail herself of those fruits of science which had
ripened to unequalled splendor under the Arabs in the eleventh century.
Recalling, however, to mind the fearful struggles between the Christian and
Arab population, struggles which for centuries shook that country to its
very foundations, we can readily make allowance for the slow advance of
learning in this state of bellicose turmoil. Yet, in spite of these
unfavorable conditions, the schools received no inconsiderable attention
from the Christian rulers of the country.
{212}
The ancient school of _Osca_, or _Huesca_, was revived;
_Saragossa_, which is said to have been founded in 990 by Roderico à
S. AElia, began to thrive again; _Valentia_ was founded by Alphonse of
Leon, and _Salamanca_ in 1239 by Ferdinand of Castile and Leon, both
of which schools arrived at their greatest splendor and the position of
universities at the beginning of the sixteenth century, as did also those
of _Valladolid, Barcelona, Saragossa_ and _Alcala_.
In order to give a general survey of the progress of academic
establishments in the different European countries, we subjoin a list of
all mediaeval universities, with the dates of foundation, which in doubtful
cases are accompanied by a note of interrogation. The dates of the most
ancient universities require no further remark after our previous
observations:
England and Scotland.
Oxford 11-
Cambridge 11-
St. Andrews 1412
Glasgow 1451
Aberdeen 1494
Edinburgh 1520
Italy.
Bologna 11-
Piacenza 1248
Padua 1222
Piza 1339
Vercelli 1228
Arezzo 1356
Vicenza 1204
Rome 1250 (?)
Naples 1224
Fermo 1391
Perugia 1307
Pavia 1361
Siena 1420
Parma 1412
Turin 1405
Florence 1348
Verona 1339
Salerno 1250 (?)
France.
Paris 11-
Montpelier 1286
Avignon 1809 (?)
Cahors 1332
Anjou 1348
Lyons 1300
Grenoble 1339
Perpignan 1340
Poitiers 1431
Caen 1433
Bordeaux 1442
Nantes 1448
Germany.
Prague 1348
Vienna 1365
Heidelberg 1386
Cologne 1388
Erfurt 1392
Leipzig 1409
Rostock 1419
Greifswalde 1456
Freiburg 1457 (?)
Trier, (Treves) 1472
Ingoldstadt 1472
Basle 1460
Mayence 1482
Tübingen 1482
Würzburg 1400
Spain and Portugal
Huesca (?)
Coimbra 1279
Lisbon 1283
Valentia 1210
Salamanca 1239
Valladolid 1346
Barcelona 1500
Saragossa 1474
Toledo 1499
Alcala 508
Other Countries.
Louvain 1425
Buda 1465
Upsala 1477
Copenhagen 1478
Cracow 1364
Entering upon the subject of the constitution or organization of the
universities, we need hardly remind our readers that, in accordance with
the nature of their origin and with the spirit of uniformity which pervaded
the middle ages, the constitution of the different universities was
everywhere essentially the same. The university of the most ancient date
was not an exclusive school or establishment existing only for the higher
branches of erudition, but it was a system or various schools, which
chiefly aimed at the education of a competent body of teachers, a
corporation of scientific men. This purpose could be, and indeed was,
attained without splendidly endowed colleges or spacious lecture-rooms. The
university, in its first rudimentary appearance, is an ideal rather than a
reality. There are no traces of buildings exclusively appropriated to
academic purposes, but the first house or cottage or barn, if need were,
was made subservient to scientific pursuits, whenever a licensed teacher or
magister pleased to erect his throne there. Nor did the Studium Generale
confine itself to giving finishing touches of education, but it comprised
the whole sphere of development from boyhood to manhood, so that the boy
still "living under the rod" could boast of being a member of the
university with the same right as the bearded scholar of thirty or forty
years of age. The same academic privileges which were enjoyed by the
magister or doctor extended to the lowest of the "famuli" that trod in the
train of the academical _cortége_.
{213}
A _Corpus Academicum_, with its various degrees of membership, its
distinction of nations and faculties, its peculiar organization and
constitution--such are the characteristic traits of all the mediaeval
universities which we are about to examine. To the Corpus Academicum
belonged the _students_ (scholares), _bachelors_ (baccalaurei),
_licentiates, masters_ (magistri), and doctors, with the governing
heads, the proctors (procuratores), the _deans_ (decani), and the
_rector_ and _chancellor_ (cancellarius). To these were added
officials and servants of various denominations, and finally the
trades-people of the university, designated as _academic citizens_.
Every student was obliged to present himself within a certain time before
the rector of the university in order to have his name put down in the
album of the university (matricula), to be matriculated. He pledged his
word by oath to submit to the laws and statutes of the university, and to
the rector in all that is right and lawful (licitis et honestis), and to
promote the welfare of his university by every means in his power. At the
same time he had to deposit a fee in the box (archa) of the academic
community, the amount of which was fixed according to the rank of the
candidate, as it was not unusual for bishops, canons, abbots, noblemen,
doctors, and other graduates to apply for membership in some university.
After being matriculated and recognized as a member of the body, the
student had to assume the academic dress, which characterized him as such
to the world at large. The dress was identical with that of the clergy, and
from this and other incidents every member of the school was termed
_clericus_, and all the members collectively _clerus
universitatis_ whence _clericus_ (clerc) came to designate a
_scholar_, and _laicus_ a layman and a _dunce_ as well. The
wearing of secular dress was strictly prohibited, and we can appreciate the
benefit of this arrangement on considering the exorbitant fashions which
prevailed in those days, to the prejudice of propriety and the ruin of
pecuniary means. To carry arms, chiefly a kind of long sword, was a matter
allowed sometimes, more often connived at, but frequently prohibited at
times of disturbances among the scholars themselves, or during feuds with
the citizens. Against visiting gambling-houses or other places of bad
repute, passing the nights in taverns, engaging in dances or revels, or
other diversions unseemly in a "clerc," we find repeated and earnest
injunctions in the statutes of the universities. Where scholars were living
together in the same house under proper surveillance, they formed a
community known as _bursa_. Bursa originally denoted the contribution
which each scholar had to pay toward the maintenance of the community,
whence the term was applied to the community itself. The bursae had, like
inns and public-houses, their proper devices and appellations, commonly
derived from the name and character of the house-owner or _hospes_
(host). Corresponding with the Continental bursae were the English hospitia
and aulae, or halls, which, however, may be traced to higher antiquity than
the former. It is not difficult to recognize in these institutes the germs
of the later colleges. At the head of the hospitium or bursa stood the
_conventor_, who was commonly appointed by the rector, in some places
elected by the members of the bursa, and who had to direct the course of
study, guard the morals of the students, etc. If the hospes or host was a
master or bachelor, the functions of conventor naturally devolved upon him.
The _provisor_ took charge of the victuals, watched over the purchase
and preparation of the same, and settled the pecuniary affairs with the
hospes. Discipline in the bursae and halls was rigorous and severe, and it
could not be otherwise at a time when the individual man was not restrained
by a thousand formalities and conventionalities, but allowed to develop
freely his inherent faculties and powers, often to such a degree as to
prove prejudicial to the peace of society, unless they were curbed by the
severe punishment which followed transgression.
{214}
We meet in the earliest times of the universities with but very few
systematic regulations as far as internal discipline is concerned. This was
a matter of practice, and left rather to be settled according to the
requirements of each case as it arose. Practice, again, taught the pupil a
lesson of abstemiousness and self-denial which might go far to outdo in its
effect our best text-books on moral philosophy. The convictorial houses, as
well as the university at large, were poor, being without any funds but
those which flowed from the contributions of the scholars and members of
the university. A life of toil and endurance was that of the scholar. If he
had a fire in the winter season to warm his limbs, and just sufficient food
to satisfy his gastronomic cravings, be found himself entitled to praise
his stars. The lecture-rooms did not boast of anything like luxury in the
outfitting. Some rough structure of the carpenter's making which
represented the pulpit was the only requisite piece of furniture; chairs
were not wanted, as the pupils found sitting accommodation on the floor,
which was strewn with straw or some other substance of nature's own
providing, and on which ardent disciples cowered down to listen to the
words of wisdom flowing from the lips of some celebrated master. When, at a
later period, the university of Paris went so far in fastidious innovations
as to procure wooden stools for the pupils to sit upon, the papal legates
who had come on a visitation severely censured the authorities for their
indiscretion in opening the university to the current of luxury, which
would not fail, they affirmed, to have an enervating effect on the mind and
body of the pupil; and for a time the scholars had to descend again from
the stool to the floor. Early rising was so general a habit in those days
as to make it almost superfluous to mention that the pupils had gone
through their morning worship and several lessons by the time the more
refined student of modern days is accustomed to rise.
The lowest of academical degrees was that of _Bachelor_
(Baccalaureus). [Footnote 47] Certain historical evidence of the creation
of bachelors at Paris appears in the bull of Pope Gregory IX., of the year
1281, though the degree must be of a remoter date, for the pope alludes to
it not as a novel institution, but in terms which induce us to admit its
previous existence. When a scholar had attended the course of lectures
prescribed by his faculty, and gone through a certain number of
disputations, he might present himself as a candidate for the bachelorship.
Having passed his examination before the doctors (magistri) of his faculty
to their satisfaction, and taken the usual oath of fidelity and obedience
to the university, he gained the actual promotion by the chancellor.
Hereupon be proceeded with his friends and others whom he chose to invite,
in a more or less brilliant _cortége_, to the banquet which he
provided in honor of the occasion. In the procession the staff or sceptre
(baculus, sceptrum, virga) of the university was carried in front of the
new-made bachelor, as the emblem of his recently gained academical dignity.
The bachelors were still only a higher class of students, and as such they
are frequently called _Archischolares_. They, of course, preceded the
students in rank, were allowed to wear a gown of choicer material, and the
cap called _Quadtatum_, while the _Birrettum_ [Footnote 48] was
reserved for the doctors.
[Footnote 47: As to the derivation of this term hardly a doubt can be
entertained. The ancient custom of carrying the academic staff or
scepter (baculus) before the candidates on his promotion to the first
degree, undoubtedly gave origin to the terms _Bacularius_ and
_Baculariatus_, which only in later times were corrupted into
_Baccularius_ and _Baccalaureus_. Thus with Kink against
Balaeus, Voight, and others, who give the most fantastic derivations,
such as _bataille_ (batalarius), _bas-chevalier_, etc.]
[Footnote 48: _Quadratum_, the square cap; _birrettum_, a
term still preserved in the French _barrette_, a cardinal's hat;
in German the term _barrett_ is used for the cap worn by priests
when in official dress.]
{215}
The bachelors were closely connected with their respective faculties, and
could not renounce this connection, or even choose another place of
residence, without special permission. They formed the transition from the
students to the masters, as they participated in the functions of both.
They had to direct the private study and repetitions of the scholars, and
work out the doctor's system, which the latter merely sketched in its
principal theses and rudimentary outline. The bachelors, in fact,
represented the hardest worked people of the body academic. In later
centuries they were actually ill treated by the doctors of Paris, who
confined themselves to deliver one single lecture in the whole year,
leaving all the rest of the work to their inferior fellow-graduates.
Besides their share in teaching the students, they performed other
important duties. They were the industrious copyists of classical works,
and while they thus toiled for the instruction of others in narrower or
wider circles, they at the same time qualified themselves for the
attainment of higher degrees. Opportunities for the advancement of their
own erudition were given in the _disputations_. It was incumbent upon
every doctor or master (magister) from time to time to hold and direct a
public disputation, at which the doctors, bachelors, and students were
present. The doctors, clad in the furred doctor-gown (cappa, taphardum),
and with the _birrettum_, took their places on elevated chairs, which
were arranged in a circle round the walls of the hall. The cross seats were
occupied by the bachelors, behind whom mustered the plebeian students, in
earlier times cowering on the floor, later on provided with the luxury of
seats.
The presiding doctor, who directed the disputation, having entered the
pulpit, chose from the text-book a certain passage and formed it into an
argument (quaestio), the development or exposition of which was called
_determinatio_. Now the task of the bachelors commenced, who, with
respect to their functions, were called _respondentes_ and divided
into _defendentes_ and _opponentes_. They had their own pulpit,
from which one or other individual of their class delivered his
_argumentatio, pro_ or _con_, and then awaited the response of
his antagonist. When, however, the contest required a rapid succession of
questions and answers, both occupied the same pulpit, facing each other in
a contest which very often did not lack the stimulus of personal animosity.
When they became extravagant in their argumentation, strayed from the
original question, or in the heat of the combat fell into excesses of
language, it was the office of the presiding doctor to recall them to the
point at issue, or, if need were, to impose silence. Sometimes, and perhaps
not unfrequently, matters became so complicated as to leave a solution of
the question more than doubtful, in which case the doctor, on his own
authority, pronounced a decision, to which the contending parties had to
submit. Similarly to the practice prevalent in tournaments, the
disputations were wound up with a courtesy (recommendatio), a harangue in
favor of the opponent. Students were not allowed to take part in the
disputations directed by a doctor; but they had their own combats of the
kind, presided over by a bachelor.
While promotion to the bachelorship took place four times a year, the
competition for the _license_ could occur only once or twice, commonly
at the opening of the new scholastic year. The scientific requirements
differed in different universities and faculties, and the course of
promotion was not everywhere the same in all its details, but the following
outlines will, we hope, give a fair picture of the generality of cases. The
day of competition for the license (licentia docendi) being agreed upon
between the chancellor and the respective faculties, it was publicly
announced by placards at the entrance of churches and other conspicuous
places, and several times pronounced from the pulpits of the clergy.
{216}
On the appointed day the candidates presented themselves before their
respective faculties, and on the morrow they were introduced to the
chancellor, to petition him that he would graciously accept them as
candidates, and appoint the day of examination. Hereupon they pledged
themselves by oath to be obedient to the chancellor, to promote the welfare
of the university, to further peace and concord among the nations and
faculties, to deliver lectures at least during the first year of their
license, to be faithful to the doctrines of the church, and to defend them
against every hostile aggression. Then the functions of the faculties began
and ended with the examination of the candidate, who, upon having passed
satisfactorily, was recommended to the chancellor for the actual reception
of the license. Thus it becomes evident that the license was not the gift
of the faculty, but emanated from the chancellor as the representative of
the bishop, the church; nay, more, in several Italian universities it was,
in spite of their democratic character, customary for the bishop himself to
preside at the examination for the license and the promotion of the
successful competitors. When the chancellor withheld his confirmation (as
on several occasions of differences having arisen between him and the
university it did happen), the most brilliantly sustained examination
failed to make a licentiate out of a bachelor. The examination for the
three higher faculties was held in the presence of all the doctors, any one
of whom had a right to examine the candidate on the previously appointed
"theses." In the theological faculty the questions were everywhere fixed by
the episcopal representative, the chancellor, who even might interfere in
the examination itself. The same right could be claimed by him in the
faculty of law.
To pronounce judgment on the scientific qualifications of the candidate was
the task of the whole faculty. On the appointed day the successful
competitors appeared in the church in the presence of the chancellor, and,
kneeling down before him (_ob reverentium Dei et sedis apostolicae_),
they received the license, the chancellor using the formula: "By the
authority of God Almighty, the apostles Peter and Paul, and the Apostolic
See, in whose name I act, I grant you the license of teaching, lecturing,
disputing, here and everywhere throughout the world, in the name," etc.
(Ego, auctoritate Dei omnipotentis, et apostolorum Petri et Pauli, et
apostolicae sedis, qua fungor in hac parte, do tibi licentiam, legendi,
regendi, disputandi, hic et ubique terrarum, in nomine Patris et Filii et
Spiritus Sancti. Amen.)
After the act was over there followed the payment of fees and the
inevitable banquet. The arts faculty conferred with the license the degree
of the magisterium at the same time. The license enabled the candidate to
teach in public at all the universities of Western Europe. In the earlier
centuries this prerogative of universal recognition of the license was not
enjoyed by all the universities. That of Paris was honored with it as early
as the year 1279 by Pope Nicolas III.; Oxford did not receive it until the
year 1319; while the university of Vienna enjoyed it ever since its
foundation by the bull of Pope Urban V. of the year 1365. When the church
had performed her functions by bestowing the license upon the candidate, he
was not therewith a member of the faculty. For this purpose he had to seek
approval and reception from the respective faculty itself (petere licentiam
incipiendi in artibus, in medicina, etc.), which, in the regular course of
events, was never withheld. There was in this proceeding a manifestation of
corporate right and independence which the faculties loved to display on
this occasion. Though hardly more than a formality, it tended to give
expression to their consciousness of being free corporations upon which no
candidate could be intruded, though it were by the highest functionary of
the university.
{217}
The bachelors, as we intimated before, may be considered a higher degree of
students, and the licentiates, we may add, formed a lower degree of
masters. They, therefore, sat in the same compartments with the masters,
but in the rear; they might, like the doctors, wear the _cappa_
(gown), but not the _birrettum_; nor were they allowed to deliver
lectures on their own responsibility, but had to do so under the direction
of a doctor. Licentiates, however, if reading by appointment of a doctor,
or in his stead, were considered independent lecturers. To make the
licentiate a doctor, nothing was required but the act of _promotion_
--a mere formality again, but of no slight importance, for it was the final
transaction which stamped the candidate as a man of learning, the
legitimate and competent teacher.
The act of promotion was celebrated with the greatest possible splendor.
The tolling of the church bells gave the signal for the procession to
prepare. All the doctors, licentiates, bachelors, and students, having
previously assembled in front of the candidate's house, they, upon the
second signal being given by the bells, move in a pompous _cortége_
toward the church, where the sound of trumpets and timbrels received them
upon their entrance. For the court, the judges, the magistrates, and the
members of the different faculties, separate accommodation was provided,
the populace filling the remaining space. The doctors of the respective
faculties having taken their seats, the chancellor opened the proceedings
by a brief allocution, in which he permitted the candidate to ascend the
pulpit (_auctoritate cancellarii_). The candidate delivered a speech
(pulchram et decentem arengam) in honor of the faculty, and finally
petitioned for the insignia of doctor. Upon this the promoter (one of the
doctors of the faculty) ascended the pulpit and held an oration
recommendatory of the candidate, and then, following his invitation, all
the doctors formed a circle and received the _doctorandus_ in their
centre, where the promoter transmitted into his hands an open and a closed
volume as the symbols of his scientific avocations, gave him the kiss of
peace as the mark of friendship and fraternity, and placed on his head the
_birrettum_ in manifestation of his new dignity. Immediately after
these ceremonies the new doctor ascended the pulpit (now _sua
auctoritate_) and delivered a lecture on any theme fitting the occasion,
thus availing himself at once of the acquired privilege. From this it would
appear that the act of promotion belonged to the chancellor and faculty
jointly, and not to the university as such, for its actual head, the
rector, took no part whatever in the proceedings. The doctor alone had the
right of wearing a gown ornamented with silk and fur, and the birrettum as
indicative of his rank. In his social position he was considered of equal
rank with noblemen, and therefore wore the golden ring and other attributes
of the nobility, and in public manifestoes he always appears included in
the aristocratic class of society. The titles of _doctor_ and
_magister_ designated one and the same degree, and yet there was a
shade of difference in their meaning, magister (master) being applied to
scientific superiority or mastership, while doctor signified the person
who, in consequence of this degree, exercised the functions of teacher or
professor; hence, magister was the title of courtesy, doctor that of the
professional man, a distinction which will become evident from phrases such
as this: Magister Johannes, doctor in theologia, etc. Every doctor enjoyed
the right, and during the first year of his license undertook the duty, of
lecturing in that faculty which had promoted him.
The officials and servants formed no inconsiderable appendage to the
university. They are mentioned under the names of _notarii, syndici,
thesaurarii,_ and the lower orders of beadles or famuli of various
descriptions. More important, if not in position, yet in number, were the
_academic citizens_.
{218}
To these belonged tailors, shoemakers, laundresses, booksellers,
stationers, and a host of different trades, which had to provide for the
wants of university men exclusively, and formed a body distinct altogether
from the city tradesmen. All these servants of the university, the academic
citizens and their servants, together with the servants of each individual
belonging to the university, counted as members of this community. If we
take into consideration that dignitaries of the church and of the state,
and noblemen, visited the universities, accompanied by a numerous retinue
of attendants and servants; that even scholars of the wealthier middle
classes were followed by two servants at least (and in this case called
"tenentes locum nobilium"--gentlemen commoners?), we can form an idea of
the immense crowd of academic individuals resident in the great
universities. As to the number of academic members in different places, the
opinions of modern historians are at variance, and in spite of their
controversies the real facts of the case have not been ultimately elicited.
Wood, in his history of the university of Oxford, relates that in the year
1250 the number of members of that university amounted to 30,000! This
fabulous number scarcely ever found credence among modern historians until
Huber, the German historian of the English universities, entered the lists
as the champion of Wood's thirty thousand. Though, historically, he has no
new light to throw upon the subject, he makes his deduction in favor of the
thirty thousand plausible enough. Taking into consideration the facts we
have just advanced concerning the wide range of the term of academic
members, adducing, further, the circumstance of Oxford having at that time
attained the meridian of its glory by the immigration of Paris scholars in
1209, and the settlement of the mendicant friars there, he certainly urges
on our minds the belief that the number of academic people must have been
amazingly great. But looking apart from the circumstance that Wood's
assertion is not confirmed by direct documentary evidence, that the average
numbers mentioned before and after the year indicated turn in the scale
between 3,000 and 5,000, we have scarcely any other measure by which to
judge the above statement but the highest mark of numbers related of the
other great universities. Allowing the most favorable circumstances to have
worked in unison toward assembling a large crowd at Oxford University, we
yet believe no one will be likely to uphold the assertion that Oxford
University was at that time, or at any time, more densely populated than
Paris or Bologna. In the year 1250, we know for a fact Germany was not in
possession of one single university, and yet the number of academic
scholars in that country was not inconsiderable. From want of a Studium
Generale in their own country, German scholars had to visit foreign
universities, and the current is clearly distinguishable in two directions,
one to Italy for the study of law, the other to Paris for arts and
theology. Even admitting Oxford's fame for its dialectic and theological
schools having been on an equality with that of Paris, we cannot conceive
how, in its insular position, it could rival with the great continental
universities which offered ready access to students from all parts of
Europe. Now the greatest number ever mentioned at the university of Paris
is 10,000, when in the year 1394 _all_ the members of the university
had to vote in the case of the papal schism, and even this number cannot be
relied on, as, according to Gerson's admission, several members gave more
than one vote, and others voted who had no right to be on the academic
suffrage. Admitting, however, that the gross sum may be an approximately
fair estimate, we turn our attention to Bologna. This university
undoubtedly contained all the advantages of celebrity, easy access, freedom
of constitution, and whatever else may conduce to attract numerous
visitors.
{219}
Yet the highest number is 10,000, mentioned in the year 1262. The
universities of Salamanca and Vienna, certainly not the least among
academic establishments, even in the time of their greatest success and
most flourishing condition, could not boast of a number exceeding 7,000.
From these data it may become sufficiently evident what we have to believe
of Oxford's thirty thousand, a number which must stand on its own merits
until it can be supported and confirmed by direct historic evidence. It is
true the line of demarcation between trustworthy and fabulous accounts
concerning numbers is very difficult to draw in mediaeval records,
especially when they refer to institutions which, exposed to the
vicissitudes of fortune, experienced a continual influx and reflux of
scholars, so that the famous Bologna, which numbered 10,000 members in
1262, had fallen to 500 in the year 1431, not to mention the intermediate
degrees in the scale of numbers.
The whole body academic, numerous and complicated though it was, did not
require any considerable amount of regulating and governing agents. By the
simplicity of rule and government the middle ages characteristically differ
from our own wonderful machineries which claim for every touch that is
wanted the experienced hands of hundreds of officials, and even then they
are oftentimes served badly enough. Self-government was the ruling idea in
the middle ages, and consequently we see the universities directed in their
complicated progress by a number of officials comparatively so small as to
fill the modern observer with amazement. The university being divided into
different bodies or corporations (the nations and faculties), it left the
direction and management or these different institutions chiefly to
themselves. At the head of the nations stood the _proctors_
(procuratores), and the faculties were governed by their deans (decani).
The range of their official rights and duties will be illustrated later on.
The president of the different nations and of the four faculties was the
rector. He was elected for the space of a year, or six months only, by the
proctors or presidents of the nations, and in earlier times regularly out
of the arts faculty; at a later period, and in the younger universities,
out of one of the nations and one of the faculties alternately. The rector
was not to be a married man--at Vienna no monk either; Prague required him
to be a member of the clerical profession, imitating in this, as in almost
everything else, the university of Paris, where even the professors were
bound to celibacy (nullus uxoratus admittebatur ad regentiam). The rector
was the head, the president (caput, principale) of the whole university.
Oxford and Prague alone, where the supreme power was invested in the
chancellor, form in this respect an exception, but only so far as names are
concerned, for the Oxford chancellor was _eo ipso_ rector of the
university. The rector's high dignity found expression in the title of
_Magnificus_, which, in the middle ages, was allowed to none but
princes imperial and royal, and a suitable dress distinguished the highest
official of the university whatever he appeared in public. It is surprising
to learn what an important figure a university rector played on public
occasions. At Paris, and later on at Vienna, the rector, when officiating
in his avocation, preceded in rank even the bishops. The rector of the
university of Louvain (Loewen) Was allowed a life guard of his own; and
even Charles V., attending on one occasion the convention of the
university, took his place after the rector. At Leyden, the stadtholder,
when appearing in the name of the states-general, allowed the precedence to
the rector of the university; and whenever the rector of Padua visited the
republic of Venice he was received by the senate with the highest marks of
honor.
{220}
When at Vienna the court was prevented from attending at the procession on
Corpus Christi, the rector of the university took the place of the
sovereign immediately behind the _sanctissimum_. From the exalted
station which a university rector occupied in society the fact is easily
explained that dignitaries of the church, nobleman of the highest rank, and
even princes of blood royal, did not slight the rectorial purple of the
university. The rector wore, like the deans, a black gown, but on festive
occasions he was dressed in a long robe of scarlet velvet. He acted as the
president of the highest academic tribunal, and held his judicial sessions,
assisted by the proctors, and if he so pleased he might invite the deans as
well. In criminal cases occurring within the bounds of the university, he
could inflict any, from the slightest to the severest penalties of the law.
Hence, a _sword_ and a _sceptre_, were carried before him when he
traversed the streets or appeared on public occasions. He convened the
meetings of the university corporations, and conventions held under any
other authority (even that of the chancellor) had no legal power in
carrying resolutions. What we have just stated concerning the rector holds
good for the chancellor of Oxford. When Paris and other universities
contrived to free themselves from the influence of their diocesan, Oxford
never loosened the close ties which bound it to the church, and received
without opposition its governing head from the bishop. But it must be borne
in mind that the chancellor of the university had nothing whatever to do
with the church of Lincoln, which had its own chancellor. Once appointed by
the bishop, Oxford's chancellor entered upon all the functions, and the
same independent position as the rector elsewhere. On the other hand,
however, he represented the chancellor of the other continental
universities, who formed the connecting links between the university and
the church. During the middle ages the functions of the continental
chancellor were restricted to the few cases of promotion at which be acted
as the representative of the bishop, to give the sanction and blessing of
the church to proceedings which were deemed as naturally belonging to her
proper sphere of supervision and authority. Having so far finished our
sketch of the different members of the Corpus Academicum, we may finally
let them pass in review as they appeared at processions and other public
occasions, according to rank and precedence. At the head of the train we
see, of course, the rector followed by the dean, doctors and licentiates of
theology, with whom went in equal rank the sons of dukes and counts, and
the higher nobility generally. These were succeeded by the dean, doctors
and licentiates of the law faculty, and the students belonging to the
baronial order, and with the medical faculty proceeded the students of the
lower nobility. The fourth division was formed by the dean and professors
(magistri regentes) of the arts faculty and those bachelors of other
faculties who were masters of arts, while the bachelors of arts followed,
and the students closed the procession, they also being divided and
following each other according to the succession of the faculties just
described, where, _ceteris paribus_, seniority gave the precedence. As
in all institutions of medieval society the division of ranks was strictly
observed, and in case of need enforced in the most rigorous manner, a
transgression in this respect being visited on any member with severe,
sometimes the severest penalty, that is, expulsion from the university.
All the different degrees of individuals we have now examined were united
in corporations, representing a union either according to local divisions
in _nations_, or arranged with respect to scientific pursuits in
_faculties_. Concerning the nations of the universities, former
writers intricated [sic] themselves in great difficulties by recurring to
hypotheses in which historical records did not bear them out. According to
Bulseus and Huber the nations of the university represented the different
tribes or nationalities which inhabited a country, and found a rallying
point at the centre of science and education.
{221}
Now, this assertion is in open contradiction to the character and nature of
academic nations, as may become evident from the following data which we
have to advance. The nations of the English universities were, and always
continued to be, those of the _Boreales_ or _northerners_, and
the _Australes_ or _southerners_. Among the Boreales were
included the Scotch, and with the Australes figured the Irish and Welsh. If
it had lain in the plan of those institutions to preserve and foster the
difference of national extraction and to develop it to the highest degree
or contrast, how could this end be obtained by a corporation of men which
contained in itself the contradictory elements of Celtic and Saxon
derivation, elements then more sharply defined and opposed to each other
than now? Directing our attention to Paris, we find at an earlier epoch
there also only two distinct nations, the French and the English, the
former comprising Southern, and the latter Northern Europe. When these two
nations were multiplied into four no regard whatever was paid to the
different nationalities, for the divisions were the _English, French,
Picardian_, and _Norman_. Why, we may ask, was the nation of the
Normans to hold a separate position from that of the English, with whom
they were one body from a political point of view, or from the French, whom
they resembled closely enough in language and manners? When at the
University of Vienna the _Austrian_ nation comprised the Italians, and
the _Rhenish_ nation, besides Southern Germans, the Burgundians,
French, and Spaniards, where is the principle of nationality preserved?
Turning finally to the Italian universities, we meet with hardly any other
distinction but that of _Cisalpine_ and _Transalpine_. How wide
the difference between the nationalities of these academic nations must
have been we may leave it with our readers to conclude, when we state the
fact that in the Transalpine nation we find Germans, Scandinavians,
Frenchmen, Normans, Englishmen, and Spaniards. What then, will be the
question naturally proposed, was the meaning, tendency, and character of
academic nations? The middle ages, in defining and separating the members
of the university into nations, did not intend to sharpen the national
contrasts and differences, but, on the contrary, to soften them down,
perhaps to destroy them altogether. Not natural _natural extraction_,
but the geographical situation it was which proffered the criterion for
such division. If it were otherwise, they would have applied to these
divisions not the term of _Nationes_ (that is, ubi natus), but that of
_Gentes_. Its chief support our view will derive from the fact that in
the middle ages the distinction of rank and avocations far outweighed that
of nationalities in our acceptation of the term. Just as chivalrous
knighthood represented, without respect to the different countries, an
institution coalesced into one body or corporation, so likewise the school
had its centres of unity, independent of nationalities. The chief criterion
of nationalities, _language_, formed in the scholastic establishments
a centre of unity, Latin being the medium of conversation and literature,
from the Baltic to the Adriatic, and from Cracow to Lisbon. The division
into nations consequently aimed at _uniting_ the different tribes
according to the different quarters of the globe whence they had come.
Every university was looked upon as a geographical centre, and the
different nationalities were grouped into nations, and designated by the
names of those peoples which resided nearest to the central point, the
university. It is true, the division recognized by the university did not
object to secondary combinations among students of the same nationality if
they wished to enter into a league with their countrymen, so that the
Germans, for instance, who belonged to the English nation at Paris, and to
the Transalpine nation of the Italian universities, might at any place form
a separate corporation known as a _province_.
{222}
These provinces, however, were not recognized by, or in any official
relation to the _proctors_ (procuratores). The name itself implies the
nature of their office, that of being the representatives, the advocates,
the attorneys of their respective nations. Not only graduates, but even
students were eligible to the office, because doctrine or learning was not
at all concerned where academic relationship offered the sole guide in the
election. When the whole university was convened, each nation voted
separately, and the majority out of the four votes (of the four nations)
decided. Questions which concern the pecuniary contributions of all the
members, or the external relations of the university and the like, were
discussed and settled in the convention of the nations. The proctors, with
the rector as their head, formed the court of academic jurisdiction, and
they also elected the rector, who in early times was nothing but the
supreme magistrate, the mayor, as it were, of the academic community.
The nations of which we have treated in the preceding paragraph formed the
first and natural division of the Corpus Academicum into independent
corporations, and may therefore outreach in antiquity the faculties. As
soon, however, as the different branches of learning had fully grown into
distinct sciences, it was merely in accordance with the corporate spirit of
the times that the scholars of each respective science separated into
independent bodies and assumed the form and constitution of corporations.
The origin of these scientific corporations or faculties is, like that of
the nations, and of the first universities themselves, shrouded in
obscurity. The sciences represented in the different faculties may surely
be traced back to the early centuries of mediaeval education, having their
prototype in the Trivium and Quadrivium of the monastic schools; but
without entering any further upon probabilities and conjectures about their
origin, we proceed at once to a characterization of the faculties at the
time of their full development, which is historically authenticated. In all
universities the faculties represented the same quadripartite cyclus of
sciences, that is, the _Facultus Artium, Jurisprudentiae, Medicinae_,
and _Theologiae_. It was not requisite for a Studium Generale or
university to comprise all the four faculties; on the contrary, we find at
the early epoch of academic life hardly any university which professed the
four branches of knowledge. Paris and Oxford, for instance, were originally
confined to arts and theology, to which the schools of medicine and law
were added at a later period, probably copied from the model schools of law
and medicine in Italy. Turning to the peninsula of the Apennines we find
there in the earlier times not a single university combining the
theological with the other three faculties. Bologna did not gain the
privilege of a theological faculty before the year 1362, when Pope Innocent
VI. decreed that in the law university the faculty of theology should be
established, and theological degrees conferred by the same. Till then it
had been customary for Italians to betake themselves to Paris, for the sake
of obtaining promotion in theology. Of other Italian universities, Padua
received a theological faculty by Pope Urban V., upon the intercession of
Francesco da Carrara, then, Signor of Padua. Pisa, when obtaining the
confirmation of Pope Benedict XII., was allowed the "studium sacrae
paginae;" but the right of promotion was a case altogether separately
treated, and therefore expressly mentioned where it was bestowed, which,
with regard to Pisa, did not take place. Ferrara also had a theological
school exclusive of the right of promotion; but in the year 1391 it
succeeded in gaining the privilege of promotion in theology, which, by the
end of the fourteenth century, was more universally conceded.
{223}
But even then we find famous schools, such as Piacenza, Pavia, Lucca,
Naples, Perugia, and even that of Rome itself, not participating in the
said prerogative. The university of Montpellier (like most of the French
schools, Paris excepted) had no theological faculty; and Vienna, confirmed
by Pope Urban in 1365, was not favored with a theological faculty
previously to the year 1384. These exceptions were owing to various causes,
partly of a local, partly of a higher and more important nature. The
interests of neighboring universities, for instance, might threaten a
collision (as in the case of Prague and Vienna), or the pursuits of
theological studies could be amply provided for by monastic and cathedral
schools. But the principal cause of this system appears to lie in quite a
different circumstance. The method of Scholastic sophisms had, in spite of
the opposing movements of the popes, gained day by day more ground in the
theological department, a fact which made a strict supervision, and
therefore a more limited scene for theological operations a real
desideratum. The greatest caution was deemed necessary, owing to the fact
that even at Paris, since the scholastic method had gained superiority,
startling doctrines were advanced, divergent from the traditional teaching
of the church, and sufficient to cause apprehension.
Admission to degrees depended first of all on the diligent attendance at
lectures, which the candidate had to prove by testimonials, and secondly on
a certain number of years which he had to devote to the special studies of
his faculty. For the bachelorship of arts a study of two, for the
magisterium a study of three years was required. In the faculty of law the
bachelor had, previously to his promotion, to go through a course of three
years, and after seven years of study the license would be granted; while
the medical faculty imposed for the bachelorship two or three, for the
license five or six years, differing in proportion to the candidate's
previous studies in the faculty of arts. After six years of theological
study the candidate could attain the bachelorship in theology, whereupon
his faculty pointed out one or other chapter of Holy Scripture on which he
had to lecture under the superintendence of a doctor. Having passed three
years in these pursuits he might gain permission to read on "dogmatics" or
doctrinal theology (libri sententiarii). Bachelors were, therefore, divided
into _baccalaurei biblici_ and _baccalaurei sententiarii_, and
both designated as _cursores_. A bachelor who had begun the third book
of the sentences became _baccalaurens formatus_, and after three
years' further practice, that is, after _eleven_ years of theological
study, he presented himself for the license. The head of each faculty, the
_dean_ (decanus), was elected by the graduates out of his respective
faculty, in some cases for six, in others for twelve months. The community
of the university was represented in three different conventions: the
consistory (consistorium), the congregation (congregatio universitatis),
and the general assembly (plena concio). The first was originally the
judicial tribunal, and though its functions became more varied at a later
time, it continued to be the representative assembly of the academic
nations. The congregation was a meeting of a more scientific, and, as it
were, aristocratic character, including only the doctors and licentiates of
the different faculties. It formed the court of appeal from the sentence of
the respective faculties. The general assembly, comprising all the members
of the university, was convened on but few occasions, and then only for the
celebration of academic festivals, or for the publication of new statutes,
or especially in cases when contributions were to be levied from all the
members of the university. On the last-mentioned occasion only had the
students or undergraduates the right of voting; in every other instance
they were restricted to silence, or the more passive though uproarious mode
of participation, by applauding or hissing the proposals and discussions of
their elders and betters.
{224}
Here, again, we have to point out a characteristic difference between the
Cismontane and Transmontane universities. While the whole constitution of
the universities on this side of the Alps, with their laws, statutes, etc.,
was dependent on the aristocratic body of the graduates, the universities
of Italy, and chiefly that of Bologna, display a thoroughly democratic
character. At Bologna the students were the gentlemen who, out of their
number, elected the rectors. The Italian rector was, in fact, identical
with our proctor, though his functions extended over a wider range. The
aristocratic congregation of faculties is almost totally unknown in Italian
universities, where the nations preserved their predominant position all
through the middle ages. The professors were hardly more than the officials
of the students, and in their service, though in the pay of the citizens.
In the documents we never read of any legal transaction being performed by
the faculties, but always by the rectors and the nations, or the rectors
and the students, and even the papal bulls with respect to the Italian
universities freely use the expression of a _universitas magistrorum et
scholarium_. In short, the Italian universities were democracies, while
the western, and chiefly the English universities present traits of a
decidedly aristocratic character.
To complete the sketch of the organization of mediaeval universities we
must add a few remarks concerning their position in society, and the
relation in which they stood to civil and ecclesiastical authorities. The
members of the body academic were subject to three distinct tribunals:
internal discipline and jurisdiction belonged to the functions of the
rector and proctors; violations of the common law which were committed
outside the pale of the university, and required the apprehension of the
delinquent, lay within the pale of the bishop's jurisdiction; and all cases
falling under the head of _atrocia_ were, for final decision, reserved
to the law courts of the crown. The bounds of ecclesiastical jurisdiction
being rather vague and undefined, collisions between the ecclesiastical and
secular authorities would naturally arise. In order to provide for all
emergencies the pope appointed _conservatores_, individuals who had no
direct connection with the university, and could therefore the more
effectually step forward as mediators when they considered its immunities
and liberties endangered. The university of Oxford, for example, was placed
under the guardianship of the episcopal sees of London and Salisbury, and
the "ward," it would appear, contrived to get into so many scrapes that the
charge of _conservators_ was rendered anything but a sinecure. At one
time we find them in a controversy with the crown, at another in a deadly
feud with the city magistrates, and again occasionally exchanging not very
friendly wishes with the bishop of Lincoln, the diocesan of Oxford. When
they found their opponents refractory, they appealed to the pope, who at
once despatched a legate to the scene of action, where, in nine cases out
of ten, the controversy was decided in favor of the university, the darling
child of the church. By the constitution of Pope Gregory IX., granted to
Paris University in the year 1231, and soon extended to Oxford, the
functions of the academic by the side of civil and ecclesiastic authorities
were more clearly and satisfactorily defined. Most conspicuous in that
constitution is a statute, according to which the chancellor of Paris as
well as the municipal authorities had to take an oath to honor and maintain
the privileges of the university. The relations between the academic
authorities and the city magistrates, or, to use an academic phrase,
between gown and town, remained at all times in an unsatisfactory state. In
Italy the universities to a great extent owed their existence to the
liberality of opulent citizens, who valued the institutions far too highly
to disgust them by any infringement of their privileges.
{225}
Should, however, the city of Bologna show difficulties in their path, the
scholars, well aware of a friendly reception elsewhere, packed up their
valuables, or pawned them in case of need, and emigrated to Padua. If the
commune of Padua grew in any way obnoxious to the university, the rectors
and students at once decided on an excursion to Vercelli. The good citizens
of Vercelli received them with open arms, and in the fulness of their joy
assigned five hundred of the best houses in the town for the accommodation
of their guests, paid the professors decent salaries, and to make the
gentlemen students comfortable to the utmost the city engaged two copyists
to provide them with books at a trifling price fixed by the rector. If the
Bolognese emigrants did not feel comfortable at Imola, there was its
neighboring rival Siena, which allured the capricious sons of the Muses
with prospects far too substantial to be slighted by the philosophical
students. These gentlemen having pawned their books, their "omnia sua," the
city of Siena paid six thousand florins to recover them, defrayed the
expenses of the academic migration, settled on each of the professors three
hundred gold florins, and--to crown these acts of generosity--allowed the
students gratuitous lodgings for eighteen months. However much an Italian
student might have relished an occasional brawl in the streets, there was
hardly an opportunity given him to gratify his pugilistic tendencies, while
in this country the street fights between students and citizens often
assumed the most fearful proportions. The more English citizens fostered a
feeling of independence, derived from increased wealth and social progress,
the less were they inclined to expose themselves to the taunts, and their
wives and daughters to the impudence, of some lascivious youth or other.
The students, on the other hand, able with each successive campaign to
point out a new privilege gained, a new advantage won over their
antagonists, would naturally find an occasional fight tend to the promotion
of the interests of the body academic, besides gratifying their private
taste for a match, which in those days, and in this country especially, may
well-nigh have attained the pitch of excellent performance. We do not think
it necessary or desirable to enter into the details of these riots between
_town_ and _gown_ which are very minutely narrated in Huber's
history of the English Universities. From the position which they had
gained in England, it will easily be understood that the universities could
not keep aloof from the great political contests of the times, so that as
far back as King John's reign the political parties had their
representatives at the academic schools, where the two nations of Australes
and Boreales fought many a miniature battle, certainly not always with a
clear discernment as to the political principles which they pretended to
uphold.
It is very curious to observe the manner of self-defence which those
gigantic establishments adopted when they were pressed by the supreme
powers of church or state. In the first instance, they had recourse to
suspension of lectures and all other public functions, a step sufficiently
coercive on most occasions to force even the crown into compliance with
their wishes. Should, however, this remedy fail, they applied to still more
impressive means, which consisted in dissolution of the university or its
secession to another town. Even the most despotic monarch could not abide
without apprehension the consequences of such a step, if resorted to by a
powerful community such as Paris and Oxford, for it had received legal
sanction in the constitution granted by Gregory IX., and its results were
far too important to be easily forecast or estimated.
{226}
We have already alluded to the frequent migrations of Italian universities,
and need, therefore, only point out the impulse imparted to Oxford by the
immigration in 1209 of a host of secessionist students and professors from
Paris, the unmistakable influence on the development of Cambridge exercised
by secessionist scholars of Oxford, and the rise of the university of
Leipzig upon the immigration of several thousand German students who, with
their professors, seceded from Prague, where Slavonic nationality and
Hussite doctrines had gained the ascendency over Germans and Catholics.
The universities gradually emancipated themselves, rose higher and higher
in the estimation of society, and thus became the sole leaders and guides
of public opinion. Popes and emperors forwarded their decrees to the most
famous universities in order to have them inserted in the codes of canon
and civil law, discussed in the lectures of the professors, and thus
commended to a favorable reception among the public. As the highest
authorities of church and state, so did individual scholars appreciate the
influence of Alma Mater. It was not uncommon for literary men to read their
compositions before the assembled university, in order to receive its
sanction and approval before publication. So did Giraldus, for example,
recite his Topography of Ireland in the convention of the university of
Oxford, and Bolandino his chronicle in the presence of the professors and
scholars of Padua.
We cannot more fitly conclude our remarks on the social position of the
mediaeval universities than by shortly narrating the occasion on which they
displayed, for the last time in the middle ages, the immense power of their
social position. The university of Paris, as it behoved the most ancient
and eminent theological school, took the lead in the movements which were
made in the case of the papal schism. Ever memorable will be the occasion
when, on Epiphany, 1391, Gerson, the celebrated chancellor of the
university of Paris, delivered his address on the subject before the king,
the court, and a numerous and brilliant assembly. Owing to his exertions
and the co-operation of the professors and members of the university,
certain proposals were agreed upon which tended to restore peace and unity
in the church. The king, for a time, was inclined to listen to these
proposals, but being influenced again by the party of Clement VII., he
ordered the chancellor to prevent the university from taking any further
step in the matter. All petitions directed to the king for a revocation of
the sentence proving futile, the university proceeded to apply means of
coercion. All lectures, sermons, and public functions whatsoever were
suspended until it should have gained a redress of its grievances.
In the year 1409 the Synod of Pisa was opened to take the long-desired
steps against the schism. The universities were strongly represented by
their delegates, not the least in importance among the venerable
constituencies of the Occidental Church, the number of doctors falling
little short of a thousand. Reformation of the church in its head and
members, and a revision of its discipline and hierarchic organization, were
loudly proclaimed by the representatives of the universities, foremost
among all by Gerson, the chancellor of Paris, the most brilliant star in
the splendid array of venerable doctors and prelates of the church.
Mediaeval universities were truly _universal_ in their character,
being united by one language, literature, and faith. With the sixteenth
century nationalities were growing into overwhelming dimensions; national
literature rose in defiant rivalry and joined revived antiquity in marked
hostility against the scions of scholasticism; and, to give the final
stroke, the unity of faith was crumbling; piecemeal under the reforming
spirit of the age. The ties which had bound mediaeval universities to each
other and to their common centre were sundered. Some became defunct; others
led a precarious existence; all had a hard and troublesome time of it--a
fact touchingly recorded in the annals of Vienna: "Ann. 1528: Propter
ruinam universitatis nullus incorporatus est."
{227}
This sad epitaph might have been written over the portals of more than one
university and public school by the middle of the sixteenth century.
Literature.
Bulaerus, "Historia Universitatis Paris." Paris, 1665
Wood, "Historia et Antiquitates Universitatis Oxon." Ox., 1668.
Herrnanni Corringii Opera (tom. v., "Antiquitatis, Academicae"). 1730.
Guia, "Historia de las Universidades, Colegios, Academias y demas Cuerpos
Literarios de España," etc. Madrid, 1786.
Huber, "Die Englischen Universitäten." Cassel, 1839.
Dyer, "History of the University Colleges of Cambridge."
Dyer, "The Privileges of the University of Cambridge."
Fabranius, "Historia Academiae Pisanae." 1791.
Vincenzio Bini, "Memorie Istoriche della Perugina Università." Perug.,
1816.
Francesco Colie, "Storia dello Studio di Padova" Pad., 1825.
Pietro Napoli-Signorelii, "Vicende della Coltura nolle Due Sicilie."
Napoli, 1784.
Jacobus Faccioiatus, "Fasti Gymnasil Patavini," Patav., 1757.
Serafino Mazetti, "Memorie Storiche sopra l'Università di Bologna."
Bolog., 1840.
G. Origila, "Storia dello Studio di Napoli." Nap., 1753.
F. M. Renazzi, "Storia dell' Università de Roma." Roma, 1804.
J. Bouillard, "Histoire de l'Abbaye Royale de St. Germain des Prez."
Paris, 1724.
J. E. Bimbenet, "Histoire de l'Université de Lois d'Orléans." Paris,
1850.
F. Nève, "Le College des Trois Langues à l'Université de Louvain."
Bruxelles, 1856.
Meiners, "Verfassung und Verwaltung Deutscher Universitäten." Göttingen,
1831.
R. Kink, "Geschichte der Kalserlichen Universität zu Wein." Wein, 1854.
Walaszki, "Conspectus Relpublicae Literariae in Hungaria." Budae, 1808.
C. J. Hefele, "Der Cardinal Ximenes." Tübingen, 1851.
J. P. Charpentier, "Histoire de la Rennissance des Lettres en Europe."
Paris, 1843.
S. Voight, "Die Wiederbelebung des Classischen Alterthums." Berlin, 1859
J. B. Schwab, "Johannes Gerson," etc. Würsburg, 1858.
G. Tiraboschi, "Storia della Letteratura Italians." Venezia, 1828.
------
Original.
The Lady of La Garaye. [Footnote 49]
[Footnote 49: The Lady of La Garaye. By the Hon. Mrs. Norton. 12mo, pp.
115. New-York: Anson D. F. Randolph.]
Two hundred years ago there dwelt in the lordly castle of Dinan, in
Brittany, the chivalric Claud Marot, Count de la Garaye, and his gracious
lady. Its fortress-like walls and majestic battlements reared themselves
against the sky and frowned upon the woods and vales around as if with
conscious dignity and power. Fair Dinan's town nestled in its protecting
shadow as a gentle maid might seek security beside the burly form of some
rough-appearing but tender-hearted giant. The porter kept its gates with a
jealous yet a kindly eye, as should befit the keeper of his master's home,
which was at once the sanctuary of his knightly honor and the hall of his
knightly bounty. The gray-haired old seneschal, with shoulders slightly
stooped by age and reverence, met the courtly guests, and bowed them
welcome with a paternal smile and bustling orders to the underlings to
prepare all needful things for their better cheer. The courtyard echoed to
the baying of the hounds all eager for the chase, and men at arms in
troublous times assembled here, mustered by the doughty
"Captains, then of warlike fame,
Clanking and glittering as they came."
{228}
A retinue of well-fed servants and buxom maids prepared the goodly feast,
and ordered well the halls and chambers with their quaint and comfortable
furniture. Its noble master and mistress held sway within their castle with
fitting grandeur of demeanor, albeit with that graciousness which marks the
gentlefolk. Honored by all the country round, rich in worldly goods, yet
richer in virtue, happy in each other's love, the young count and his lady
had but one thing to mourn, and that was that God had left them childless.
A cruel accident banished for ever all hope of any heir: and so they lived
and died, yet leaving a name behind them "better than sons and daughters;"
and on this our English poetess has weaved a poem of surpassing beauty. We
propose to present some idea of it to our readers, merely saying by way of
preface that if anyone will read it as it is, he may dispense himself the
further perusal of this article, which cannot convey in partial extracts
that charm which pervades these flowing pages when undisturbed by the rude
comments of a stranger.
The poem opens with the preparations for the chase, in which the lady is to
take a part, and at once the noble pair are described to us:
"Cheerful the host, whatever sport befalls,
Cheerful and courteous, full of manly grace,
His heart's frank welcome written in his face;
So eager, that his pleasure never cloys,
But glad to share whatever he enjoys;
Rich, liberal, gaily dressed, of noble mien;
Clear eyes--full, curving mouth--and brow serene;
Master of speech in many a foreign tongue,
And famed for feats of arms, although too young;
Dexterous in fencing, skills in horsemanship--
His voice and hand preferred to spur or whip;
Quick at a jest and smiling repartee,
With a sweet laugh that sounded frank and free,
But holding satire an accursed thing,
A poisoned javelin or a serpent's sting;
Pitiful to the poor; of courage high;
A soul that could all turns of fate defy;
Gentle to woman; reverent to old age."--
We hasten at once to add the second portrait, painted with a delicacy of
outline and warmth of coloring which display the touch of the master hand:
"Like a sweet picture doth the ladies stand,
Still blushing as she bows; one tiny hand,
Hid by a pearl-embroidered gauntlet, holds
Her whip, and her long robe's exuberant folds.
The other hand is bare, and from her eyes
Shades now and then the sun, or softly lies,
With a caressing touch, upon the neck
Of the dear glossy steed she loves to deck
With saddle-housings worked in golden thread,
And golden bands upon his noble head.
White is the little hand whose taper fingers
Smooth his fine coat--and still the lady lingers,
Leaning against his side; nor lifts her head,
But gently turns as gathering footsteps tread;
Reminding you of doves with shifting throats,
Brooding in sunshine by their sheltering cotes.
Under her plumèd hat her wealth of curls
Falls down in golden links among pearls,
And the rich purple of her velvet vest
Slims the young waist and rounds the graceful breast."
The invited guests having all arrived, the merry party set off with cheers
and laughter, little dreaming of the sad ending of so joyful a day. The
game secured, Count Claud and his lady, returning together, meet with a
roaring stream over which they must leap their horses:
"Across the water full of peakèd stones--
Across the water where it chafes and moans--
Across the water at its widest part--
Which wilt thou leap, O lady of brave heart?"
Now comes one of the finest passages in the whole volume. Who can read it
without finding at the last line that he has been holding his breath?
"He rides--reins in--looks down the torrent's course,
Pats the sleek neck of his sure-footed horse--
Stops--measures spaces with his eagle eye,
Tries a new track, and yet returns to try.
Sudden, while pausing at the very brink,
The damp, leaf-covered ground appears to sink,
And keen instinct of the wise dumb brute
Escapes the yielding earth, the slippery root;
With a wild effort as if taking wing,
The monstrous gap he clears with one safe spring;
Reaches--(and barely reaches)--past the roar
Of the wild stream, the further lower shore--
Scrambles--recovers--rears--and panting stands
Safe 'neath his masters nerveless, trembling hands."
But one word mars the power of these lines; the word _safe_ in the
line,
"The monstrous gap he clears with one safe spring."
The safety of the unexpected leap is told us just one instant too soon.
There is an indescribable pleasure derived by the mind in being held in
suspense in the contemplation of one passing through imminent perils, and
that suspense cannot be broken, though it were but for the short time that
one takes to pass from one side of the page to the other, without loss of
power in the description, and of interest to the reader.
{229}
But the lady! will she attempt to follow? Did she not mark his hair-breadth
escape? The confusion of thought in the mind of the count caused by his own
peril, the sudden, unlooked-for leap, the fear lest his wife should try to
follow ere he can turn to warn her of the danger, the dumb horror which
seizes him as he sees her horse in the air leaping to his certain death;
are told in a few rapid lines, and then follows the thrilling tableau:
"Forward they leaped! They leaped--a colored flash
Of life and beauty. Hark! A sudden crash--
Blent with that dreadful sound, a man's sharp cry--
Prone--'neath the crumbling bank--the horse and lady lie!"
Like a madman he rushes to her relief, clambering "as some wild ape" from
branch to branch, trampling the lithe saplings under foot with giant tread.
His love, his fear, his trembling excitement are told in one line:
"The strength is in his heart of twenty lives."
What a depth of meaning there is in that one sentence, and how happy the
choice of words. When, in reading, we came upon the word _heart_ where
we expected to find "arm" or "frame," or some similar term which would
express the increase of muscular and nervous power consequent upon strong
mental emotion, we confess to having been startled by its originality, and
we admire the line as it stands as a master stroke of true poetic genius.
Claud is so shocked at finding his beautiful and passionately loved wife
apparently dead that he is struck deaf and dumb with grief. The noise of
the passing hunt, the baying of the hounds, the cheery calls of the
huntsmen, and shouts of the merry guests he neither hears nor heeds. It is
some time ere he realizes the terrible accident. At last the thoughts shape
themselves in his disordered brain, and, with one wild glance at her
prostrate form, be catches her in his arms, and
"Parts the masses of her golden hair,
He lifts her, helpless, with a shuddering care,
He looks into her face with awe-struck eyes:
She dies--the darling of his soul--she dies!"
Then follows one of those passages marked by that deep pathos for which
this poem is so remarkable:
"You might have heard, through that thought's fearful shock,
The beating of his heart, like some huge clock;
And then the strong pulse falter and stand still
When lifted from that fear with sudden thrill
He bent to catch faint murmurs of his name,
Which from those blanched lips low and trembling came:
'O Claud!' She said: no more--
But never yet,
Through all the loving days since first they met,
Leaped his heart's blood with such a yearning vow
That she was all in all to him, as now."
Some passing herdsmen came to their relief, and the bruised and corpse-like
form of the lady is borne back to the castle on a rude litter of branches.
It is impossible for us to refrain giving the strongly drawn contrast in
the following description:
"The starry lights shine forth from tower and fall,
Stream through the gateway, glimmer on the wall,
And the loud pleasant stir of busy men
In courtyard and in stables sounds again.
And through the windows, as that death-bier passes,
They see the shining of the ruby glasses
Set at brief intervals for many a guest
Prepared to share the laugh, the song, the jest;
Prepared to drink, with many a courtly phrase,
Their host and hostess--' Health to the Garayes!'
Health to the slender, lithe, yet stalwart frame
Of Claud Marot--count of that noble name;
Health to the lovely countess: health--to her!
_Scarce seems she now with faintest breath to stir._"
And thus the first part of this exquisite poem ends. The second part is the
"Convalescence" of the wounded lady. Her life returns, but she learns that
she is an incurable invalid, that while life lasts she must remain maimed
and sick, and, most cruel thought of all,
"Never could she, at close or some long day
Of pain that strove with hope, exulting lay
A tiny new-born infant on her breast."
She draws her fate from the unwilling lips of the physician, in whose
friendly eyes the tears are glimmering as he pronounces
"The doom that sounds to her like funeral bells."
And now she hurriedly glances in her mind at all the dreaded consequences,
among which arises the jealous fear lest she should lose the love of her
beloved Claud. His wife, indeed, but no longer his companion; only to have
the hours his pity spared. Heart-broken and crushed, she murmurs against
the holy will of God and prays for death.
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The poetess here introduces a thought which shows her deep acquaintance
with the human heart. We shrink from sympathy for our wounded pride, and
strive to smile when our hearts are aching:
"Wan Shine such smiles; as the evening sunlight falls
On a deserted house whose empty walls
No longer echo to the children's play,
Or voice of ruined inmates fled away;
Where wintry winds alone, with idle state,
Move the slow swinging of its rusty gate."
Her high-souled husband grieves to see her drooping under the jealous loss
of her strength and beauty, and, in his undoubting love, unable to suspect
that she fears to lose that love,
"Wonders evermore that beauty's loss
To such a soul should seem so sore a cross,
Until one evening in that quiet hush
That lulls the failing day, when all the gush
Of various sounds seem buried with the sun,
He told his thought.
As winter streamlets run,
Freed by some sudden thaw, and swift make way
Into the natural channels where they play,
So leaped her young heart to his tender tone,
So answering to his warmth, resumed her own;
And all her doubt and all her grief confest."
The unburdening of the sore, doubting heart and the tender, comforting,
loving assurance of Claud is one of the choicest scenes in the poem. Never
did youthful lover pour forth more impassioned utterances than fell from
the lips of that true man and noble husband. He tells her that her beauty
was but one of the "bright ripples dancing to the sun" glancing upon the
silver stream of his happy life, and continues the metaphor:
"River of all my hopes thou wert and art;
The current of thy being bears my heart."
And last of all, when she, still incredulous of his unswerving faith, sighs
her girlish doubts and moans for death, he with full heart and fervent
words repeats his tale of love and makes profession of love's boldest
offering, the sacrifice of his life, if it were the will of God, could she
return again "to walk in beauty as she did before;" and then he whispers to
her the thought that has arisen in his soul to answer the "wherefore" of
the dreadful accident:
"It may be God, saw our careless life,
Not sinful, yet not blameless, my sweet wife
(Since all we thought of in our youth's bright May
Was but the coming joy from day to day),
Hath blotted out all joy to bid us learn
Now this is not our home; and make us turn
From the enchanted earth, where much was given,
To higher aims and a forgotten heaven."
It is no little comfort in this age of sensual worldliness and practical
unbelief in the providence of God to find the voice of Christian philosophy
sounding yet clear above the grovelling utterances of a too often degraded
muse.
The third part of our poem continues and exemplifies this thought. This
world is God's world; we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of
his hand. Bereavement, pain, unforeseen and unexplained sorrow belong to
life, and play their part in schooling the soul to higher aims. The heart
must learn to wait on God. "Peace will come in that day which is known unto
the Lord," says the author of the Imitation of Christ. We, too, can bring
our own experience to the proof, and know that a stronger hand and a wiser
heart has led and loved us. We quote but one extract from this third part;
it is the summary of the whole:
"All that our wisdom knows, or ever can,
Is this: that God hath pity upon man;
And when his Spirit shines in Holy Writ,
The great word COMFORTER comes after it."
To these sorrowing ones, bending beneath the cruel blow, and mourning over
blighted hopes, God sent a friend; His friend, the minister of His counsel
and His comfort, a holy monk. Let us transcribe his portrait:
"Tender his words and eloquently wise;
Mild pure fervor of his watchful eyes;
Meet with serenity of constant prayer
The luminous forehead, high and broad and bare;
The thin mouth, though not passionless, yet still;
With the sweet calm that speaks an angel's will,
Resolving service to his God's behest,
And ever musing how to serve him best.
Not old, nor young; with manhood's gentlest grace;
Pale to transparency the pensive face,
Pale not with sickness, but with studious thought,
The body tasked, the fine mind overwrought;
With something faint and fragile in the whole,
As though 'twere but a lamp will hold the soul."
Words of holy counsel, lessons of humble sanctifying obedience, mingled
with mild reproof, yet full of the deepest and friendliest sympathy, fall
from the lips of the good priest and charm the unquiet spirit to rest.
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Such words had doubtless fallen upon her ears before, but she had only been
a hearer; now she was perforce a learner. How natural her complaint:
"What had I done to earn such fate from Heaven?"
And how deftly does the priest, wise in the counsels of God and in the
sorrows of the human heart, catch up the text and bring its argument home
to the questioner! "What have the poor done?" he asks in return, "what has
the babe done that is just born to die? .... what has the idiot done? ....
what have the hard-worked factory girls done?" (the verse says not
_factory_ girls, but implies it, a pretty little anachronism which we
blame not, for the lesson of the Lady of La Garaye was meant for our own
times.).... "what have the slandered innocent done?" And then he tells her,
in strong contrast to her own luxury and ease, of the number who sicken and
die, forsaken, uncheered by kind words, unaided by kind hands, wanting the
commonest comforts of health which become craving necessities for the sick,
and bids her know that
"What we must suffer proves not what was done."
The lady listened, and in her heart arose the wish to help the sick, the
aged, and the poor. God had chosen her to be one of his angels of mercy to
the suffering, and a minister of benediction to those that mourn. And,
choosing her, he called her to the trial, and led her, all unwilling yet,
through the fire of affliction. How her wish was accomplished and what
fruit it bore is quickly told:
"Where once the shifting throng
Of merry playmates met, with dance and song,
Long rows of simple beds the place proclaim
A hospital, in all things but the name.
In that same castle where the lavish feast
Lay spread that fatal night, for many a guest
The sickly poor are fed! Beneath that porch
Where Claud shed tears that seemed the lids to scorch,
Seeing her broken beauty carried by,
Like a crushed flower that now has but to die,
The self-same Claud now stands and helps to guide
Some ragged wretch to rest and warm inside.
But most to those, the hopeless ones, on whom,
Early or late, her own sad-spoken doom
Hath been pronounced--the incurables--she spends
Her lavish pity, and their couch attends.
Her home is made their home; her wealth their dole;
Her busy courtyard hears no more the roll
Of gilded vehicles, or pawing steeds,
But feeble steps of those whose bitter needs
Are their sole passport. Through that gateway press
All varying forms of sickness and distress,
And many a poor worn face that hath not smiled
For years; and many a crippled child,
Blesses the tall white portal where they stand,
And the dear lady of the liberal hand."
Nothing, we think, could be added to increase the beauty of this picture.
In noting the impressions made by the perusal of this charming poem one
cannot help calling attention to its healthful, elevated tone, and the
purity of thought which pervades the whole. It is a gem of poetic art which
all lovers of the true and beautiful must admire. It were needless to say
that even by our copious extracts we have not presented all that is worthy
of comment. There are very few verses, indeed, in the poem which do not
possess equal merit with those of our quotations. The deep pathos which
reigns throughout as its flowing rhythm glides smoothly along, is like the
murmuring of a brook through quiet woods on a sunny day, compelling the
chance wanderer to stop and pass a dreamy hour away by its leafy banks.
There is a singular air of peacefulness and repose pervading it that we
think to be its peculiar charm, and we envy not the reader who can rise
from its perusal without feeling that he has enjoyed a delightful feast for
both mind and heart.
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Original
Procession in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
A pilgrimage to the places consecrated by the events in the life of our
Lord is, of necessity, full of the deepest interest. However familiar we
may be at home with the narrative of all that Christ has done for us, that
mighty work of love is invested with new force and power when we kneel at
the places where it was wrought--when we meditate on the incidents of our
redemption on the spot where it was effected. The offices of the Passion,
in Jerusalem, have, therefore, a more striking character than in other
lands. The ritual observances of the Catholic Church, everywhere so
touching, have in the Holy City the additional impressiveness of recalling
to memory events in the places where they occurred.
Every day in the year there is a procession in the church of the Holy
Sepulchre, which is one of almost startling solemnity. Those who have been
privileged to take part in it can never forget the emotions it excited, and
which are renewed daily as the function proceeds. Although no language can
adequately express these feelings, yet a description of the procession
itself, with a reference to the circumstances in which it is made, may be
of advantage, and aid, however imperfectly, in the understanding of this
most impressive devotion. The detail of a liturgical service involving many
repetitions and sentences in Latin is necessarily somewhat dull; yet it is
hoped that the unusual character of the office about to be described will
have sufficient attraction for the readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD to induce
them to peruse these pages. Should the writer furnish other sketches of his
pilgrimage to the Holy Land, they will probably be found of more general
interest than this paper.
Late in the afternoon, compline being finished, the procession is formed in
the chapel of the Franciscans. Each person is furnished with a lighted
taper, which serves the double purpose of honoring the function and for
reading the book of the hymns and prayers. The first time anyone is present
a large wax candle is given him, and this he is permitted to take away as a
remembrance of the office; on subsequent occasions the smaller one is used,
which burns until the close of the service. The church being dark, it is
difficult to read without this light, which also adds much to the
impressiveness of the scene as the line of pilgrims stretches along. The
number of persons in the procession varies, being, of course, larger when
many strangers are in Jerusalem, as is the case at Easter. Some of the
Catholics of the city, and occasionally the sisters of St. Joseph, are
present, the priests and brothers of the convent being always there; thus
the whole office has dignity and is reverently gone through.
While on the way from one station to the next, a hymn is sung; when the
place is reached, incense is used; the people all kneel; a versicle and
responsory are said, followed by a prayer, concluding with _Our
Father_ and _Hail Mary_. Of course, the whole office is in Latin,
and thus to ecclesiastics from every part of the world it has a familiar
appearance.
Beginning in the Latin chapel, in front of the altar of the blessed
sacrament, the function opens with the antiphon, _O sacrum convivium_,
and the versicle, "Thou hast given them bread from heaven, having in itself
all sweetness." The prayer of the blessed sacrament, _Deus qui nobis_,
is said. In the same chapel, a few feet to the right of the high altar, is
the station and altar of the column of the flagellation of Christ.
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A recess in the wall contains a portion of the column behind a grating of
iron. In going to this, the hymn _Trophos a crucis mystica_ is sung;
the antiphon and prayer, "Pilate took Jesus and scourged him, and delivered
him to them that he might be crucified. I was scourged all the day, and my
castigation was in the morning, Look down, we beseech thee, O Lord, upon
thy church which thou hast redeemed with thy precious blood, that it, being
always enriched, may obtain eternal rewards: who livest and reigneet
forever and ever. Amen."
With the hymn _Jam crucem propter hominem_ the procession goes to the
prison of Christ, a dark place where, according to tradition, our Lord was
detained some time. Antiphon and prayer: "I brought thee forth from the
captivity of Egypt, Pharaoh being drowned in the Red sea, and thou hast
delivered me to this dark prison. Thou, O Lord, hast broken my bonds; to
thee will I sacrifice the host of praise. Loosen, we beseech thee, O Lord,
the chains of our sins, that, having been freed from the prison of this
body, we may behold the light of glory, through Christ our Lord. Amen."
The hymn _Ecce nunc Joseph mysticus_ is sung as the procession moves
to the place of the division of the garments of Christ. Antiphon, etc.:
"The soldiers, therefore, when they had crucified Jesus, took his vestments
and made HERE four parts, to each soldier a part, and the tunic. They
divided HERE my vestments for themselves, and on my clothing they cast
lots. O God, who, through thine only-begotten Son, didst confer the
remedies of salvation on a fallen world, grant to us that, being freed from
vices and adorned with virtues, we may be presented in white clothing
before the tribunal of thy majesty. Amen."
The procession, chanting the hymn _Crux fidelis inter omnes_, now
descends a flight of stone steps, passes through the chapel of St. Helena,
and down a second flight to the place where was found the holy cross, the
reward of the pious search of the mother of Constantine. Antiphon, etc.: "O
blessed cross, which alone wast worthy to bear the Lord and King of heaven!
Alleluia. This sign of the cross shall be in heaven when the Lord shall
come to judgment. O God, who didst HERE raise up a miracle of thy passion
in the finding of the glorious cross of salvation, grant that by the price
of this wood we may obtain the favor of eternal life. Amen."
Returning now to the chapel of St. Helena, with the hymn, _Fortem virili
pectore laudemus omnes Helenam_, the people kneel in the centre of this
edifice, while the priest who leads the devotion goes to the chief altar,
which is near the place where the saintly empress waited while the search
for the holy cross was made below. This chapel belongs to the Armenians.
The antiphon, etc., are as follows: "Helena, the mother of Constantine,
came to Jerusalem that she might find the cross of the Lord. Alleluia! Pray
for us, O blessed Helena, that we may be made worthy of the promises of
Christ. Mercifully hear the prayers of thy family, O Lord, that as it
everywhere rejoices in the fervid study of blessed Helena, who here
joyfully found the wood of the holy cross so much desired, so, by her
merits and prayers, it may be able always to rejoice in heavenly glory.
Amen."
The next station is that of the column of the crowning and mocking, in
going to which the hymn _Caoetus piorum exeat_ is sung. Antiphon,
etc.: "I gave thee a royal sceptre, and thou hast put on my head a crown of
thorns. Plaiting a crown of thorns, they put it on his head. O God, who, in
the humility of thy Son, hast lifted up the fallen world, mercifully grant
that, casting away the crown of pride, we may obtain the unfading crown of
glory, through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
The procession now ascends the flight of step leading to Calvary, going
first to the place of the crucifixion, properly so called, where our Lord
was nailed to the cross.
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The hymn _Vexilla Regis prodeunt_ is sung on the way from the place of
mocking. The antiphon, etc.: "They took Jesus, and led him forth, bearing
his cross: he went to the place called Calvary, in the Hebrew Golgotha,
where they crucified him. HERE they pierced my hands and my feet, and they
numbered all my bones. O Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, who, for
the salvation of the world, at the sixth hour, didst ascend the gibbet of
the cross on THIS Calvary, and for the redemption of our sins didst shed
thy precious blood, we humbly beseech thee that after our death thou mayest
grant to us joyfully to enter the gate of paradise: who livest and reignest
for ever and ever. Amen."
A few steps to the left of this place is the spot where the cross was set
up, and where the great High Priest offered the sacrifice which taketh away
the sin of the world. Going to this, the hymn _Lustris sex qui jam
peractis_ is sung, the second verse of which recounts, word by word,
some of the incidents of the gospel narrative:
"Hic acetum, fel, arundo,
Sputa, clavi, lancea,
Mite corpus perforatur,
Sanguis, unda profluit:
Terra, pontus, astra, mundus
Quo lavantur flumine!"
The antiphon, etc.: "Now it was about the sixth hour, and darkness was over
all the land even to the ninth hour; and the sun was darkened, and the veil
or the temple was rent in the midst; and Jesus, crying with a loud voice,
said, 'Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit;' and, saying these
words, he HERE expired. We adore thee, O Christ, and we bless thee because
by thy holy cross thou didst HERE redeem the world." The prayer (said in a
low voice): "Look down, we beseech thee, O Jesus, upon this thy family for
which our Lord Jesus Christ did not hesitate to be delivered into the hands
of the executioners and made to undergo the torment of the cross: who with
thee liveth and reigneth, world without end. Amen."