CHAPTER XIV.

DISPUTATION. DICTATION.

1. Many wise things had been said by the experienced masters of old on

the subject of disputation. Thus Robert of Sorbon, the founder of the

College of the Sorbonne, had put it down in one of his six essential

rules for the scholar, that "nothing is perfectly known unless

masticated by the tooth of disputation."[252]

Our Jesuit critics mention incidentally, in one place, that "their

age is eminently versed in disputation."[253] They are cautioning the

Professor of Scripture against using disputation at all, lest he come

thereby to relinquish his own eloquent style of commentary. For every

chair has its own character; and that which the _Ratio Studiorum_ of

1599 attributes to the chair of Scripture includes, among a number of

qualifications, this one, which is mentioned in the last place, that,

"as far as possible, the Professors be well versed in eloquence."[254]

On the other hand, in the proper arena of disputation, they caution

Professors against its abuse. Taking note, in one place, of the discord

which can arise among learned men, they illustrate their point with

some instances, taken precisely from a disputatious tendency, from that

exaggerated scholasticism which had run into dialectic excesses. They

say: "For the disturbance of harmony, it makes very little difference

whether discord arises in great things or in little. It is not only

the importance of a question, it is also the spirit of emulation, that

fosters contention; so that sometimes a war of words and the bitterest

altercation is kept up on a single term and phrase. Forsooth, what is

more trivial than to ask whether God is in imaginary space? Yet what

tragic scenes does not this very question give rise to!"[255]

Excesses of this kind being guarded against, the Fathers lay down the

thesis that, when employed in its proper place, no exercise is more

useful than disputation. You will see not a few wholly taken up with

reading, writing, arranging, and paging what they have written; but

they eschew most carefully all disputation, neglecting it, looking

upon it as an idle occupation, having all their Theology locked up,

not so much in their memory and intelligence, as in their paper books.

Men of authority, they go on to say, have always been persuaded that

Philosophy and Theology are learnt, not so much by hearing, as by

discussing. For, in this exercise, you have a most certain test how

much a man understands of what he is writing about or teaching; also

how much solidity there is in one's own private cogitations, since it

happens not unfrequently that what appears brilliant in one's private

room is seen to drag in the mud, when it comes to disputation.[256]

Then, too, while we are hard pressed by our adversary, we are forced

to strain every nerve of our wits, and, when others are bearing down

heavily upon us, we knock out of our brains many things which would

never have come into our heads, while we stayed in the quiet of leisure

and rested in the shade. We hear things which others have found out,

and which either throw light on doubtful points, or indicate the path

to some other point. Or, if what is said does not commend itself to

our judgment, we see through the opponent's artifice; we meet him with

more facility, and establish our own thesis with more stability. The

auditors, meanwhile, can take note of the good points one Professor

makes, the strong points of another, and, after the example of their

Doctors, they quicken their wits for the fray, observing where

the arguments limp, which are the distinctions that tell, how the

whole doctrine of a Professor hangs together. In short, it is well

established by the authority of the gravest men, and by the test of

experience, that one disputation does more good than many lectures;

not to mention the other consideration, that there is nothing more

calculated to render our schools illustrious, than making our students

competent to win great approbation and applause, in public sessions

and disputations.[257]

These critics express their mind upon the need which exists, of

reviving considerably the fervor and dignity of this exercise, and so

restoring it to its former educational influence. But we can observe

for ourselves, how congenial an element the whole exercise must be in

a system like this, which is preëminently oral--oral examinations,

oral and self-reliant defence and attack, free and open lecturing,

with the influence of eye, voice, and person, to bring everything

home, even though all the while there is no question of oratory, but

of mere teaching. In the earlier stages, too, of the scholar's life,

however much has been made of the acquirement of style, "forging the

word with Grammar," as Robert of Sorbon had said, "and polishing it

with Rhetoric," to make it glow on the written page, yet from the very

first, also, no less account has been taken of the ability to express

one's thought, with perfect presence of mind, without depending upon

note or book. In the higher faculties, this holds good more than ever.

Now the time has come for matter of the most approved kind. And the

independent, self-possessed delivery of one's thoughts, with the power

to force them home unto conviction, or to maintain them against all

odds, appears not only as the scope proposed in the system, but also as

the historical result, effected in the public career of the Order.

Father Laynez, at the Conference of Poissy, contended thus with Peter

Martyr and others; Possevino at Lyons with Viret, using, not so much

the severe syllogistic form, as copious and learned discussion.

Maldonado was double-handed, either syllogistic or discursive. In the

Conference at Sedan, in 1572, he argued first in dialectic form; then,

on the demand of his opponents for a different kind of weapon, he

took with the same facility to discursive exposition. Edmund Campian,

in England, on being removed from the rack more dead than alive, was

immediately brought face to face with Newell and Day, able champions

as well of the Queen's spiritual supremacy, as of the doctrine of

Justification by Faith alone. He proceeded to argue: "If faith alone

justifies, it justifies without charity; but without charity it does

not justify; therefore faith alone does not justify." Now for the

answer, clear and incisive as the propositions. Deny or distinguish

major or minor proposition, if you want to deny the conclusion; for,

those premises standing, the inference remains intact, since the

syllogism is perfect in form. And so argumentations proceed.

To revive disputation in its best style, the critics devote several

pages to a most valuable analysis of the conditions and method of the

exercise.[258] Their suggestions are embodied in the final _Ratio_.

The Rectors are to show their lively and active interest in the

disputations, by attending on public and private occasions alike, and

by the various arts which such interest will inspire. As argument

"freezes except in a crowd," the critics require that the attendance

of all be insisted on, when the days and hours of disputation arrive.

This susceptibility of human nature, which the Fathers touch upon,

when they speak of disputation freezing except in a concourse, is not

without an exact counterpart, when, in another connection, they are

speaking of the humanists, or Professors of the literary classes. There

they adopt the view that the literary seminary of the Province should

be in the same great college, along with the faculties of Philosophy

and Theology; for, say they, among other reasons, "the humanists would

languish in obscurity, if they had not the philosophers and theologians

to be witnesses, spectators, and applauding auditors of their literary

achievements." And again they plead sympathetically, "the philosophers

and theologians, when composing the prefatory essays for their

disputations, call for the taste of the humanists, by whose verses and

orations, moreover, they are refreshed from time to time."[259]

Continuing their remarks, the Fathers define the limits of the weekly

disputations to be two hours, not more, assigning four regular

objectors for that time. The Professors, belonging to different

faculties, should invite one another reciprocally to the private

disputations in their classes, at least for an hour or so, that the

intellectual contest may wax warm by the meeting of these Doctors.

Other Doctors, too, not of the faculty, can be invited for the same

purpose. But, continues the _Ratio_ of 1599, in undertaking to push

the arguments which are being urged, "they should not take the thread

out of the hands of an objector, who is still ably and strenuously

following it up."[260] Meanwhile, the students who receive the

commission to act as objectors, on occasions of some publicity, must be

the more qualified members of the course; the others have the practice

of their private arena, until they can take part with dignity in a

public tournament.

If argument freezes except in a crowd, so, too, it palls, if it never

comes to a conclusion; and no useful point of doctrine is carried

away by the listeners. Truth is lost in clouds, and there is no gain

to good humor. Acrimony or melancholy may well be the only outcome

of an unfinished or revolving argumentation. It will not revolve,

if the disputants keep to strict syllogistic form. But when both or

all parties become heated, and wit becomes lively, the syllogism may

suffer, and then, when will they finish? To obviate this inconvenience,

two persons are charged with the responsibility of the performance, one

the Professor himself, who is presiding over his own disputation, the

other, the General Prefect of Studies, who controls the whole series of

disputations, as they follow one another in turn.

Of the Professor it is said, that he is to consider the day of

disputation as no less laborious and useful than that of his own

lecture; and that all the fruit and life of the exercise depends

upon him. The earlier _Ratio_ lays even more stress upon the private

disputations, "which are wont to grow more frigid than the public

ones." He is to assist the two disputants, "so as to be himself

apparently the person contesting in each; let him signify his approval,

if anything specially good is urged, excite the attention of all when

any first-class difficulty is proposed, throw out a hint now and then

to support the respondent or direct the opponent; call them back to

strict syllogistic form, if they wander from it; not always be silent,

nor yet be always talking, so as to let the students bring out what

they know. What is brought forward, he can amend or improve; let him

bid the objector proceed, so long as his argument carries weight with

it; carry on the objector's difficulty for him farther; nor connive at

it, if he slips off to another track. He is not to allow an argument

which has been well answered to be kept up, nor an answer that is not

solid to be long sustained; but, when the dispute has been sufficiently

exhaustive, let him briefly define the matter, and explain it."[261]

The General Prefect of Studies is required to keep the series of

disputations in due form; arguing himself but sparingly, and thereby

discharging the duty of general direction with more dignity. He is

not to suffer any difficulty which comes under debate, to be agitated

this way and that, "so that it remains as much of a difficulty after

as before"; but when such an agitated question has been sufficiently

mooted, he will see that an accurate explanation of it is given by the

Professor who is presiding.[262]

With the last public act, or general defence of Philosophy and

Theology, the formation of the future Professor closes. This public

defence occupies four or five hours, in two sessions. If the defendant

is not a member of the Order, special care is taken to honor it with

all solemnity, and with the attendance of all the faculties, of guests

invited, Doctors from without, and princes or the nobility.[263]

This act will be followed by the solemnity of conferring the final

degree upon the Licentiate. When the student is a Jesuit, much more

is made of thoroughness in a searching examination then, as at all

times previously. He has now passed through a long series of yearly

examinations, which were almost always disputations, and that, not with

equals, but with four or five Professors.[264] So that, on viewing him

at the close of his formation, we are enabled to conceive, with more

distinctness, the meaning of that standard, "surpassing mediocrity,"

which, in a former chapter, I endeavored to define.[265]

2. On turning our attention now to the Professor's chair, and examining

his manner of lecturing, of explaining, of teaching, whether in the

field of Letters, Science, Philosophy, or Theology, we have, on the one

side, to suppose him complete in his formation, and, on the other, to

regard the scholar as undergoing formation. Here, then, we begin the

second part of this analysis. The style of teaching and of management,

which is distinctively the Jesuit type, is presented in the _Ratio

Studiorum_ under its practical and ideal aspect. There is also a manner

of instruction which is not considered an ideal method, however much it

may sometimes recommend itself as practically expedient. I will touch

upon this latter, the negative side of the question, first, to be free,

in the next chapter, for approaching the matter on its positive and

constructive side.

In putting dictation down as not being the ideal form of teaching in

the Society, I do not speak of the proper use of dictation. The _Ratio_

itself leaves room for it. It is the abuse of dictation that merits and

receives a protracted examination of its value, at the hands of the

critics. The discussion is of the highest importance. In analyzing a

style of instruction, with which they are not in harmony, they bring

out the essential elements of all true teaching. And, if we approve at

all of their principles, the implied disapproval for the rejected form

becomes only aggravated, on contemplating an exaggerated development

of the same; that is to say, when, instead of dictating what has the

merit of being one's own laborious production, the teacher is seen to

become the servile dependant on a text-book printed by somebody else;

and neither does the teacher show any of the qualifications necessary

to have composed the book, nor does the scholar expend the industry

which would have been necessary to copy it. But it is left to speak as

best it may, is read by the teacher, instead of his teaching, is read

by the scholar as the talk of some third person, and is found, in the

last issue, to have spoken just articulately enough for the pupil to

have learnt a memory lesson, and perhaps to have gathered information

which may or may not adhere to his mental structure. But, as to

anything like mental training, or what is properly education, the final

result of a long series of years seems to show that, if there has been

any of it, possibly the man who wrote the book had it; and with him it

has remained. So must it always be under such conditions. For when the

living Master has contributed so little in the way of live education,

the scholar must, of necessity, go away with somewhat less.

These critics say trenchantly: "Let no dictation be given, unless the

explanation of very much all that is dictated has gone before, or

accompanies, or follows the dictation; where the custom does not exist,

let no dictation be introduced; where it does, an effort should be

made to do away with it, as far as possible." Then they support their

position by many quotations from the Constitution of Ignatius.[266]

They go on to state that this habit of dictating was a thing unheard

of till within the last forty years; "yet the auditors were not less

learned then than now." In fact, but a slight acquaintance with the

old university system of Europe will show how jealously the empire

of the spoken word was maintained--the spoken word, as distinct, not

only from reading what the Doctor had himself composed, but also from

consulting even notes, while actually lecturing. He might have the text

of Aristotle, or Peter the Lombard, before him; he might himself have

written and published works; the student might, with permission, take

down notes in shorthand, from which in part, but chiefly from memory,

he would commit the whole lecture to writing,[267] on his return from

school. It was not mere want of facilities that determined the system

so. But the objective point was, not to have learning in one's papers

and bound up; still less to have it in books, bought for the learning

that is in them, and left afterwards with the learning still remaining

there. The object was to make learning one's personal possession, and

to profess the live mastery of it, with voice, eye, and person showing

how live it was.

These Doctors continue: "The common impression in men's minds is, that

dictating is not lecturing; also that it is one thing to write after

the manner of polishing off a treatise, a different thing to have at

hand merely some brief heads and references. And, should the matter

which is dictated be from some author, the labor of taking it down is

superfluous."

The living voice actuates the mind more; it expresses, it impresses;

it arouses, suspends the attention; it explains. All these effects are

nowhere in a dead-and-alive dictation. Nor do they give satisfaction,

who append the explanation afterwards; for then both times seem to

be lost, that taken up with dictation and that with the explanation.

First, while the dictation was going on, the auditors were intent upon

writing rather than understanding; particularly as, before the end of

a sentence is come to, the beginning of it has already slipped from

the mind; and the writing has to go on, without allowing any of that

time to breathe, which is frequent enough if the Professor lectures

and explains. Secondly, when the time for explanation comes after the

dictation, the students are tired; they think they have all their

learning now, down in their papers; so they go off, or they yawn, or

they read over their copy, to see if anything is wanting.

After dictating, the Professor thinks that he has now done his part.

What follows, that is, the work of explaining, he gulps down, as best

he can,--a laborious work, requiring memory, promptitude, facility of

development, fluency of speech; whence he will gradually vanish away

into a nonentity, as we see actually taking place in some universities.

More time is lost. For, while he goes over his dictation to explain it,

he has to take up again things which were clear enough, in order to

follow out the whole thread of his matter. If he had lectured, he would

have said those things once for all. Then, since it must be something

polished and finished in style that a man dictates, the poor scribes

have to take down much that is not necessary.

As if they had wearied themselves with this general assault on

dictation, the Fathers go on to relieve their feelings by exclaiming:

"What an amount of tedium meanwhile to those who are not writing,

especially to Prelates and other illustrious persons present! Must they

be told not to come while the dictation is going on, and to appear only

afterwards when the matter is being explained? If so, they will be in

attendance barely half an hour, and what they will hear will be meagre

enough; and the person they listen to will be one accustomed to languid

dictation, one who relies on his papers, and is but little practised in

the oral development of his thoughts. Besides, the students themselves

ought to get accustomed to make things their own when they hear them,

and to exercise their own judgment in selecting what to write. Thus

they will understand things better, and be kept more on the alert."

Not to disguise inconveniences, from whatever side they come, these

critics take note of the difficulties which are thought to exist; that,

unless the matter is dictated, the students cannot do justice to it,

that the lecturer is too quick, or, out of the many things he says,

they do not know how to select the necessary elements for annotation;

and, while phrase is piled upon phrase, they are at a loss, their notes

are disordered, inept, and sometimes simply wrong.

To this the critics promptly make answer: Those who are to lecture

in future are either such as are now beginning their career of

Professorship, or such as are long accustomed to dictation. For those

who are now beginning, previous exercise is to be recommended in the

most approved form of lecture, or _prælectio_. And they sketch the

form. As to the others who are long habituated to dictating, the

critics ask such Professors to give this form of lecturing the benefit

of a trial. If they despair of being able to adopt it, let them go

their own way, until another generation of Professors is ready to take

their places. Dictation can also be permitted, where our Professors

have often tried to give it up, but with the consequence that the

students took fright, and abandoned the classes. "Yet," continue the

Fathers, "they would not be apt to abandon the courses, nor complain

so much, if all the Professors would devote themselves to brilliant

lecturing,[268] and would put away dictation. For, if one dictates and

nurses the lazy folks, and another does not, who doubts but that sloth

will still be dearer to the slothful than the labors and thorns of

study? Yea, by dictation they are made daily more and more lazy, so as

to be always asking for more and more time; whereas, without dictation,

they become daily more prompt, and need less time for everything."[269]

The final _Ratio_ of 1599 embodies these suggestions, without being

absolute in excluding all dictation, for which it suggests the form

most useful and in accord with the spirit of true lecturing. It

deprecates the dictation of what may be found in authors within reach

of the students. "Let the Professor refer his hearers to those authors

who have been copious and accurate in their treatment of any matter."

As to what the critics of 1586 recommend, that, if dictation be given,

the lecture should extend to five quarters of an hour, the _Ratio_ says

nothing about it.[270]

Possevino, in his _Bibliotheca Selecta_, has a chapter on this

question, "Whether mental culture suffers by the dictation of

lectures?" He answers in the affirmative, and he speaks on the subject

with his usual erudition. He refers to the Pythagorean "acoustic"

disciples, who were never copyists, and not even talkers, until, by a

prolonged silence for years, they had thought enough to be able to talk

well, to put questions, and make comments. He quotes the cynicism of

Diogenes, about writing at the expense of true exercise. He notes the

plan of Xeniades the Corinthian, who gave a written compendium to the

young people, but one so short that they had to have the best part of

their learning in their heads. The Socratic method was eminently one of

living speech. And, as to Aristotle's "peripatetic" school, which was

conducted while _walking about_ the Lyceum, that was certainly neither

in practice nor in principle favorable to writing. Coming to speak

expressly of dictation and citing a pleasant old rhyme:--

Quod si charta cadat, secum sapientia vadat,[271]

Possevino goes on to plead for the chests of the students, and says

that the ink is the price of their blood, and the end of their studies

becomes the end of their lives. Hence one singular result of it all

is, that scholars even employ amanuenses to go to school instead of

themselves, and bring back in writing what was said. But all that

money, says Possevino, could have been reserved for the buying of

books, to supplement real study.

Then he enforces what he has said with a piece of university history,

wherein perhaps no one of his time was better versed. The University

of Paris, two and a half centuries before, had legislated against

dictating, and against the Doctors who used it, and who were dubbed

_Nominatores ad pennam_. One century before, the Cardinal Legate had

again formulated a law on the subject. And finally the Jesuits, "of

whom a great number are chiefly engaged in this profession, taught

by experience the evils of that system, have long understood the

necessity, not merely of moderating it, but simply doing away with it.

Wherefore the Fathers in the universities of Portugal have already

published a part of Natural Philosophy, whereby writing is dispensed

with, room is left for quickening genius, and much material stored up

to bring into the arena of discussion."[272]

Loyola and the Educational System of the Jesuits · 第 6 / 10 章