In the very same year which witnessed the publication of the Paris Statutes by Robert de Courçon, the city of Toulouse was being electrified by the lectures of a certain professor of theology named Alexander, who was held in great esteem throughout the south of France. One autumn day in the year 1215, having risen at a very early hour to pursue his studies, he fell asleep in his chair, and in his sleep he had a dream. He thought that seven stars appeared before him, small at first, but gradually increasing in size, and at last illuminating the whole world with their splendour. Starting from his slumber, he found that the hour had come for him to open his school, and hastening thither, seven men presented themselves to him as he entered, and informed him that they were about to preach in the country round about Toulouse, and desired, before doing so, to attend his lectures. They wore the usual dress of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine, namely, a white serge tunic covered with a linen surplice, and over that a black mantle; and they were headed by one on whose brow the master seemed to recognise the starry splendour which he had seen in his late vision: they were Dominic Guzman, prior of Prouille and Canon of Osma, and his first six followers.
The Order of Preachers was at this time but just founded, but even before its holy patriarch had given it a rule, and obtained for it the Apostolic confirmation, he directed its first steps to the schools. The institute, of which he had conceived the plan, was expressly designed for the purpose of teaching and preaching, and hence the culture of sacred science formed, from the first moment of its existence, one of its primary and essential duties. Having, therefore, established his followers at Toulouse to pursue their studies under the direction of Alexander, St. Dominic hastened to Rome to lay his plans before Pope Innocent III., then presiding over the Fourth Lateran Council. The Fathers of that Council had already formally recognised the grand evils of the age, which cried for a remedy, to be the want of sound religious instruction among the people and of theological science among the clergy. And a decree had been passed directing the bishops in each diocese to choose persons capable of preaching and instructing the people who were to be employed in this office; and requiring that certain learned men should be appointed in all churches, whether cathedral or conventual, to assist the bishops in preaching the Word of God and administering the Sacraments. Thus the outline of a teaching and preaching order had been sketched by the Lateran Fathers even before its perfect design had been submitted to the Pope by its founder. No wonder, therefore, that it was readily approved; it appeared as though raised up by God to supply a want at the very moment when the existence of that want had been distinctly acknowledged. And as if to mark the fact that, from the first moment of its formal existence, the Order of Preachers was expressly intended to teach and cultivate sacred science, Honorius III., when confirming the rule in the year following, bestowed upon St. Dominic the office of Master of the Sacred Palace, which may be briefly defined as that of the Pope’s theologian. This office became hereditary in the Order, and distinguished the sons of St. Dominic as the chosen theologians of the Church.
To form a just idea of the solicitude of the holy founder, and of those who immediately succeeded him, in establishing a perfect system of studies, we must turn to the Constitutions of the Order. It was at the first general chapter held at Bologna in 1220, and presided over by the saint himself, that an ordinance was passed declaring that as the principal end of the Order is preaching, the brethren should concern themselves rather with books and studies than with the singing of Responsories and Antiphons, provided, however, that prayer be vigilantly attended to.[185] And elsewhere the pursuit of sacred learning is declared to be “most congruous to the design of the Order,” both because the Order professes the contemplative life, and the study of sacred things is necessary to this end, and because it is also designed for teaching others the Divine knowledge which its members have acquired by learning.[186] Schools were therefore to be opened in every convent, under a Master of Studies, which differed from the old monastic schools in being exclusively intended as theological seminaries, and not as academies of the arts. The study of arts was not indeed absolutely prohibited, but it was to be pursued under limitations, and too much time was not to be given to secular branches of learning.[187] It was, however, required that in all convents the brethren should study the languages of the neighbouring countries;[188] and early in the fourteenth century the study of the Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic tongues was likewise enjoined. Still later, in 1553, it was ordained that in all convents where there were younger brethren, there should be a lector appointed to teach them grammar and the arts, according to their capacity. But the studies chiefly contemplated by the rule were those of philosophy and theology. Three years were to be devoted to the study of philosophy, before the commencement of the theological course. The length of time devoted to theological studies may be gathered from the rule which enjoined that in each of the chief houses of studies there should be a Regent of Studies, a certain number of Bachelors and Lectors, and a Master of Studies; but no one could be appointed Regent till he had publicly taught theology for twelve years, and the Bachelor or Lector, ten years; and all these must have maintained at least five public disputations in the schools before the assembled doctors and scholars. Moreover, before any one could present himself for the examination required in order to become a Master of Studies, it was necessary to have completed the course of arts, and another four years’ course of theology.[189]
During the year of religious probation which preceded profession, the novices were exclusively to occupy themselves in acquiring a knowledge of their rule and the duties of their state, and were exercised in chanting the Divine Office and studying the Ceremonies of the Order. During this time they were not allowed to engage in any study except that of languages. After their profession their scholastic course began, during which time every facility was to be afforded them for pursuing their philosophical and theological course. They were to have suitable cells in which they might read, write, and even sit up at night with a light. There was to be some place in which the Master of Studies could assemble them to propose doubts and questions, in discussing which good order and courtesy were to be observed. Every student was to be provided with three books; a Bible, a copy of the Sentences, and a book of histories.[190] The studies began with a course of philosophy, then the Scriptures were explained, and no one could be sent to a Studium Generale, a house of general studies, until he had passed at least one year under a professor of the Sacred Scriptures. After this came the explanation of the Sentences, which formed the theological text-book, until the works of St. Thomas were substituted in their place. In the schools the Lector was forbidden to use any written manuscript; he might have the text of Aristotle and of the Sentences, but no gloss. The pupils might take written notes if they chose, and if they were able to do so, though, as they sat on bundles of straw, or at best on benches without desks, this was not always easy. Most were content to trust to their memory, and assist it afterwards by repetitions of the master’s lesson among themselves. Classes were held every day, and there were weekly and yearly examinations. At first there was but one Studium Generale, that, namely, of St. James’s Convent in Paris, but in 1248 four others were established at Cologne, Oxford, Montpelier, and Bologna, in all of which the students were able to take the same degrees as in Paris. The number of these houses was afterwards greatly multiplied, one being provided for each province. Certain scholars of remarkable capacity were selected by their superiors and sent to those houses. From the Studium Generale the students passed on to graduate at some university, unless, as was often the case, the house was itself aggregated to a university, as at Paris and Bologna. The order observed at Paris in advancing to the degree of Doctor, is given by Fleury in his “Fifth Discourse,” and was as follows. He who was named Bachelor by the General of the Order, or by the Chapter, began by explaining the Sentences in the school of some doctor, for the space of a year, at the end of which time the prior of the convent, with the other doctors then professing, presented him to the Chancellor of the Church of Paris, and affirmed on oath that they judged him worthy of obtaining a license to open a school of his own and teach as a doctor; after going through certain examinations, he taught the second year in his own school, and the third year was allowed to have a bachelor under him, whom at the end of that year he presented for his license. Thus, the doctor’s course lasted three years, and no one could be raised to the degree of Doctor of Divinity or Master of Sacred Theology, who had not thus publicly taught.[191] The teaching of the Friar Preachers, however, was not exclusively given in the pulpit or the professor’s chair. It was their aim to ingraft in men’s minds a knowledge and love of the truth, to protect them from heresy by informing them with the spirit of the Church, that spirit which finds expression, not in her creeds alone, but her Liturgy and sacred ceremonies. In our own day we have become accustomed to the idea that institutes founded for the purpose of teaching must necessarily lay aside something of the monastic character. The long offices, the solemn ceremonial, the austerities and ritual observances which take up so large a portion of cloistered life, are, it is thought, difficult, if not impossible, to associate with the active work of the Apostolate. But in the thirteenth century men were still deeply penetrated with the Liturgical spirit which animated the Church in earlier times; it was held that no words could be so fit to convey her teaching as her own, and not words alone but acts, the exact performance of her beautiful rites, made familiar to the eye and heart of the worshipper; her office, her music, the beauty of her sanctuary, and the silent eloquence of her sacred art. All these, therefore, were embraced by the Dominican rule and used as instruments of popular instruction, and it is probable that the Friars cherished those privileges which threw open their churches to the people, and encouraged them to assist at their public offices, almost equally with those that secured to them the free possession of the professor’s chair.
How thoroughly the newly-constituted order was fitted to supply the intellectual wants of the times is proved by the fact, that in the first period of its existence it was chiefly recruited from the ranks of university scholars and professors. Among the names that figure in its early annals those of the Blessed Reginald of Orleans, and St. Peter Martyr, Jordan of Saxony, and his friend Henry of Cologne, the Englishman, John of St. Giles, and the Parisian, Vincent of Beauvais, the three Bolognese doctors Roland, Conrad, and Moneta, Cardinal Hugh de St. Cher, and his disciple the Blessed Humbert, with the Spanish canonist St. Raymund Pennafort, were all taken from this class.
The chief extension of the Order, especially among the students of Paris and Bologna, took place under the generalship of Blessed Jordan, who had a remarkable gift of drawing to himself the affection and confidence of the young. His influence was naturally enough most powerfully felt among his own countrymen. The convent of Cologne had already been founded by his old fellow-student and bosom friend Henry of Utrecht; and a namesake of his, Henry the German, who had begun life as a student, then assumed the cross, and finally taking the religious habit, became its first theological professor. And there in 1230 arrived the young Swabian, Albert of Lauingen, who had been drawn to the Order by B. Jordan, whilst pursuing his studies at Padua. Albert during his student-life had been remarkable for his love of the old classic literature and his enthusiastic admiration for Aristotle; and had already displayed a singular attraction to those physical sciences which he afterwards so profoundly studied. He had examined various natural phenomena, such as earthquakes, the mephitic vapours issuing from a long closed well, and some curious marks in a block of marble, which he explained in a manner which betrays an acquaintance with some of the chemical theories of modern geology.[192] After going through his theological course at Bologna, he was appointed to fill the vacant post of professor at Cologne, where he taught sacred and human science for some years, and lectured moreover at Hildesheim, Strasburg, Friburg, and Ratisbonn, in which last city an old hall is shown which still bears the title of “Albert’s School.” Converted into a chapel by one of his successors and ardent admirers, it may be supposed to exhibit the same form and arrangement as that which it bore five centuries ago. Round the walls are disposed ancient wooden seats, for the accommodation of the hearers, and fixed against the middle of the wall is an oak chair, or rather pulpit, covered with carvings of a later date, representing St. Vincent Ferrer delivering a lecture, and a novice in the attitude of attention. The chair is of double construction, containing two seats, in one of which sat the master, and in the other the bachelor, who explained under him the Book of the Sentences. All around are texts from the Holy Scriptures, fitly chosen to remind the student in what spirit he should apply himself to the pursuit of sacred letters. Ama scientiam Scripturarum, et vitia carnis non amabis. Qui addit scientiam addit et laborem. Bonitatem et disciplinam et scientiam doce me. Qui fecerit et docuerit, hic magnus vocabitur in regno cælorum. Videte ne quis vos decipiat per philosophiam, secundum elementa mundi, et non secundum Christum.
In such a hall as this we may picture to ourselves the Blessed Albert the Great lecturing at Cologne in 1245, where he first received among his pupils that illustrious disciple whose renown, if it eclipsed his own, at the same time constitutes his greatest glory. There are few readers who are not familiar with the student life of St. Thomas of Aquin, the silent habits which exposed him to the witticisms of his companions, who thought the young Sicilian a dull sort of importation, and nicknamed him “the dumb ox;” the obliging compassion which moved a fellow-student to offer him his assistance in explaining the lessons of the master, and the modesty and humility with which this greatest of Christian scholars veiled his mighty intellect, and with the instinct of the saints, rejoiced to be counted the least among his brethren. But the day came which was to make him known in his true character. His notes and replies to a difficult question proposed by Albert from the writings of St. Denys, fell into the hands of his master, who reading them with wonder and delight, commanded him on the following day to take part in the scholastic disputation. St. Thomas obeyed, and the audience knew not whether most to admire his eloquence or his erudition. At last Albert, unable to restrain his astonishment, broke out into the memorable words, “You call this the dumb ox, but I tell you his roaring will be heard throughout the whole world.” From that day St. Thomas became the object of his most solicitous care; he assigned him a cell adjoining his own, and when in the course of the same year he removed to Paris, to govern the school of St. James for three years, in order afterwards to graduate as doctor, he took his favourite scholar with him.
The position which the Friars at that time occupied in Paris requires a few words of explanation. In the year 1228, a tavern brawl, which terminated in a disgraceful riot, had brought on a collision between the civic and academic authorities; and the indiscriminating severity with which the excesses of the students had been punished, had determined all the masters to desert the city, and open their schools elsewhere. This quarrel, which threatened the entire break-up of the university, lasted three years, and was only finally adjusted by the interference of the Pope. During the absence of the masters, the archbishop and chancellor of Paris conferred one of the vacant chairs of theology on the Friars Preachers, and shortly afterwards erected a second chair in their favour, Roland of Cremona and John of St. Giles being named the two first university professors of the order.
When the masters returned to Paris they affected to regard this as an infringement of their rights, and a warm controversy arose, which lasted with ever-increasing violence for forty years, and was at its height when the two saints made their first appearance in the Parisian schools. It did not, however, prevent Albert from winning his doctor’s cap, together with the reputation of having illuminated every branch of science, and of knowing everything that was to be known.[193]
His doctor’s triennium had scarcely expired when he was recalled to Cologne to take the Regency of the Studium Generale, newly erected in that city; and St. Thomas accompanied him to teach, as licentiate or bachelor, in the school which proved the germ of a future university. This epoch of Albert’s life appears to have been that in which most of his philosophic writings were produced. They consist chiefly of his “Commentary on Aristotle,” in which, after collating the different translations of that author with extraordinary care, he aims at presenting the entire body of his philosophy in a popular as well as a Christian form; a commentary on the Book of the Sentences; other commentaries on the Gospels, and on the works of St. Denys, all of which are preserved; and a devout paraphrase of the Book of the Sentences cast into the form of prayers, which has been lost. His published works alone fill twenty one folio volumes, and it is said that a great number of other treatises exist in manuscript. Fleury, who is pleased to say that he knows nothing great about this writer except his volumes, takes in very bad part the labour he has expended on the study of natural science. The course of the stars; the structure of the universe; the nature of plants, animals, and minerals, appear to him unsuitable subjects for the investigation of a religious man; and he hints that the seculars who paid for the support of such students by their liberal alms expected them to spend their time on more profitable studies. The reader need not be reminded that Albert was not singular in directing his attention to these subjects, and that the scientific labours of our own Venerable Bede have ever been considered as among his best titles to admiration as a scholar. But more than this, it is surely a narrow and illiberal view to regard the cultivation of science as foreign to the purposes of religion. At the time of which we are now speaking, as in our own, physical science was unhappily too often made an instrument for doing good service to the cause of infidelity. It was chiefly, if not exclusively, in the hands of the Arabian philosophers, who had drawn great part of their errors from the physics of Aristotle. Schlegel, indeed, considers that the extraordinary popularity of Aristotle in the Middle Ages did not so much arise from the love of the mediæval schoolmen for his rationalistic philosophy, as from the attraction they felt to some great and mysterious knowledge of nature. His works seemed to give promise of unlocking to them those vast intellectual treasures reserved for the scrutiny of our own age, but of the existence of which they possessed a kind of dim half-consciousness. Hence the teachers of the thirteenth century could hardly do more effective service to the cause of truth than by handling these subjects according to a Christian method, and proving that faith and science were in no sense opposed to one another. Hallam affects to grieve over the evil inflicted on Europe by the credit which Albert’s influence gave to the study of astrology, alchemy, and magic. The author of Cosmos, however, passes a very different verdict on the nature of his scientific writings, and one which our readers will be disposed to receive as more worthy of attention. “Albertus Magnus,” he says, “was equally active and influential in promoting the study of natural science, and of the Aristotelian philosophy.... His works contain some exceedingly acute remarks on the organic structure and physiology of plants. One of his works, bearing the title of Liber Cosmographicus de Natura Locorum, is a species of physical geography. I have found in it considerations on the dependence of temperature concurrently on latitude and elevation, and on the effect of different angles of incidence of the sun’s rays in heating the ground, which have excited my surprise.”[194] Jourdain, another modern critic, says, “Whether we consider him as a theologian or a philosopher, Albert was undoubtedly one of the most extraordinary men of his age; I might say, one of the most wonderful men of genius who has appeared in past times.”