The division of classes, a thing so natural to us, was in those times a novelty. There were practically only two degrees of teaching; one superior, embracing Theology, Law, and Medicine; the other preparatory. The preparatory instruction had already been tending towards the later system of grading; the term "class" was an expression of the Renaissance. Father Rochemonteix, speaking of the Paris University, notes that the first authentic act, in which the term is used, dates from 1539.[77] From 1535, the division of studies, by means of classes, was already being accomplished. Still there was no definite number of grades. The study of literary models was defective. Grammar was beclouded with the subtleties of dialectics, to the great prejudice of written composition, as well as of the reading and imitation of models.[78]
Now it will be observed that Ignatius was studying in the University of Paris from 1528 to 1535; and his companions remained till 1536. By the time he published the Constitution as a rule of guidance, he had become surrounded by men, who were not merely graduates of universities, but had been Doctors, Professors, and Rectors in Portugal, Spain, France, Italy, Belgium, Germany. One consequence was that Ignatius, from the very beginning, formulated a complete system of graded classes. He relegated dialectics to its proper field, Philosophy and Theology. And, bringing into prominence the reading of authors, and the practice of style in imitation of the best models, he defined a method. This, after being elaborated during forty years, was then found to be not only new, but complete, and good for centuries to come. It arranged courses in a series, having reference to one another; it coördinated definite stages of the courses with definite matter to be seen; and, in the lower branches it distributed the students, with their respective portions of the matter, into five grades, classifying precepts, authors, and exercises, as proportioned to each successive grade. Nothing more familiar to ourselves now; nothing newer to the world then! This was the Ratio Studiorum.
The grades of the gymnasium may include several divisions, according to the number of students; but the grading itself remains fixed, and leaves no element, either of actual culture, or of future developments, unprovided for, or without a location. Nor do these grades mean five years. They mean a work to be done in each grade, before the next is taken up. On this, the mind of Ignatius was most explicit. As an almost universal rule, they never mean less than five years. And, for one of them, the grade of Rhetoric, in which all literary perfection is to be acquired, the system contemplates two and even three years. In this point, too, we may note a characteristic view of Ignatius. It is that the longer term, whenever provided, whenever prescribed, urged, and insisted upon, is always for the talented student, the one who is to become eminent. To use his own words, when laying down the rules in this matter for the Rector of a University, his full idea will be carried out, when "those who are of the proper age, and have the aptitude of genius, endeavor to succeed in every branch and to be conspicuous therein."[79]
To enumerate now some of the subordinate elements in the Jesuit method, I will quote from the same author, Ribadeneira. He says, speaking of young scholars: "Many means are devised, and exercises employed, to stimulate the minds of the young—assiduous disputation, various trials of genius, prizes offered for excellence in talent and industry. These prerogatives and testimonies of virtue vehemently arouse the minds of students, awake them even when sleeping, and, when they are aroused and are running on with a good will, impel them and spur them on faster. For, as penalty and disgrace bridle the will and check it from pursuing evil, so honor and praise quicken the sense wonderfully, to attain the dignity and glory of virtue." He quotes Cicero and Quintilian to the same effect.[80]
This was not to develop a false self-love in young hearts; which would have been little to the purpose with religious teachers. "Let them root out from themselves, in every possible way, self-love and the craving for vain glory," says the oldest code of school rules in the Society, probably from the pen of Father Peter Canisius himself.[81] What is appealed to, is the spirit of emulation, and that by a world of industries; which, disguising the aridity of the work to be gone through, spurs young students on to excellence in whatever they undertake, and rewards the development of natural energies with the natural luxury of confessedly doing well. In the dry course of virtue and learning, satisfaction of this kind is not excited in the young, without a sign, a token, a badge, a prize. Then they feel happy in having done well, however little they enjoyed the labor before. Honorable distinctions well managed, sometimes a share in the unimportant direction of the class, brilliancy of success in single combat on the field of knowledge, of memory, or of intellectual self-reliance, the ordered discrimination of habitual merit, all these means and many others keep the little army in a condition of mental activity, and sometimes of suspense; "and if not all are victorious, all at least have traversed the strengthening probation of struggle."[82]
In all the courses of Belles-lettres, Rhetoric, Philosophy, and Theology, the institutions called "Academies" gather into select bodies the most talented and exemplary of the students. The young littérateurs, or philosophers, having their own officials, special reunions, and archives, hold their public sessions in presence of the other students, the Masters, and illustrious personages invited for the occasion. In their poems, speeches, dialogues, they discuss, declaim, and rise to great thoughts, and to the conception of great deeds.
Civil discords are not the subject of their debates, but the glories of their native country, its success in arms, all that is congenial to the young mind and fosters the sentiment of love of country. Among the students of Rhetoric, forensic debates and judicial trials are organized; "and when the advocates of both sides have pleaded their cause in one or two sessions of the court, then," says a document I am quoting from, dated 1580, "the judge, who has been elected for the purpose, will pronounce his judgment in an oration of his own; this will be the brilliant performance; and, to hear it, friends will be invited, and the Doctors of the University and all the students will be in attendance."[83] In the programme for the distribution of rewards, there is described an interesting element, puer lepidus, "a bright young lad," and what he is to do and how he is to bring out the name of the victor, "whereupon the music will strike up a sweet symphony."[84] At another time, a set of published theses are defended against all comers by some philosopher or theologian. And, while games and manly exercises outside develop physical strength, gentility of demeanor and elegance of deportment have the stage at their service inside, for the exhibition of refined manners.
In all this, princes and nobles, future men of letters and of action, are mingling in daily life, in contest and emulation, with sons of the simplest burghers. Descartes[85] notes these points sagaciously, when he recommends to a friend the College of La Flèche: "Young people are there," he says, "from all parts of France; there is a mingling of characters; their mutual intercourse effects almost the same good results as if they were actually travelling; and, in fine, the equality which the Jesuits establish among all, by treating just in the same way those who are most illustrious and those who are not so, is an extremely good invention."[86]
As the new sciences came into vogue, they received at once the freedom of this city of intellect; and here they received it first. It has been said, indeed, that the Society of Jesus, "obstinately bound to its formalism, refused to admit anything modern, real, and actual, and that the national languages and literatures, as well as the new developing sciences, fared ill at its hands." This statement, as far as it concerns France, is examined by Father Charles Daniel, who to other valuable works of his own has added the neat little essay called, Les Jésuites Instituteurs de la Jeunesse Française, au XVIIe et au XVIIIe siècle.[87] As to Germany, we shall see indications enough on all these subjects in the Monumenta Germaniæ Pædagogica. For all countries there is a sufficiency of information, in the mere text of the Ratio Studiorum, in Jouvancy's classic commentary thereupon, De Ratione Discendi et Docendi, and other authentic documents, besides the actual practice visible in the colleges. But the whole question about the vernacular tongues, as if they were kept out of the colleges by Latin and Greek, is so far an anachronism for the dates and epochs, regarding which some moderns have agitated the question, that I shall tell a little anecdote, which will not be so much of a digression, but that it will place us back just where we are at present.
In 1605, Lord Bacon published his two books on the Advancement of Learning. The work is considered the first part of his "Novum Organum." He undertakes to "make a small Globe," as he says, "of the Intellectual World, as truly and faithfully as he can discover.[88] His subject is identical, as far as it goes, with the much more extensive and exhaustive work of Father Anthony Possevino, a famous Jesuit, who had published, twelve years before, the results of twenty years' travel and observation, while fulfilling, in many countries, the important duties of Apostolic Legate, Preacher, Professor. I have two editions of his great tomes before me. The first is that of Rome, 1593; the other that of Venice, 1603; this latter is called "the most recent edition."[89] The only indication which I discern of Bacon's not having profited by Possevino is this, that he says: "No man hath propounded to himself the general state of learning to be described and represented from age to age."[90] Now, as this is saying too much, for it just indicates what Possevino's labors had been showing to the world during twelve years, I must conclude that there is no assurance whatever, but that Bacon profited by Possevino: he seems merely to have gone over the same ground in English, and done justice to the subject, in his own peculiar way. Accordingly, he did it what justice he could, in English. Three years later he writes to Dr. Playfer, Margaret Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge, requesting that the Doctor would be pleased to translate the work into Latin; and his lordship promises eternal gratitude. What reasons does the noble author urge for this request? Two reasons, of which the first is very noteworthy for our purpose:—"the privateness of the language, wherein it is written, excluding so many readers!" And the second is almost as worthy of note:—"the obscurity of the argument, in many parts of it, excluding many others!"[91] Here we have our domestic classic author, in the year 1608, endeavoring to get out of his narrow cell, the "privateness of the English language," into the broad world of the literary public, where the Jesuit with his tomes was enjoying to the full his literary franchise. This does not look as if the colleges, at that time, kept the languages down, but rather that they had in their gift the full freedom of the literary world, and sent students forth to walk abroad at their ease there, where Bacon humbly sued for admission!