Loyola and the Educational System of the Jesuits

by Thomas Hughes

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.