The Scholastic Curriculum At Early Seventeenth Century Cambridge

THE 1L
SCHOLASTIC
CURRICULUM

AT EARLY
SEVENTEENTH-

CENTURY
CAMBRIDGE

WILLIAM T. COSTELLO, s.j.

Ait

Ithough the story of seventeenth cen-
tury Cambridge is that of scholasticism
its flourishing, decline, and fall the sub-
ject has been sadly overlooked and misun-
derstood.

The present study, therefore, tries to fill
this gap by helping the reader to under-
stand the actual temper of Cambridge
academic living in the early seventeenth
century. How useless were scholastic spec-
ulations? Were the students mere ver-
balizers? Do syllogizing and formal logic
imply sophistry? Is the adverse criticism
of Bacon, Milton, John Hall, and others
as to I he adequacy of the education offered
ft Cambridge representative and well-
grouj led? H c scholasticism at that time
no champions? Is it true that "the philos-
ophy taught at Oxford and Cambridge
lifted I self no higher than that lowest
st^j of formalism a pseudo-Aristotelian
logic'? What was a disputation like?
What was a clerum?

Li uidtr to answer such qu^rions a,; If,
:ie a hor has gone directly to ta: stu-
dents' .niebooks, coiiuionplace bcclu, tu-
tors' <ii*xu3ES, thesis broadsides, com-
mencemeit verse in short, Le has dis-

378.42 ci?c 64-06038

Costello

The Scholastic curriculum at

Early Seventeenth-Century Cambridge

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The

Scholastic Curriculum

at
Early Seventeenth-Century

Cambridge

Scholastic Curriculum

at
Early Seventeenth-Century

Cambridge

WILLIAM T. COSTELLO, S.J

GONZAGA UNIVERSITY

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS
Cambridge, Massachusetts

1958

1958 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College
Distributed in Great Britain by Oxford University Press, London

Publication of this book has been aided by
a grant from the Ford Foundation

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 587499
Printed in the United States of America

ForBartley and Catherine Costello

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I feel an immense debt of gratitude to the many people who
share in the making of this book, particularly to my good teachers,
in grade school and high school, in the Society of Jesus and outside
it. I thank especially John F. Dempsey, S J., who first encouraged
me in English studies, and my professors at Harvard, who, like
Howard Mumford Jones and George Sherburn, generously did not
confine their teaching to the classroom. I shall always be grateful
to Master Welbourne and the Fellows of Emmanuel for their
gracious hospitality, and to the administrators of the Fulbright
Program, which made possible the research. I thank Miss Kay
Bolton of Newnham College, Cambridge, and the librarians of the
University Library, Cambridge, and of the College libraries, espe-
cially Mr. H. S. Bennett of Emmanuel. My superiors in the Society
of Jesus generously allowed me time and provided the opportuni-
ty to do the work: I thank here William G. Elliott, S.J., Leo J.
Robinson, S.J., Harold 0. Small, S.J., Henry J. Schultheis, S.J., and
especially Francis E. Corkery, S.J., who pushed the work to publi-
cation. Mrs. Florence O'Brien of Gonzaga gave valuable assistance
on the manuscript. Lastly, I thank my esteemed masters, Professor
Douglas Bush for his encouragement and patient sympathy with
my mistakes, and, above all, Professor Perry Miller, whom I ac-
knowledge with humility and affection as my pater academicus.

W.T.C V SJ.

PROLOGUE

In the year of our Lord, 1600, when Elizabeth I was reigning
and waning upon the throne of England, when Shakespeare was
mulling over Hamlet, and when Jacobean pessimism, at least ac-
cording to later weather analysts, was the forecast for the London
area and Southeast England (with light to moderate hopes of a
brave new world), the university at Cambridge snuggled comfort-
ably along the Cam as she had since the far-off days of Henry III.

At the beginning of the seventeenth century, Cambridge could
not have thought of herself as medieval, for everything she was
and taught was part and parcel of a way of thinking and living
that had been going on for centuries. By 1600, of course, the Ref-
ormation was a fact in England, but the trouble between the Lon-
don Court and the Pope, while it had Cambridge theologians
fighting over new terminology and ancient doctrines, had de-
stroyed some of her very oldest foundations, and was keeping the
members of certain families from coming up to the University,
seemed not to disturb the philosophical and literary traditions
which lay outside the fields of dogma and canon law. Popular his-
torians, like Lytton Strachey, imply that the great change in Eng-
lish thought occurred with the Reformation. 1 From our point of
view, the significance of Henry's break with Rome and the gradual
sundering of the Northern Island once again from Latin Europe
would become apparent at Cambridge only during the course of
the century just beginning in 1600.

The hundred years that span the gorge between the medieval
world of St. Thomas and the modern world of Newton richly re-
pay study from almost any point of view. Professor E. A. Burtt, for
example, in The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Physical
Science (1925), Abraham Wolf in his A History of Science, Tech-
nology, and Philosophy in the i6th and ijth Centuries (1950),
and, more generally, Meyrick Carr in Phases of Thought in Eng-
land (1949) and Samuel L. Bethell in The Cultural Revolution of

PROLOGUE

the Seventeenth Century (1951) clarify the astonishing evolution
o scientific thought which took place during the period. In the
first volume of The New England Mind (1939), Perry Miller has
re-created the fascinating spectacle of an entire intellectual culture
in transplantation; Douglas Bush, with his usual wit and erudi-
tion, tells in his English Literature in the Earlier ijth Century
(1945) the definitive story of the changes occurring in literature,
while Richard Foster Jones in Ancients and Moderns (1936) gath-
ers astonishingly diverse passages from the writings of the time to
illustrate how mad could be the caperings of fools in the forest.
Wilbur Howell (Logic and Rhetoric in England, 1 500-1700 [ 1956] )
brilliantly records two phases of the change. Basil Willey, finally,
pondering in The Seventeenth Century Background (1934) the
philosophical crosscurrents which buffeted letters, further points
up the influence which changing ideas had upon events. These
and others insist that the way of a man's thinking is the key to his
action, that ideas are prior to politics, economics, and religious
synod in explaining the course of events in this century of change.

The most important market of ideas is the university. To study
intellectual change one turns instinctively to the institution, which,
if not the sole manufacturer of ideas, is at least the most important
distributor. Or, as Basil Willey puts it, our entire approach to
reality ". . . depends upon our presuppositions, which in turn
depend upon our training . . ." 2 The history of a curriculum
may be dull in comparison with the detailing of events in the
forum or in the field, but these events, from the Middle Ages on,
are largely shaped by men who have themselves been formed in
the microcosm of the university.

Both English universities were profoundly affected by the chang-
ing ideas of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century, though
Cambridge seems to have been more disturbed than Oxford by the
activities of those who had been her own undergraduates of
Isaac Barrow, Ralph Cudworth, Henry More, and Sir Isaac New-
ton in the direction of change. It would be a mistake, however,
to emphasize too much the difference between the two universi-
ties, either earlier or later in the century. In 1577, William Harri-
son treated the two universities as a unit, 3 and, in 1602, Nicholas
Fitzherbert could write that Oxford ". . . so resembles Cambridge
in the method of instruction that the two universities may reason-
ably be rivals/' 4 As for later in the century, Oxford felt the kick-
ings of her own infants and bore a Glanvill and a Locke as con-
temporaries of their revolutionary cousins in Cambridgeshire.

PROLOGUE 3

In general, however, Oxford seems to have left the scholastic world
behind more gradually than did Cambridge.

Although the story of seventeenth-century Cambridge is that of
scholasticism of its flourishing, decline, and fall there has
been, except for Samuel Eliot Morison's brilliant chapters in The
Founding of Harvard College (1935), no specific study of scholas-
ticism at Cambridge. Explorations have been made, of course, into
the area. In addition to such contemporary critical estimates as
John Hall's An Humble Motion . . . (1649), John Webster's
Academiarum Examen (1654), Seth Ward's Vindiciae Academia-
rum (1654) and Meric Casaubon's A Letter of Meric Casaubon
. . . to Peter du Moulin (1669), there is Thomas Fuller's The
History of the University of Cambridge, Since the Conquest (1655).
Fuller's account is invaluable, since he writes from within the
milieu, as anti-Aristotelian and sympathetic to the changes which
he recognizes as taking place about him.

In the nineteenth century, George Dyer wrote his engaging His-
tory of the University and Colleges of Cambridge (1814), while
Thomas Baker collected an immense amount of pertinent material
in his meticulously copied MSS. Baker, preserved partly in the
University Library, Cambridge, and partly in the British Museum.
Building largely upon the Baker manuscripts, Charles Cooper in
his Annals of Cambridge (1842-53) put together a sourcebook,
which must remain the guide of stumbling steps. George Peacock,
in his Observations on the Statutes of . . . Cambridge (1841), has
documented his materials invaluably. Bishop Christopher Words-
worth's works on eighteenth-century Cambridge include much
valuable seventeenth-century material.

Aside from recent histories of individual colleges, such as Mas-
ter George M. Trevelyan's Trinity College: An Historical Sketch
(1943) and A. L. Attwater's Pembroke College: A Short History
(1936), little attention has been paid seventeenth-century Cam-
bridge since J. B. Mullinger's Cambridge Characteristics in the
Seventeenth Century (1867). When it is realized that Mullinger's
little work was originally a prize undergraduate essay, his accom-
plishment is little short of astounding. The work, however, as
Mullinger himself realized in writing his three-volume History of
the University of Cambridge (1888), needed much revision and
supplementation. Writing without the advantage of the intense
medieval researches of the past seventy-five years, researches which
he himself enthusiastically furthered in later life, he tends in his
earlier work to look upon the Middle Ages as a cultural bell jar,

4 PROLOGUE

with scholasticism the evil force at the pump. Were he writing
today, he probably would be among the last to assert that no good
could come out of Stagira or to have looked down his nose upon
pre-Cartesian philosophy as ". . . the barren employment on
which for twenty centuries the human intellect expended its
highest powers . . ." 5

However barren scholasticism may have seemed to Mullinger ~
sometimes even in his later and larger history of the University
it was the pattern according to which young minds were shaped.
Unless scholasticism is appreciated as the pattern of undergradu-
ate (and postgraduate) thinking, it is impossible to understand
seventeenth-century Cambridge or what came out of it. Paradise
Lost, for example, can only be a half-opened book to someone
who has not mastered the system of theology and philosophy
which obtained at Cambridge during the first four decades of the
seventeenth century, and which only little by little, sensim sine
sensu, was left behind as decade piled upon decade.

It is difficult, however, to speak in terms of decades. Bits of
Platonism appear while scholasticism flourishes, and salients of
orthodox scholastic doctrine extend into the eighteenth century.
Despite this, it is safe enough to say that, by 1640, hidden flaws in
the scholastic structure had become gaping cracks: academic acts
and exercises were not as well performed as forty years before,
manuals had progressively replaced the guidance of the lecturer,
and, finally, because of several outbreaks of the plague and the
generally "troubled state of public affairs," 6 grace after grace was
passed by the University Senate, canceling commencements and
relaxing the obligation of attendance at scholastic functions. Next,
under the pressure of the New Science, Cartesianism, and Neo-
Platonism, coupled with the failure of any scholastic to arise and
resynthesize the old with the new, Cambridge found herself toy-
ing with various compromises. Newer and even more radical de-
partures demanded hearing, until, by 1700, little of the old scho-
lastic core had been left untouched. By the turn of the century,
the comfortable old world of qualities had been left behind for
Newton's new world of quantity and Locke's new regimentation
of mind. Another twenty years or so, and John Clarke would
seriously advise his students that they need not go back beyond
John Huss in their study of history. 7

Such a forgetfulness and misunderstanding of the Middle Ages,
for which we have only begun to do penance, would not have been
possible in the seventeenth century. The seventeenth-century

PROLOGUE 5

Cantabrigian knew, even if he disliked, his tradition. Certainly,
he would not have been guilty of such innocent enthusiasm as one
used to find for the "spirit of enquiry and wonder breathed by
the Renaissance" into minds which had supposedly been blacked
out for the centuries between Plotinus and Galileo. Neither would
a seventeenth-century Cantabrigian have agreed unreservedly with
Rudolph Metz's vision of Bacon as a St. George successfully fight-
ing ". . . against the verbal controversies of scholasticism and its
useless speculations, against the sophistries of the syllogism and
of formal logic . . ." 8

How verbal were these controversies? Were all scholastic specu-
lations useless? Do syllogizing and formal logic imply sophistry?
Is the adverse criticism of Bacon, Milton, John Hall, and others
as to the adequacy of the education offered at Cambridge repre-
sentative and well grounded? Had scholasticism at that time no
champions? Should, or should not, a distinction be drawn between
a quibbling methodology and a substantial doctrine, between de-
generate commentators of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries
and the classic commentators of the thirteenth? Was ipsedixitism
the prevailing vice, and is it true, as V. A. Huber, the historian of
the English universities, charges, that ". . . the philosophy taught
at Oxford and Cambridge lifted itself no higher than that lowest
step of formalism a pseudo-Aristotelian logic"? 9

In order to answer such questions fairly, an attempt is here
made to look at scholasticism as it was actually practiced the
word is used advisedly at Cambridge. Effort has been expended
to ferret out and review the very concrete details as presented in
students' notebooks, commonplace books, tutors' directions, thesis
broadsides, and commencement verse; in short, for this work it
was necessary to pick over the miscellaneous contents of the seven-
teenth-century student's wastebasket. Since special effort was made
to concentrate on manuscript materials, there will be a correspond-
ing neglect of many seventeenth-century figures Bacon, for ex-
ample, whose comments on the university curriculum are well
known to the reader.

The contents of the seventeenth-century student's wastebasket
were often fragmentary, nondescript, odd scribbles (literally scrib-
bles!), demanding much sorting and further throwing away. Yet,
out of these scraps a pattern begins to appear, and by a critical and
interpretative resum<$ of these materials we may form some idea
of the seventeenth-century mind as it was being shaped at the
university.

o PROLOGUE

In the pages following, therefore, a review will be offered of the
forms and content of the scholastic curriculum at Cambridge, both
undergraduate and graduate. A continuation of this study, it is
hoped, will turn to the decay of this curriculum and to the com-
promises with the New Philosophy, to the ever newer and more
radical departures, and finally, to the passing of scholasticism,
when the system, which had maintained itself for so many cen-
turies, is at last destroyed and all but forgotten.

THE FRAMEWORK
OF SCHOLASTICISM

The seventeenth century opened with Cambridge, inhabited by
some two thousand students, 1 a fixed little star in a tight little
scholastic cosmos. It was too soon, in 1600, for the discoveries of
Kepler and Galileo, with their profoundly revolutionary philo-
sophical implications, to have influenced the course of study estab-
lished by the prudentia majorum nostrorum. If anything, the tra-
ditional scholastic framework was more firmly constituted by
rigid 2 statute than ever, because, perhaps, as other traditions had
been let go, academic traditions were a safe and uncontroversial
link with the past.

How traditional was this scholastic learning, with its peculiar,
all-pervading methodology, it is difficult now to appreciate. No
system of thought had held its patent of monopoly for so long.
Having taken birth and name from the Carlovingian schools (ca.
800), whose first masters were Alcuin, Rhabanus Maurus, and
Fredegis of Tours, scholasticism had come to maturity in the thir-
teenth century, had enjoyed four hundred years of affluent domi-
nance, and was now settled to a respectable old age as the seven-
teenth century opened. For eight centuries it had been the learn-
ing of Europe, the mens franca joining Cambridge and Oxford
to Salamanca, Alcala, Padua, and Paris in a republic of thought.
Nothing would ever replace it, so it seemed, nor should anything
be allowed to change the status quo.

That the scholastic status quo at Cambridge was undisturbed
by the activities of the nonscholastic world, and that scholastic
traditions were jealously to be guarded, is evidenced by the reform
statutes of Elizabeth and James and by the directives of the Uni-
versity itself. In a petition for the reformation of St. John's Col-

8 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

lege (1588) there is renewed insistence on the performance of scho-
lastic exercise by all ". . . in yr own persons . . . Because it is
best for increase of learning, for the greater good of youth, for the
state and benefit of the Coll. . ." 3 In October of 1601, Cecil, an
extraordinarily active chancellor, 4 ordered the Vice-Chancellor to
see to it that ". . . all dueties and exercises of learninge be dili-
gently and duely performed accordinge to the Statutes 8c Orders
of the Universitie . . ." 5 specifying, "(i) In publique Sermons in
S Maries Church. (2) In Lectures and Disputations in publique
Schooles. (3) In diligent frequenting the same." In 1619, King
James himself insisted on the status quo: "We commaund that no
new erected Lectures or Sermons be permitted ... to withdrawe
Scholars from their attendance on the exercises of Learning, Lec-
tures, Disputations, Determinations or Declarations, either pub-
lique or private." 6 These reform decrees, far from showing a de-
parture from scholastic traditions, demonstrate clearly that the
authorities at Cambridge were to concern themselves not at all in
changing a subscript iota of tradition but solely in improving the
breed scholastic.

A system of thought with an eight-hundred-years-old name
might be expected to have developed a special character. While
historians of philosophy may disagree on the primary character-
istic, all will concede that scholasticism, as received by the seven-
teenth century, retained three distinguishing marks: it was dialec-
tical, Aristotelian, and highly systematized.

The dialectical character of scholasticism, that is, its concern
with logic and logical formalities, its disputatiousness, was its
most obvious ~ and, to its critics, most irritating quality. This
dialectical bent was due to the fact that the early schoolmen had
at hand only the De Interpretatione of Aristotle, to which were
added Boethius' translation of the Categoriae in the tenth cen-
tury, and in the twelfth century the first book of the Prior Ana-
lytics, the Topics, and the De Sophisticis Elenchis. Thus, until the
end of the twelfth century, the logical tractates were practically
all that were known of the Philosopher's writings. Further, the
struggles between the various strains of early medieval philosophy
over the solution to the problem of the universal idea, the
struggles, namely, between the exaggerated realism of the me-
dieval Platonists, the nominalism of Occam, and the conceptual-
ism of William of Champeaux (to which should be added the
attacks of the Scotists upon Aquinas on ontological issues), had
established a tradition of dispute. The typical scholastic was not

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 9

likely to be a sensitive thinker, pouring out his thoughts onto
pages for others to read or not as they chose. He was rather a pros-
elytizer for his own opinions, eager "to divide truth from error/'
to best his adversary here and now, to secure acceptance of his
ideas by his disciples and contemporaries. He had a passion for
enunciation, was forever expounding, defining, distinguishing,
and disputing. The scholastics were before all else teachers, and
their philosophy was intended to live, not in the library, but in
the hurly-burly of the schools.

The second characteristic of early seventeenth-century scholas-
ticism was the predominance of Aristotle. Even as late as the
1650'$, James Duport was telling his students: "If at any time in
your disputation you use the Authority of Aristotle, be sure you
bring his owne words 8c in his owne language. In your answering
reject not lightly the Authority of Aristotle, if his owne words
will permitt of a favourable, and a sure interpretation." 7 Aris-
totelianism, however, was an acquired characteristic, and the early
scholastics had raised many questions before Aristotle was avail-
able for the answers. Peter Lombard's Four Books of Sentences
loom large in the history of scholasticism, not alone because they
contain a sturdy marshaling of patristic opinion on dogma, but
because in his explanations and comments he raised many prob-
lems of metaphysics and psychology, which began to flesh the dia-
lectical skeleton. With the crystallizing synthesis of Aquinas, Aris-
totle's ideas of substance, accident, potency, act, nature, mode,
motion, soul, matter, and form were absorbed into a philosophi-
cal system that, taking over the dialectical findings of the previous
generations on the problem of universals, formulated a theory of
ontology and of knowledge in new Aristotelian terms. This basic
Aristotelianism received renewed emphasis at Cambridge in the
reforms of Henry VIII. In 1535, in what amounts to the first rudi-
mentary syllabus of study, the King ordered that the students of
the arts be given the elements of dialectics, rhetoric, arithmetic,
geography, and music "ex purissimis earum artium scriptoribus,"
admonishing Cambridge lecturers to use Aristotle primarily, and
after him the new German scholastics, Rudolph Agricola, Philip
Melanchthon, ". . . and men of this stamp." 8 By the same token
they were to guard their students ". . . from the darkness worse
than chimaera, from the frivolous 'quaestiuncula,' and from the
blind and obscure glosses of Scotus, Burleius, Anthony Trombeta,
Thomas Bricot, [George of] Brussels and others of that pack." 9
Aristotle's premier dukedom was confirmed, in effect, by Elizabeth

10 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

in 1570, though she does allow earldoms to Plato, and even Pliny
in ethics, and to Cicero as an alternate in dialectics. 10 Aristoteli-
anism, then, had become, and was still, the heart of the scholastic
method and doctrine at the beginning of the seventeenth century.

The third trait of scholasticism was its cohesive systematization.
Perhaps the greatest triumph of scholasticism was its welding of
eclectic borrowings from Greek, Alexandrian, patristic, and Ara-
bian sources into a whole, a summa, which could comfortably em-
brace philosophy, where reason was autonomous, and theology,
where revelation was the norm. The systematic harmonizing of
faith and reason avoided the pitfalls of fideism on the one hand,
and the shackling of rationalism on the other. Where Francis
Bacon separated reason from religion, and put the latter beyond
the bounds of rational inquiry, the scholastics, notably St.
Thomas, had pulled dogma into harmony with philosophical
terms. The role of philosophy was to light the path for theology
and, while cooperating, to maintain its independence. The hegem-
ony exercised by revelation over reason during the Middle Ages
was, in the main, beneficent: it warned philosophy where not to
go. Revelation,, for example, warned philosophy not to identify
nature with person, while philosophy provided precise terms in
which the concepts of nature and person might be expressed.

But this systematizing went further. Scholasticism, dialectical
and highly logical in character, and cued by Aristotle, who was
himself an eclectic, unified not only the two orders of faith and
reason, but the several disciplines which make up the science of
the two orders. As Nicholas Fitzherbert wrote (1602) in describ-
ing English university education: "It was a rule of our Ancestors,
not to separate the Arts, which reason, nature and the general
feeling had united . . ." n The arts of rhetoric, logic, and ethics
were harmonized with the sciences of metaphysics, physics, mathe-
matics (including music), and law, while from the fonts of Scrip-
ture, the Fathers, and the Councils an organic theology was
developed.

The fault of scholasticism lay not in its building so towering a
skyscraper, complete to the last bit of wiring and plumbing, but
in its failure during the fifteenth, sixteenth, and early seventeenth
centuries to produce teachers who could maintain the structure
as a totality and forbear tinkering with the details. Instead of
busying themselves in absorbing new evidence, in reexplaining
old findings, and in thinking out a larger synthesis, which could
embrace the discoveries of the new learning and harmonize it all

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM H

with Aristotelian physics and, where necessary, with theology, the
scholastics tragically entangled themselves in splicing wires and
complicating circuits within the building. As a consequence, the
seventeenth-century mind was heir to a system so oversystematized
that its only escape was either to attempt a new synthesis by in-
corporating the new discoveries, to give up the struggle, or to
branch off in a new direction. Some, like Suarez, did attempt re-
statement, but the result was only further bickering and con-
founded confusion. Others simply gave up and allowed scholas-
ticism to become an empty form. A few branched out in new di-
rections and found themselves in the modern world.

Before considering the doctrinal content of the scholastic sys-
tem, we must look at the mechanical, formal part. Scholasticism
cannot, of course, be understood without knowledge of its teach-
ing, but it is the methodology, the external forms and practices
which prima facie identify it.

THE LECTURE

The dialectical origins of scholasticism, the necessity of organ-
izing the Aristotelian canon into manageable sections, and the aim
of "cohesive systematizing' * dictated the external forms of the
scholastic method. The three chief scholastic exercises were lec-
tures, disputations, and declamations. *

Various scholastics had formed their lectures according to vari-
ous moulds. Whereas Peter Lombard had used "books/' "sen-
tences," and "distinctions"; Aquinas "parts," "questions," "arti-
cles"; Scotus "parts," "distinctions," and "questions," all broke
their treatises down to some final unit upon a specific phase of
the subject. Aquinas, for example, begins Pars Prima of his
Summa Theologica with "Question One. On the Science of The-
ology Itself." This question is divided into ten lectures, called
articles, on such subjects as: "Article One. Whether in addition
to the other sciences theological doctrine be necessary? Article
Two. Whether it is a science? Article Three. Whether it is one
science or many?"

The casting of the proposition into question form was not mere
posing; the dialectician is always attacking a problem. Further,
the demands of logic and the need of giving the student, who
must get it all hy ear, a retainable unit, requires subdividing on
the part of the lecturer. Finally, the act of subdividing implies
the showing of relationships, or of systematizing. Thus, the very
shape of the lectures grows out of the scholastic temper.

12 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

This logical method continued in the lectures given at seven-
teenth-century Cambridge. Nicholas Felton, for example, divides
his lectures (disputationes ca. 1590) 12 into questions and arti-
cles, logically organizing his year's work and passing from part
to part with easy transition. John Balderston's notebook 13 (ca.
1660) does not specify question and article, but the same kind of
organization is evident, with each day's lecture centered about a
specific phase of a larger, already organized, generic concept. In
the ethical consideration of virtue, for instance, virtue is identi-
fied as coming under the category of quality, is divided according
to its "subject," or the faculty (intellect, will, sensitive appetite)
in which it inheres, and according to its object, or the direction
of its operation (God, fellow man, the community at large). Each
of these considerations suggests further subdividing, but always
as controlled by a hierarchy of ideas.

This kind of organization, particularly on the part of an un-
interested (and uninteresting!) lecturer, is likely to become wood-
en and crushingly boring. And there is evidence of neglect on the
part of some lecturers at the turn of the century, who, "laying yr
dutyes upon others, grow themselves to be idle, Be gyven to play
and pleasure, become factyous & busye in by matters . . ." 14 On
May 19, 1602, Cecil, the Chancellor, sent up to the University a
document pertaining to "Disorders in the University, contrary to
the Statutes, & tendinge to the decay of learninge . . ." in which
he notes: "In the Universitie of Cambridge it is required by Stat-
ute, that the Lecturers in Schooles should reade fowre times every
weeke in Terme. Some of them reade not fowre times in the yere,
as it is said." 15 How widespread was this neglect on the part of
delinquent readers, we do not know. Both these criticisms are
contained in documents demanding reform, a fact which suggests
that, while there was neglect on the part of some, or even many,
the institution of the lecture itself was still considered essential
and worth preserving.

Still, it was almost inevitable that there should have been a
falling off of fervor. The to-have-and-hold wedding of mechanical
organization to traditional content had come to admit of serious
impediment. With the invention of printing and the consequent
proliferation of texts and commentaries., students no longer felt
the old need of the master in the schools, who alone was in pos-
session of the text, and who alone was able to expound meaning
and relate context to context. 16 It was no longer necessary to flock
to St. Thomas at Paris or follow Abelard to Corbeil. Even more

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 13

recent masters were available in print, and to prepare oneself for
the disputations, it was simpler and more comfortable to repair
to a tutor's chambers and borrow his marked copy. Briefly, as
scholasticism, the philosophy of the schools, became more and
more the philosophy of the library, the lecturer in the schools
became correspondingly outmoded.

The lectures themselves were either public or private. The
public lectures (in scholis) were held under the auspices of the
University in the Old Schools, a series of buildings near the pres-
ent Senate House. Private lectures were those held by the college
in the dining hall, the chapel, or in a tutor's rooms. There were
by statute four public lectures a week in theology, civil law, medi-
cine, and mathematics, while lecturers in language, philosophy,
dialectics, and rhetoric were held to five lectures, "unless a feast
day intervene/' 17 The lectures ran for an hour, from seven until
eight in the morning. Anyone who has experienced the damp cold
of a winter's morning at Cambridge will not want to look further
than to the early hour of the exercise, held in an unheated and
gloomy barn, for the falling off of attendance and "the uncumly
Hemminge 8c hauking at publick lectures . . ." 1S These early
morning faces had to show somehow how unwillingly they had
crept to the schools.

In the will (161 1) of John Cowell, Master of Trinity Hall, there
is provision "towards the perpetuall maintenance of an logic lec-
ture . . ." 19 in his college. The will is important for two reasons:
first, an experienced and very able master expresses his faith in
the lecture system, and, secondly, he gives the details of its ideal
operation. Cowell's logic lecture was to be read "fower dayes every
week at the least in Term time, and two hours every day viz:
from six to eight in the morning . . ." The first hour "I will to
be bestowed in the examining the former days lecture, & In in-
structing the auditors, how to make use of logique by objecting
& answering one the other." This "repetitio" as it was called,
was to be followed by a "praelectio" that is, a second hour ". . . to
be bestowed in delivering a new lecture, in such deliberate man-
ner, that the auditors may take it by yr penn from his mouth . . ."
Extending the lecture to two hours and joining it to the repetition
was a step in the right direction, for heretofore student participa-
tion seems to have been largely confined to separate disputations
and discussions with one's tutor or chamber-fellow.

When Cowell speaks of taking down the lecture by "penn from
his mouth" he is describing the practice called "diting." The ad*

14 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

visability of taking literal notes had long been discussed. At vari-
ous times it had been both recommended and forbidden at the
University of Paris, and, in 1593, Father Possevinus, the authori-
tative Jesuit commentator on his Order's famous Ratio Studiorum
(Plan of Studies), had frankly discussed the disadvantages, 20
though it was a prescribed practice among the Jesuits. On the
English side of the water, and particularly in Scotland, the slav-
ish copying of notes was looked upon with disfavor. In 1648, the
Commissioners of the Scottish universities, meeting in Aberdeen
to suggest reforms, condemned diting and recommended changes
in the direction indicated in John Cowell's will, that is, toward
less lecturing and more repetition. They ordered that ". . . un-
profitable and noxious paines in writeing be shunned . . . and
that the Regents spend not too much time in dyteing of their
notts . . . that everie student have the text of Aristotill in Greek,
and that the Regent first analyse the text viva voce." 21 Further,
they insisted that no new lesson be taught until the previous jes-
son had been examined and repeated. Their solution to diting,
however, was merely a printed set of notes: "It is fund necessar
that ther be a cursus philosophicus drawin up be the four Uni-
versities and printed . . ." 22 Thus, the change in lecture method
is linked with the availability of printing, and the time is at hand
when the lecturer will comment upon the cursus or manual rather
than upon the text of the Philosopher.

THE DISPUTATION

More peculiar to scholasticism than the lecture was the dis-
putation, a debate between students on the matter learned in the
lectures or privately from tutors. Like the lectures, the disputa-
tions were either public, in the schools, or private, within the
colleges. Within the colleges, disputations were held frequently
and informally (sine ulla praefatione). At Trinity College, for
example, disputations were held thrice weekly in chapel, on Mon-
day, Wednesday, and Friday, either in Philosophy or Theology. 23
Sophisters (those who had not reached bachelorhood) disputed
on rhetoric, dialectics, and the problems of Aristotle. 24 In com-
parison with the public disputations, which will be described
presently, the college disputations were friendly little affairs,
where, if the student had stuck at a problem, the moderator first
asked about among the students for a solution, then answered
himself: Quod si Respondens argumentum dissolvere nequit, turn
Moderator requirat eius solutionem ab altero vel tertio. Quod si

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 15

qut ipsum vere ac recte dissolvere norit, nemo ex Sophistis re-
periatur, turn Moderator ipse dissolvet. 25 As for University re-
quirements, the student had to appear four times in the schools
during his four years as an undergraduate, twice as answerer or
defendant, twice as objector. These statutory appearances, called
quadragesimals, were made in Lent: "From Ash-Wednesday, unto
the said Thursday, all the Commencers (except some few whom
the father shall think fit to dispence with) are to come to the
Schools upon every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday &
Friday, at one of the Clock in the Afternoon, & to bring thither
with them every one a Sophister." 26 These sessions lasted for four
hours, "from one of the Clock until 5 in every of the said Days:
during all which time the said commencers are there to be ready
to defend 2 or 3 Theses, which they themselves shal make choice
of, & deliver unto those Bachelors of Arts, not of the same College,
who shall think fit to come thither to reply upon them." 27 Eng-
lish education was as sensible then as it is now, for modern tea
at Cambridge had a sanctioned ancestor during these disputa-
tions, when "[e]very Day at 3 of the clock all the Bachelors &
Sophisters may goe out till 4, 8c refresh & recreate themselves." 28
At four o'clock the Proctors checked them in again. Presently,
while "[t]he Commencers 8c their Sophisters are disputing &
wrangling there . . . the clock strikes 5, 8c then they knock off &
goe to their several Colleges." 29

To call these disputations merely debates between students
as we have done is like describing a Spanish bullfight as the
killing of a cow. To the twentieth century the disputation is as
exotic a performance as a bullfight to a non-Spaniard. The ma-
neuvers of the disputants were as technical as the veronica and
half -veronica; the audience was as critically appreciative; the
ceremonial was as elaborate. And success as sought for! Fame and
fortune often depended upon the disputants' skill, as when
Lancelot Andrewes was launched upon his career by beating a
colleague to a Pembroke fellowship. 30

Particularly is this true of the disputations held on the eve of
Commencement Day and on Commencement Day itself (in ves-
peris comitiorum and in comitiis), or upon special occasions. An
elaborate ceremonial surrounded these events. The esquire be-
dells, university functionaries who still attend the Vice-Chancel-
lor, carry the maces, and act as masters of ceremonies in top hat
and gown, formed a procession to conduct the Professor and his
disputaturient students from the college to the schools. As Es-

16 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

quire Bedell Stokeys describes the rubric: "At on of the Clocke
att after none the Bell Rynger shall ryng to the Dysputatyon
(out of Lent) & in Lent at ix. of Clocke in the mornying the
Bedyll shall sett the Doctour to the Scholys, hys Responsall [the
defendant] & the Opposers going as is before sayde . . ." 31 that is f
". . . the Bedellys going before hym, & his Responsall next him
barehede, & all other Opposars folowing after there senyoryte."
After this dignified procession had wound its way down Petty
Cury and across Market Square, or perhaps from St. John's along
Trinity Street, or from Peterhouse along King's Parade, there
was a pause at the doors of the schools, ". . . when . . . the Be-
dellys shall say, Nouter Segnour Doctour, bona nova, bona nova
[good news, good news] . . ." 32 The several actors now proceed
to their places and ". . . whan the Doctour is enteryde the chayer,
the Responsall shall enter hys stall . . . Be make Cursy to hym, &
after turne them to the Responsall, & make Cursy to hym, sayng,
Gratias ago vobis." 33 The bows and formalities were an essential
part of the liturgy, and notice is taken at Oxford, in 1592, of
". . . one Mr. Sidney/' who in the heat of disputation before the
Queen, ". . . forgat his conges [the three customary bows], used
no speech at all to hir Maj>:, but dealt with the Answerer, as
though hir Maj. de had not been there." 34 The incident shows,
beyond the need of comment, how formal these affairs could be
and how seriously the disputants took them.

The bowing and curtsying over, and "all beeing thus placed
Mr. Vice-chancellor (if hee bee a divine) doth moderate this di-
vinitye Act, & begineth with a prayer . . ." and after the prayer
". . . he maketh a short speech . . ." 35 The moderator of the dis-
putation was an autocratic umpire. In Bishop Overall's own hand
there is an account of his resentment at what he thought a high-
handed interruption of his disputation: the moderator not only
interrupted, but injected his own opinions into the matter and
promised to back them in a disputation of his own. Overall is
furious when he writes: "[Hie] moderator (Dr. Playfere) abrupit
orationem mea in hunc modum; Habenda est mihi ratio non
solum temporis sed etiam Caritatis Dei, nam quae a te dicta sunt
nullo modo probari possunt, nee velim probari gravissimis hisce
viris, nam aperte repugnat verbo Dei, et virtuti sicut postea in
determinatione mea (Deo volente) demonstrabo . . ." 3e No trans-
lating can convey Dr. Playfere's righteous indignation or young
Master Overall's angry account.

The moderator's speech was supposed to provide a kind of elu-

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 1?

cidation of the 'question under dispute. These speeches and the
speeches of "Fathers" (patrons of the defendant, who customarily
gave preliminary treatments of the question) abound in manu-
script in the Cambridge University Library and in various college
libraries. 37 Typical of these moderator's speeches is one found in
a student's notebook preserved in St. John's College. 38 The occa-
sion (September 24, 1629) i special, a philosophical disputation
held in honor of the Earls of Holland, Warwick, and Montgom-
ery, who were present. The moderator (one Master L.fove]) be-
gins his address with flowery references to his distinguished audi-
ence (the Earl of Holland is Chancellor at the time), and at last
comes to the point by announcing to "their highnesses" that the
respondent will defend the following three positions: the produc-
tion of the rational soul involves a new creation, the origin of well-
water is the sea, and an hereditary monarchy is better than an
elective one. Master Love's formal and uninspired speech becomes
fatuous when, with respect to wells, he remarks that no question
can be deeper or more liquid. After this bit of joviality, he ob-
serves that he seems to be going on too long, for "he who would
rightly rule others (say the Stoics) must first rule himself, and I
who must moderate others today, must first of all keep myself in
hand." 39 It may be noted here that the moderator in these formal
disputations was always a don, though in the schools during Lent
the moderator needed to be only an academic grade above the
disputants: ". . . any Bachelor or Commencer may moderate
whilst 2 Sophisters dispute. And any Bachelor may moderate
while any Commencer disputeth." 40

At any rate, after the moderator has had his say, "... hee de-
syreth the Father to beginn . . ." 41 The Father, or academic pa-
tron, makes a short speech on his pupil's behalf, then ". . . calleth
up the Answerer [his pupil], who after his prayer readeth his
position." During this very brief statement on the side of the
question he will defend, "the Bedles do deliver his verses to the
Vicechanc. Noblemen, all brs [bachelors] & to Oxford men
et." 42

These verses, whose intent is to give a literary introduction to
the question, are usually good, solid, workmanlike Latin hex-
ameters or elegiac distichs. Printed on broadside, most often in
pairs corresponding to the two questions normally defended,
the verses provide an excellent record of the problems disputed,
even if Vergilian diction and references to Ovid considerably ob-
scure exactness of thought. Readers familiar with Milton's Latin

l8 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

verse, with his "Naturam non pati senium" (That Nature is Not
Subject to Old Age) or his "De Idea Platonica quemadmodum
Aristotelis intellexit" (On the Platonic Idea as Understood by
Aristotle) in particular, will form an immediate idea as to the
length and style of these efforts. The Milton scholar will remem-
ber that on July 2, 1628, writing to Alexander Gill and sniffing
disdainfully at the recollection, the poet records that he had
turned out some verses for a fellow student. Milton writes that
"... a certain Fellow of our College who had to act as Respond-
ent in the philosophical disputation in this Commencement
chanced to entrust to my puerility the composition of the verses
which annual custom requires to be written on the questions,
being himself already long past the age for trifles of that sort,
and more intent on serious things." 43 These verses in their
printed form Milton says he encloses with the letter.

A pair of verses that date about this time (ca. i6s8), 44 the text
of which appears below, are particularly worth noting. First, they
are one of the rare examples of Neoplatonism among these early
seventeenth-century verses, and, secondly, they are written in a
style and on philosophic positions not unlike Milton's own. In
the first, on the thesis that all men naturally desire knowledge
(Omnes Homines Naturaliter Scire Desiderant), the answerer
runs through the classical commonplaces of the search for knowl-
edge. "Who would not seek the Grecian springs, the streams of
Apollo, or the honey to be found on the Hyblaean ridge?" he asks.
Similarly, he continues, in our very bones there is this desire of
wisdom. Atlas' shoulders ached as he sweated under the burden
undertaken to learn of the ethereal poles. Icarus, Phaethon, Pro-
metheus, Tantalus are symbols of the thirst which Nature plants
in the human breast. The verses conclude with the customary re-
statement of the thesis. The second set of verses, distinctly Neo-
platonic, adopts the position that truth is conformity of the thing
with the mind. That the writer understands this in the Neopla-
tonic sense is clear from lines 19-20, where he states that God has
hidden the ideas of things in the depths of the mind, and, with
things as the measure, these germinating truths unfold (Ideas
rerum 'Deus alta mente recondit, His quasi mensuris germina vera
patent). Hence, he concludes, the Archetype (the universal form
or original pattern) is the father of things, and beings his off-
spring; true progeny ought to relate to their Father.

Milton, writing (ca. 1628) on the Platonic Idea and satirizing
Aristotle's understanding of it, says among other things: "Or

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 1Q

perhaps the human archetype is a huge giant, a tremendous
figure in some remote region of the earth who lifts his head higher
than the star-bearer, Atlas, to terrify the gods." 45 The similarity
between Milton and our student in ideas and reference may be
only coincidental, but to find Neoplatonism (still not too com-
mon), expressed in better than average verse, offers a fascinating
possibility.

But to return to the disputation itself. When the verses, such
as we have just described, have been distributed and the answerer
has delivered his brief introductory oration, ". . . the Father doth
usually confute it, but very briefly: 8c then hee disputeth upon
his sonne, who after he hath repeated his first syllogisme, doth
endeavor to answer the objections the father used against it." 46
This is still only preliminary skirmishing, the purpose being to
put the answerer at ease and heighten the anticipation of the
battle to follow.

In the only transcript of a complete Cambridge disputation as
yet to come to light, one in which a certain Mr. Boyes was de-
fendant late in the reign of Elizabeth, 47 we possess the actual lines
of the actors. The importance of the manuscript cannot be over-
stressed, since many references in Esquire Bedell Buck's account
are clarified by turning to it, where the words and technical ma-
neuverings of the participants at last come to life.

In the first half of the disputation Mr. Boyes defends the thesis
that threat of punishment is a sufficient deterrent of crime (Suf-
ficit in rebus humanis scire locum esse in carcere). The Father,
addressing his son as "doctissime Bois/' apologizes first that in the
brief half-hour allotted to this first question (in hoc brevi semi-
horae curricula quo circumscribimur) no one can expect him to
enter into any profound refutation of so learned a son's position.
However, he does have one or two objections to the thesis which
he wishes the learned Bois to dispose of. These objections he pre-
sents in strict syllogistic form, and, after Boyes's cautious and in-
conclusive answers, the moderator calls the first opponent. The
opponent gives a rather long, but excellent, Latin speech, fol-
lowed by a series of syllogisms, to which Boyes replies one by one.
The second opponent is then called up by the moderator, who in
his turn engages in a long syllogistic scuffle as had the first
opponent.

Before going through a point-by-point description of one of
the lines of syllogisms in the Boyes disputation, we must digress
briefly to gloss the chief terms and tactics used in these exchanges,

20 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

for here, in the logical thrusts and parries of Answerer and Op-
ponent, is the heart of the disputation.

In every case, the opponent follows a carefully plotted line of
syllogisms designed to trap the answerer into a position where he
may be logically forced, step by step, into admitting the exact
opposite of his thesis. The syllogistic presentation is mandatory,
as James Duport says in his rules for students: "Dispute always
Syllogistically, at least Enthemematically and as much as you can
Categorically." 4S But, the syllogistic attack was not to produce a
cut-and-dried crop of logical forms. "When you dispute," admon-
ishes Duport, "be sure you gett the Arguments perfectly by heart,
8c take heede of that dull, cold, idle, way of reading Syllogismes
out of a paper, for so one can never dispute with life and cour-
rage." Indeed, the "life and courrage" which should characterize
the good disputant demands that ". . . you . . . thinke it not
enough barely to pronounce, & propound your arguments, but
presse them, and urge them, & call upon your adversary for an
answer, and leave him not till you have one," though, "If your
Antagonist answer right, say you are satisfied, and so passe on to
another Argument." There was no disgrace in admitting that the
answerer had stood firm against one line of attack, and the op-
ponent could shift to another simply by announcing: "Arguo ex
alio capite." Duport finally recommends, as befits a good Aris-
totelian, a middle way between timidity and heat: "In your dis-
putations, be not too cold, & faint, nor yet too hot, & fiery, fierce,
and wrangling ... a sober, calme, sedate deportment of speech,
is best even in disputing."

When the opponent had soberly and calmly proposed his first
syllogism, the respondent was supposed to repeat it exactly, a
feat of memory and training which becomes automatic: "When
you are Respondent, ever more repeat the syllogisme before you
answer." 49 Repeating the syllogism fixes the argument in the
minds of the audience, makes sure the answerer has the point,
and, incidentally, gives him a moment to think of a reply, which
may be along one of several possible lines. The respondent may
deny outright a premise, which the opponent will then have to
prove this was a delaying action sometimes used, though quite
legitimate and sometimes necessary. Another and by far the
commonest reply was to distinguish the meaning of any one
of the terms (subject or predicate of a premise) of the syllogism
in such a manner as to show that the conclusion of the syllogism
invalidly follows from the premises or is harmless to the an-

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 21

swerer's position. Or, the answerer might retort, that is, turn the
conclusion of the opponent's syllogism into a proof of his thesis.
In extremis, the answerer sometimes got away with a "Nego argu-
mentum.' 3

The usual course, as we have said, was to distinguish according
to a prescribed form. "If you answer by distinguishing, propound
both members of the distinction and then apply it." 50 For exam-
ple, should the opponent propose the syllogism:

The good man is rewarded on earth.

But reward on earth makes eternal reward unnecessary.

Therefore eternal reward is unnecessary for the good man,

the answerer, having repeated the syllogism, might elect to dis-
tinguish the term "reward." He would say: "Adequately and in-
adequately. The good man is rewarded inadequately on earth, I
concede. Adequately, I deny." He will then "counterdistin-
guish" 51 the term "reward" as it occurs in the minor premise,
and conclude: "Under the above distinction I deny the conse-
quent and the consequence"; that is, the conclusion of the oppo-
nent and the logical illation, or connection, of the argument.

After this very superficial summary of technique, we may turn
back to the line of the second opponent in the Boyes disputation.
The exchange is worth careful observation, not only because it
shows in detail the method in operation, but also because the text,
unique in itself, demonstrates how agile the actors could be. One
can almost feel the tension of the disputants at certain points and
fill in the murmurous applause of the audience.

The opponent begins, "soberly and sedately" enough, with the
syllogism (we are translating freely):

Where knowledge of a thing suffices, experience of the thing

ought more than suffice.

But even the experience of punishment is not sufficient deterrent.
Therefore, much less the threat of punishment.

The argument, an "a minori" or "a fortiori" is answered by
Boyes's denying the consequence of the major premise, that is,
he denies that where threat is sufficient, experience ought to be
more sufficient.

The opponent, held now to prove his major premise, rejoins
with an enthymeme based upon a scholastic axiom: "The end of
contemplation is action. Therefore, experience exceeds knowledge

22 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

[or threat].'* The validity of the axiom, in general, Boyes admits,
but he maintains that it holds only in matters "per se" (in them-
selves) laudable. The opponent immediately seizes upon the ad-
mission by asserting that punishment is "per se" laudable. "Not
'per se? " insists Boyes. The opponent will prove now that pun-
ishment is "per se" praiseworthy.

Whatever is conducive to virtue is per se praiseworthy.
But punishment conduces to virtue.
Therefore, it is per se praiseworthy.

Boyes distinguishes, asserting that punishment deters from crime
but does not conduce to virtue, an apparent quibble, but not so
in fact. With a shout of glee, the opponent taunts: "I will slit
your throat with your own sword (Tuo gladio jugulabo!)"

The audience grows tense. "Punishment," the opponent argues,
"deters from crime. Therefore, it conduces to virtue." This argu-
ment, as the opponent expects, will be denied, because, as Boyes
again insists, it is one thing to do good, another to avoid evil.
The opponent now attempts to prove that the avoidance of evil
is precisely conducive to virtue. For his proof he turns to Aris-
totle, not as an ipse diceris, but for a universally admitted logical
axiom. "Probabo ex ipso Philosopho. The destruction of one con-
trary rears up its opposite. Therefore, what deters from crime
conduces to virtue/' The audience must have applauded the
point.

But Boyes, too, has read Aristotle, and gets out of the corner
by calling attention to the fact that, while the principle is true
with regard to immediate contraries, good and evil are not im-
mediately contrary, implying the doctrine that some things are
morally indifferent (bonum et malum sunt quaedam ava<f>opa).

The opponent has reached the logical end of the avenue, but
with a great show of "life and courrage" he continues. "I progress
thus (Progredior isto modo). The threat of punishment does not
make for the happy man (homo sufficiens)" Boyes replies sharply,
surely to the joy of the audience, "You are not progressing, but
using another argument (Non progrederis, sed alia ratione uteris),
Still, I deny the antecedent [statement] ,"

A series of syllogisms now attempts to show that fear of pun-
ishment destroys human happiness, because it destroys innate
liberty. Boyes neatly defends his wicket, but finally the opponent
bowls:

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 23

Natural liberty, say the philosophers, is to live as one pleases [the

date, be it noted, is pre-Hobbsian] .
But this liberty is bridled by the threat of punishment
Therefore, the threat of punishment is a bridle of natural liberty.

The syllogism has substance and Boyes has to distinguish the
major premise. "I confess/' he says, "that it puts a bridle on cor-
rupt nature, but we are not disputing about that. I am talking
about natura Integra et incorrupta [human nature before the fall
of man] as being in need of your bridle. The good hate sin out
of the love of virtue. The evil hate it out of fear of pain."

Boyes has just made use of his prerogative of explaining a dis-
tinction. Sometimes, the answerer on his own initiative expounded
the meaning of his distinction; sometimes, the moderator (never
the opponent) would interject, "Explica!" if he thought the an-
swerer was using an unusual distinction or one he (the answerer)
did not understand.

But Boyes's opponent is a bulldog and \frill not be shaken off
by a distinction on the various states of nature. He presses Boyes,
affirming that any nature, corrupt or incorrupt, has appetites,
and is, therefore, in need of bridle. Boyes blocks the punch by
admitting that, "although there is no nature entirely lacking in
appetite, still there are in human society those sterling characters
who are strengthened in innate virtue by fear of punishment."
The opponent sees an opening and pounces: "Therefore, the
good do not hate sin for fear of punishment!" "Nego argumen-
tum," says Boyes.

Boyes is now getting into difficulty, for the opponent has a
neat syllogism at hand.

Where several causes concur in an effect, the effect cannot be

attributed to any one in particular.
But in all virtuous actions several causes concur.
Therefore, in these actions the effect cannot be attributed to any

one in particular [i.e., to fear of punishment].

Boyes is being closed in. "But neither do I affirm," he says, "that
virtue is to be attributed to a single cause."

"Therefore," the opponent immediately shoots back, "in hu-
man affairs the threat of punishment does not suffice."

Boyes clinches with a "Nego argumentum" (another denial of
a subsumed premise, that is, a statement for which proof will be
offered). The opponent hits with another enthymeme: "Besides
the threat of punishment, natural goodness is required. There-

24 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

fore, the threat of punishment does not suffice." Boyes's answer
that he puts natural goodness down as the foundation, while fear
of punishment is related to those things which rest upon the
foundation, is broken off by the moderator. The half-hour is up,
and the account ends: "The thread of the argument being cut off,
the moderator calls up the father to dispute on the second ques-
tion."

After the disputation upon the second question, the moderator
would have dismissed the disputants with a "dismissal speech,"
favorable, we are sure, to Mr. Boyes. Unfortunately, we do not
have Boyes's dismissal, but a contemporary dismissal speech, badly
copied, will give us an idea of what the moderator would have
said.

Mr. Chase die comitiorum 1628

Doctissime Resp. satis [disputatum] est. Macte pugiliatus [tuae
potestatis], cuius specimina non vulgaria in hac celeberrima
palaestra, hodierna 4 eft tot ac tantis athletis congressu praebuisti,
exhibuisti. Te lauda tuarum legitima corona [ornatum?] dimit-
timus, liberamus. 52

"Dismissed, freed," Boyes would now treat all participants to
supper. 53

One may dislike the idea of training toward expert conten-
tiousnessLord Herbert of Cherbury in his Autobiography felt
that the system "enables [students] for little more than to be ex-
cellent wranglers, which art, though it may be tolerable in a
mercenary lawyer, I can by no means commend in a sober and
well governed gentleman." 54 Be this as it may, the disputation
(always on a serious problem, such as that of Boyes) tried a stu-
dent's mettle far better than a written examination, gave the youth
of the period a maturity and poise frequently remarked in sev-
enteenth-century biography, called for the active participation of
the student in the learning process, and, on occasion, provided
superb entertainment.

In fact, the disputation was always the heart of official academic
entertainment. The most celebrated such special performance
took place in 1614, before James I. The King, who had been
hunting at Newmarket, thirteen miles away, had progressed to
Cambridge where a series of disputations had been arranged for
him. Describing the acts, which were held in St. Mary's, the Uni-
versity church, John Chamberlain wrote to Sir Dudley Carleton:
". . . the divinity act was performed reasonably well, but not an-

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 25

swerable to the expectation; the law and physic acts stark naught;
but the philosophy act made amends, and indeed was very excel-
lent." 55

The answerer in the disputation on philosophy was Matthew
Wren, uncle of Sir Christopher Wren and later Bishop of Ely,
an extremely able student. Gossip around the screens, however,
had picked John Preston of Emmanuel, the Admirable Crichton
of his times, for the honor of defending before the King. When
Preston was picked merely as first opponent, all Cambridge knew
a battle royal was in store.

The question, "Whether dogs can make syllogismes," sounds
like an absurd scholastic quibble, until we remember that modern
psychology laboratories are full of white rats in mazes. The dis-
putants, however, took the matter seriously and Preston's ". . .
great and first Care was to bring his argument unto a head, with-
out Affronts and Interruptions from the Answerer, and so made
all his Major Propositions plausible and firm, that his Adversary
might neither be willing nor able to enter there, and the Minor
still was backed by other Syllogismes, and so the Argument went
on unto the Issue . . ." 56 What is meant, of course, is that Pres-
ton used axioms or self-evident propositions for his major prem-
ises, and, in case Wren should not distinguish a minor premise,
but elect to deny it, he had supplied himself with syllogistic
proofs which would force Wren back onto the line he wished to
be pursued.

But Wren was an able and honest respondent. For, though
". . . in disputations of Consequence, the Answerers are many
times so fearful of the event, that they slur and trouble the op-
ponents all they can, and deny things evident," 57 Wren met each
argument head-on. Wren's forthrightness and Preston's skill had
awakened the King's interest, which had been flagging during the
previous acts, where "... there was such wrangling about their
Syllogismes, that sullied and clouded the Debates extreamly, and
put the King's acumen into straits." 58

Finally, Preston got to his key syllogism. "An Enthimeme (said
he) is a lawful and real Syllogisme, but Dogs can make them."
This was a "dead soldier" and Preston knew Wren would deny
the minor premise. In proof of the minor, "He instanced in an
Hound who had the major Proposition in his mind, namely:
The Hare is gone either this or that way; smels out the minor
with his Nose; namely, She is not gon that way, and follows the
Conclusion, Ergo this way with open mouth." We can imagine

26 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

how "[t]he instance suited with the Auditory, and was ap-
plauded, and put the Answerer to his distinctions, that Dogs
might have sagacity, but not sapience, in things especially of Prey,
and that did concern their Belly, might be nasutili, but non lo-
gici; had much in their Mouthes, little in their Minds; that their
lips were larger than their Understandings." In other words,
Wren was frantically scratching up dust like a hen in a chicken
run.

Now occurs something quite unusual, when ". . . the Modera-
tor began to be afraid, and to think how troublesome a pack of
Hounds, well followed and Applauded, at last might prove, and
so came in into the Answerer's aid, and told the Opponent that
his Dogs, he did believe, were very weary, and desired him to
take them off, and start another Argument . . ." Preston, how-
ever, knowing the moderator was unjustifiably interfering in the
affair and smarting under his having been passed over in favor
of Wren, ". . . would not yield, but hallooed still and put them
on/' Whereupon, the moderator silenced him.

The King, however, who ". . . in his conceit was all the time
upon New-Market Heath/' had become very much interested,
stood up and told the moderator that he was not at all satisfied,
since he had a hound at Newmarket which, having routed a hare
and realizing it needed help, set up a baying which called the
rest of the pack. The King wanted to know ". . . how this could
be contrived and carried on without the use and exercise of
understanding ..."

Preston, apparently, started to say something, but Wren beat
him to the floor by protesting ". . . that his Majesties Dogs were
always to be excepted, who hunted not by Common Law, but by
Prerogative''

Wren obviously had the last word and the whole affair ended
gracefully when ". . . the Moderator [did] acknowledge . . . that
whereas in the morning the Reverend and Grave Divines could
not make Syllogisms, the Lawyers could not, nor the Physitians,
now every Dog could, especially his Majesties." A footnote to this
disputation is provided in a letter among the Hardwicke papers,
which says that the Bishop of Ely, Lancelot Andrewes, was so de-
lighted with the show that ". . . the same day . . . [he] . . . sent
the moderator, the answerer, the varier or prevaricator, and one
of the repliers, that were of his house [Pembroke College] twenty
angels [gold coins] apiece." 59
Andrewes, be it noted, included the varier among his bene-

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 27

ficiaries. The varier or prevaricator, as he was sometimes called,
was an official humorist introduced into the philosophy disputa-
tion immediately after the "father's" speech. 60 The varier' s func-
tion was to play verbally upon the question under dispute. The
product of these student punsters is usually shoddy, and, like
undergraduate humor today, apt to stray beyond the bounds of
decency. Another mark of these variers' speeches, also common
with modern undergraduate pronouncements, is the cruel dis-
respect paid to an unpopular don. Time and again official pro-
tests curb the enthusiasm of the varier. On May 8, 1628, for
example, the Vice-Chancellor and heads of colleges, interpreting
the statute "De Modestia," decreed that ". . . prevaricators, tri-
poses, and other disputants should thereafter abstain from mimic
salutations and gesticulations, ridiculous jokes and scurrilous
jeers, at the laws, statutes or ordinances of the University, or the
magistrates, professors or graduates." 61

Examples of prevarication humor abound. One source is a
manuscript in the University Library, Cambridge, 62 in which is
found the punning of one Mr. Vintner on the question "Whether
celestial bodies are the causes of human actions." In this typical
varier's speech, Vintner offers a completely inconsequential syllo-
gism, puns on Aristotle's being a star because of his De Coelo,
calls Aquinas a meteor, and allows that the dons present may
also be called stars, since, as the stars are the denser part of the
heavens, so may they be called the denser part of the academic
world. In contrast to such insulse and heavy-handed humor, we
find in the same manuscript an excellent prevarication, headed:
"Oratio habita a Domino Fuller Praevaricatore Cantab. Quaestio.
An anima hominis sit rasa tabula." Toward the end of his speech,
the author 63 inserts some delightful verses in medieval Latin,
wherein he pretends that love is the only proper logic, cosmog-
raphy, poetics, physics, and mathematics. The verse is graceful,
whimsical, with only a breath of the risque", which evaporates in
the translating. The Latin is Fuller's text.

Sileant Thomistae Silent, Thomists!

Taceant Scotistae Quiet, Scotists!

Scholastica turba Mob scholastic

Nil dat nisi verba Paraphrastic

Umbratiles quidditates Words, nought else, can proffer.

Nee non et leves haeccietates [sicl ] 64 Wet and shady quiddities

Haeccietas [sic!] grata Empty, light haecceities

Est uxor parata These alone can offer.

THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

Matrimonii per conjugata

Hie e logica vera

Et plusquam chimaera

The "thisness" which a student

pleases

Is a wife, not barren theses;
This is logic true,
Not to fancy due.

Heliconem vocare
Mortuum mare
Non dubitarem
Nisi hie quasi spuma
Sit mihi Venus orta
Quam merito amare
Nos pegasi taederet
Nisi alas praeberet
In negotiis procandi
Et arte amandi
Amasiam fingere
Ad nullam attingere
Cosmographia e vera
Et plusquam chimaera

I would call the Dead Sea's barren
Wastes a Helicon, if thereon
Rose a Venus from the wave
(Provided I might be her slave).
To tour with Pegasus would bore

me
Except the god with wings restore

me

With a skill in trifling's kisses
And in art of loving's blisses
Why, I'd pretend the town Amasia
Had no coordinates in Asia!
Such cosmography is true,
And not to fancy due.

Lineas amoris
In centro cordis
Descriptas habere
Amicam in presente
Amplexus circumferentem
Semper retinere
Stillantibus verbis
Donee salvatur
Et bene molliatur
Roris instar in herbis
Hie poesis vera
Et plusquam chimaera

Poetic lines on love to keep

Delineated in the deep

And central heart, or to retain

Forever in embrace's chain

The present s weeding, till she be

Refreshed with whispers, endlessly

Rained down, and softened, as at

dawn
The dew has drenched the yielding

lawn.

Here is poetry and true,
Not to fancy due.

Est mihi domi
Filia promi
Philosophia naturalis
Hoc [sic!] e realis
Mea speculatio
Et contemplatio
Haec e physica vera
Et plusquam chimaera

I have at home a maiden fair,
Mistress of our frigidaire;
She, the only real to me
Natural philosophy.
She my sternest speculation
She my only contemplation.
This is physics true,
Not to fancy due.

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 29

Virginem dotatam Equation make of pretty maid

Et glebam sequestratam With sequestered meadow glade,

Simul comparare Or to add some golden mountains

Aureos montes To my hoard of silver fountains;

Argenteos fontes This, mathematics true,

In mappa possessionis Not to fancy due.

Et retentionis

Conglomerare

Mathematica e vera

Et plusquam chimaera. 65

Not all variers were as nimble as Fuller in gracefully "railing
upon the point/' and a final example from an eminent source
shows a more typical heavy-handedness. The prevarication be-
longs to the worthy James Duport, who plays upon the subject:
"Gold can be produced by chemical art." 66 Duport qualifies as
discreetly ribald when he begins: * 'Salve te . . . vos qui propter
gravitatem videmini Patres, et vos qui propter levitatem estis . . ."
Then, punning upon the Aristotelian principles of origin, that
is, generation, corruption, and privation, Duport says that, while
meretricious gold is produced by the act of generation, such gold
is spurious and adulterate. Next, a pseudocitation from Aristotle:
". . . from the loooth Book of Meteorominerals, the chapter next
after the last," is followed by a dig at the medical profession in
syllogistic form: "Gold is produced either by art or by science.
Yet, not by science, for it is easily produced without science, as
in the case of a doctor, who, if he have practice, can produce
gold without science. Therefore, it remains that gold is produced
by art."

Another locus communis for the prevaricator's humor was pa-
pistry. Duport describes a series of experiments for the easy pro-
duction of gold, the first being: "Let a man take a grain of merits,
ten ounces of absolutions, six pounds of indulgences, together
with a fascicle of reliquaries, oil, salt, saliva, well-mixt, and let
all be poured upon the hair of a Cardinal and cooked together
in holy water upon the fire of purgatory, which is kept going by
the incendiary Jesuits by their spirit of sedition, and so boiled
until reduced to nothing. Then will be extracted the finest gold
by the art of chemistry." 67 Finally, prevarication humor turned
often enough upon the other university. On July 10, 1652, Master
Morland of Wadham College, Oxford, turning the other's cheek-
iness, says: "The Cantabrigians call us Oxonians boys: we gener-

30 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

ously confess that the Cantabrigians are senile old men to rave
so madly." 6S

One last point concerning the disputations: the origin of the
questions. Though nothing was fixed by statute, the custom had
grown up of listing fifteen or sixteen questions for the quadra-
gesimals, the privilege remaining with the student to choose either
side: "Memr du yt ye Answerers have usually the Favour granted
ym to choose ther position questions." 69 Sometimes, the students
seem to have been free to choose even the topics themselves, as
is suggested by an order of the Vice-Chancellor and Heads in
1614: ". . . Questionists and Sophisters have warninge to provide
themselves of disputable and decent questions . . ." 70 Indeed,
how wide a latitude was enjoyed in electing a position to defend
is best shown in the notebook of Lawrence Bretton (ca. 1605).
Among a score of Aristotelian theses memorialized, there sud-
denly occurs the classically Platonic: "Animus cuiusque quisque"
(The soul of the man is the man). But more startling than the
enunciation of a Platonic thesis in a strictly Aristotelian environ-
ment is the forthright statement in the introduction: "That men
are nothing else than their souls, only Plato among all the philos-
ophers dared assert. This opinion is acceptable to me, not because
Platonic, though Plato's authority carries more weight with me
than that of any other philosopher, but because his opinion seems
to me to approach nearer the truth . . ." 71 Here is a student who
not only eschews an authoritarian attitude, but is well enough
aware of the implications of Aristotelian and Platonic differences
to make a considered choice.

On occasion, the choice of questions, particularly at the cere-
monial disputations, was dictated by external circumstance. For
the bachelor's commencement of 1594, for example, "My L: of
Essex [the Chancellor] sent down Philosophy Questions, written
with his own hand, the wch were disputed at ye severall tymes." 72
The most dramatic external circumstance, however, occurred in
1615. On May 13 of that year, "certain Jesuits or priests, being
to be conveyed from London to Wisbich castle/' 73 happened to
be lodged overnight in the prison atop Castle Hill in Cambridge.
Word of their presence had swept through the colleges, whereat
the undergraduates flocked across the river. It was a ticklish situ-
ation, which the Vice-Chancellor met by sending "all such young
students as he saw there" back to their colleges, but not before
the Jesuits had proposed a disputation on the three propositions
(which they would, of course, oppose by upholding the negative):

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 31

(i) "The Protestant Church is the true Church of Christ"; (2)
"There is no external and infallible judge in matters of faith";
and (3) "Faith cannot exist without charity, without which, how-
ever, Faith is the adequate cause of justification." The Vice-
Chancellor replied to the Jesuits that he had no power from His
Majesty to give leave for a disputation, "... which might give
them occasion of stay, and cause a meeting of the students . . ."
But the wily Jesuits would not be put off. That night "they writ
divers copies of the questions, and fastened them to boughs, and
the next morning as they went to take boat for Wisbich, they
threw them over Magdalen College walls . . ." The upshot was
that at the King's coming to Cambridge the three questions, so
curiously proposed, were disputed before him.

Such was the disputation, a strictly stylized and technical exer-
cise, which grew out of the dialectical character of medieval scho-
lasticism. So natural was it to the age, that it had found its way
into literature under the medieval form of the imaginatio, or
imaginary disputation, 74 which might be described as a Platonic
dialogue reduced to scholastic forms. The terms and practices of
the disputation crop up again and again in Elizabethan litera-
ture, as, for example, in Greene's The Honorable History of Friar
Bacon and Friar Bungay. In Scene 9, Bungay, crestfallen, has just
admitted that he is no match for Vandermast. Friar Bacon enters:

All hail to this royal company,
That sit to hear and see this strange dispute!
Bungay, how stand'st thou as a man amaz'd?
What, hath the German acted more than thou?

VANDERMAST: What art thou that question' 'st thus? 75

Much of John Heywood's The Spider and the Fly (1562) is scho-
lastic disputation. As for Shakespeare, the gravediggers' scene in
Hamlet, V, i, is an expert literary adaptation of a scholastic pre-
varication, as is Touchstonian logic in As You Like It.

THE DECLAMATION

However dominant the disputation among scholastic exercises,
there is a third exercise which was not dialectical, the declama-
tion. Like the lecture and the disputation, the declamation was
either public or private, held either in the university schools or
in the colleges. The private declamation is the progenitor of the
weekly essay now read to the supervisor in his rooms at both
Cambridge and Oxford.

32 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

In essence, the declamation was a set speech, designed to show
rhetorical and literary proficiency. It varied in length from two
hundred words to several thousand, and might be on any subject
from the meretriciousness of Penelope 76 to the rumored suspen-
sion of Mohammed's corpse between two magnets. 77 Most of the
undergraduate subjects, usually enunciated in question form, are
taken from classical antiquity, though one might declaim on some
such question as whether or not spring be the most pleasant sea-
son of the year. 78 But even in such a subject as the last, the student
was supposed to parade his knowledge of the Latin and Greek
poets, of Plutarch and Livy, Demosthenes and Cicero, Aristotle,
Plato, Boethius, Pliny, Mela, et al. From such as these the student
would have gathered suitable quotations into his commonplace
book and arranged them under such headings as music, peace,
war, potency, act, death, sin, virtue. In his gathering, the diligent
seventeenth-century student was supposed to be a literary bee,
for, as Holdsworth advises: "The reading of these [classical]
books will furnish you with quaint and handsome expressions for
your Acts to qualifie the harshness, & barbarisme of Philosophical
termes." 79

Commonplace books abound in the Cambridge libraries, some
fully and carefully done, others perfunctorily and with scarcely
more than the headings. Many a street in hell was paved with such
good intentions as Simonds D'Ewes owns to: "... I spent a great
part of this month (July, 1620) amongst other private studies in
framing several scholastic heads, as physics, ethics, politics, eco-
nomics, and the like, and inserting them into two great common-
place books I had newly caused to be bound up in folio; but this
cost and labour, by my sudden departure from the University,
was in a manner- lost, those paper books remaining still by me
with little or nothing inserted into them." 80 A student who had
faithfully filled his commonplace book, however, possessed a rich
store when he went down from the university, and the allusive-
ness of seventeenth-century style is owed directly to his common-
place borrowing.

In the declamation, style was the important thing. Duport lists
the qualities a good declaimer should have. "When you write
Latine, let your stile be clear, 8c perspicuous, smooth, & plaine, &
full, not darke, & clowdy, curt, crabbed, Be ragged, and let your
stile be nervous, & vivid, & masculine, not inert, flat & languid." 81
It would be difficult to select a better set of adjectives to describe
good style, whether in Latin or English, in the seventeenth cen-

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 33

tury or the twentieth. And while the undergraduate efforts of
Duport's students may seem awkward, stilted, and full of Cicer-
onian tags, still, if one compares the earlier flights of the note-
books with the fluent performances of bachelors of divinity, one
is bound to conclude that constant practice in declamation
achieved its end.

The attitude of the declaimer was quite different from that of
the disputant. In the disputation, the student was an Ajax, ready
to do battle with any who should challenge, while in the declama-
tion he was the judicious and deliberate Nestor. "In your Decla-
mations/' warns Duport, "have a care you fly not out into the
praises or dispraises of vertues or vices, or persons, knowing that
when you declaime you are not in genere demonstrativo dicendi,
but either in judiciali or deliberative." 82 This, of course, does
not mean that the student will not have organized his reasons in
the most persuasive order possible. In another rule for the decla-
mation, Duport says: "Let your Declamations, be filled, and con-
denst with Arguments, thick and threefold, and objections an-
swered as fast as you can." 83 Milton's classically rhetorical Areo-
pagitica, midway between an attack and an objective treatise, is
a good (if long) example of a declamation. If Milton sometimes
departs from Duport's recommended judiciousness and delibera-
tion, he is simply ceasing for the moment to declaim.

A highly specialized declamation was the Clerum (concio ad
clerum or discourse to the clergy). The Clerum was a formal
sermon preached to the clergy on set occasions, as, for example,
"upon Jan. 12, being Pridie Termini," 84 on Ash Wednesday, and
"upon the Tuesday Se'nnight after Easter Day." 85 The sermon,
". . . usually performed by one that intendeth to commence Bac:
or Dr. in Divinity," 86 was in Latin, though by 1620, Jeremiah
Dyke, who had taken his degree from Sidney Sussex College,
could boast: "Our language is now growne so learned, that a man
may Clerum in English." 87 In content, the Clerum regularly
expressed the speaker's love and gratitude toward the University
and exhorted the hearers to piety and learning in a tone much
like that of the baccalaureate sermon in American universities.
Indeed, the baccalaureate sermon at Harvard seems to have grown
directly from the Clerums preached by commencing bachelors at
Cambridge.

With the Clerum, mention should be made here of the "ser-
mons," which are always listed in official documents along with
lectures, disputations, and declamations as among the obligatory

34 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

"academic acts and exercises." In the context, "sermons" refer to
those preached on feast days, anniversaries, on the death of
royalty (oratio funebris), and so on, by one of the twelve Uni-
versity preachers annually chosen by grace (special decree):
"Placeat vobis ut ii omnes, quorum nomina sunt infra scripta,
sint 12 Praedicatores hoc anno per Academiam emittendi . . ." 88
Although there is nothing peculiarly scholastic about the sermons,
and although, like the Clerum, they can hardly be numbered
among the students' "acts/' still they were considered an impor-
tant part of Cambridge education in that theological age, and
it is thanks to obligatory attendance and the practice on the part
of the students of taking down the preacher's discourse word-for-
word that early seventeenth-century sermons are still coming to
light.

OTHER EXERCISES

In addition to the chief exercises: lectures, disputations, and
declamations (to which we have annexed Clerums and sermons),
reference is often made to two other statutable acts, the priorums
and posteriorums. By our time these had degenerated into mere
forms, though originally they had been serious oral examinations
on Aristotle's Prior and Posterior Analytics. Cambridge seems to
have borrowed these examinations in logic from the University
of Paris, for in Bedell Stokey's Book the rubrical summons to
these exercises began: "Alons, Alons, goe Mrs. goe, goe . . ." 89

According to Bedell Buck's Book, the Father, usually one of the
senior proctors, herded his questionists into the schools on a day
appointed between admission and the following Ash Wednesday.
The Father made a speech, at the end of which he asked of each
questionist three or four perfunctory questions in logic. Having
thus "entered his priorums or posteriorums" the student was able
in good conscience to take the required oath that he had per-
formed all and every exercise and act which the ancient statutes
demanded. Strangely enough, the perfunctoriness of the priorums
and posteriorums resulted from an excess rather than a defect of
learning, for the seventeenth-century student had been drilled so
thoroughly in logic that there was no need, except to satisfy the
statutes, for a formal examination.

The rest of the scholastic acts sometimes met with in seven-
teenth-century studies are no more than matters of terminology.
"Sophomes" refer to the disputations of sophisters, that is, under-
graduates who had not yet commenced as bachelors. "Inceptions"

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 35

were specifically bachelors' disputations, just as "determinations"
refer specifically to the disputations of the masters. "Quadragesi-
mals," as we have said before, were simply the disputations held
during Lent in the schools.

If the understanding of scholasticism were merely a matter of
understanding a strange set of technical terms and a peculiar
series of technical exercises, there would be no need, beyond mere
antiquarianism, thus to have stressed mechanical forms. In addi-
tion, however, it is necessary to appreciate these forms as a vital
influence on the scholastic mind itself, sharing importance with
the doctrinal content, which we shall study in the following
chapter. Lectures, declamations, and, particularly, disputations
had been serious occupations of the university student, and it is
impossible to understand such a phenomenon as, for example,
the mid-seventeenth-century pamphlet war without understand-
ing the mechanical workings of the mind which had been trained
to insist on an answer to an answer of an answer. For, the pam-
phleteer of later life, who was so seriously disputatious in keep-
ing his brother, had been told as a student: "Slubber not over
your exercises in a slight and careless perfunctory manner, as if
you performed them per formam only, et dieis [sic!] causa, but
take paines about them, and doe them exactly both for your owne
credit 8c good example of others/' 90

THE

UNDERGRADUATE CURRICULUM:
THE ARTS

After more than twenty years' experience with undergraduates
at Cambridge, Richard Holdsworth sadly remarks that he has seen
too many students ". . . grow remiss and careless in their studies,
following them as it were but the half part, because they are
ignorant how great a task they have, how many leaves and volumes
to be turned over before they can justly deserve the name of
scholar or a degree in the universities." l Such students, he con-
tinues, ". . . linger and loiter like wanderers in a misty wilderness
that know they have somewhither to go, but neither know whither
nor how far nor to what purpose."

The direction, extent, and aim, the "whither, how far and to
what purpose" of the curriculum, while dismayingly complex at
the beginning of the journey, become clear as the journey pro-
gresses. The confusing jungle of logic, rhetoric, ethics, of meta-
physics, physics, mathematics, and cosmography orders itself to a
neat plantation, to the seventeenth-century student as to us, when
the trees are looked at one row at a time and from the proper
angle.

"Mental acts of whatever kind," says Newman, "presuppose
their object." 2 As the acts and exercises of scholasticism had been
adapted by a mind that was logical, Aristotelian, and systematic,
so the content of the scholastic curriculum, presupposed in treat-
ing the acts, shows the same logical, Aristotelian, and systematic
mental habits at work.

The organization of the curriculum was basically logical, pro-
ceeding outward from the mind rather than ontologically from

THE ARTS 37

things first. In other words, the primary division of the curriculum
into arts and sciences, and the subdividing of the disciplines into
smaller and smaller fields climbing down, not up, the Pythag-
orean Tree resulted from a natural looking out and down from
the knowledge process itself, rather than inward and upward from
the world of things. This did not imply artificiality, since, accord-
ing to the scholastics, the mind truly mirrors what exists outside
itself: analysis and synthesis, they would agree, ". . . differ only
as the road by which we ascend from a valley to a mountain does
from that by which we descend from the mountain to the valley,
which is no difference of road, but only a difference in the go-
ing." 3 Hence, to have divided the curriculum primarily according
to the mind's understanding of things, rather than according to
things themselves, was only, but characteristically, a matter of
method.

And not only was the curriculum a logical construct, but the
connections for the construct came out of Aristotle as clearly as
the doctrines themselves. Aristotle had ground the gears of the
various disciplines to mesh long since, linking, for example, meta-
physics, the science of being qua being, to physics, the science of
movable being, to mathematics, the science of unmovable being,
until, as the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries followed upon the
thirteenth and fourteenth, the scholastic could feel that "reason,
nature and the general feeling," thanks to Aristotle, had fitted
together a comfortable and articulated whole.

Though beginners might be dismayed and some might linger
and loiter too long as wanderers in a misty wilderness, most seem
to have got the hang of the articulated whole. John Cole, 4 in a stu-
dent's notebook (mid-seventeenth century), preserved in the Brit-
ish Museum, shows the systematic nature of the curriculum. "The
disciplines/' begins John Cole, "which dispose man toward the
understanding of things are two-fold: objective and directive." 5
The primary division of disciplines, be it noted, concerns the dis-
position of the mind toward things, not of things toward the mind.
His use of the terms "objective" and "directive" is based upon
Aristotle as received through St. Thomas: 6 objective, referring to
science, and directive, referring to art. This scholastic division of
the curriculum into the arts and sciences had been carefully ra-
tionalized. The arts, rectae rationes factibilium, 7 were the right
ordering of activity, or the right conception of things to be made,
whether these were liberal, involving solely the mind, for example,
logic, the "making" of demonstrations, or servile, involving the

38 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

body and ordained, as St. Thomas says, ad opus corporis. 8 The
servile arts, which were concerned with the operation of the body,
were of two kinds: practical and fine, according as they were di-
rected toward the production of the useful (agriculture, cooking,
wine-making) or toward the production of the beautiful (sculp-
ture, painting, illumination). The Middle Ages, however, drew
not so fine a line, even theoretically, as we between the practical
and the fine. A beautiful operimentum on a baptismal font per-
formed a useful function, and a book of hours designed for daily
use was beautifully illuminated.

As distinguished from the arts, which have to do with action,
the sciences have to do with knowledge, the understanding of
things through the discovery, analysis, and demonstration of their
causes, reasons, principles, laws, and effects. "Scientia est conclu-
sionum," says Aquinas. 9 Thus, the object of theology or juris-
prudence was not to do but to know, though these sciences might
have application in the art of directing a penitent or securing a
piece of land. And, while the art of logic necessarily involved a
science of its operations, 10 and the science of medicine was always
ordained toward the art of curing, the distinction of the curricu-
lum into activity and knowledge was a cherished dichotomy that
the seventeenth century preserved.

Having divided the disciplines into objective and directive, sci-
ences and arts, Cole treats first of the sciences. These objective
disciplines, "which treat of things as we find them in nature, in so
far as these things are the objects of understanding" (note the log-
ical emphasis on things in so far as they are "the objects of under-
standing"), are principally four: theology, jurisprudence, medicine,
and philosophy. Philosophy Cole subdivides into metaphysics,
physics, mathematics (under which he includes the medieval
quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music, plus
optics), and finally, ethics. The inclusion of ethics among the sci-
ences is not arbitrary with Cole, since he stresses the knowledge
content of the subject. 11 Ethics not only embraces the general
considerations of virtue, happiness, justice, and so forth, but, fol-
lowing Aristotle's distinction in Book I of the Politica, also con-
siders the principles of government, whether domestic (Oecono-
micd) or public (Politica). This last subdivision of ethics, politics,
includes history, both military and diplomatic.

The directive disciplines, the arts, do not inform the intellect,
says Cole, but "prepare its operation" and direct it according to
certain norms. "Directivae autem sunt quae no tractant res ipsas

THE ARTS 39

cognoscendas, nee homis intellectum rebus ipsis informant et per-
ficiunt, sed eius operationem quamda praeparent, certis normis et
instrumentis dirigunt et ordinant." 12 When Cole speaks of the arts
as providing a "preparation of the intellect/' he is merely ex-
pressing the universally held belief in the transfer of training,
that is, that training or habituating the intellect along one line of
operation will carry over into other lines of operation. Simply, an
intellect trained to think logically will attack anything in a logical
manner, from a language or a branch of mathematics to a court
case or a new disease. The point here, regardless of whether or
not we agree with such an educational psychology, is the fact that
to Cole and his contemporaries the received curriculum was a
marvel of integration.

After giving us his definition of the arts, Cole lists the principal
operations of man which may be considered directive disciplines.
These fall under two categories: significatio (communication) and
intellectio (reasoning). Cole, citing specifically Aristotle's De inter-
pretatione, cap. i, says that the communication of ideas (cogita-
tionum significatio), occurring through the mediums of speech
and the written word, is directed by the disciplines of grammar,
rhetoric, and poetry. These three disciplines, as we shall have
reason to note later, were often enough fused, together with his-
tory, cosmography, and other nonphilosophical sciences, into a
general study called "rhetoric." Rhetoric, the art of eloquent com-
munication, included, informally, history, poetry, drama, epis-
tolary prose, classical geography, ethical dialogues, and readings
in sacred scripture, in so far as these were the sources of ideas and
the models of the phraseology which the eloquent man must
master.

In contrast to communication, cogitationum significatio, is rea-
soning or intellectio, "that divine mistress, logic, which deriving
its very name from intellect or reason (a^o TOV \6yov), guides this
highest operation of man and directs it against error, just as the
art of woodworking guides the hand in producing its work/' 13
How this logic, or the art of reasoning, fits with the other arts and
'.sciences we may best see by reducing Cole's tract to a diagram
(p. 40).

Cole's view of the curriculum, logical in conception, Aristotelian
and closely articulated, can be supplemented from many other
sources: the University and College statutes, the directions of such
tutors as Holdsworth, Duport, or Barnes, the personal memoirs of
a D'Ewes or a Roger North, or such a comprehensive textbook as

Disciplines

Arts
(direc-
tive)

Sciences
(objec-
tive)

Communication

grammar

rhetoric

poetry

Reasoning logic

Theology

Jurisprudence

Medicine

Philosophy

metaphysics

physics

mathematics

arithmetic

geometry

astronomy

music

optics

ethics

oeconomica

politica

military history
diplomatic history

Cole's view of the curriculum

THE ARTS 4 1

Bartholomaus Keckermann's Systema Systematum (1613). The
distribution of time to be allotted to a subject, the order of pro-
cedure from subject to subject, and the texts assigned for a given
subject changed considerably in the century from 1550 to 1650,
though the curriculum as such was left unimpaired. On April 8,
1549, in his Ratio Studiorum (schedule of studies) for the arts
course, Edward VI decreed for Cambridge that the freshman was
first to apply himself to mathematics. As Edward's statute quaintly
puts it: "Let mathematics greet him who newly comes from liter-
ary play (Recens venientem a ludo literario excipiant mathe-
matica)."^ Specifically, according to these statutes, the first year
at Cambridge was to be devoted to arithmetic, geometry, and, as
much as possible, to astronomy and cosmography. The second year
belonged to dialectics, the third and fourth years to philosophy,
that is, metaphysics, physics, and ethics.

In 1559, Elizabeth introduced a significant change in the Ratio
Studiorum for Cambridge, a change that she confirmed twelve
years later, in 1571, according to which the first year at the uni-
versity was to be devoted to rhetoric, the entire second and third
years to dialectics, and the fourth year only to philosophy. 15 Eliza-
beth thus started the student on rhetoric rather than on mathe-
matics, doubled the time to be spent on dialectics, and, instead of
the two years allowed by her predecessor for philosophy, permitted
the student only the final fourth year in philosophy. Though the
Queen meant to legislate for posterity, 16 and as far as we know
allowed no change during her lifetime, her organization of the
subject matter came gradually to be ignored, until, by 1618, we
find Simonds D'Ewes pursuing a considerably different order of
studies. D'Ewes recalls his studies under Master Holdsworth:

My other studies for the attaining of humane learning, were of several
natures during my stay at the University, which was about two years and
a quarter, although Mr. Richard Holdsworth, my tutor, read unto me
but one year and a half of that time; in which he went over all of Seton's
Logic, exactly, and part of Keckerman's and Molineus. Of ethics, or
moral philosophy, he read to me Gelius and part of Pickolomineus; of
physics, part of Magirus; and of history, part of Florus, which I after
finished . . . also I perused most of the other authors, and read over
Gellius' Attic Nights, and part of Macrobius' Saturnals. Nor was my
increase in knowledge small . . . 1T

D'Ewes thus informs us that during his year and a half under
Holdsworth presumably his first year and a half at Cambridge
he studied logic, ethics, physics, and "most of the other authors"

42 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

simultaneously, or, at least, without memorable distinction as to
time. About twenty-five years later, ca. i647, 18 when Richard
Holdsworth drew up his "Directions for Study," we may see ex-
actly how this tutor had been directing D'Ewes' study.

Holdsworth, who as ". . . 4th Master of Emmanuel College, a
Good Churchman, Good Scholar & Loyal Man, lost his Mrship
1643 f r not taking the Covenant/' 19 and who had been, since his
election to a fellowship in St. John's College in 1613, one of the
most influential figures in Cambridge, was one of those who felt
that the horizontal division of time according to subject matter
was not for the best. Therefore, instead of dividing his students'
time horizontally or according to subject, that is, according to
rhetoric, dialectics, philosophy, and so on, Holdsworth made a
vertical division of time, according to which he divided the cur-
riculum into studia antemeridiana (morning studies) and studia
pomeridiana (afternoon studies). Mornings (studia antemeridiana)
were to be spent on philosophy: on logic and some ethics during
the first year, on physics, metaphysics, and a continuation of logic
and ethics during the second year, on philosophical controversies,
Scaliger's De Subtilitate, Aristotle's Organon, Eight Books of
Physics, and his Ethica during the third year, and, finally, on
Seneca's Quaestiones Naturales, Aristotle's De Anima and De
Coelo with commentaries. Aristotle's Meteor ologica, and Marcus
Wandelin's Theologica critica (1658) during the fourth year. The
aim of these morning studies was to acquaint the student with the
thought and method of scholasticism.

The aim of the studia pomeridiana was to provide the vehicle
of expression. By putting his students through poetry, the pre-
cepts of rhetoric, a review of grammer, classical oratory, and his-
tory, Holdsworth inculcated the tricks of the ars dicendi and pro-
vided the exempla which would make for erudite and forceful
exposition. Learning, without the ability to communicate it, is of
little account; in his own words, Holdsworth insists that ". . . the
Greek and Latin tongues, History, Oratory, and Poetry . . . [are]
. . . Studies not less necessary than the first, if not more useful,
especially Latin and Oratory without which all the other learning
though never so eminent is in a manner void and useless. Without
these you will be baffled in your disputes, disgraced and vilified in
public examinations, laughed at in speeches and declamations.
You will never dare to appear in any act of credit in your univer-
sity, nor must you look for preferment by your learning only." 20
Therefore, Holdsworth tells his students, they must spend their

THE ARTS 43

afternoons mastering such things as Thomas Goodwin's Roman
Antiquities (1614), Justinus' Historia, Cicero's Epistolae, the C ol-
io quia of Erasmus, Terence, the Mystagogus Poeticus, Ovid's
Metamorphoses, the Greek Testament, Theognis, Valla's De Ele-
gantia, Vigerius' Idiotisma (1632), Cicero's De Senectute, De Ami-
citia, Tusculanae Quaestiones, and De Oratore, Florus, Sallust,
Quintus Curtius, Virgil's Eclogues and Georgics, Ovid's Epistolae,
Horace, Martial, Hesiod, Theocritus, Nicholas Causinus' De Elo-
quentia, the orations of Cicero and Demosthenes, Strada, Robert
Turner's Orationes (1615), Quintilian's Institutionum Oratori-
arum, Juvenal, Persius, Claudian, Virgil's Aeneid, Homer's Iliad,
Cluverius' Historia Generalis, Livy, Suetonius, Aulus Gellius,
Macrobius' Saturnalia, Plautus, Cicero's De Officiis and De Fini-
bus, Seneca's tragedies, Lucan, Statius, and Homer's Odyssey?*
This minimum reading list by no means exhausts Holdsworth's
requirements, but it will serve to illustrate the kind of leaves and
the number of volumes which had to be turned over before a
student could "justly deserve the name of scholar."

Having reviewed thus generally the undergraduate curriculum
at Cambridge, we may turn with profit to a more specific study of
each individual discipline, that is, to the arts of logic, rhetoric,
and ethics, and the philosophical sciences of metaphysics, mathe-
matics, and physics. Before coming to these, however, we must say
a word about preuniversity training.

PREUNIVERSITY TRAINING

John Milton and John Hall have left the impression that the
young student coming up to Cambridge in the earlier seventeenth
century was immediately and mercilessly ground in the wheels of
a harsh and unfamiliar logic. Hall says that the tender freshmen
are ". . . racked and tortured with a sort of harsh abstracted
logicall notions, which their wits are no more able to endure, than
their bodies the Strapado . . ," 22 Milton, whose Ramist preju-
dices, despite his ordinarily generous humanistic creed, made him
a bitter enemy of scholastic university teaching, 23 criticizes the
universities because ". . . they present their young unmatricu-
lated novices at first coming with the most intellective abstractions
of logic and metaphysics . . ." 24

These criticisms need considerable qualification. First, accord-
ing to the notebooks, Holdsworth's "Directiones," D'Ewes' auto-
biography, and the official statutes, the freshmen spent at least half
their time on "rhetoric," that is, on poetry, history, the precepts

44 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

of rhetoric itself, classical oratory, and such. Secondly, logic was
administered in graduated doses, and in no case do we find a
freshman studying metaphysics. Finally, before he ever saw the
University, the average student in the first part of the century was
introduced to logic, either at school or under the guidance of a
family tutor or a friendly parson.

Nicholas Ferrar, for instance, ". . . went to Enborn school near
Newberry, Berks; & such a progress he made in Latin, Logick &
Greek, as he was the prime scholar of his year/' 25 Sir Simonds
D'Ewes says of his preparation for Cambridge: "I stayed with Mr.
Dickenson, the schoolmaster ... he read privately to me a great
part of Seton's Logic . . ." 26 Joseph Allein (1633-1669) at school
". . . attained to such a measure of Knowledge and Learning in
Latin and Greek Tongues, that he was judged by his Master to be
fit for the University: After which, he abode some with his Father;
and a worthy Minister of the Place read Logick to him." 27 In 1630,
the eminent John Wallis states that he was sent to school to Mr.
Martin Holbech, at Felsted in Essex. "I continued his Scholar for
two years; and was by that time pretty well acquainted with the
Latin and Greek tongues," he says, "having read divers authors
therein (such as at Schools are wont to be read) and was pretty ac-
curate in the Grammars of both." 2S Wallis continues: "I learned
there somewhat of Hebrew also . . . And I was taught somewhat
of Logick: as a preparation to a further study of it in the Univer-
sity." Finally, Roger North, in the life of his brother Francis, says:
"After the doctor [Francis] left Bury school, he passed some time at
his father's house before he went to the University, which time was
not lost, for his father (according to the way he used with some
other of his sons) read and interpreted to him a common logic, I
think it was Molineus, with somewhat of metaphysics." 29 That
the above are representative cases is confirmed by paging through
Clarke's Lives, where some such phrase as "fitted for Academical
studies" 30 (with Latin, Greek, and logic) describes the condition
of his subjects before their going up to the University.

It will be noted from the above examples, sufficiently paralleled
in Foster Watson's English Grammar Schools to 1660 and T. W.
Baldwin's superb William Shakspere's Small Latine & Lesse
Greeke, that not only were Latin and Greek studied, but logic as
well. Indeed, the excellent secondary-school methods of such mas-
ters as John Brinsley, who wrote his Ludus Literarius in 1612, and
Charles Hoole (New Discovery of the Old Art of Teaching School
[1660]) serve to mitigate another of Hall's bad-tempered strictures

THE ARTS 45

of seventeenth-century education, whose end, according to him,
was merely ". . . to nurture a few raw striplings, come out of some
miserable Country-school, with a few shreds of Latine, that is as
unmusicall to a polite ear [such as his own] as the gruntling of a
sow, or the noise of a saw can be to one that is acquainted with the
Laws of harmony. And then possibly before they have surveyed the
Greeke Alphabet, to be racked and tortured with a sort of harsh
abstracted logicall notions, etc." 31 From what we have seen of
Richard Holdsworth's program alone, not to mention the note-
books, it is incredible that the average student was as ill prepared
as Hall maintains. Or if he was so ill prepared, coming up with
only a "few shreds of Latin" and with little more than a survey of
the Greek alphabet, then it must be concluded that the university
training was miraculously effective in producing students who at
once attended lectures and disputations in Latin, read their texts
and made their notes entirely in the traditional tongue of the
scholastics, casually continued to read the Testamentum Graecum
in their first year, 32 and, finally, made sense out of even the ele-
mentary notes on logic which we find in the notebooks.

LOGIC

Though the average schoolboy was introduced to logic before
coming up to Cambridge, he could hardly have done more than
shake hands with the main concepts of the "art of arts/' 33 or, as
traditionally defined, "the art of directing the mind in the acqui-
sition of knowledge." 34 For the most part, the logic studied at
Cambridge was genuinely Aristotelian, as one gathers from the
notebooks and from such manuals as Keckermann's Systema Lo-
gicae, Burgersdicius' Institutionum Logicarum Libri Duo, Heere-
bord's Annotamenta, and Eustachius of St. Paul's Summa Philo-
sophiae Quadripartita. Still, it was Aristotle resystematized and
simplified. This resystematizing, while it unified Aristotle's often
fugitive teachings in logic, resulted in an avalanche of commen-
taries, which were quickly becoming more disconcerting to stu-
dents than was the text itself. One Cambridge tutor despairingly
begins his lectures: "We are burdened with a variety of dialectics,
and unless God hears our cry, Aristotle is likely to have more com-
mentators than contexts." 35 With a sigh, the anonymous seven-
teenth-century tutor continues: "It will be our task to summarize
these burdensome volumes, and, having grubbed-up the metals
from the mine, to refine the gold from the iron, so that the very
finest, having been carefully sifted out, may not only be com-

4 6 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

pressly, unambiguously, briefly and clearly squeezed into the nar-
row limits of a compendious enchiridion, but even luxuriate and
blossom." However mixed the metaphor, the tutor clearly enough
indicates how massy he considers logical tradition and how need-
ful is a simple, brief and clear handbook for beginners. Kecker-
mann similarly feels called upon to rescue Aristotle from his
friends, as when he points out in the beginning of his logic text
that Ramus' charges against Aristotle, that is, that Aristotle lacked
method, was redundant, tautological, and meaningless, would
never have been made, had Ramus known the secret of reading
the Master. "Aristotle's writings are not to be judged," Kecker-
mann says, "from the interpretations of commentators, scholastics
or Sorbonnists, but from the intention of the author, the collation
of texts and the agreement and harmony of the whole of Peri-
patetic Philosophy." 36

Cutting through the mountains of comment and building a
traversable road through Aristotle's logical writings kept the
manualists and the tutors pretty much to a standard method.
Logic, like Euclidian geometry, built articulately and pedagogi-
cally from the simple to the complex, from the known to the un-
known. Hence the tutors usually took their students through a
first skimming of the whole subject, emphasizing only the main
concepts and primary divisions. On his second and third and
fourth journey through logic, the student would be expected to
master ever more thoroughly the intricacies of syllogizing, the
subtler variations of the thirteen classical fallacies, the deepening
significance of the categories, and the pertinence of logic to his
other studies.

The initial skimming of the whole field, which Richard Holds-
worth calls a Systema Brevius, was simply a "... frame or collec-
tion of the precepts and rules . . ." and might be ". . . either a
printed one, the shortest and exactest one that can be gott or else
a written one of your Tutors own collecting." 37 Holdsworth fa-
vored the written notes of the tutor, ". . . because those that are
printed are most of them rather fitted for riper judgments, then
for the capacitie and convenience of young beginners, containing
many things either too difficult or lesse necessary ..." This in-
troduction or "grounds of Logick," however, ". . . must be gott
very perfectly and exactly as the Accidence or Grammar in Lat-
ine . . ." and it would be a "... great disgrace and a sign of an
idle student to stick at any question wch may be answered out
of it."

THE ARTS 47

Any number of such systemata breviora as Holdsworth recom-
mends survive in student notebooks. 38 Typical is a mid-century
manuscript (Dd. 5. 47) in the Cambridge University Library.
The notebook consists of fifty-four folios, about an average
length, into which has been compressed the whole of logic. To
summarize what is already a sy sterna brevissimum would, of
course, be absurd. We must content ourselves with a general
organization of the course.

The notebook is arranged according to the threefold opera-
tion of the mind: first, the simple idea or concept; second, judg-
ment, where two concepts are joined to form a proposition; and
third, reasoning, where two or more propositions are so linked
as to arrive at a conclusion.

Considering first the concept, the notebook begins by defining
nomen (noun or name) and verbum (verb). Nomen, for exam-
ple, "man," is a "sound, arbitrarily significant, no separate part
of which is meaningful, finite and direct." 39 We call attention
to the primary qualification of nomen or name, its arbitrary
signification, since the arbitrary nature of the meaning of words
will become a Us sub judice later in the century. The names of
things, according to scholastic logic, possess no intrinsic sacro-
sanctity, or, as a contemporary better expresses it, "A rose by
any other name would smell as sweet." From noun and verb,
the notebook goes on to handle definition, which is "speech which
manifests as briefly as possible what the thing is that is talked
about," for example, "man is a rational animal." Next comes
division, the enumeration of the kinds of things which may be
included in a generic concept communions in minus commune
deduction Division has to do with the discovering in the con-
cept of man such elements as sex (male and female), race (white,
black), condition (rich, poor, intelligent, stupid, old, young), and
so on.

Having considered the concept and its more explicit manifes-
tations through definition and division, the tutor next expounds
the second operation of the mind, judgment. Here he considers
proposition, which is oratio indicativa, congrua, perfecta, vera
vel falsa, sine ambiguitate. The notebook elucidates carefully
each term in the definition: a statement, complete, true or false,
without ambiguity and consistent. Students were drilled on the
clear and sharp formulation of judgments, as is witnessed by
the exercises in another notebook, belonging to Henry Docker, 41
in which the various "affections" or changes under which a

4 8 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

proposition might go are written out again and again, like the
Latin declensions or the multiplication tables. 42 A student was
expected to be able immediately to "oppose" a proposition
(give the contrary and contradictory statement), "aequipolate"
(give the various equivalent formulations) or "convert" (give
the correct juxtapositions of subject and predicate). Such exer-
cises in sharp and exact statement lie behind much seventeenth-
century prose: Bacon's essays, for example, sometimes seem like
logical exercises in enunciation. Bacon's generally indicative
mood in writing, his avoidance of ambiguity, his fondness for
"aequipolation," that is, for stating his proposition by denying
its contrary, and for subject-predicate-object brevity, all seem to
betray hours with a logic notebook. His apothegmatic pithiness,
often attributed to his legal training, may be just as truly called
the habit of logical enunciation carried into style. The clarity
and precision of Walton, Baxter, or Fuller similarly suggest the
student logician.

From the concept and the judgment the notebook (ULC, Dd.
5. 47) turns to the third operation of the mind, reasoning or
argumentation. To reason is to progress from one truth intellec-
tually grasped to a second truth, intellectually grasped by means
of the first; in other words, to proceed from proposition to propo-
sition in order to master intelligible truth: procedere de uno in-
tellecto ad aliud, ad veritatem intelligibilem cognoscendam.^
Or, as the notebook defines it: res rationem dubiae rei fidem
faciens, the process of establishing the uncertain. Argument is
divided into argumentum a priori and a posteriori, a priori being
the syllogism.

Nothing short of a course in formal logic can convey the in-
tricacy and subtlety of the kinds, rules, forms, and fallacies of
the syllogism which the seventeenth-century student was sup-
posed to master. There are, for example, forty-five illegitimate
forms of the syllogism and only nineteen legitimate combinations
of terms. 44 The student of logic was expected not only to be
able to form his argument according to the received legitimate
moulds, but to diagnose the fallacies purveyed by the forty-five
illegitimate forms. To help him remember the nineteen legiti-
mate forms, a set of mnemonics, whose vowels and consonants
are keys representing the position of subject and predicate in
the major, minor, and conclusion, has been handed down from
some unremembered genius. Every student of logic has memo-
rized:

THE ARTS 49

Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferio,
Baralipton, Celantes, Dabitis, Fapesmo,
Frisesomorum, Cesere, Camestres, Festino,
Baroco, Darapti, Felapton, Disamis,
Datisi, Bocardo, Ferison.

So well known were these at one time that the word baroque was
formed from the first word in the fourth line, which represented
a completely unnatural form, Baroco. A syllogism in Baroco
would run like this: Every dog has legs, but some mammals do not
have legs, therefore some mammals are not dogs. Much more
natural and more often used, however, would be a syllogism in
one of the forms of the first line, for example, Barbara, in which
the major premise is universal and the minor premise affirmative:
Every man is mortal, but John is a man, therefore John is mortal.
Logic-chopper though he be called, the seventeenth-century stu-
dent knew how to frame his argument.

So much for the syllogism, or a priori argumentation. A pos-
teriori argument, that is, induction and example, is next taken
up in the notebook. The tutor who dictated Dd. 5. 47 may seem
somewhat cavalier in his treatment of induction. He says:

Induction and example look rather to the orators than the philoso-
phers. These arguments, though they conclude less cogently, more easily
sway the popular mind. He who uses induction and example often will
confound his adversary no less than he who battles with syllogisms and
enthymemes. Induction is argument which is formed by enumerating
single instances so as to form a universal conclusion. For example, as
the tyrant Dionysius came to a bad end, as Phalaris to a bad end, as the
bloody Nero to a bad end, as Caligula similarly, so all tyrants perish
miserably. 45

Of the notebook's apparent slighting of induction several things
should be said. First, according to Aristotle and the scholastics,
there is no true science that is not somehow deductive, that is,
knowledge that does not somehow build from what is known to
what is not known, from the principle to the particular. Even
today, "laboratory accidents," that is, the discovery of a principle
from the repetition of single instances, are much less frequent
than knowledge derived by testing in a laboratory a theory which
"ought to work." Secondly, the example alleged by the tutor is a
"moral universal," that is, a conclusion which involves the ele-
ment of free will and human conduct. That Dionysius, Phalaris,
Nero, and Caligula died violently suggests the conclusion that all

50 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

tyrants die violent deaths. Yet, such instances in themselves do not
conclude to a certain principle in the same way that physical
experiments can conclude to a certain principle. That Hitler and
Mussolini died violent deaths by no means proved that every
other contemporary tyrant would have died violently. Or, if one
predicts the violent dissolution of the mid-twentieth-century
Kremlin hierarchy, it is because of the deductive inference that
all tyrants have always died violently. The validity of the induc-
tive conclusion, in other words, depends on the validity of de-
ductive knowledge. Thirdly, our tutor's unconcern, or lesser con-
cern, with induction points up the fact that apparatus and sta-
tistical knowledge are yet far from perfect: so far from perfect, in
fact, that if the scholastics slighted induction as a too-easy arrival
at a popular conclusion, left-wing logical-positivists now ignore
induction as coming to no conclusion at all. If the scholastic
hesitated to admit that the addition of A plus B plus C might
equal D, since he had not seen E, F, and G, he is in a much more
defensible position than that of many modern scientist-logicians
who insist that no matter how often one finds A plus B plus C to
equal D, there is never a guarantee that the next time one finds
the equation, it will not be false. Of induction the notebook mere-
ly warns: levins concludit; modern logicians say, in effect, num-
quam concludit. To pursue the point further would involve us in
metaphysics, the nature of an enduring essence, and so forth; we
shall have reason to return to the point when dealing with
metaphysics.

Having considered the simple concept, the judgment, and the
process of reasoning, the author of Dd. 5. 47 stops to summarize.
He is able to point out that logic is the science of treating any
theme whatever with probability and dispatch Logica e scientia
de quovis themete probabiliter & 1 anguste disserendi.^ Hence,
logic "differs from grammar, whose concern is to speak congru-
ously, while logic's concern is to speak the truth. Logic differs
from rhetoric, because, while rhetoric teaches the opened hand,
i.e., to speak ornately and at length, logic teaches the clenched
first, i.e., to argue strictly and straight." 47 The object of logic,
however, as the notebook quickly points out, is not argumenta-
tion. Though logic teaches the clenched fist, that is, to argue, still
Argu [men] tare non dicitur quod tota Logicae vis in argumenta-
tions sita est.^ Argumentation is not the be-all and end-all of
logic; logic must, in addition, "define what is obscure, divide what
is universal and reason to the truth among verisimilars." 49 Logic

THE ARTS 51

is the art of arriving at the truth, the skill of getting to know. The
notebooks all agree that the object of logic is the attaining of
truth, however differently they phrase it. While one notebook
treats the object of logic as "defining the obscure, dividing the
universal, and reasoning about among verisimilars," or another
may treat the question: An objectum logicae sit operationes In-
tellectus qua dirigibills, 50 or yet another figuratively may spread
its hands and complain: Thomas ens rationis, Scotus syllogismum,
Albertus argument ationem, alii secundas notiones [reflex ideas]
dicunt objectum logicae, 51 still, all concur that the object of teach-
ing logic is to find truth, not merely to produce quibblers. The
logic of the seventeenth century, however badly understood and
however cruelly berated as "logic-chopping," aimed at the plumb-
ing of truth and the acquiring of genuine knowledge. Few critics
of seventeenth-century thought, only a handful of whom seem to
have bothered themselves about this matter, seem to be aware that
beyond analyzing the idea, the judgment, and the reasoning
process, only part of which latter may be considered "logic-
chopping/' Aristotelian logic embraced an intricate scheme of
categories and a study of logical fallacy.

The categorizing of things and the plumbing of truth were one
and the same to the seventeenth century. Modern scientists ob-
ject, with reason, that mere cataloging is not knowledge. But to
such as object against seventeenth-century logic, we hurry to point
out that cataloging was merely a part of logic (though an essential
part), and that logic was only an initiation into seventeenth-
century knowledge. Our seventeenth-century logician looked at
the world through the prisms of the Aristotelian predicables and
predicaments: his view was logical, not chronological.

The praedicabilia genus, species, specific difference, property,
and accident are the five kinds of terms which can be attributed
affirmatively of everything except the four transcendentals be-
ing, oneness, goodness, and truth. Thus, man is an animal (genus),
rational (species), whose specific difference is, therefore, rationali-
ty, whose proprium or property is the ability to laugh, to think,
to die, and whose accidents are all the nonessentials which can be
predicated of him: white, tall, sick, rich, and so forth. Every time
our seventeenth-century student, who had copied out so carefully
in Dd. 5. 47 the five predicables, thought of a thing or defined a
thing, he was trained to refer to these five classifications. In order
that he might fit the thing, which he had thus broken down into
its intelligible parts, into the world of things, Aristotle gave him

52 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

the ten categories or predicaments, which follow the five pred-
icables in our notebook: Substance, Quantity, Quality, Relation,
Action, Passion, Where, When, Site, and Habit. All beings and all
classifications of being are covered by the ten categories, and to be
"in a predicament" means precisely to be thrown inescapably into
an Aristotelian category. Through these predicables and predica-
ments, the seventeenth-century student reduced the world about
him into manageable sections. Logic taught him how to handle
truth.

And because the logician's object was to seek truth, not falsity,
the seventeenth-century student was trained in his first year to
recognize the many kinds of fallacy which he might meet. In a
logic notebook kept in Queens' College, Cambridge, we find a
treatise on the logical fallacies. Under the heading: "What is
sophism or fallacy?" is found a round condemnation of logical
trickery: Sophista mavult videri sapiens ut quaestionem facial.,
quam revera sapiens ee. 52 Under the next heading, "How many
and what are the proposals and goals of the Sophists Quot et
quae sint proposita et metae SophistarumT 53 are the thirteen
main logical fallacies, divided into the two classical groupings, the
fallacies of speech and the fallacies of things themselves:

*Quot et quae sunt in dictione

homonymia seu aequivocatio

amphibolia seu amphibologia

compositio

divisio

fallacia accentus

fallacia figura[e] dictionis

Quot et quae sunt extra dictionem seu in rebus

fallacia accidentis

a secundum quid ad simpliciter

ignoratio elenchi

fallacia consequentis

petitio principii

non causa pro causa

plures interrogantes 54

Immediately, the notebook includes the mnemonic device of list-
ing the thirteen fallacies in a couplet of hexameters. The couplet
does not occur in the other notebooks.

Omnes hae fallaciae adiuvandae causa his duobus versiculis continentur

THE ARTS 53

Aequivocans, Amphi, Componit, Dividit, Ac, Fig
Acci, Quid, Ignarus, Petit, Infert, Causa, Rogat plus. 55

That the other notebooks do not include the hexameters proves,
perhaps, that the fallacies were so well known as not to need in-
clusion. Like our own spelling rule: "/ before E, except after C,
or when sounded as A, as in 'neighbor' and 'weigh/" which one
seldom finds in print, these hexameters were probably a piece of
knowledge that drifted as unembodied as a Platonic essence.

However fugitive the hexameters, the fallacies themselves were,
and are, extremely important. It is far beyond our province to
expound the logical fallacies, but we ought at least to define what
the seventeenth century considered as trickery. As to the "fallacies
of speech/' the misuse of homonyms or equivocation needs little
comment. Beyond the obvious misuse of the pun, this section of
logic trained against the subtler pun which might lie in a syllo-
gism. For example: "All rights should be protected by law. But
unemployment insurance is right. Therefore, unemployment in-
surance should be protected by law." The syllogism is false, not
because of its conclusion, but because the middle term, "right,"
has been used in two senses.

Amphiboly is very like equivocation, except that it occurs, not
by reason of the word itself, but through grammatical construc-
tion or through a figure of speech; for example, "He sat watching
the parade on the porch." Composition is wrought by illicitly
predicating of the whole what is true of the parts. A good example
is the football Ail-American: because each player is outstanding,
it does not follow that the Ail-American team is unbeatable.
Divisio is the fallacy of applying what is true of the whole to each
of its parts: because the American Army is brave, it is not neces-
sarily true that Pvt. John Jones of Butte, Montana, is brave. The
fallacy of accent, whether by word or in print, is the sophism of
the false stress. It makes a great deal of difference how one writes
or says: "The head of the department," said the professor, "is
stupid." The final fallacy of speech is fallacia figura[e] dictionis,
which includes every other kind of misinterpretation, even quaes-
tio complexa, for example, "When did you stop beating your
wife?"

Beyond the fallacies of speech, the seventeenth-century student
was trained to detect such fallacies as he might meet with in the
world of things. Such fallacies might be fallacia accidentis, the
absolute predication of a quality or a term which can only be

54 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

predicated casually or "by accident." An example of fallacia ac-
cidentis lies in the syllogism: ''All sinful entertainments should
be prohibited. But, drinking is a sinful entertainment. Therefore,
drinking should be prohibited." The fallacy lies in predicating
"sinful" absolutely of "drinking." The a secundum quid ad sim-
pliciter fallacy is the trick of making something only partially true
seem wholly true. Ignoratio elenchi, ignoring the issue, is the
simple evading of the question by using arguments which fail to
support the proposition or, even, directly tend to prove something
else. Take the proposition: "Classical study is to be discouraged
because it does not prepare students to earn their bread and
butter." The proposition "ignores" the fact that classical study
helps to sound thinking about human problems, teaches neatness
of thought through grammatical nicety, and so on. Too often
confused with ignoratio elenchi, the ignoring of an issue, is petitio
principii, or the taking for granted what should be proved. Jump-
ing to a conclusion, petitio principii, does not ignore the issue; it
pretends the issue has been settled. This fallacy ranges from such
verbal gambits as: "it is unquestionably true," or "it can be safely
assumed," to hysteron proteron, the perverse art of containing a
conclusion in a premise, for example, "The electoral college does
not meet the demands of modern political thought because it is
an anachronism." The fallacia consequents is perpetrated by
arguing for or against a proposition by a fanciful or improbable
description of what will, or will not, happen should the proposi-
tion carry. Political platforms are floored with fallaciae conse-
quentis. The two final fallacies, the fallacy of non causa pro causa,
better known as post hoc, ergo propter hoc, for example, "Culture
flourished in the Midwest after 1900, therefore, because of the
founding of the University of Chicago," and the fallacy of plures
interrogates, sometimes called question-spraying, need not de-
tain us.

Our stay, already overlong, with the logical fallacies ought to
clarify one point concerning seventeenth-century education: logic
was not a training in quibbling. A merely brilliant quibbler would
have received short shrift in a Cambridge disputation; his oppo-
nents would have handled his offerings with the deadly efficiency
of a major-league shortstop. The plodder, not the quibbler, made
the best logician. As a manuscript life of Francis Lee puts it: "I
have been told by a Gentleman of the Law, that the Best Pleaders
at the Bar are generally, to use his own expression, the Dullest
fellows. As credibly also have I been informed that the Best Logi-

THE ARTS 55

dans have the appearanced been the Dullest fellows." 56 Dull
fellow that he might be, the seventeenth-century Cambridge stu-
dent was trained through logic to seek truth. Another art taught
him how to make use of it.

RHETORIC

Logic and rhetoric, the two basic academic arts, ". . . cannot
be parted asunder: logic without oratory is dry and unpleasing,
and oratory without logic is but empty babbling." 57 The relation-
ship between these two arts in the scholastic milieu is more meta-
physically expressed in a commonplace book, dated 1648, in the
Magdalen College Library, Cambridge. According to our com-
monplace book, there is an analogy between logic, which pertains
to the intellect, and rhetoric, which is concerned with the imagi-
nation: "Rhetorique is subservient to the Imagination, as Logique
is to the Understanding." 5S Hence, ". . . the office and duty of
Rhetorique (if a man will weigh the matter) is no other than to
apply and commend the Dictation of Reason to the Imagination,
for the better moving of the appetite and will . . ." 59 Or, affirm-
ing per peccata the relationship of the three scholastic disciplines
of logic, rhetoric, and ethics, the writer maintains: ". . . the gov-
ernment of Reason is disquieted and assailed three waies, wether
by the Vagation of Sophismes, which pertains to Logique, or by
the deceits of words, which pertains to Rhetorique, or by the
violence of Passions, which pertains to Morality." 60

This strange relating of rhetoric to ethics is noticed elsewhere
in the seventeenth century. Scholastic ethics was concerned with
man's nature, particularly as his passions and affections bring him
into a relationship of good and evil action toward the cosmos
about him, that is, toward God, other individuals, and society
itself. Rhetoric is likewise concerned with human passions and
affections. As Holdsworth says, rhetoric ". . . teaches the nature
of men's passions and affections, how to raise and move them, how
to allay, quiet and change them, a knowledge necessary not only
in writing, but speeches and letters, but also in common discourse
and dealing with men, if not to make use of it yourself at least to
discover it to other men that you may not be at any time abused
and over reached by it." 61 Holdsworth seems to say that the
knowledge inculcated by rhetoric in allaying, quieting, and chang-
ing the passions is, in a certain way, ethical knowledge. Or, to take
completely another facet of the logic-ethics relationship, John
Sherman, in his discourse, A Greek to the Temple, states: "Rhet-

5$ THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

orick is an inartificiall goodness of the speaker: goodness in the
speaker is inartificiall Rhetorick." 62 If we now recall that of this
scholastic triangle of the academic disciplines: ethics, rhetoric,
and logic, the first angle we considered, logic, is occupied with
truth or intellectual forthrightness, we may begin to see why
Fitzherbert insisted that "the nature of things" joins the arts into
an educational whole, and why we originally asserted that the
seventeenth-century curriculum was not only Aristotelian, but
logical and highly systematic.

Having considered thus briefly the metaphysical position of
rhetoric with respect to logic and ethics, we may turn internally
to rhetoric itself and the methods of rhetorical teaching. What
were these methods? The tutor's first concern was to teach the
basics of Latin style. Two obvious facts need no more than be
mentioned: first, university rhetoric was taught in Latin and
looked to the acquiring of style in Latin; secondly, the student
spent more than a mere part of his first year in pursuit of rhetoric.
Even after mastering the formal principles of the art, the student
spent much time during his four years at the University in deep-
ening his knowledge of rhetorical principles, studying the masters
of rhetoric, and practicing in his declamations what he had
learned.

Holdsworth starts his students with a simple method of imita-
tion: "Gather out in a paperbook all the phrases and idioms
which you know not already. . . This study you may think tedi-
ous, but the benefit will be sufficient requital." 63 This practice of
classical bone-picking Holdsworth recommends again and again:
"In them (Virgil, Ovid, Horace, et ceteri) you will meet with
many choice and witty sayings, sentences, and passages which you
are to gather into your paperbook." 64 This collecting of the Latin
poets, their "witty sayings, sentences and passages" will, further,
". . . furnish you with the quantity of syllables, perfect your Lat-
in, and supply you with copiousness of word and good expressions,
and also raise your fancy to a poetic strain." Nor was Holdsworth
alone in advising taking down into a copybook the idiomatic
fruits of reading. James Duport in his "Directions" urges that the
copybook be small enough to be carried about in one's pocket, to
be read in odd moments or when strolling in the meadows across
the Cam from Trinity. 65

After directing his students in the art of copying, Holdsworth
next drilled them on the precepts of rhetoric as such, using either
Causin 66 or Voscius. 67 Holdsworth himself preferred Causin, the

THE ARTS 57

kind of book that ". . . will give you the grounds of Oratory, a
knowledge very useful and necessary, not only in all professions
of learning, but in every course of life whatsoever." 68 He con-
tinues, speaking from his years of experience, that a book like
Causin's ". . . teaches (i) what style and language is suitable on
each occasion offered; (2) how any discourse is to be managed so
as to avoid obscurity and confusion that auditors may hear with
delight and you go through it with ease ... (3) it teaches the
true way of logic, for invention, discourse 8c method [another in-
sistence of the logic-rhetoric relationship] ... (4) it teaches the
nature of men's passions and affections . . ." 69 The knowledge
of rhetorical precepts was to be thorough, for: "A little superficial
knowledge in it will put you out of conceit with it . . ." 70 Holds-
worth, however otherwise fearful, is not a man of one book; after
recommending Causinus, he says: "That you may the better un-
derstand and benefit by this book it will not be amiss to read over
the Progymnasmata of Aphthonius, Vicars his Manuductio ad
artem Rhetoricam, The Rhetorica[l] Compendium of Voscius." 71

Our tutor, however, is no mere preceptor: "It is necessary whilst
you are reading this [Causin's] book to set some time apart for
making orations and such other exercises as are prescribed." 72 At
this stage, Holdsworth allows his students to aim at elegance.
"Hitherto [while copying and studying precepts]," he says, "I
have directed you to such authors in prose as write a plain, easy
and familiar style. . . Now you must come to some more raised
and polished, the reading whereof will work your fancy to such a
kind of expression when occasion is . . ." 73

The above passage is worth particular note: it shows that the
Master of Emmanuel, the Puritan college, taught "plain, easy
and familiar style," a matter of comfort to those who refer plain
style to the metaphysics of Puritanism. The same master, however,
insisted that his students "must come to some more raised and
polished" style, "when occasion is." 74 The key phrase is the last,
"when occasion is," for, if the Puritan was plain, easy, and familiar
in the pulpit, avoiding the deceits of metaphor and the dishon-
esty of ornateness, he could be as elegant as his adversary on the
right occasion. This serves to explain Milton's ability to shift from
the touching plain style of The Ready and Easy Way to Establish
a Free Commonwealth . . . (1660) to the soaring stylistic heights
of Paradise Lost (ca. 1665).

Besides copying out passages into a commonplace book and
studying the formal precepts of rhetoric, with suitable practice,

5 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

Holdsworth believed in "getting without book," that is, in mem-
orizing both poetry and prose. "There is no such effectual means
for the attaining of a language as this getting without book." 75
Memorizing poetry will, among other benefits, ". . . supply you
with copiousness of words and good expressions, and also raise
your fancy to a poetical strain." 76 As for prose: "This [Turner's
Orations] 77 and the like books are to exercise you in a quaint
style and to acquaint you with a modern oration. You may in-
stead of Turner take Renolds, Campion's Orationes or the like.
Employ one hour a day as in Tully for getting them without
book." 78

Holdsworth is intensely serious about the benefits of memoriz-
ing, and affords his own students (and us) an interesting passage
on memory methods. "There are two ways to get without book,
either conning it as boys doe, or frequent reading over the same
thing for certain days together, which is easier, and will be as
effectual to all ends and purposes as the former." 79 Since "readi-
ness" or fluency was the primary aim of "getting without book,"
the tutor prefers constant rereading of a passage to "conning";
hence, ". . . though perhaps you shall not be able to repeat much
without book together, yet every particular sentence will be as
ready to you, and that readiness as useful as if you had con'd it,
and indeed that plodding way of conning doth tire and lode the
memory rather then beget a readiness." 80 And though even this
second method, frequent rereading of a passage, "many seem
tedious and unpleasing," yet "it must not be neglected because of
this tediousness." 81 How tedious was any kind of memory work
to his students Holdsworth implies by wryly recommending: "I
allot the first hour of the afternoon when you are fresh, after
which the tediousness of that hour will make you come with more
delight to your other studies/' 82

The triple practice of culling ". . . handsome passages and
criticisms necessary and useful either for speeches or common dis-
course," 83 of reading the rhetoricians, and of memorizing both
poetry and prose, however it made for the full man in the seven-
teenth century, it was writing that made the exact man. As we
noted before, Holdsworth had required rhetorical exercises. As he
orders elsewhere: "Spend every other afternoon or at least two in
a week in making Latin exercises in a plain style, for reading
without practice will never make you a Latinist." 84 Such a pas-
sage makes us curious as to the kind of exercises the student wrote.

Almost every student's notebook contains rhetorical exercises,

THE ARTS 59

usually on literary or historical topics. In Lawrence Bretton's
notebook we find four such rhetorical subjects:

1. The severity of Titus Manlius toward his son ought
to be vituperated rather than approved.

2. Priam's troubles exceeded his good fortune.

3. I do not absolve Helen of wrong-doing [reference to
Ovid's De arte amantis is scribbled in the margin].

4. Gyges did away with the king rather than himself. 85

At about the same time as Bretton, another student, Alexander
Bolde, elected later a fellow of Pembroke in 1610, wrote exercises
on such subjects as:

Is the knowledge of virtue and the ignorance of vice equally profitable?
Was C. J. Caesar justly put to death?

Did Hannibal purposely bring about his death by poison rather than fall
miserably into the hands of his enemies? 86

In a notebook of a later date (after i66s), 87 preserved in St. John's
College, are several rhetorical questions: An Homerus caecus?
An a nativitate? followed by a short treatise on Homer's poetic
style and his versification. Another question in the same notebook
is of interest in view of the coming Battle of the Books: "Were
Aesop's fables so titled by their author?" On the question: "Did
Aristotle drown himself in Euripum?" the same student proclaims
his regard for the Philosopher by asserting: Non credo Principem
nostrum tarn fuisse vesanum, literal translation of which misses
the affection of nostrum. Other questions treated in the notebook
include: Did Alexander take poison? Was Penelope a whore? Was
Troy really captured by the Greeks? Is Mahomet's body suspended
between two magnets? Our student obviously went in for sensa-
tional topics, the last of which, by the way (on the disposition of
Mahomet's body), is the only nonclassical question we found.

A final sampling of rhetorical exercise we take from the note-
book of J. Alsop, 88 also of St. John's, belonging to the end of the
century. Alsop of Derby, as he signs himself, supports eloquence in
the question: "Whether the eloquence or the prudence of Caesar
is the more to be esteemed?" Alsop also prefers Crates and his
contempt of wealth to Midas on the question of riches. On the
question: "Whether a lettered or an un-lettered wife be prefer-
able?" Alsop equivocates and ends his little exercise on a note
that would have delighted the bachelor don of those days:

60 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

. . . neque enim docta placet nee indocta, sed quod melius est
plane nulla. Incidentally, young Alsop later married. 89

The historian of classical study interested in the extent of the
Cambridge students' average proficiency, or, perhaps, even the
merely curious who would sample the preserve behind the labels,
may wish more than a catalog of rhetorical questions. We quote
one of the shorter exercises. The style is obviously that of a stu-
dent, who must work in a nee dubium quin at all costs, but any
modern student, classicist or merely curious, must be impressed
by the undergraduate erudition disclosed in the following:

An Homerus Caecus?

Homerum caecum fuisse scribit & Herodotus ac Plutarchus in
Homeri vita. Quin, ipse de se Homerus id testatur hymno in Apollonem.
Quern illi (ut Authori) adjudicat gravissimus auctor Thucydides. Scio
interpretem Pindaricum (in [nono.] ad 2) eum tribuit Gynetho Chio
Rapsodo. Versus a: sic est ru0\d<? M\p KT\. Nee dubium quin octavo quoq.
Ulyssae [Odyssey, 8, 44-45; 62-64] sese depingat sub persona Demodoci
Bytharaedi cui ad bonum cum malo datum divinitus nam orbatum fuisse
visu, et insignem fuisse arte musica. Audiendus non est Artemidorus,
qui Lib. vult Homerum caecum tradi, quod, qui Pie [mota] scribunt,
multa egeant quiete. Quoque Hesychius Hist, qui caecum sit dictu, quod
non sint Oculi eius [utiles] victri cupiditatibus, quod et apud suici-
da[m?]

The halting Latinity of this student's exercise we may contrast
with the elegance of our J. Alsop's supplicat speech, his formal
petition for a degree from the University. Written at the end of
his undergraduate career, it is interesting, not only because we
may contrast it to his previous attempts, but because a first draft,
with several essays at the first sentence, is carefully kept in the
notebook. The most exacting of Latin stylists will approve of the
following:

Quotiescunq. de rerum humanarum sorte tarn fragili, de utilitate,
eximiaq. mentis satisfactione, quam ex hisce sedibus vestraq. disciplina
percepi, mecum cogito. Nihil est quod amplius exoptare videor, quam
ut vestro suffragio, in societatem adoptatus gratissimis hisce studiis vitam
transagam beatissimam. Abunde enim abunde vidi, noviq. liberales stu-
diorum fractus hisce acquisitos, et nee tantum scire, sed et vestra benig-
nitate paterna adjutus pro viribus consequi conabor quousq. deventum
est, eousq. jam premit necessitas, ut in vestro patricinio tutus, charis-
sime videatur vos, a quo tantum accepi, quantum ne sperare quidem
ausus sum hisce novis sollicitare precibus? Sed cui extremas fortunarum
mearum partes jam pendentes ferre inquam nisi iis ipsis cui primas, cui

THE ARTS 6l

medias debeo. Moveat, itaque moveat miseranda conditio, humiliterq.

petenti, necessitatesq. divitiae laboranti auxiliares jam porrige manus. et

non tantum nomine, reipsa devinctissimum habebis.

J. Alsop
Darbiensem 91

The student who wrote the above had obviously often win-
nowed his commonplace book, recalled his precepts, tickled his
memory, and taken advantage o what he knew of the authors he
had been forced to read so thoroughly. We noted earlier that
rhetoric included much more than the mere parroting of precepts:
the student who had read widely among the Greek and Latin mas-
ters necessarily acquired a habitus of style which reduced the
precepts to practice.

Earlier in the chapter we called attention to the extensive list
of authors who were to be read carefully, discriminately, and
with notes? 2 Besides the classic textbooks on rhetoric and history,
it will be remembered that for style the student ranged through
Cicero's letters, essays, and orations, Ovid, Horace, Martial, Ju-
venal, Virgil's Eclogues, Georgics, and Aeneid, Sallust, Livy, Sue-
tonius, Terence, and Plautus. Of the last, Holdsworth demands
discriminate reading: "Plautus or some part of him must be read
. . . but never imitate his Latine." In the Greek, Homer, Demos-
thenes, Hesiod, Theocritus, Aesop, Theognis, Strabo were to be
read with particular care.

Similarly, James Duport insisted on classical reading. "In the
course of your studies, use to reade, among the antient classick
Authors, the best, & of the best note as Homer, Aristotle, Virgill,
Tully, Seneca, Plutarch, and the like/' 9S In such reading the stu-
dent must be judicious: "In reading of heathen Poets, especially
Juvenal & Martial, suck the honey out of the flower, and passe by
the weedes." 94 It went without saying, that the student would
"[rjead an Author in his owne language and trust not too much
to Translations"; 95 otherwise, how would his ". . . stile be clear,
perspicuous, smooth, 8c plaine, & full . . ." 96

The notebook of a painstaking student is kept in Queens' Col-
lege. 97 His first entry is headed: Quinti Horatii Flacci Sermonum
sive Satyrae Liber Primus. The student begins his notes on Hor-
ace's Satires by quoting the first three lines:

Qui fit, Maecenas, ut nemo quam sibi fortem
Seu ratio dederit, seu foris obicerit ilia
Contentus vivat? Laudet diversa sequentes.

62 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE
These three lines he immediately translates:
Anglice sit:

How comst to pass, Maecenas, that of late

No mans contented with his own estate,

Thoge [sic!] given him by the gods or change or fate,

Still praisinge others; his owne repininge at.

The next four pages are devoted to a short introduction to the
whole of the Satires, that is, who was Horace, what his name and
cognomen, what is meant by sermo, satyre, and so on. Next he
begins a word-by-word commentary on the three lines. This verbal
commentary (etymology, syntax, and so forth) he calls Gramma-
tica analysis. Following the grammatical analysis is a Rhetorica
analysis, where the student picks out for comment the figures of
speech such as interrogatio and execratio. Finally comes the Lo-
gica analysis, which is a vivisection of the thought of the lines,
wherein he extracts, as he says, "generale et quasi major em pro-
positionem quam probaturus est in sequentibus: propositio haec
est. Nemo sua forte contentus ..." In like manner he goes
through the rest of the poem, three or four lines at a time, quot-
ing the text, translating, commenting grammatically and rhetori-
cally, and, finally, analyzing the idea. In the same fashion he
handles Juvenal, Junius, 98 and others in the manuscript.

Literary antivivisectionists will be appalled at so brutal an
analysis of thoughts lying too deep for tears. Omne ignotum pro
magnifico! We must remember, however, that the clarity of clas-
sical thought invites this kind of restatement, and that the stu-
dent who was taught thus to pulverize Latin poetry was aiming at
no vague "poetic appreciation," but at providing himself with
"handsome passages and criticisms necessary and useful for speech-
es and common discourse," and for learning "true idioms and
propriety of words." The study of literature was an adjunct to
rhetoric, whose object, be it recalled, was the knowledge of men,
their passions and affections, and how these are influenced by
speech.

Before leaving rhetoric, we must say a word about Greek. Greek
scholarship had had long tenure at Cambridge. From the time of
Erasmus' stay there, an impressive line of Greek masters was asso-
ciated with the university: John Redman, Thomas Smith, John
Cheke, Roger Ascham, and John Caius in the sixteenth century,
while in the earlier seventeenth century there was that grand old

THE ARTS 63

man, John Boyes, who read Greek to his students from his sick-
bed," and Andrew Downes, of whose Greek lectures D'Ewes de-
scribes himself as a "diligent frequenter." Downes's scholarship
had won for him the reputation of being the "ablest Grecian of
Christendom." 10 In view of the only occasional Greek copying in
the notebooks and commonplace books, Mullinger may be right
in thinking: "It is only too probable that Downes's allurements
to learning met generally with but poor success." 101 On the other
hand, we have seen that Holdsworth required his students to read
the Greek Testament, Demosthenes, the Iliad, and the Odyssey.
In 1654, Isaac Barrow declared that his master, Duport, had had
his students reading not only Plato and Aristotle, but the Greek
poets, historians, and scholiasts as well. 102 Of his own efforts in
teaching Sophocles, Barrow whimsically admits: "I and my Soph-
ocles played to an empty house Egimus ego et Sophocles meus
in vacua Orchestra . . ." 10S By the later decades of the century,
however, Greek was a flourishing study under such masters as
Bentley, Joseph Wasse, and Joshua Barnes. Several volumes of
Joshua Barnes's Praelectiones Graecae, still in manuscript, are
preserved in Emmanuel College. The student of seventeenth-
century pedagogy has only to labor through these to see how
heavy could be the hand of a don at the time.

As examples of student proficiency in Greek, one may turn to
a series of commonplace books kept in Trinity (MSS. R. 16. 10-
19). These seem to belong to Edward Palmer (B.A., 1613/14), and
some, at least, date from his student days. All of them are jammed
with excerpts from the Greek of Aristotle particularly, and in
one of them he does an academic exercise in both Latin and Greek
on the subject: Humana anima ex Arist. sententia est immortalis.
In another commonplace book belonging to Roger Long, 104 of a
much later date, we find Strabo, Plato's Timaeus, and other en-
tries quoted in the Greek. Almost at the end of the century Rich-
ard Crossinge's 105 student efforts in Greek composition and trans-
lation show an extraordinary ability. Crossinge even memorializes
some of the tutors who directed him. One composition, for exam-
ple, was done jussu Tutoris Mri Bancks; a translation, which he
entitles: Theocriti Thyrsis sive Idyllum primum Latino donatum
carmine, was made Hortatu Mri Anthony mei amicissimi; another
translation: Demosthenes Oratio (<7repl rov o-Tt<f>dvov) de Corona in
Latinum conversa et stylo (quoad possum) Ciceronis expressa (De-
mosthenes' Oration on the Crown translated into Latin and ren-
dered, as far as I can, in Ciceronian style) is credited simply: Hor-

64 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

tatu Tutoris. Other student efforts of Crossinge include a Troas
Senecae, T pate rov W, a Latin play in Greek; a Greek poem
called: Christus Crucifixus; another Greek poem read "in Aula,
1690"; a Greek oration also read "in Aula, 1691"; and a careful
Latin translation of Demosthenes' First Olynthiac. Obviously,
Crossinge's studies in Greek had a distinct rhetorical slant, just
as the reading of the Latin poets, historians, and orators was to
foster "invention" or fertility in discourse. Or, as Holdsworth
explained to his freshmen: "The end of reading Ovid's Meta-
morphosis is to acquaint you with all the fables and mythology
of the poets, which afford invention for themes, verses and ora-
tions . . ." 106 Even Ovid was part of rhetoric, for early seven-
teenth-century Cambridge, as Tranio in The Taming of the Shrew
would have been pleased to know, was not "so devote to Aristotle's
ethics as Ovid be an outcast quite abjured . "

107

ETHICS

Seventeenth-century Cambridge was intensely "devote to Aris-
totle's ethics." With the Reformation and the rejection of a final
teaching authority on matters of faith and morals, the Protestant
found himself, on principle, his own supreme teacher and arbiter,
under the Bible, in matters of conscience. The puzzled conscience
could not submit itself to any finally authoritative tribunal,
whether in foro externo (an ecclesiastical court) or in foro interno
(the confessional). In the situation, the Cambridge student and,
indeed, all of seventeenth-century England was deeply concerned
with the practical science of right and wrong. If such designations
mean anything, the seventeenth century in England may be called
the Century of Ethics.

In the early part of the century, Aristotelian ethics was, perhaps,
the most carefully prepared dish in the curriculum, whether as
served up by such Catholic commentators as Victoria, Lessius, De
Lugo, Suarez, and Dominicus Soto, 108 or such Protestant Aristo-
telians as Melanchthon or Grotius. During the course of the cen-
tury, as Aristotelian metaphysics was gradually discarded and
Aristotelian ethics correspondingly weakened an ethics without
a metaphysics is like a bridge without abutments ethically con-
scious England produced such non-Aristotelians as Hobbes, against
whom we find at least one thesis: Rationes Boni et Mali non
pendent a Legibus Humanist and Shaftesbury, the moral in-
stinctivist. The swirl of controversy surrounding such new ethical
systems filled the void left by the abandonment of metaphysics,

THE ARTS 65

until man came to be viewed merely ethically, not metaphysically,
and philosophy itself came to be called, early in the eighteenth
century, "Moral Science," as, indeed, it is still designated at
Cambridge today.

As a good metaphysician, Aristotle determines the essence of
morality by the object or finis of moral activity. This finis is the
highest good obtainable, and is, according to Aristotle, happiness,
eudaemonia. All the ancients, of course, settled upon a "highest
good obtainable." As John Balderston, an Emmanuel student,
summarized in his notebook:

Epicurei posuerunt in voluptate, Stoici in habitu virtutis, Peripatetici
in actione virtutis, Platonici in unione hominis cum Deo. Singulas has
sententias breviter examinabimus & quantum veritatis in se contineant
videbimus. 110

The Epicurean's pleasure, the Stoic's virtue-is-its-own-reward, and
the Platonic perfect assimilation to God as man's summum bo-
num, are too well known to need comment. Least known of all,
though at one time best known, is Aristotle's actio virtutis, virtu-
ous activity. Happiness is secured by as perfect as possible a per-
formance of activity on the part of the soul throughout life. Moral
activity is that which is peculiar to man as man: not mere living,
which man shares with the plants; not mere sentient life, which
he shares with brute creation, but life as lived under the dictates
of reason. Happiness depends upon rational activity, and rational
activity presupposes freedom, which can be enjoyed only by im-
material beings. As one student phrased his position: Libertas
arbitrii soli substantiae Immateriali competit. 11 *

What is virtue, then? Virtue is simply a proficiency in willing
what is conformed to reason. Virtue is a potestas facilius agendi }
as distinct from the faculty of choice or the will (Aristotle does not
speak of the will as such), which is a potestas simpliciter agendi.
Virtue is to the will as conditioning is to a pitcher's arm. The arm
is the will, the nude faculty of action; conditioning, the toning of
nerve and muscle which makes throwing easy and exact, is virtue.
Moral virtue thus supposes some faculty of choice, a certain
amount of exercise and some intelligent direction.

Ethical virtue, according to Aristotle, is that permanent disposi-
tion of the will, or state of mind (constans animi propositum),
which, like a gyroscope, holds the free will to the mean (jueo-oT^s)
proper to man, as the mean is shown by reason. To quote from
our John Balderston's notebook: "The other day we proposed a

66 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

definition of virtue something like this, sc., that it is a constant
disposition of the soul to live according to law, or, as defined by
Aristotle elsewhere, the conscious habit [of choosing] the mean
proper to us, which habit is perfected by right reason as limited
by prudence/' 112 The important word in the passage is the mean.
Virtue always directs the choice to the mean. Courage, for exam-
ple, is the mean between cowardice and temerity; temperance is
the mean between overindulgence and abstemiousness.

The highest among the ethical virtues is justice. In the widest
sense of the term, justice or righteousness is the union of all the
virtues; the just man, the ethical saint, so perfectly possesses all
the virtues that he occupies the mean between sinner and zealot.
His zeal has made him much more than sinner, and his sense of
sinfulness has tempered his zealotry.

In the stricter sense, justice concerns fairness (to-ov) in matters
of loss and gain. Justice, in this narrower sense, is, first, distribu-
tive, respecting the fair partition of goods or honors according to
proportionate desert. Thus, the question whether to award the
Congressional Medal or the Navy Cross to a submarine command-
er is justly decided on principles of distributive justice, that is,
according to the relative merits of the hero's action in proportion
to what others did and the relative value of the achievement.
Commutative justice is concerned with matters which involve
exact equality, quid pro quo, to each his own, unicuique sua.
This supposes the right to possession, a natural right. Or as two
of our theses state it: Rerum privatarum possessionis Natura non
refragatur, 113 or, the other way about, Omnes possessions in rep.
non debent esse communes^ In deciding title to a piece of prop-
erty, the court follows the principles of commutative justice,
making its award not to the good versus the bad, the poor versus
the rich, the handsome versus the ugly.

The other Aristotelian virtues are variously listed and differ-
ently numbered. We shall not enter the lists on the question
whether Spenser is right in his letter to Raleigh in numbering
them twelve. Our beloved John Balderston rescues us by con-
fessing confusion in his own times: "We now turn our attention
to these virtues singly, and here, in the first place, crops up the
disputed number of the affections, on which point the moral
doctors as yet do not agree/' 115

However numbered be the virtues, at least the following list
covers the ground. Courage observes the mean between fearfulness
and overdaring. The brave man avoids danger, but does not fear

THE ARTS 67

it. Or, as Polonius tells his son, "Beware of entrance to a quarrel,
but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee." Tem-
perance is likewise observant of the mean, that is, between pleas-
ure and pain, whereby the temperate man neither starves nor
gluts himself.

Liberality is the virtue which holds the middle in the giving
and receiving of small things. The liberal man avoids prodigality
and parsimony. "Neither borrower nor lender be, For loan oft
loses both itself and friend [parsimony], And borrowing dulls the
edge of husbandry [prodigality]." The consideration of this virtue
suggested a common seventeenth-century disputation question,
for example, An usura sit licita? 11 * Magnificence, connected with
liberality, protects the mean in giving and receiving large matters.
Vulgarity or bad taste offends in one direction, miserliness in the
other. "Costly thy apparel as thy purse can buy, But not expressed
in fancy; rich, not gaudy . . ."

Highmindedness (/^eyaAo^ta) refers to matters of honor. It
avoids both overweening ambition and shamelessness. Mildness
keeps the balance in matters of revenge between wrathfulness and
passivity. Truthfulness, urbanity, and friendliness are the three
virtues which govern social conduct. The truthful man (or sincere
man) is neither braggart nor dissembler, neither Falstaff nor
Uriah Keep. The urbane man, apt and facile in social discourse,
is witty and elegant, but no fop; vivacious, but no buffoon. Final-
ly, friendliness holds the mean between obsequiousness and stiff-
ness. Friendship's moral relationship is expressed in the thesis:
Amicitia est solum inter bonos. 117 These last two social virtues
Shakespeare beautifully enunciates through Polonius:

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
The friends thou hast and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each [new]-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade . . .

Aristotle's ethical gentleman must have a .heart, but he must not
wear it on his sleeve!

Aristotle's gentleman, however, was no ethical island, no mere
self-perfecting, self-absolute entity. Moral causeways connected him
with society about him, with the state and the family. As Jacques
Maritain relates the parts of Aristotelian ethics: "Aristotle divided
the science of morality, of human conduct (ethics in the wide
sense) into three parts: the science of man's actions as an indi-

68 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

vidual (ethics in the stricter sense); the science of his actions as a
member of domestic society, economies', the science of his actions
as a member of the city (civil society), politics." 11S

Not only in the Nicomachean and Eudemian ethics, but in the
Politics as well, Aristotle insists that the individual has need of
other human individuals, in order to secure the practical ends of
human existence. Because of the multiplicity of human individ-
uals (the chief phase of the problem of the One and the Many),
ethical problems are soluble only in view of the existence of the
state. By nature, man is a homo politicus. The state originated
for the protection of man's existence, his life, to the full protec-
tion of which the state must promote what is morally upright. In
Aristotle's view, the principal business of the state is the develop-
ment of moral capacity in all the citizens of the voXirela, particu-
larly in the young. (Slaves, as noncitizens, do not come under this
benevolence.) The state comes before the individual, in the same
sense that the whole must come before the part and the end must
be prior to the means. Aristotle is metaphysically a totalitarian,
but only in the same sense that the Church is totalitarian: both
go on, despite the activity of any single part.

The basis of the state is the family, whose morality is called
economics. A oneness of feeling, not an artificial annihilation of
individuality, results in the concept of a citizenry, which is the
state. The oneness of feeling, resulting in the concord of the
citizenry, begins with the family unit. As the family achieves its
unanimity, so will the state; that is, through the centralization of
authority according to the due mean. Particularly speaking, the
most practicable form of the state will be one in which monar-
chical, aristocratic, and popular elements are welded into a work-
able form. Immediately, we understand the spate of scholastic
theses at Cambridge which defend the status quo: for example,
Monarchia est optima regiminis /orrna, 119 or Regimen Monar-
chicu Haereditarium praestat electivo. I2Q Democracy (the rule of
the mob), oligarchy (the rule of the few), and tyranny are bad
forms of government. Tyranny, the misuse of monarchy, is espe-
cially bad, under the principle: corruptio optimi pessima.

Finally, a politically cultured nation is capable of ruling a
backward. The northern Europeans, according to Aristotle, living
in the colder climes, possess courage, but lack artistic understand-
ing; the Asiatics, on the other hand, are quick in understanding,
but lack courage. "But the Grecians, placed as it were between
these two boundaries, so partake of them both as to be at the

THE ARTS 69

same time both courageous and sensible; for which reason Greece
continues free, and governed in the best manner possible, and
capable of commanding the whole world . . ." 121

That Aristotle's ethics fitted with seventeenth-century English
colonialism or, that seventeenth-century English colonialism
was influenced by Aristotle's ethics is immediately clear from
the above. Puritan in New England and Cavalier in Virginia and
Georgia, each nurtured in the same scholastic forum, understood
his ethical capacity to rule the uncultured, whether under north-
ern pine or southern palm.

THE
UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES

John Earle's "Down-right Scholler" (1628) could not ". . . kisse
his hand and cry Madame, nor talke idly enough to beare her
company." In addition to being trained by ethics in patterns of
moral behavior, by logic in patterns of thinking, and by rhetoric
in patterns of eloquence (though sometimes, according to Earle,
". . . his fist is cluncht with the habit of disputing"), the seven-
teenth-century scholar was burdened with an immense load of
scholastic science, not easily nor idly discussed. But what was
scholastic science all about? What was the compass of "the knowl-
edge of things through their necessary causes"? What, in brief,
bored the ladies?

The academic sciences were chiefly three: metaphysics, physics,
and mathematics. Metaphysics was the science of being as such
and of its transcendental principles, that is, of principles common
to stones, trees, men, God, essences, and quintessences. Physics,
the science of changeable being, not only included such phenom-
ena as time, motion, matter, and extension, but embraced, how-
ever promiscuously, all phenomena in the order of sensible being
which today belong to the natural sciences, from astronomy to
zoology. Physics, though concerned with extended being, was con-
cerned with it as qualified, not as quantified; mathematics concen-
trated on extended being merely as quantified, not as affected by
quality. Ideally, though rarely at seventeenth-century Cambridge,
cosmography, a nephew of physics and mathematics, studied the
geographical features of the world.

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 7 1

METAPHYSICS

In the introduction to Philosophy Without Metaphysics (1930),
Edmund Holmes avows: "My aim in writing this book has been
to do something towards freeing Philosophy from bondage to
Metaphysics. There was a time when Metaphysics dominated the
pursuit of knowledge in all its branches." 1 However absurd his
aim to free philosophy from metaphysics constructing a phi-
losophy without metaphysics is like building a brick wall with
tennis balls Holmes is right when he affirms that metaphysics,
especially what he calls "logical metaphysics" or scholastic meta-
physics, once dominated the pursuit of knowledge in every branch.
As Matthew Robinson succinctly writes of his studies in the earlier
seventeenth-century Cambridge: "The strength of [my] studies
lay in the Metaphysics." 2

Metaphysics, scholastic metaphysics, was the science of being as
such, entis qua entis, or, in good sound Aristotelian terms,
"... the science which studies Being qua Being, and the proper-
ties inherent in it in virtue of its own nature." 3 Metaphysics was
considered the highest of the sciences, not only because its object
was the highest possible abstraction, but because it derived its
principles from no other branch of knowledge and all other sci-
ences in turn depended upon it. 4 The modern bastardized use of
the term "metaphysics" to mean a sect of the occult concerns us
no more than an illegitimate child bothers Burke' s Peerage. We
are anxious, though, to distinguish scholastic metaphysics from a
legitimate modern usage. We speak of the "metaphysics behind
plain style" or of the "metaphysics of capitalism," where the word
metaphysics denotes a general philosophical explanation of these
phenomena. For the seventeenth century, as it had for centuries,
metaphysics meant the primary philosophical science, which dealt
with the most generalized principles of being and which prescind-
ed being entirely from its status as literary or economic, sensible or
suprasensible.

Though God, as a being, entered into metaphysics, the science
was based on reason, not on revelation. In metaphysics, the deity
is treated merely as an ens a se or ens necessarium, together with
his creatures (entia ab alio or entia contingentia) in a sort of com-
monwealth of being. Reason, and only reason, was the tool of the
metaphysician. Indeed, Holmes's objection to metaphysics is
precisely here: "For it is its exclusive reliance on intellect which
makes metaphysics so fatal an influence in philosophy." 5

72 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

This intellectual vision of the vast kingdom of being, which
someone has called "the kingdom of thingdom/' was termed by
Aristotle "First Philosophy/' The study of nude being, of its at-
tributes and ultimate principles, later came to be called pera ra
<j>vcn K a, 6 that is, that which lies behind or transcends the merely
physical, whose principles transcend, therefore, all categories and
"particular sciences/' since they are common to every sphere of
knowledge. This transcendency of metaphysical principle is obiter
affirmed by the eminent Matthew Wren: "As a boy in philosophy
class I learned first of all that the principle: causam causae esse
causam causati obtains universally, both morally and on the
platform/' 7

A real being is an actual being, that is, one which is not merely
a creation of the mind or merely possible. As Klubertanz explains
the real being which is the object of metaphysics: "The best way
to clarify the proper meaning of real is by contrast: an existing
airplane is a real machine, a spaceship is not (not in 1955 at least);
Citation is a real horse, Pegasus is not; Sir Winston Churchill is
a real human being, Ichabod Crane is not; angels are real beings,
leprechauns are not; an orange is a real being, a perfect sphere is
only an object of thought/' 8 Klubertanz goes on to explain that
the word "real" is used sometimes in an extended sense to desig-
nate not only what is actually now but also whatever has existed,
will exist, or can exist independent of the mind. The proper
business of metaphysics, however, is "the demonstrative knowl-
edge of the real inasmuch as it is real." 9 Yet, it is not the existence
of a real being which is the concern of the Aristotelian. Gilson
explains: " 'Among the many meanings of being/ Aristotle says,
'the first is the one where it means that which is and where it
signifies the substance/ In other words, the is of the thing is the
what of the thing, not the fact that it exists, but that which the
thing is and which makes it to be a substance/' 10 Being, then, this
difficillime scitu and maximum indeterminatum, predicable (how-
ever analogously) of everything, is the object of metaphysics.
Being is TO &/. If what follows seems synoptic, we plead only that
being (ens, TO 6v) is the highest synopsis possible.

Every being, everything that is, has certain common attributes:
it is one, true, and good. Being is one or undivided in itself. If
being is not undivided it is not one, but many; hence, not being,
but beings. That every being is true means that it is intelligible
or conformable to the mind (verum ontologicum). The conform-
ity of the mind to the thing is called logical truth (verum logicum),

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 73

hence, the true bespeaks a relationship of identity between the
knower and the thing known. Moral truth, verum morale, is the
conformity of thought with speech or external expression, and is
not, unhappily, a transcendental attribute. Finally, every being is
good, omne ens bonum, 11 that is, every being, be it Lucifer or
pneumococcus, enjoys a certain internal perfection, at least to the
extent of its beingness, whereby it is perfective of others or, at
least, of itself. As something perfective it is desirable; hence, good-
ness is also defined as ens in quantum appetibile.

Before leaving the notion of being and its attributes, we ought
to note that transcendental being is related to several other com-
mon scholastic terms, for example, essence, ens in the substantive,
not participial, sense. The essence of a thing is that which is its
basic constitutive and the root of all its properties id, quod in
aliqua re concipitur tamquam eius primum constitutivum et radix
omnium eius proprietatum. The essence of a thing is also called
its nature, inasmuch as essence is looked upon as the ultimate
principle of operation. As that which corresponds objectively to
the mental image or the name of a thing, essence is called quid-
dity id, quod mente percipimus et voce exprimimus, cum de-
claramus quid res sit. Or, essence is sometimes called form, as
denoting that which is or determines a thing to be what it is.
Finally, essence and substance, which we shall treat presently, are
one and the same. The literature of the earlier seventeenth cen-
tury is shot through with the terms: being, essence, nature, form,
substance. And, since the use of such terms is seldom casual, an
appreciation of their technical employment can enrich the reading
of such passages as one may find, say, in Milton: ". . . unsavoury
food, perhaps, to Spiritual Natures . . ," 12 "Sad cure! for who
would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being . . ." 13
"Since now we find this our empyreal form Incapable of mortal
injury . . ." 14 "Bright effluence of bright essence increate!" 15
"And this empyreal substance, cannot fail." 16

So much for being and its attributes; we turn now to the prin-
ciples of being. A principle, <p^, is that by which a thing is, or is
known. "It is a common property, then, of every principle to be the
first thing from which something either exists or comes into being
or becomes known." 17 The first principles of being in the order
of determination are potency and act. Potentiality (Swa/us r TO

Suva/xet ov) is opposed to actuality (<h/reAexeia, evepyeia) as the cast IS

opposed to the statue. The cast (potency) is, negatively, all that
the statue is positively; so, for a being to come into existence or

74 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

to undergo change, there must be a potentiality to be actualized.
For Fritz Kreisler to become a great musician, he had first to
possess a capacity to be developed. His musicianship is the reali-
zation of this capacity. The dualism of potency and act is above
all categories and ramifies, as is well known, through the whole of
scholastic thought.

In the order of sensible being, four principles, called causes, are
responsible for the constitution of an individual thing. The four
causes are: matter, form, efficient cause, and end. An causae per
se, materiales, formales, efficiens, finalis recte enumerantur a
Philosopho. 18

Matter (fay) is the principle of indetermination, the receptacle
(SeKTwcoV) of becoming and decay. Of itself, matter is neither gen-
erable nor corruptible. 19 Prime matter (fay Trpw-n?) is nude poten-
tiality, that is, matter without determining form. Without form
matter does not exist; indeed, the concept of mere matter is an
abstraction, or, as the scholastics described prime matter: Nee
quid, nee quale, nee quantum, nee quidquam aliud eorum quibus
constituitur ens. Because John Locke understood the scholastics
(at least, some of his contemporaries) to speak of prime "matter as
if it were a huge mass of existent nothing, he accused scholasticism
of verbalizing nature, that is, of projecting a mere verbalization
into the world of things. The concept of prime matter was a stock
object of ridicule late in the seventeenth century, when meta-
physics was a decaying and unpopular science. Joseph Glanvill,
for example, twits the scholastic: "I take him for a person that
understands the quiddities and haecceities, the prescisiones for-
males and the objectivae, the homogeneities and the heterogen-
eities, the categorimatice's and the syncategorimatice's, the
simpliciter's and the secundum quid's. He knows, no doubt, that
first matter that is neither quid, nor quale, nor quantum; and
that wonderful gremium materiae, out of which forms were
educed that were never there." 20 The effect is laughable, but one
can achieve the same effect by listing the stock terms of sociology
or cataloging the parts of a gas engine. What Glanvill and others
of his generation missed is that such terms describe, but do not
constitute, reality.

Prime matter, we must note, is distinguished from second mat-
ter or matter as existent in natural bodies (matter in the modern
sense), which exists because of the union of prime matter with
substantial form. Second matter is the proper study of Physica.

Form, which Aristotle calls elSo? or pop^y, is the other intrinsic

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 75

cause of being. As the principle of determination, form is united
with matter (the principle of indetermination) to produce
the individual. Form is the determining element of actual being
and, thus, is the metaphysical substitute for the Platonic Idea.
Herein lies the radical divergence of Aristotelianism and Platon-
ism. Plato's Ideas, or essences, exist apart from the concrete in-
dividuals who are copied from them. For Aristotle, form exists
only concretely and in the individual, distinct but not separated
from matter. The existence of a thing within a species, for exam-
ple, the existence of an animal as a dog rather than a cat, is due
to form, the determining factor. Due also to form is the explana-
tion of homogeneous plurality, or the identical likeness of the
many. That cobbler, Cossack, and Warden of the Cinque Ports
are equally men is due to the fact that they possess the same spe-
cific form; that they are individuals within the species (John
the cobbler, James the Cossack, and Peter Lord Warden of the
Cinque Ports) is due to the fact that they are constituted also
of matter, a determinable, perfectible factor. Both form and
matter are causes necessary for concrete, sensible existence, as
would conclude the questionist who proposed: An -forma sit
magis natura quam material

The uniting of matter and form and their dissolution, or the
coming into being (or more perfect being) of everything, is
brought about by another type of cause, efficient cause, TO KLVTJ-
TLKOV. Efficient cause is the agency by which an effect is produced,
or, as Aristotle says, "the source of the first beginning of change
or rest." 22 Only the First Cause, Himself uncaused, is entitled
unimparedly to His effect. Secondary causes are not absolutely
effective: the Prime Cause may suspend the effect. Here, in the
limitation and dependency of secondary efficient causality is the
metaphysical escape hatch for miracles and the reason behind
the question: "Whether the necessity of an efficient cause be
absolute." 23 As the above immediately implies, secondary causes
are limited as to the field of their activity (Nihil agit ultra
sphaera[m] activitatis suae), 24: nor can they produce an effect
greater than themselves: Accidens non pt producere substan-
tiam 25

But, do efficient causes operate by chance or according to an
end or purpose? An quae fiunt a natura casu fiant vel propter
finem? 26 In the scholastic cosmos everything that comes to be has
a purpose or final cause. Hence, there is no room, strictly speak-
ing, for chance; though an unforeseen (therefore, unintended)

7 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

effect might be said to happen casu. Final cause (end, purpose,
TO o5 cve/ca) is that on account of which a thing is made or some-
thing done. In the last analysis, final cause is identical with form,
since it is the form of the effect, considered as existing in the in-
tention of the agent, which (form) acts as a motive and a blue-
print of causal activity. The various aspects of finis are an-
alyzed, as in the notebook in King's College Library, MS. 15,
into finis qui, the thing desired, finis cui, the one for whom it is
desired, and finis quo, the intermediate means which are desired
in pursuit of the end. Thus, the freshman comes to Harvard
to seek an education (finis qui),, for his own benefit (finis cui),
to which end he asks for books in the Widener Library, hurries
to his classes, and hunts suitable recreation in Boston (fines
qui bus).

Transcendental being, whose notion, attributes and principles
we have brazenly oversimplified, is predicated analogously of
ens per se and ens per aliud (the whole and the part, which need
not detain us), of ens in se and ens in alio (substance and acci-
dent) and of ens a se and ens ab alio (God and creature).

The initial and bitterest attacks on seventeenth-century scho-
lastic metaphysics were launched in the sectors of substance
and accident. To the scholastics, being was divided into being
which of its essence inheres as a modification in another being,
and being which does not inhere in another. Being which does
not inhere in another is substance, or ens cui competit esse in
se, et non in alio tamquam in subjecto inhaesionis. Substance
stands, as it were, on its own two metaphysical feet, sui juris,
not as an ens a se, or independently of a cause, but as an ens in
se, or independently of a further subject in which it must inhere.
Descartes defined substance as an ens a se, reduced corporeal
substance to mere quantity, and made qualitative change noth-
ing more than a local change in quantity. Again, while scholastic
substance does serve as the substratum of accidental appearance,
this sustaining of accidents is not the primary note of substance.
God is a substance, yet His essence is anything but to sustain
qualifications. Locke, taking substance as mere substratum, re-
jected scholastic substance as a suppositional subflooring for
accidents, a merely fictional representation imagined to underlie
qualities, since we cannot imagine qualities to exist otherwise. 27
It is significant, though only negatively, that thesis questions
on substance do not appear in late seventeenth-century note-
books at Cambridge.

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 77

The essence of substance is to be in itself. Individual sub-
stances called supposita (diamonds, roses, tigers, Irishmen), are
the real actors in the drama of things, since they are ultimately
responsible for activities. Actiones sunt suppositorum, said the
scholastics, meaning that to act and to be acted upon belongs to
the individual complete substance. Thus, it is the man, not the
hand, who kills; it is the man, not the soul, who thinks. Much
less is action in the drama of things to be attributed to accidents,
the masks through which substance is perceived.

The individual, finite substance (man as individuated in
Peter) is modified by thousands of accidents. Peter is marked by
quantity and quality (physical accidents), hence, capable of
modification by the various states (iraQif) in which he finds him-
self and of being put into hundreds of relationships (TIRO'S ) with
other beings in the world. These modifications, states and rela-
tionships are accidents. The nine accidental qualifications of
being are: (i) quantity, being extended in space either in the
form of magnitude or multitude, that is, being that can be
measured, increased, or decreased, for example, a two-hundred
pound man or a five-foot-two girl; (2) quality, being as affecting
substance in its essence or its operation, for example, a brown
hen, a hot potato, a kind mother; (3) relation, being in logical
or real connection with another being by way of equality, sim-
ilarity, identity, parenthood, and so on; (4) action, being that
is productive of change: whipping, opening, carrying, and so on;
(5) passion, being changed or suffering change; being whipped,
being opened, being carried; (6) position (situs), being ordered
or arranged or disposed in a certain way: sitting, standing, bent,
looped, folded; (7) place, being located, that is, being near, in
the room, on the shelf, far away; (8) time, being measured ac-
cording to a before and after, for example, being as lasting until
two o'clock, payable on March i, arriving tomorrow; (cf) habit, 28
being modified by an adjacent substance, for example, wrapped
in cloth, wearing a hat, covered with violets. These nine modifi-
cations, states, and relations of being, plus substance, constitute
the ten categories of Aristotle. Only two of the modifications,
namely, quantity and quality, are in their very nature physical
accidents, which must inhere, like metaphysical parasites, in sub-
stance. Of the other seven, many problems arose in philosophical
exploration as to their exact nature. Really, these are simply
situations (relationships in the real world of things), mentally
formalized. Some are in themselves substances and only denom-

7& THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

inatively accidents (a helmet); some belong to relational, some
to habitual, categories. But whether a too-tight helmet, which
causes headache, should be classified under actio or habitus } is
not nearly as important as the realization that the categories
were only ways of cataloging things for the scholastics, not ab-
stractions which existed as such in the world of helmets and
heads.

In addition to material substance, which in its details is the
object of Physica, the universe contains immaterial substances
Dantur substantiae immateriales 29 which are so called because
they are not composed of matter and form. The human soul is
an immaterial, though incomplete, substance, but as the form
of the body, it was treated by Aristotle and the scholastics, not
in metaphysics, but in physics. Of angels and their existence,
the metaphysician, relying solely on reason, properly knows noth-
ing. He may speculate about angels hypothetically: "// angels,
pure created intelligences, exist, they occupy a limb on the tree
of being just above rational animal and below increate Intelli-
gence/' Or he may argue suasively with St. Thomas that, since
the universe is perfect, 30 that is, since it imitates all the perfec-
tions of God, it is becoming (oportet) for creatures to exist who
are pure intelligence and will. 31 Burgersdicius and others of the
late scholastics made a great show of proving apodictically the
existence of angels by reason. Says Burgersdicius in his Institu-
tionum Metaphysicarum (we are quoting the second edition,
1642): "The existence of Angels cannot be demonstrated from
the movements of the heavens, as was done by Aristotle, since it
is not clear that the heavens are moved by Angels." 32 This argu-
ment being invalid, he continues, "The existence of Angels must,
therefore, be gathered rather from the fact that there are in
nature certain effects which can be ascribed to no physical
cause . . . such as legerdemain [praestigiae], sorcery [maleficia],
temptations [tentationes] and other things of this kind." If an-
gels are not responsible for these effects, he argues, then we must
appeal to miracles. Yet, we cannot continually suppose miracles,
which require direct divine intervention; therefore these effects
demonstrate the existence of angels. From this ab-ignoto-in-notum
argument for the existence of angels, Burgersdicius goes on to
speculate about their nature, attributes, and activity with such
completeness that Raphael could have got up his lecture to
Adam in Book VIII of Paradise Lost by quickly reading over
Burgersdicius* chapters during the one-day flight to Paradise.

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 79

It is one thing to make a reasonable guess about the prob-
ability of created, suprasensible being and say with St. Thomas
"oportuit" and "rationabiliter ostendit"; 33 it is something else
to argue to the existence of angels from such an ambiguous phe-
nomenon as witchcraft. Two observations, which we shall de-
velop later, seem called for here. First, this glaring example of
decadent metaphysics resulted, obviously, from a passion for sys-
tematization, and the late scholastic is hoist with his own petard.
Secondly, scholastic metaphysics is led astray precisely by the
same sort of cabalistic erudition which proved so unhealthily
attractive elsewhere at Cambridge. Henry More is as good an
example as any of what can happen to a metaphysician gone
berserker.

In the suprasensible world the most important substance is,
of course, God. If the certain existence of angels cannot be ar-
gued to metaphysically, the seventeenth-century scholastic knew
how to argue to the existence of God sheerly by reason. Although,
he would argue, per exemplum, the incumbent president of the
United States does not of himself imply a thirty-third or a ninth
president, he does imply a first. Deus est Naturae lumine cog-
noscibilis^ is only one of a dozen formulae for the thesis. The
most interesting formula for the natural knowability of God
is found in Lawrence Bretton's notebook: Deum esse non est
articulus fidei The existence of God is not an article of faith.
The questionist merely follows St. Thomas and asserts that
because God is the object of knowledge He cannot strictly be
the object of belief, since belief depends sheerly on the testimony
of another. If I witness an automobile accident myself, the tes-
timony of another does not add to my knowledge that the fact
occurred. Another's testimony may add details and perspective,
but I cannot believe the accident occurred, since I already know
it, unaided by the revelations of another.

The metaphysician argued rationally to the existence of God
by speculating chiefly upon the existence of changeable, imper-
fect beings in the world of direct experience. In the rubble of
generation and decay about him, the metaphysician saw causes
at work, as changeable in essence as the effects they produced.
Either all being is contingent and changeable, involving the
logician's nightmare of an infinite series of contingent causes,
or the whole system depends ultimately upon a non-contingent,
necessary First Cause. This unchanging, self-sufficient First Cause,
which cannot not-be, is transcendentally disparate from changing,

80 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

self-insufficient, contingent beings. Necessarium et Contingens
differunt toto genere, as James Duport argued in one of his stu-
dent disputations. 35 Since the necessary and the contingent, the
a se and the ab olio, the Deity and His creatures, differ toto
genere, being must be predicated not univocally, but analogi-
cally, or both. There is a proportionality, say the scholastics, or a
likeness of relationship between God and His being and creature
and its being. Being is predicated of each, but of a transcen-
dentally different kind: God is being, creature has being.

That God was knowable by natural reason was cardinal to
seventeenth-century metaphysics. As the author of K 38 in St.
John's College Library says: "Hee that would bee a knoweing,
& well grounded Divine (for 'tis a matter of sweat & industrie,
notwithstanding ye wild 8c willful Contradictions of these un-
happie times) should seriously apply himself to ye study, & com-
prehension of that science wee call divinity, that twofold, i.
Natural 2 Supernatural 8c revealed/' 36 Clearly, natural theology
or theodicy stands independently of revelation. The author con-
tinues: "Naturall Divinities OeoXoyia <J>VCTLK^, I call that knowl-
edge of the Deity, & o' Deity towards him, which may bee at-
teined by ye light of nature . . ." It is ". . . that naturall under-
standing, a law of reason writ into our hearts, by the finger of God
8c Nature." The whole is learned by the ". . . light of Nature, I
believe,* though I know who says the contrary. *Socinus, Prae-
lect. Theol. c. 2 p. 3.4." Here within a single passage, the tutor
insists four times that God is attainable by reason alone.

But it is not only the existence of God which reason can at-
tain: within the province of this part of metaphysics is a certain
knowledge of the divine attributes. The Deity, says the author of
K 38, may be considered: "i. In esse absolute, in himself. 2. In
esse respective, in relation to ye creatures." Considering God
absolutely, or as He is in Himself, reason arrives at a tidy bundle
of attributes: ". . . & soe by the light of Nature wee may know,
these and such like perfections of his. i. His existence & being,
quod sit. 2. His unity. 3. His Infinity. 4. His Omnipotency. 5.
Simplicity. 6. Eternity. 7. Immutability. 8. Immobility. 9. His
Ubiquity & Omnipresence. 10. His infinite Wisdome, Purity,
Liberty." Beyond the absolute attributes of God which reason
can touch, there are relative attributes, or attributes which can
be predicated of God only subsequently to creation. "If wee
consider him in esse respective, in that Relation which hee
beares to ye Creatures, & soe by the principles of nature we may

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 8l

know him i. In ratione principii, that hee is the first principle
of being, the Sun, & Ocean from which all rayes, & rivers of
being proceed, that hee is V p&rov TO 6v, Causa Prima (soe Aris-
totle 6t&v T Trarrjp (SO Homer) rov Kal yevos eo/iv (soe Aratus).

2. In ratione Providentiae, t h he Governes all. 3. In ratione finis;
that hee is ye end to which all things doe or shall tend." The
study of God as man's last end connects theodicy with ethics,
a connection which the author of K 38 expounds: "Now wee
cannot know him to bee this End, seeing ye End, 8c meanes to
it are Relata, having an Intrinsecall, & necessary dependence
upon each other unless wee know ye way, 8c meanes to enjoy that
End. Now ye doeing of his will, is the way to ye Enjoyment of
him, who is End of all Creation & being, which will (soe farre
concerne Natural Divinitye whereof wee now speake) is conteined
in ye Law of Nature, or ye dictates of right Reason, the sume of
which, is comprised in ye Decalogue . . ."

How a seventeenth-century Cambridge lecturer filled out part
of such an outline as the above may be learned from the manu-
script lectures of Nicholas Felton, entitled Disputationes Meta-
physicae. 37 Felton wades through the intricacies of theodicy,
treating with particular thoroughness the questions on divine
foreknowledge, the metaphysical battlefront in the theological
wars on divine grace. Predestination was the burning issue in
the early seventeenth century, not only among Protestants but
among Catholics as well. The dispute between the Arminians
and the absolute Predestinarians is well known to students of
English literature; perhaps less well known, but similary vigor-
ous, was the dispute between the Jesuits and Dominicans within
the Catholic camp. 38 Throughout his tractate, Felton shows him-
self well abreast of the Catholic dispute and conversant with
the writings of the Catholic authorities. In Disputatio 2 a : An in
natura intellectuali appetitus sit aliquis videndi Deum innatus
aut elicitusl Felton refers to molina ibid., et dom, bannesf^ Mo-
lina being the Jesuit champion and Banez the Dominican Hector.
There is no need to point out to students of the early seventeenth
century that Cambridge scholars were completely privy to doings
on the Continent among Catholic scholastics. Another hundred
years, however, and the already rent fabric of scholastic thought,
as yet common to both Protestant and Catholic, would have all
but disintegrated.

Felton' s lectures are divided into two main sections. The first
part is chiefly concerned with the possibility and nature of man's

82 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

knowledge of God. Liberally buttressed with exact quotations
from, and references to, scholastic authorities, the main questions
treated are: Whether by natural reason it can be proved with
certitude that God can be known? Whether the essence of God
is beheld by a created intellect through some kind of likeness?
Whether it is within the absolute power of God to impart a
mental image [species impressa] by which His essence can be
clearly and intuitively known? Whether those who see God com-
prehend Him? Whether those who see God behold other things
in Him? Whether those who see God necessarily behold other
things which [forte?] are in Him? Whether all natures can be
seen in God?

The second section treats of divine knowledge and its objects.
Among the main questions here are: Whether in God there is
knowledge through which He understands? Whether God knows
other things than Himself? Whether God can be said to know
future events for the reason that they are really future? Whether
God has knowledge of non-beings? Whether God has knowledge
of future contingent events? Whether there is knowledge of fu-
ture contingent events antecedently to the determination of
the divine will? Whether God certainly knows conditionally con-
tingent future events? These last two questions: (i) does God
know the contingent future antecedently (with a priority of
order, not of time) to the divine decree which wills them to be?
and (2) does God know the conditionally contingent future, that
is, does God know a future action of man which will come to pass
only if a condition is fulfilled? these two questions are at the
nub of the dispute on the scientia media 40 and suppose consid-
erable subtlety (and patience) on the part of Felton's hearers.

Most of the natural theology questions in the notebooks are,
however, much less sophisticated. As part of metaphysics the
student was more likely to propose some such thesis as: Deus
est repletive in loco, 41 that is, God is wherever anything is or
possibly can be by reason of the attribute of immensity. Or, Deus
est causa omnium rerum quae vere subsistunt, as we find among
the propositions defended by Henry Docker. 42

So much for scholastic metaphysics, which ran through all the
compass of the notes of being, from featureless prime matter to
the glorious Intelligence of Intelligences, Pure Actuality, which
Aristotle almost lyrically describes in XII, 7, of the Metaphysica.
Something of Aristotle's vision of the Ultimate Reality must
have caught Sir Edwin Sandys, who, in h'is pious will, October

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 03

31, 1629, teft to Cambridge the princely ". . . sume of one thou-
sand pounds ... for the reysing of an annuall stipend for a
life lecture of Metaphysical Philosophic." 43

PHYSICS

Physica, Aristotle's physics, "studies the first principles of
things qua in motion." 44 It was, therefore, the science of the
changeable. By the early seventeenth century, physica had fixed
its unstable frontiers about a mass of philosophy and physical
science, including within its borders legitimate philosophical
speculation, excellent scientific observation, some quaint guess-
work, not a little superstition, a bit of quackery, and much good
intention, in a sort of academic Czechoslovakia.

Under the aegis of science, modern man thinks and talks of
the sensible world in terms of scientific categories: of inorganic
and organic, of invertebrates and vertebrates, of molecules and
atoms. He not only categorizes thus, he also synthesizes by stat-
ing relationships between categories. So, he speaks of structure
and function, of integration and equilibrium, and, ultimately,
of cause and effect, though he is more prone to talk of dependent
and independent variables. In all this, however, one thing is
axiomatic: whether in categorizing or synthesizing, his thought
about the sensible universe, or so he says, is limited to the ob-
servable and experiential. If he states that A and B stand in a
precise and, ideally, measurable relation of interdependence,
his justification is that Category A and Category B, as well as
their specific relationship, are all observable. They can be ver-
ified by anybody, anywhere, at any time under the same essential
conditions. So, in explanation (the term is used gingerly!) he
moves from the observably less general and more variable to the
observably more general and less variable. He feels his control
stops with the shore of the observable, and is loath to probe into
the watery plain which lies, or may lie, beyond. If he is radical,
and ambitious to play the philosopher, he may imply that noth-
ing lies beyond and that, should he be able, at last, to refine and
complete his observations, he will find the observable fully self-
explanatory. But, radical or conservative, he is content to settle
for knowing the world as only man can know it.

No wonder, then, that to the modern mind seventeenth-cen-
tury physica is an intellectual Babel. For the late (that is, seven-
teenth-century) Cambridge scholastic was bent on understanding
the sensible universe as any intelligent being can know it, be

84 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

the intelligence human, angelic, or divine. He wished^to analyze
the observable metaphysically, and so to understand it in terms
of being, even as it is known to God. He observed, perforce, but
he did not dream of expanding, controlling, and refining his
crude observations, since for him explanation and understand-
ing did not lie in that direction. Inevitably, therefore, he tended
to confuse scientific categories and relationships with metaphys-
ical categories and relationships, and, with observation limited,
to screw philosophical categories down upon the world of "fact"
with apparent disregard for what the "facts" had to offer of them-
selves. Thus, in reverse of his modern scholastic counterpart, he
tended to identify one distinct stratum of knowledge with an-
other: philosophy, the knowledge of things in terms of first
principles of being, with science, the knowledge of observable
reality in terms of principles which that reality yields of itself.

This, the confusion of philosophy and science, seems to be
what Peter Janich is defending in his Epistola Dedicatoria (1610)
to the second edition of Keckermann's Systema Physicum (Han-
over, 1623): "The usefulness of Physics, if we bring the matter
into the sunlight, is simply this: as a perennial fountain, it
pours forth from itself sweet streams into all the liberal arts
and disciplines, communicating one part to the Medics, another
to the Astronomers, other parts to other disciplines." 45

The point will be clarified as we study physica in detail. But,
first, we must determine exactly what the subject was supposed
to cover. Physics was also called natural philosophy. Roger North
says that his brother's ". . . appetite . . . was to naturall Phi-
losophy, w^ they call Phisicks." 46 In a set of notes entitled Ab-
stractio compendiosa philosophiae naturalis, Richard Morton
[?] says that "Physics" is the science de prindpiis rei naturalis
in fieri.* 7 Being in fieri or being as undergoing change is the ob-
ject of physics according to Lawrence Bretton's notebook, as
well: Ens mobile est subjectum phisices* 8 As Keckermann says:
Physica est Scientia contemplandi corpus naturale* Q He insists,
however, that the subject matter of physics ". . . is not Nature,
if we would speak carefully, but a body enjoying a Nature, which
as the cause and principle of such a body is the subject of this
science," With even greater exactitude J. Alsop's notes, Phisicae
definitiones, 5Q distinguish the material object of physics, that
is, the general subject as common to several sciences, from the
formal object, or the specific aspect under which the material
object is viewed. "The material object," he says, "is a natural

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 85

body, that is, one composed of matter and form." On the other
hand, "the formal object is the natural body precisely as natural,
that is, having in itself a principle of motion and rest." Hence,
he continues, ". . . physics does not treat of a natural body in
as much as, say, medicine can cure it, but in as much as it is a
natural body, and can move or be at rest." Furthermore, "God
and the angels do not pertain to physics, since they are not com-
prehended within its material object [natural bodies], and they
are not bodies because they do not consist of matter and form."
Finally, Alsop asserts that the object of physics goes even behind
changeability, to the reason for changeability: Nee objectum eius
recte corpus mobile, multo minus ens mobile, definitur ergo recte
phisica scientia corporis naturalis quatenus naturalis. These di-
verse statements of the limitations of physics, or natural philos-
ophy, are reconciled if we note that physics is concerned: (i)
with bodies, (2) as changeable, (3) precisely because endowed
with a nature, which is the "principle of operation."

Such clarity and precision as Alsop's and Keckermann's with
respect to the object of physics may seem to contradict what we
previously said of the seventeenth-century confusion of physica
with science. Alsop and the others are describing the object of
physica as, ideally, it should have been studied and as, de facto,
Aristotle conceived it. That it was not studied merely philosoph-
ically, but was confounded with the sciences, is clear from what
Matthew Robinson, admitted to St. John's College, 1644, says
of it as something "abstracted" from science. Of ". . . physics
(abstracted from anatomy, astronomy, meteorology, and the nat-
ural history at large) he thought these jejune studies not [worth]
exceeding one month's enquiry." 51 One does not "abstract" un-
less there is an identity in reality. The hopelessness of the confu-
sion, however, will be better understood if we attend to the
details of the discipline as it was actually taught.

We turn, therefore, to the details of physics as taught at Cam-
bridge. Physica generalia, corresponding roughly to Aristotle's
Physica, was a metaphysical tractate on bodies, their "affections/'
and qualities. It treated of substantial form, which is incom-
municable, 52 that is, is individual to each single body and can-
not be shared by two bodies. Identical twin goats, for example,
have each its own individual substantial form. Further, forms
which are not immaterial, as those of goats, are not created indi-
vidually, but are "educed" from the potentiality of matter; as
explained the questionist who answered: An forma Physica

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educatur e ma [ten] a? 53 Matter, which is both ingenerable and
incorruptible, 54 hankers for form, 55 and in this hankering, pre-
cisely, is matter such as it is. 56 The concept of a privation of
form and the concept of matter are identical concepts. 57 In the
generation of a new individual, however, there need be no
resolution of the composite to prime matter; 58 such a resolution
would make of nature a principle of disruption.

Nature, which is treated by Keckermann and others next after
the form and matter of natural bodies, is a very precise concept.
By the end of the century, Nature had become an amorphous
punching bag, as in Pope; and, with the passage of another cen-
tury, would become in Wordsworth a wraithy, elusive semipersona,
to be reverenced because unknown. What Pope and Bolingbroke
meant by Nature the scholastics called Mundus, the agglomera-
tion of individual natures into an ordered whole. Nature, how-
ever, to so hardheaded a scholastic as Keckermann, is no more
(nor less) than ipsa materia fa -forma corporis naturalis, suscipiens
alique respectum ad motum fa quietem corporis naturalis, unde
et describitur. Nature, then, to the early seventeenth century, is
matter and form, with particular reference to operation, that is,
to a natural body being at rest or in motion. Or, as Keckermann
continues, "Nature is the principle or cause of motion or quiet
in a natural body/' 59 So, insist others, is nature rightly defined. 60

Natural bodies, as we discover them in the world about us,
are extended or qualified. To some, the quantification of bodies
is not really distinct from their materiality: Quantitas non realiter
distinguitur a material 1 In other words, if one admits matter,
one immediately admits quantity. The impact of such a thesis
(c a . 1630) becomes apparent in explaining one of the cruces in
Paradise Lost. Milton, who should have been the orthodox dual-
ist, makes Raphael, a spirit, defend the thesis that spirits are
extended, sexed, 62 and capable of enjoying food. 63 Further, the
devils are corporeal: "Thir armor help'd thir harm, crush't in
and bruis'd Into thir substance pent . . ." 64 Milton, without
need of poetic license, is simply following Scotus, who postulates
a primitive prime matter (materia primo prima) in all creatures,
as against St. Thomas, who limits prime matter to sensible bodies.
Milton's Arbor Entis, as the reader knows, runs:

So from the root

Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves
More aery, last the bright consummate flow'r

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 87

Spirits odorous breathes: flowr's and thir fruit
Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublim'd
To vital Spirits aspire, to animal,
To Intellectual, give both life and sense . . . 65

and, yet, "one first matter all." 66 Milton is doing no more than
versifying Scotus, who says:

Ex his apparet, quod mundus est arbor quaedam pulcherrima, cuius
radix et seminarium est materia prima, folia fluentia sunt accidentia;
frondes et rami, sunt creata corruptibilia; flos rationalis anima; fructus
naturae consimilis, et perfectionis natura Angelica. Unicus autem hoc
seminarium dirigens et formans a principio, est manus Dei . . . De isto
igitur totius universalis naturae fundamento, materia scilicet primo
prima, verum est, quod in fundamento naturae nihil est distinctum. 67

At this point, a word must be spoken in explanation of Scotus.
His materia primo prima is not the divine substance, nor would
Scotus dream of identifying matter with spirit. Scotus would
claim the title "dualist'' as readily as St. Thomas. The difference
between Scotus as against St. Thomas and Aristotle is simply
this: while St. Thomas and Aristotle limited potentiality (materia
prima) to sensible beings, Scotus postulated a substratum of
potentiality (the capacity for change), as common to sensible be-
ings (men, dogs, lice) and suprasensible beings, for example,
angels. Angels, men, dogs, and lice, according to Scotus, enjoy
a common composition of form and materia primo prima. Ex-
tended beings, such as men, dogs, and lice, are composed of a
more immediate potentiality (materia prima) and substantial
form. In other terms, while Scotus says ". . . in fundamento
naturae nihil est distinctum" (meaning that a subpotentiality
underlies men and angels equally), St. Thomas insists that only
sensible beings can be composed of potency (materia prima) and
act. This is why every angel, in Thomistic speculation, is a com-
plete species in himself. Since the angel is not a composite of
form and a materia primo prima, he is pure act. One angel,
therefore, has nothing in common with another angel. Scotus
(and Suarez, for another reason) leave angels as individuals
within a species, sharing a common substratum of poten-
tiality. "Angels dancing on pinpoints" is a stock jibe at the
scholastics, but the question: what is an angel? (is he a composite
of form and remote potency or a pure form?) was the basic ques-
tion, as serious as it was subtle.

While a Thomist finds difficulty in conceiving a being that is

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a composite of form and matter (however remote such matter
may be) as not being extended (as not being as exactly corporeal
as, say, a human being), still, a wise sequax of St. Thomas will
give Scotus (Doctor Sub tills) credit for an insight which he does
not share. Unhappily, St. Thomas did not live to answer Scotus.
Change in natural bodies is either substantial, involving the
loss of one specific form and the acquisition of another, or acci-
dental, involving merely a transformation in quality (black to
white), quantity (larger to smaller), or space (here to there).
Change necessarily implies duration. Every created substance
undergoes duration, cuilibet creaturae competit suae durationis
mensura^ whether such duration be in "aeveternity," as with
the angels, where change is only instantaneous in a totum-simul
now, or in time, which is the numbering of motion in natural
bodies according to a before and af ter numerus motus sec-
undum prius et posterius^ 9 Only extended bodies move in time,
and Milton, who adopted the view of a tenuous corporeality in
the angels, is at least consistent when he requires the passage of
time for Raphael's flight:

Who since the Morning hour set out from Heav'n
Where God resides, and ere mid-day arrived
In Eden, distance inexpressible
By Numbers that have name. 70

Francis Boughey's notebook supports Milton: Ex hisce dictis,
sequitur contra nonnullos scholasticos } Angelas non posse mover e
in instantiJ 1

Similarly, only extended bodies can be said to be in place.
Place, TOTTOS, primum ambientis mobilis immobile?* is conceived
by the scholastics to be the inner surface of the surrounding air,
water, or solid which is immediately contiguous to the body. Thus,
the place of the book on one's desk is the upper surface of the
desk and the five surfaces of air touching the book. Space is sim-
ply the area occupied by the book, that is, the area lying within
the limits of the surrounding bodies; actual space can exist only
between actual bodies; hence, the only space in the universe lies
inside the periphery of the outermost heavens. What lies beyond
the outermost body is called imaginary space. Finally, actual
space, which is limited and finite, is potentially infinite, since
all extension is capable of indefinite increase. 73 The problem of
being "in place" involved many cognate problems. Could a
body be in several places at one time? According to the scholastics

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 89

all created being, whether corporeal or spiritual, is "circum-
scribed" or limited. St. Thomas says: "To be circumscribed by
local limits belongs to bodies only, whereas to be circumscribed
by essential limits belongs to all creatures, both corporeal and
spiritual." 74 The generic concept of circumscription is men-
tioned by Milton when Abdiel chides Lucifier:

[S]halt thou dispute

With him the points of liberty, who made
Thee what thou art, and formed the Power's of Heav'n
Such as he pleas'd, and circumscribed thir being? 7 5

In reading Paradise Lost, we find that the word "circumscrib'd"
slips by the eye with no indication "that it is the key word in
the passage, expressing the basic reason for Satan's impotence
against a noncircumscribed being. Though all created beings
are circumscribed by their essence, natural bodies are circum-
scribed by place. Esse circumscriptive in loco meant that a body
present in Boston could not be present in Chicago at the same
time. Francis Boughey in his notebook (ca. 1640) uses Rome and
Paris. A body, he says, "si sit Romae et Parisiis, quod idem ens
est in diversis ubi. Roma enim et Lutetia sunt diversa ubi & sic
poterit esse Romae Raphael et annihilari Parisiis simul et semel,
quod est idem ac dicere, idem simul et semel posse esse, et non
esse . . ." 76 Boughey is saying that the multiple presence of a
body in diverse places controverts the principle of contradiction,
that is, that the same thing cannot both be and not be at the
same time. Whether in the back of Boughey's mind is the dispute
between Protestants and Catholics on the multiple presence of
the Body of Christ, we cannot say; often, certainly, a philosoph-
ical thesis lays the charge for theological fire.

Before leaving the subject of natural bodies as such, we must
examine the implications of the question: "Is there a 'smallest 1
in natural bodies." 77 The question imports the concept of the
continuum. A continuum is anything extended, anything "having
parts outside of parts," and, therefore, divisible. To what extent
is a continuum divisible? The Sophists had long since raised the
problem of the impossibility of crossing a bridge or of the hare
overcoming the tortoise. 78 For the hare to overcome the tortoise,
the hare had to overcome half the distance separating them. To
overcome the half -distance, he had to overcome half of the half-
distance, and so ad infinitum. The distinction which solves the
problem will serve to bring out a seventeenth-century concept

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of the material world mathematically, an extended body can
be divided, or multiplied, indefinitely; physically, a body is
reducible to minima, to the equivalents of modern neutrons and
protons.

Thus far, physica has been a philosophical science, concerned
with the universal principles of matter, form, time, place, and
extension. Of the competence of scholastic philosophers up to
this point no one will find quarrel. But, scholastic physics did
not stop here. Keckermann, having finished this section of his
book, says: "Tradidimus generalem Scientiae Physicae partem,
idcirco specialem nos methodus ducit" 79 Keckermann's blithe
following of "method" into the specialized consideration of sec-
ondary matter and the analysis of sensible phenomena in terms
of his metaphysical principles must inevitably lead to consid-
erable, though charming, nonsense.

Book Two of Keckermann's Physica considers the basic phys-
ical organization of the cosmos: the heavens, their movements
and operations, their composition, and the five elements: ether,
fire, air, water, and earth. The Aristotelian cosmos, which Keck-
ermann adopts without correction in later editions, has been
put together as a series of concentric spheres, the outermost be-
ing the heaven of the fixed stars. God directly communicates
motion to the outermost circumference of things, whence motion
is transferred, with the help of lesser intelligences, 80 to the lower
and inner spheres, becoming less perfect and more elliptical as
motion is further removed from the direct influence of God.
From the moon inward, the composition of things differs from
the outer spheres, and it is different precisely because all bodies
but the celestial have added to their matter a privation and,
hence, a disposition, vague and imponderable, to mutability
and "passion," to wit, they can be mutually altered, generated,
and corrupted. 81 The earth lies unmoving at the center of the
world, unmoving because its property is heaviness, and, of
course, Non datur motus gravissimi simpliciter naturalist Spen-
ser's Cantoes on Mutabilitie were, obviously, based upon his
Cambridge physics, and, however poetical his statement and
naive scholastic theory may seem, the whole construct was pos-
tulated as an answer to a problem which required more than
naivete to raise. How, after all, is motion in a world of change-
able, nonpermanent, self-insufficient things to be explained?
Who keeps this kept universe? Above all, how?

The outermost sphere is simple, not a composition: Coelum

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est corpus simplicissimum. 83 As Keckermann explains: ". . . this
simplicity is not to be taken as that found in God and spirits,
i.e., such as excludes composition of matter and form," but
as expressing merely "immunity from a mixture of elements
. . . since it is not composed of other bodies, nor of the four
elements." 84 In fact, the plenum which extends from the heaven
of the fixed stars to the moon 85 is filled with ether, the highest
element in rank, though the fifth (quinta essentia), if we number
the elements as they are known to the senses. As simple, the
heavens are not corruptible, though they possibly had a specific
form. In Lawrence Bretton's notebook, two contrary theses ap-
pear: Goelum habet formam informantem and Coelum caret
forma informante. Keckermann himself held for a celestial form,
insisting upon two composing principles of the heavens: ea duo
sunt ex quibus coeleste corpus componitur, Materia nempe &
forma coelestis. 8Q What kind of matter was joined to the celestial
forms, even Keckermann found a bit difficult: inter difficillimas
exercitationes Physicis. 87 Where Keckermann feared to tread,
we shall not rush in.

We hope to be excused, further, from discussing the intricacies
of the movements of the planets and of their individual qualities.
It is worth noting, however, that in 1588, in the comitialia mag-
istralia held for Sir Walter Mildmay, the questionist replied
affirmatively to: "Whether all the divinations of astronomers
be based on conjectures rather than on science?" 8S and, in 1615,
during another comitial disputation at Cambridge, a cool head
but warm wit defended the thesis: Saturni frigus frigidi cerebri
figmentum The frigidity of Saturn is the figment of a frigid
brain. 89

To this section of physics belongs the consideration of simple
(as opposed to mixed) elements, of the secondary qualities of
elements, of their actions and interactions, and of their individ-
ual character as external elements (fire and earth) or as inter-
mediate elements (air and water). "An element," defines Kecker-
mann, "considered in itself, is a simple body, similar to an in-
complete body, out of which other bodies are composed and into
which they are resolved." 90 In their pure state elements are not
digestible: Pura Elementa non sunt Alimenta, a thesis which
occasioned a bit of fuss in 1630. Of the Ash Wednesday disputa-
tion of that year Richard Drake remembers: "The speech which
I gave on the Thesis: Pura Elementa non sunt Alimenta, roused
the hornets about my ears and so excited the anger of the Pro-

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chancellor, the Doctors and I don't know whom else, that I was
called to account before them, but luckily I got out of it." 91
Elements are changed by their forms, as Lawrence Bretton's
notebook records, and receive their efficacy as food, medicine,
and so on, from their forms: Propriae medicamentorum facul-
tates non ab elementorum crassis^ sed a forma substantiali prov-
eniunt. Finally, the elements are composed of smaller particles,
which, if stable, form a solid, or, if in motion, form a liquid:
Fluiditas oritur ex part. elem. motu. 92

As suggested by Drake's thesis above, simple elements may
combine into "mixtures," which receive a substantial form dif-
ferent from, and higher than, the forms of the elements in their
pure state. Perfecte mixtum corpus est, in quo omnia elementa
convenienter alterata mutuo uniuntur & copulantur perfection
quodam & constantiori temperii, pro nobilioris formae introduc-
tione. 3 The treatise De Mixtis expands into the treatises on heat
and its effect on chemicals; on life in general; on human, brute,
and plant life in particular, and, finally, on meteorological phe-
nomena: cornets, earthquakes, climate, and so on.

The mixture of elements into new bodies involves "temper-
ament," the arrangement and proportion of the elements in
the new body perfection quodam & constantiori temperie
as Keckermann is quoted above. Fire is warm and dry, air is warm
and moist, water is cold and moist, earth is cold and dry. As
these variously work their effects within a mixture, various
characteristics result; in living mixtures, these characteristics are
"humors."

Mixta are either natural or artificial. Among the interesting
artificial mixta treated by Keckermann, is the coctile, which is
any mixture quod concoctionem recipit?^ The coctile, which
sounds much like "cocktail," is divided into frixiones and elix-
ationes. One kind of elixir, whose recipe describes some modern
concoctions, is the ^oAwo-is. "To elixatio proper is opposed
/AoAwcris, which is an imperfect elixir, achieved when heat begins
to draw off the superfluous humidity, but the drawing-off is
thwarted by an excess of coldness and humor: which kind of
crudity the Latins called Flaccidity." 95 In view of the Con-
tinental's spurning of mixed drinks, and of the august NED's
professed ignorance as to the origin of "cocktail," we respectfully
suggest that the scholastics be charged with the term, if not with
the practice, of cocktails.

We need not delay over the characteristics or various kinds of

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 93

nonliving mixtures, whether natural or artificial, since most of
the scholastic treatise is concerned with the mixtum vivens. A
living body is one which possesses the immanent power of moving
itself vivens est id quod sese movet. The important word is
immanent: a wind-up toy train moves by itself, but not from a
principle immanent to itself. The principle of immanent move-
ment in a living being is the soul, whether this be a human, brute,
or merely vegetable form. Life is treated, first, in general, that is,
as common to man, brutes, plants, inasmuch as these are endowed
with certain affectiones, chiefly, health and sickness, and are gifted
with the three chief faculties of living bodies, the powers of nutri-
tion, growth, and generation. Reparatio, or the repairing of in-
jured parts, is considered the function of generation. Next, animal
life is treated, prescinding from whether such life is enjoyed by
brute creation or by man. Sentiency, the power to perceive con-
crete images of extended objects, is the most important aspect of
animal psychology; and Keckermann, Eustachius of St. Paul, and
Burgersdicius handle the matter carefully. Keckermann first treats
of the interior senses: the sensus communis, a sort of clearinghouse
for the data of perception; imaginatio, or fantasy, which is the
faculty of formulating concrete images of an object independently
of the object's presence, and sense memory, which recalls previous
sensations. Some scholastics added a fourth interior sense, sense
judgment, the power of discrimination which, for example, a
Virginia hunter uses in clearing a rail fence or a ditch. In addition
to the four interior senses, there are the five exterior senses: sight,
touch, hearing, taste, and smell, of which visus est sensus praes-
tantissimus. 96 These five exterior senses are not reducible to
touch, 97 and the problem of whether or no secondary sense quali-
ties are in the object itself or in the sense is at least implicated in
Lawrence Bretton's proposition that Nigrum videre est nihil
videre. Each sense has its own proper object, in respect to which
it is infallible: Sensus non fallitur circa proprium objectum. 98
Errors, for example, optical illusions, are not the result of faulty
sense reporting, but of faulty interpretation on the part of judg-
ment.

Such sound epistemology is followed by much nonsense on
waking and sleeping. Sleep tends its knitting by trussing up the
busy senses: An somnus qui e mortis imago sit omnium sensuum
ligatio.^ But, beneficial as sleep is and scholastic philosophers
are uniformly advocates of sleep too much sleep is harmful.
"Immoderate sleep," says Keckermann, "is a serious danger to

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health, because the humors and gaseous exhalations are thereby
built up in the body, with the result that the heart and brain,
becoming too moist and over-filled with cold and wet transpira-
tions, decay and become disposed to various diseases." 100 Sleep,
of course, introduces the problem of dreams. Here Keckermann
gives full'play to old-wivery. "Infants," he says, "before the age of
four or five do not dream easily or distinctly." As for the cause of
dreams: "Memory images and ideas come and go [Redprocantur
etiam imagines et species] according to the particular temper of
the body as a whole, the influence of the stars, and, finally, the
upsets and changes in the cerebral membranes, in other members
of the body and in the viscera, especially, in the stomach, spleen,
liver and, above all, in the organs destined for generation." 101 A
sexual explanation of dreams does not begin with Freud.

Next, after animal cognition, the scholastic physicist turned to
appetition. Sense appetite or the appetitive instinct (appetitus
concupiscent) is the nonvoluntary urge which makes a blood-
hound follow a trail and a smoker automatically reach for a ciga-
rette. In all animals there is a blind "cupidity," whereby they seek
the seeming good.

The last section of this part of physics, on animals in general,
includes locomotion, respiration, and anatomy. To the credit of
Cambridge physicists, very little scholastic anatomy was debated
in the schools, though Lawrence Bretton records such theses as:
The blood is part of the body, The hair and nails are not part of
the body [but excrescences], and The liver is not, according to
Aristotle, the blood-producing (at>aro)o-ts) organ. 102

The most important part of physica was the psychology of man.
Man's body was treated along with the rest of the animal king-
dom; the human soul, its origin, end, and operations received
separate and complete treatment. As we might expect, questions
on the human soul, especially of its origin, were most popular in
the Cambridge schools. The soul is the principle of life: Anima
est qua vivimus. 10 * It is not a complete substance, much less a
complete species (as are angelic forms, according to St. Thomas),
but, as the principle of intelligent life, it is united to the body as
its substantial form: Intellectivum principium unitur corpori ut
forma. 104 Though united to the body and animating the entire
body, it remains immaterial, being extended only ratione infor-
mationis, by reason of the body, which it animates: Anima recipit
extensiva p[er]fectione a materia, non intensiva. 105 As an im-
material being the soul is divinely created, Anima est divinitus

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 95

inspirata, W6 and created new with each individual, Productio
animae rationalis est nova creatio. 10 ^ "Whether the soul is created
and infused by God or is derived from the parents/' a question
raised long since by the Fathers, notably by St. Augustine, in con-
nection with the transmission of original sin, was answered at
Cambridge by Charles Hotham in i646. 108

Further, the rational soul is immortal, as Duport proved in one
of his disputations, 109 and, when separated from the body by death,
craves reunion, Anima separata appetit reuniri corpori. 13 - The
scholastics held that the rational soul, as the form of the body,
was also the principle of sentient and vegetative life, and that
these potencies of the soul remained with it even in the separated
state, 111 specifically, the suspended power of sensation. 112 One ra-
tional soul with three functions was the answer to the question:
"Whether in addition to the intellective soul there are other souls
essentially different." 113

The rational soul thinks, wills, and remembers through facul-
ties, which, as was commonly held at Cambridge, are really dis-
tinct from the soul itself. 114 The intellect, individual in each
individual, human person, 115 is the highest power of the soul, at
least according to the Thomists, and is both active in abstracting
the knowable essences from sense impressions and passive in re-
ceiving a species or mental image of the thing known. By means
of this impression the mind, in a certain way, becomes the thing.
The exact process of how the mind becomes the thing, or how an
immaterial faculty, the intellect, knows the concrete, material
singular, was one of the problems hotly disputed among the
scholastics. The Cambridge scholastics seemed to hold generally
with Suarez that the intellect primarily knows the singular, 116 and
can form proper concepts of singulars; m hence, any difficulty in
understanding is solely on the part of the intellect itself. 118 The
Thomists held that the mind primarily knows the universal and
by reflection on the phantasm of the singular, say, of Peter, knows
Peter. The point is not inconsequential, since Suarez' s position is
one less step removed from the object than St. Thomas's, and the
adoption of Suarez in the matter is typical of the English mind.
Be this as it may, both the Thomists and the Suarezians agreed
that things are not known according to their dignity in nature
(An eadem sint nobis notiora et natura); 119 accidents are known
prior to substance, though substance enjoys a priority of nature;
similarly, God is known consequently to creatures, though He is
in every way prior to them.

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The intellect, however, is no mere static receptacle of images.
Dynamically, it rearranges and relates images or simple apprehen-
sions according to the three speculative habits of understanding,
knowledge, and wisdom. Understanding is the habit of the mind
whereby it grasps intuitively such self-evident truths as "the whole
is greater than the part," or "the same thing cannot both be and
not be at the same time." Knowledge, or scientia, is the habit of
analysis whereby the mind infers one truth from another, draw-
ing out a principle to conclusions. Wisdom, sapientia, is the high-
est intellectual habit, which directs the mind in synthesizing
higher, unifying principles from multiple conclusions. In addition
to these three speculative habits are the two practical ^habits of
prudence and art: prudence, recta ratio agibilium, directs the
mind in the due order of things to be done (general living), while
art, recta ratio factibilium, directs the mind in planning things
to be made.

Memory, which some held to be a distinct faculty and not
merely a recollective function of the intellect, involves a preserv-
ing and a recalling of knowledge. The first process is called
memoria or memoria prima; the second, reminiscentia or memoria
orta. These differ not with respect to the object remembered but
with respect to the rememberer; hence the thesis: Memoria et
Reminiscentia differunt Subjective. As Keckermann explains:
"Prima memoria is that which judiciously moulds, orders and
confirms the images formed by the intellect lest they vanish." 121
On the other hand, "Orta memoria is the power which reinte-
grates or recollects these images which previously adhered to the
memory but later disappeared." 122

Partner to the intellect among the powers of the soul is will, the
faculty of choice. Will pertains to an immaterial being as right-
fully as intellect; indeed, will can pertain only to an immaterial
being, 123 The object of the will is good in general (bonum in
communi) and its freedom consists in choosing among different
forms of good, as the intellect presents the alternatives. Obviously,
the will and intellect interact, or, as St. Thomas states it: Voluntas
et Intellectus mutuo se includunt. 1 ^ As the intellect guides the
will by presenting motives, so the will influences the activity of
the intellect when it attends to one object rather than another or
in sustaining the prolonged attention of the intellect. As to which
is the higher faculty, the Scotists held for the will: Voluntas est
motor in toto regno animae. The Thomists, on the contrary, put
the imperium in the reason, rather than in the will, whence the

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disagreement between the Thomists and the other schools, as to
whether, in the final analysis, the will was necessarily determined
by the practical judgment of the intellect. James Duport wrote
comitial verses for the thesis that the practical intellect necessarily
determines the action of the will: Intellectus practicus necessario
determinat actionem voluntatis. 125 This is hardly more than a
Us de verbis, since the ultimate practical judgment is precisely
that according to which the will de facto chooses. The ultimate
practical judgment does not necessarily present as finally to be
chosen that which is better or even good for man. The will may
choose evil, though the evil is always presented to the will under
the aspect of good: bonum apparens. The choice of such a bonum
apparens is ; of course, the story "Of Man's first disobedience. . . ."

It seems noteworthy that theses on the will seldom appeared in
the Cambridge schools. One reason for shying away from the
subject of the will and its freedom may have been the difficulty of
defending the theses against the objections which a clever don
might raise. A more likely reason is that the freedom of the will
vis-a-vis divine grace was the most urgent theological problem of
the time and one argued heatedly and ad nauseam by the bach-
elors of divinity.

Following the treatise on the will and a short consideration of
such peculiarly human activities as speech, tears, and laughter,
the scholastic physicists usually treated woman De Homine
quatenus est Foemina, as Keckermann announces the section. It
was a man's world, for, as Keckermann bluntly asserts, ". . . as
far as the degree of perfection in nature is concerned, nature in-
tends the male rather than the female." 126 Indeed, women are, in
a certain way, an aberration of nature: foeminam esse 7rapeKf!a,<nv>
q. d. aberrationem quandam naturae, though Keckermann is saved
from being ungentle by allowing that it is universal nature which
envisions the perfect and the absolute, while "particular nature
does intend a diversity of temperaments and parts." In this sense
is Milton's Eve "This novelty on Earth, this fair defect of Na-
ture . . ." 127 The scholastics, however, were not completely un-
courtly: Keckermann, for instance, will have no part with such as
say that women are monsters. On the question: "Whether accord-
ing to Aristotle's doctrine woman be a monster?" he argues gal-
lantly: "This [that women are monsters] we deny with firmness,
since according to Aristotle's teaching monsters occur rarely and
extraordinarily. But, this cannot be said of women, for they are
begotten as frequently as men, indeed, more frequently, if we

98 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

believe the historians . . /' 128 Even more quaintly delightful is
Keckermann's gynics:

Because woman is of a moister and more frigid temperament than
man, she grows more quickly and has more excrescences such as hair. . .
Hence also we understand why woman has a sharper and subtler voice
than man, why she is more timid, generally more flighty and, withal,
more graceful, because of the coldness and moistness of her temperament:
the cold and moist temperament makes the trachea arteria, through
which the voice comes forth, softer and more relaxed; similarly, these
make for a lax and soft heart structure, so that a woman's heart is much
more easily moved than a man's, which is more solid and fibrous. 129

The female characteristics of softness, gracefulness, longer hair,
timidity, described by Keckermann, run through Milton's descrip-
tion of Eve (Paradise Lost, IV, 298-311): "For softness she and
sweet attractive grace . . . She, as a veil down to the slender
waist, Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dishevelled . . . which
implied Subjection . . . Yielded, with coy submission . . ." An-
other feminine characteristic, that woman grows faster than man,
had canonical implications. The great canonist, William Linde-
wode, Bishop of St. David's (d. 1446), gives as his final reason why
women reach the age of puberty before men: "the ill weed grows
apace/' 13 Clearly the Courtly Love tradition is not scholastic.

Following the treatment of human kind, Keckermann deals
with brute creation, plants, irregular bodies (monstra), fossils,
metals, and, finally, meteorology. On these subjects a few theses
questions occur in the notebooks, 131 but, aside from odd bits of
long-forgotten lore, the section offers little of interest to us.

Of intense interest, however, is the final part of physica, called
De mundo. "The world is nothing other than the ordered aggre-
gate or disposition of all the natural bodies created by God in the
six day period, arranged according to the highest, middlemost and
lowest part/' 132 says Keckermann. Or, as Burgersdicius states it,
connecting this section with the rest of physics: "Thus far have
been explained all species of natural bodies separately; it remains
for us to deal with them collectively. This collection of natural
bodies is called the world." 133

Keckermann, yielding to the temptation for oversystematiza-
tion, applies by analogy hylomorphism, the system of substantial
form and prime matter, to the world itself. The matter of the
world comprises ". . . the natural bodies of which the machine
of the world consists/' 134 The form is ". . . the order and dis-

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 99

position of these bodies." To speak of form in this sense, while
permissible as an analogy, leads easily to the consideration of sub-
stantial form merely as a relation. From speaking analogically of
the order to be found in the world as "form/' it is only a step to
speaking of the world soul, as Neoplatonism does. Keckermann
would, of course, have been horrified that his neat analogy could
have been so perverted, but the late scholastics never foresaw the
results of their blind overneatness.

The most important problem with respect to the world was its
origin. According to Aristotle, the articulated whole of the world
existed eternally, dependently on God, to be sure, but not created
in time. St. Thomas and the scholastics insisted that the world is
created solely by God and in time, as revelation teaches, though
St. Thomas admits the absolute possibility of its having existed
a b aeterno. The variance between Aristotle's teaching and divine
revelation had led long since to the assertion on the part of the
Averroists that what is philosophically true is not true theologi-
cally, and vice versa. The Averroistic position was revived in the
sixteenth century by Crellius, according to Keckermann: "Out of
this heading on the eternity of the world, there first arose the con-
troversy: Whether philosophical truths are true also in theology,
and e contra. For, when Fortunatus Crellius sought to defend this
thesis at the University of Heidelberg . . ." and had to admit
defeat, he changed his position to ". . . not all philosophical
truths are immediately true in theology. When this statement, too,
later proved embarrassing, and he could not or would not
revoke his opinion without losing face, he tried to defend it in
his writings." 135 Crellius' writings had some currency at Cam-
bridge. In an early seventeenth-century notebook, 136 Crellius'
Liber de Deo et Eius attributis is quoted generously and with
apparent approval. Again, in 1646, Charles Hotham seems to have
defended Crellius' position in answering to the question: Creatio
est cognoscibilis lumine naturae.^ 1

The Cantabrigians generally, however, even late in the century,
held for the creation of the world in time: Mundus non fuit ab
aeterno, 138 Epicureorum Dogmata de Ortu et Regimine Mundi
est falsa, 1 * 9 Mundus nee fuit nee potuit esse ab aeterno^ The
worthy James Duport, on the other hand, while not adopting
Crellius* position, held that the creation of the world is not de-
monstrable, 141 which is not to say that a theological truth is
philosophically false, but merely that it lacks philosophical proof.
The matter is of interest to us, since here, in the earlier seven-

100 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

teenth century, is further evidence that the driving of the wedge
between philosophy and theology began long before the scholastic
system seemed to be cracking. And that the eventual divorce of
systematic philosophy from theology would leave eighteenth-
century faith with hardly more than a sentimental attachment to
traditional forms is the point of Edward Davenant's wise proph-
ecy: ". . . for if a new philosophy is brought in, a new divinity
will shortly follow." 142

Such was physica, an unhappy medley of philosophy and science.
Even in so sketchy a view as given above, one feature stands out: the
scholastics continually allowed metaphysics to intrude upon their
handling of observable data. For example, all through Kecker-
mann's physica there occurs the metaphysical value-judgment that
one phenomenon is more perfect than another. Dry and warm are
more perfect than moist and cold, hence man is more perfect than
woman, celestial matter is higher than terrestrial, and so on. A
metaphysical hierarchy of being has no application except in
metaphysics, where things are classed according to their participa-
tion in being. In the physical world, the dry is no better than the
moist, nor is the male more perfect than the female.

The intrusion of metaphysics into the world of sensible phe-
nomena (the confusion of what modern scholastics call the first
and third degrees of abstraction) is linked to an a prioristic regard
for the system over the observable fact. The arrogance of the sys-
tem over the fact is illustrated by another of the questions pro-
posed at the dedication of Emmanuel College, 1588: An Physi-
corum ratio ferat, ullos homines complurium dierum., mensium,
annorum inediam, salva vita perferref Does the system of phys-
ics allow that human beings can endure a fast of several days,
months, or years without danger to life? 143 How long a human
animal can go without food is an empirical problem, yet the
question seems to suppose that the integrity of the principle is
prior to knowledge of the fact. It is as if a modern scholastic
psychologist proposed the question: "Does scholastic psychology
allow for the possibility of extrasensory perception?" As a conse-
quence of this "metaphysicizing" and "a-priorizing" the entire
discipline became a hopeless jumble of proper speculation about
the nature of the soul and the intellectual process with improper
guesswork about the effects of too much sleep.

How this amalgam of philosophy and science came about his-
torically is beyond our province. Aristotle had at least an em-
bryonic perception (his champions will go much further!) of the

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES *O1

distinction between a generalized consideration of the changeable
as opposed to taxonomy, and so forth, since his Physica is distinct
from his De Anima, De Partibus Animalium, De Parvis Naturali-
bus, De Meteoris, and the other works on natural philosophy.
Somewhere in the centuries between Aristotle and the Kecker-
manns and Burgersdicii the synthesizing genius of the scholastics
overreached itself. In their attempt to handle the sensible world
with logical neatness, in their overfidelity to Aristotle, which made
them include in the curriculum somewhere, somehow, everything
the Master had taught, and, finally, in their solving the purely cir-
cumstantial problem of reducing the ever-growing piles of em-
pirical data to a systematic coherence, the late scholastics ham-
mered together the unwieldly frame of seventeenth-century
physica.

Where within this framework philosophical considerations left
off and the exact sciences began, what belonged to the philosopher
and what to the scientist, were questions that seemed to have no
answer or too many answers. Salvare phaenomena! was the
battle cry of seventeenth-century speculation, and Descartes' study
of dioptrics, whatever one thinks of Descartes, was a genuine (and
seemingly knowledgeable) attempt to enter the no man's land
between the philosopher and the scientist. Descartes, by discarding
the system of scholastic forms, accidental and substantial, entita-
tive (accounting for the qualities of things) and representative
(accounting for the knowledge of things), hoped to explain the
phenomena of light, color, vision, et cetera, in terms of local mo-
tion. But what is local motion? How of it explained? Briefly, both
scholastic philosophy and the "new" philosophy found itself in a
psychosomatic quandary. And if the scholastic philosopher, ex-
pounding upon the sphere of fire that surrounds the sphere of air,
which he has never observed, is a spectacle before God and men,
he is no more a spectacle than the Newtonians who rejected
"hidden qualities" and intrinsic causes because they had never
observed them.

Had Keckermann been able to confine himself to Book I, to the
general principles of physica, and for the rest to include only such
philosophical problems as the nature and origin of the soul, the
function of the intellect and the will, leaving to others the task of
explaining womankind, dreams, and astronomical wonders,
scholastic metaphysics might not have been thrown out with the
bath. But, in point of fact (and this must be said in justification of
the scholastics), there were no others to whom the task of handling

102 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

the science might be left. Those who contemptuously dismiss the
scholastics for failing to post "no hunting" signs for themselves
about the preserve of physical phenomena, who charge them with
pontificating, always a priori, about science, must face up to the
problem of the seventeenth-century mind. If, for example, such
philosophers as Duport or Holdsworth had not taught what sci-
ence they knew and as well as they knew, who, pray, would have
cared for the caretaker's daughter? The scientists in those days
were natural philosophers.

MATHEMATICS

Mathematics, which Tranio bids Lucentio "[f]all to ... as
your stomach serves you," 144 had negligible vogue at early seven-
teenth-century Cambridge. Though it fitted, coordinately with
metaphysics and physics, in the scheme of Aristotle's philosophy
as the science of immovable being, or of being as endowed with
quantity, not as the subject of motion, Cambridge showed little
appetite for the science which was sweeping Italy and Germany in
the earlier seventeenth century. Not that the import of mathe-
matics was overlooked at Cambridge: An Mathematicus abstra-
hendo mentiatur et an differat a Physico^ 5 shows that someone at
Cambridge recognized the role of the mathematician as differing
from that of the physicist. Further, somebody at Cambridge rec-
ognized the abstractive character of mathematics: the science,
which, abstracting from the individual being everything but quan-
tity, considers the individual only as so high, so thick, and so wide.
The plain fact, however, is that Cambridge, during the scholastic
hegemony, was not concerned with mathematics.

The eminent John Wallis, speaking of the study of mathematics
during his stay at Emmanuel College in the early 1630'$, says:
"... I did thenceforth prosecute it [mathematics], (at School
and in the University) not as a formal Study, but as a pleasing
diversion, at spare hours. . . For I had none to direct me, what
books to read, or what to seek, or in what Method to proceed." 146
Furthermore, ". . . amongst more than Two hundred Students
(at that time) in our College, I do not know of any Two (perhaps
not any) who had more of Mathematics than I, (if so much) which
was then but little. . ." m Wallis's testimony to the almost in-
credible ignorance of mathematics at early seventeenth-century
Cambridge is borne out by Seth Ward, who, having come across
some old mathematics books in Sidney College, could find none to

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES log

help him master them. "The books were Greek, I mean unintel-
ligible, to all the fellows." 148

The university attitude toward mathematics is described, if not
explained, by Wallis, when he says: "For Mathematics, (at that
time, with us) were scarce looked upon as Academical Studies, but
rather Mechanical; as the business of Traders, Merchants, Seamen,
Carpenters, Surveyors of Lands, or the like; and perhaps some
Almanack-makers in London" 1 * To reduce mathematics to the
business of London almanack-makers is to put it low, indeed, on
the king's birthday list.

Why Cambridge should have been so indifferent to mathematics
has never been explained. While there is no avowed hostility to-
ward Italian mathematics, at least in the notebooks, one may
suspect that Galileo's aversion to Aristotle may have put off Aris-
totelian Cambridge. Galileo had fathered the new mechanics of
freely falling bodies, and in the Discorsi had made a mathematical
investigation of motion, that is, of the relationship among dis-
tance, velocity, and acceleration. It is possible that the Cambridge
physicists felt this to be an intrusion on Aristotelian physics,
which, we recall, felt itself alone to be the proper study of being
qua in motion. Further, Galileo through the persona of Salviati
attacked scholastic physics (defended by Simplicio) in the matter
of actual infinity.

Whatever the explanation, early seventeenth-century Cambridge
is almost a mathematical desert. A few documents recall an oasis.
Wallis and Ward had studied the science for themselves, and in
the Gonville and Caius College Library (MS. 686-613) is preserved
a treatment, 22 folios in length, of higher mathematics, entitled:
"For those that have skill in Spherique Trigonometric here fol-
lowes some choice Propositions selected out of the Books of Joannes
Antonio Magiro Professor of the Mathematicks at Patavis in Italie
Translated into English by me John Collins 1646." The only other
notebook we found to contain mathematics belonged to R. Long, 150
late in the century, which is so rudimentary as to begin: in
Arithemetica bene calleas 4 reg. Additionem, subtractionem, mul-
tiplicationem, divisionem . . . Long, of course, goes on to treat
geometry, and to divide mathematics: Ad scientias mathematicas
Pertinet Perspectiva . . . Musica . . . Astronomia . . . Mecha-
nica . . ., but the notebook, as a whole, seems to belong to some-
one who has met mathematics for the first time.

Briefly, Cambridge was so badly off in mathematics that, were
it not for the existence of Henry Briggs, Isaac Barrow, and a very

104 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

few others, one could scarcely believe that Newton came out of
such a mathematical Nazareth.

COSMOGRAPHY

Despite the fact that such prominent English cosmographers as
Samuel Purchas, Edward Wright, and Thomas Hood were Cam-
bridge dons, cosmography was in poor case at the University in
this, the first century of English colonization. This we might ex-
pect in view of the mathematical poverty of Cambridge, since;
according to E. G. R. Taylor, ". . . from 1583 onwards, English
geography entered upon a distinctly mathematical phase/' 151 As
Miss Taylor points out, there is an essential relationship between
cosmography, the science of the geographical world, and mathe-
matics, the science basic to navigation, whereby the geographical
world can be known. Lack of mathematical knowledge inevitably
resulted in ignorance of cosmography.

Cosmography, however, was something more than geography.
The basic frame was geographical, but in addition to the study of
the five zones and the kinds and locations of water and land areas,
cosmography included a bit of physical and cultural anthropology,
some geophysics and, even, comparative religion. Samuel Purchas,
the stay-at-home of St. John's College, Cambridge, wrote his
Relation of the Religions observed in All Ages and All Races
Discovered, begun in 1611, as essentially a work in cosmography,
with particular emphasis (as we rubrically say in dissertation
titles) on the peoples of the world and their religious beliefs and
practices. As concerned with man and his mores, with the natural
habitat of beasts, with flora and metal deposits, with winds, waves,
and waterspouts, cosmography is the relative of physica; as the
science of locating these things with exactitude upon a map, cos-
mography is related to mathematics.

The scope of cosmography, a forgotten science now and obsolete
In respect to such shiny, new models as "cultural anthropology"
and "geophysics/ 1 may be conveyed by listing the contents of one
of the classical works, Peter Apianus' Cosmo graphiae Introductio
cum quibusdam Geometriae [et] Astronomiae principiis ad earn
rem necessariis (1551). Apianus first treats "Of the Form [con-
struction, not substantial form] of the world and the encircling
bracelets of the spheres, on which the whole of cosmography de-
pends." Next, he treats the axis of the world, the poles and the
Colures. The Colures ( K 6\ovpoi) are the two circles which quarter
the globe longitudinally and bisect each other at right angles at

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 105

the poles. On this point, Macrobius is Apianus' commonplace, as
the latter comments on the Somnium Scipionis (I, 15). The Colures
passed through the equinoctial and solstitial points, hence were
spoken of as the Colurus Solstitiorum and the Colurus Aequinoc-
tionum. Next, after the Colurus, is the equator, the zodiac, the
horizon, the meridian, the two hemispheres, and the motion of
the earth, the five zones (two frigida, two temperata, and the
Adusta [tropical]), the four regions of the world, that is, the four
directions, the winds, longitude, the use of the quadrant, a table
of the declinationes Soils per omnes gr Elipticae, latitude, a listing
of countries, climates, the definition and listing of islands, penin-
sulas, isthmuses, and continents and, finally, the geographical
divisions of men: Perioed, Antoeci, Antipodes or Antichthones,
Peristii, and Amphistii.

The Perioeci, or circuncolae (neighbors), are those who dwell
on the same parallel of latitude, but 180 east or west of oneself,
"with whom we have nearly everything in common"; 152 the
Antoeci or anticolae dwell on the same longitude, but at the op-
posite southern latitude, hence, have the same seasons as we, but
not at the same time paria nobis tempora agunt, sed non pari-
ter. 153 We northerners, however, enjoy longer life, as "In the Com-
mencement day [1594] answered Mr Bell Regin. [of Queens']
. . . Boreales quam Australes sunt vitae diuturnioris." 154 The
Antipodes Dantur Antipodes 155 are the peoples who dwell at
diameters with oneself. "The Antipodes are those who oppose
footprints [vestigia obvertunt] with us and observe a similar
celestial elevation. With such we have nothing in common [geog-
raphy-wise] but everything altogether the contrary; for when the
Sun brings us summer, bitter winter oppresses them." 156 The
same, says Apianus, is true of day and night. Apianus offers, as an
example of antipodes, the Spaniards and the Indians. "Certain
Indians (because they are almost diametered) are the antipodes
of the Spaniards, and, reversing footprints with the Spaniards,
and, e contra, the Spaniards with the Indians, they tread the earth
equally . . ," 157

The Peristii [Periscii] are those "who dwell beneath the poles.
They are so called because of darkness, since darkness, like a
millstone, involves them half the year/' 158 The Amphiscii [Am-
phistcii] are those dwelling in equinoctial areas, ". . . whom the
sun strikes with the four shadows [seasons] ." 159

The poverty of Cambridge cosmography is not due alone to
lack of mathematics. Interests, of one kind and another, chiefly

106 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

political, restricted cosmographical study. Intrinsically, the uni-
versity on the Cam was simply not concerned with the science
beyond a classical topography, maps of the Holy Land, something
on Biblical beasts, Hebrew numismatics, and a consideration of
Jewish rites and customs, as the author of MS. K. 38 (St. John's
College Library) recommended as proper to a young divine. In
addition to a certain basic knowledge of his New Testament
whereabouts, Richard Crossinge admits in his notebook 160 to
little more than a rudimentary concern with European geography
(largely out of Dionysius), with a page or two on the Indies and
nothing on America. On the Far East, Crossinge notes: "In Oceano
Orient all: as to what lay beyond the shores of the Indies, while
nothing was known to the ancients, now to European navigators
is known only that there are islands there to the number of an
Archipelago, so that it can be compared to the European Archi-
pelago, i.e., of the Aegean Sea. Japan is the most celebrated of all
the islands." 161 That a late seventeenth-century Cambridge ^stu-
dent could lump Japan, the Philippines, and the East Indies into
an archipelago comparable to the Aegean Isles seems incredible,
in view of what was then known of the Far East. Before we criti-
cize the University, however, we must remember, first, that details
of voyages and the logs of navigators were state secrets of the
highest import (Germany took the lead in the previous century
in cosmography because the Ftiggers paid agents for getting Por-
tuguese data to Germany 162 ) and, secondly, that Continental
travel literature, like the Portuguese Jesuit Relations, was suspect
and negligible to the little northern island, which seemed bent on
cutting itself off from the rest of the world.

Be this as it may, Cambridge knew the elements, at least, of
cosmography: that the world is round, that the antipodes grow
heads above their shoulders and that Othello told only gently
incongruous tales in wooing his Desdemona. Desdemona's listen- '
ing to Othello's tales merely shakes our belief that the seventeenth-
century scholar could never bear my lady company.

THE
GRADUATE STUDIES

Seventeenth-century Cambridge bachelors did not pay their
guineas and become, merely by growing in age and grace, masters
of their arts. The magistratus at Cambridge still meant that a
bachelor had pursued further studies at the University and by the
performance of his acts had proved to his masters and the master
to his doctors that he was fit to join their select company.

The higher fields of study were the medieval four: theology,
medicine, law, and music. Theology was, of course, the all-impor-
tant field: who could be primarily concerned with the skeletal
system, the Pandects or hypo-mixolydian modes, when a man's
very salvation was the issue, when governments were formed, aca-
demic positions filled, and, often enough, blood spilled, according
as one held supra- or infralapsarianism? No historian of the
seventeenth century can afford to ignore the paramountcy of
theology in university life, much less dare he minimize the issues.
In our modern world, where divinity schools are innocuously
tucked away in a corner of the university, or completely divorced
from university life in independent seminaries, it is hard to believe
that medicine, law, and music were not then the aristocrats they
are now. Indeed, at seventeenth-century Cambridge, law and mu-
sic, and to a much lesser degree medicine, were suffering what
Clarendon would have described in one of his heroes, say, Falk-
land, as "broken fortunes" to an almost incredible extent. We
agree with Professor Morison, when he says: "All but Divinity had
very little importance in our period. There were no proper facili-
ties for the study of 'physic' at Cambridge or Oxford; intending
physicians either served an apprenticeship or studied at Leyden,
Padua, or some other Continental university. The reformation
made the civil and canon law historical studies of no direct pro-

108 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

fessional value; the common lawyers had what amounted to a law
school of their own at the Inns of Court. The music degrees, to-
ward which no instruction was provided, were little regarded and
seldom taken." 1

THEOLOGY

Cambridge had always prided herself upon her theology. A. G.
Little notes: "Few universities in the thirteenth century had a
Faculty of Theology. Paris, Oxford and Cambridge were among
them/' 2 Of the physical provision for divinity study at Cambridge,
MSS. Baker record: "Ex MS Col Corp. Chr. Cant. The Founda-
tion of the Public Schools at Cambridge I an [sic!] enduced by
my Records, that the university began the Divinity Schools, by
the help of y r Friends & that they layd the Foundation, & builded
the walls to a certain height, having much help of Sr. Rob. Thorpe
Senior:, w ch was about An. 1369." 3

As the seventeenth century opened, there had broken out in the
English universities a furious theological ferment, to which Prin-
cipal Tulloch refers, with a fine Scot's reserve, as an "excitement
in the universities." 4 The nine Lambeth Articles had just been
drawn up (1595) and the jus divmum of Sola Scriptura as against
the jus divinum of the episcopacy were only beginning to be
oriented, like chromosomes at metaphase, for the bloody develop-
ment to come.

Cambridge, surely, felt the odium theologicum. In 1600, Thom-
as Barlow, upon an attack by a "boy Bachelour of Divinitie" in
the University pulpit of St. Mary's, writes to the Vice-Chancellor,
using a Pauline anacoluthon: "It is no doubt a great encourage-
ment for men to answere the publiq Calumniators of our open
Adversaries in cases of the highest Controversie, 8c their paines to
be barkt at by every Whelpe that can scarce quest without Booke
a Sounde Position of Divinitie . . ." 5

"A Sounde Position of Divinitie" was, of course, that held by
the Church of England, whatever that meant in 1600. In 1598
(10 December) Jegon wrote to Whitgift:

For matters of Scholes, may it please your G. to understand that the
Questions of Reprobation, & certainty of fayth, have lately bene revived,
threatninge some disturbance, w clr I have hitherto endured for peace sake,
without any publick examination: or process therein ... I desire, if to
your wisdome it seeme meete, your G. would be pleased to advertise our
Readers, in Lectures, Be especially in Determinacions, to maintaine for all
matters exactly the doctrine of the Church of England . . .6

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 1OQ

The Cambridge concern for orthodoxy, according to "exactly the
doctrine of the Church of England/' continued until well after the
unmasking of the parties at the ball. As late as June 26, 1626,
"Mr. Fawcett coming to commence Bach, in Divinity is convented
before D r Gostlin Vicechan. & his Assistants, where in satisfaction
of some matters, that he was charged to have uttered & maintained
in his Acts, he subscribed as followeth to his Position: Sola Scrip-
turarum lectio, Secundum ritum Anglicanum, est Medium ordi-
narie sufficiens ad finem gerendum. Huic propositioni lubens et
ex animo subscripsi et revera nunquam aliter tenui. Geo. Fawcett.
At a Munday Court!" 1 George Fawcett's position, be it noted,
holds for Sola Scriptura, but according to the ritus Anglicanus, a
middle-of-the-road position of being nowhere. Even after 1626,
one could still maintain communion with the establishment and
yet puritanize. But not publicly! The exquisite agony of a stu-
dent's conscience appears in the copying in a notebook, dated
somewhere between 1633 and 1640:

Qu: Wheth r rebus sic stantibus non conformists must of necessary duty
still preach at all hazards or forbear.

If I must preach, then eith r as a separatist or a Communicant w th the
psent church. Not as a Separatist. If soe the Church of England from w ch
I separate must then be Apostate & Anti-christian. If so now, then ever so
in K. Edward, Qu. Elizabeth, K. James raignes . . . 8

No modern mind can but sympathize with so wrenching a di-
lemma. This student's problem, of being free to preach what he
will or of challenging the very legitimacy of the Church of Eng-
land, "if so now, then ever so in K. Edward ['s raigne]," was ex-
ploited by the Catholic apologists, particularly by ". . . the cun-
ning labours of Fisher the Jesuit/' 9 As Tulloch shrewdly sum-
marizes:

The fact that a mind like Chillingworth's [and our student's] was en-
tangled by the thickly-sown sophistries, is enough to show how powerful
they were, and how ingenious and seasonable their adaptation to the
intellectual and spiritual atmosphere of the time. But the very stress of
the Jesuit arguments opened the way for a more rational theory of re-
ligion. The necessity of an infallible Church was their great point. How
could men believe aright without some "certain guide"? 10

In other words, the Jesuits were asking, how could a man stay in
the Church of England and still separate from it?
We cannot, here, trace the history of English theological thought

110 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

through the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, that is, through
the vagaries of Puritan, Anglo-Catholic and, as Tulloch maintains,
liberal English theology. We are concerned, overbriefly, with di-
vinity at earlier seventeenth-century Cambridge. The Whig his-
torians have made of Cambridge a Puritan university, coloring a
place like Trinity with Emmanuel; the Tories, on the other hand,
will urge the loyalty of Cambridge divinity, arguing that Em-
manuel was a separatist little seedbed, which can be ignored as
far as the whole University Is concerned. The truth lies some-
where between. Cambridge was as loyal, on the whole, as Oxford
(we yield the confusion of orthodoxy with loyalty) and, if Cam-
bridge be theologically suspect in the earlier decades of the i6oo's,
it is because two of her colleges, Emmanuel and Sidney Sussex,
smelled of Puritanism.

How imperfectly Cambridge divinity has been hitherto under-
stood, especially by Mullinger in his Cambridge Characteristics
in the Seventeenth Century, would take a volume to show. Next
to ethics, divinity occupies the largest space in our notebooks;
indeed, if we include the copies and digests of sermons, it looms
largest. Had our notebooks been available to Mullinger, we doubt
he would have said: "When we naturally turn to ask what place
theology occupied in the curriculum of an age which produced
more eminent divines than any other period in our history,
we are surprised to find that as a subject of college instruction
there is no evidence of any provision existing for its cultiva-
tion." al On this point of how much theological instruction was
afforded in the Cambridge colleges, we notice a statute of Em-
manuel: "We decree, then, that the fellows of the aforesaid col-
lege hold a theological disputation every week, in which each one
will answer in his turn, the opponents being two; each one will
fill his place in order, according to the usual custom of the other
colleges . . ." 12 The fellows of Emmanuel, therefore, were held
to a weekly disputation in the college on divinity, to which,
certainly, the scholars listened. For, as the same statute warns
both fellows and scholars: "Let both fellows and scholars, who
obtrude upon the college for a reason other than their dedication
to Sacred Theology, know . . . that they frustrate our hope
. . ." 13 This entire statute, containing both extracts, is, word
for word, to be found among the statutes of Sidney Sussex Col-
lege. 14 But even without these statutes, we would know from sev-
eral documents that divinity was common fare in the Cambridge
colleges. Among the documents preserved in Emmanuel College

THE GRADUATE STUDIES HI

is an interesting little piece, entitled: A brief e and pithy catechism
as it was delivered in Emanuel college chappell 1628 by Anthony
Tukneye. As the title indicates, it is a very simple little catechism
of Puritan theology. A sample follows:

Quaest. How many covenants are there. Ans. Ye old w ch is ye covenant
of workes and ye new w ch is ye covenant of grace. Quaest. W* is ye tenor
of ye covenant of workes. Ans. doe this & live. Q. W* is the tenor of the
covenant of grace. Ans. believe & be saved. Q. How many wayes is the
covenant of grace manifested. Ans. two wayes . . , 15

The very simplicity of Tuckney's catechism (in contrast to the
sophisticated, almost professional, experiences of D'Ewes as an
undergraduate) is evidence that no Emmanuel man was going
to escape a grounding in divinity. Another document preserved
in Emmanuel, apparently written for the same purpose as Tuck-
ney's catechism, is: A table containinge the Sume of Theologye
B D r Preston M r of Em Col., according to which, "Theology is
the heavenly 8c new wisdom revealed by the holy ghoste . . ." 16
presumably, to the young students of Emmanuel.

Mullinger similarly overlooks the "diting" of sermons, a prac-
tice almost universal in early seventeenth-century Cambridge. It
must have been a curious sight and a dismaying one to the
preacher to see the students on a Sunday morning, whether
in Great St. Mary's or St. Clement's or in one of the college
chapels, industriously copying down every word spoken from the
pulpit. D'Ewes records of himself, in 1618: "I continued, like-
wise, my former course of noting sermons . . ." 1T Again, in 1620,
he remembers: ". . . on March the 5th, being Sunday, having
heard one sermon in our College chapel, and afterwards another
in St. Mary's in the forenoon, I went in the afternoon to another
church in Cambridge, where my kind friend Mr. Jeffray, Bach-
elor of Divinity and Fellow of Pembroke Hall, preached . . ." 18
D'Ewes not only heard three sermons on that Sunday, but, since
"Every sermon was orthodox and useful . . . after supper I
busied myself in enlarging and correcting such notes as I had
taken at the afternoon sermon." 19 And D'Ewes, be it noted, had
no intention of becoming a divine. His aim, later achieved in
the Temple, was the law.

But not only were sermons listened to, copied down, and under-
stood by undergraduates; often enough, sermons were answered.
There is no need to review the countless pulpit controversies of
seventeenth-century Cambridge, nor to list the recantations men-

112 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

tioned in MSS. Baker. Directly to our point is a manuscript in
Emmanuel: A sermon of Mr. John Cotton touchinge the time
when the Lord's day beginneth whether at the eveninge or in the
morninge,^ Immediately following Cotton's sermon, is: "An
answer of Mr. Wheatleys to the foregoinge discourse . . . /' in
which Cotton's adversary attacks him, modo academico: "i. Ye
Syllogisme seems not to be true in forme for it consists wholly
of particular propositions ... 2. Ye Syllogisme concludes not
ye question, for ye question is this, whyther ye sanctification of ye
Xtian Sabbath is to take beginninge at ye Eveninge or not & the
conclusion is Evening & morning . . ." 21 Such a controversy
could not have escaped the attention of undergraduates. It
would be difficult, in fact, to conceive how a student could have
listened to such disputes and ordinary sermons for four years
without acquiring a systematic knowledge of divinity. For, what-
ever one may say about seventeenth-century sermons, they were
systematic and long. Indeed, for hearing only the Sunday sermon,
the Cambridge undergraduate could have been credited in a
modern American university with a two-hour course in sacred
theology.

Mullinger disregards, further, the divinity disputations. These
were the acme of the school exercises, and the undergraduates
attended. As D'Ewes recollects: "The commencement drawing
now near, I was partaker, almost each day of this month, with
the hearing of Clerums and Divinity Acts . . ." 22 This was in
1620; two years previously, he records: "I was present, also, not
only at the commencement in St. Mary's but at divers divinity
acts in the public School, at problems, common-places, and
catechisings, for the most part then constantly observed in their
due times in our private chapel in St. John's . . ." 23 Finally, on
the point of there having been, as Mullinger asserts, ". . . no
evidence of any provision existing for its [theology's] cultivation/'
we quote our beloved D'Ewes on himself in 1621, immediately
after his leaving Cambridge: ". . . one of their [the French Em-
bassy's] secular priests came to me, and began to discourse with
me in Latin, which we continued a pretty while; in which I
maintained the Protestant religion to be the truth, the Pope
to be Antichrist, with some other theses; in all which, I came
away from him more confirmed in all the truth than before." 24
The fact that a recent Cambridge undergraduate could argue
scholastically, in Latin, with a Frenchman, in 1621, shows how
well he had absorbed Cambridge divinity, and how close, really,

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 113

Cambridge and the Continent were in the iGso's, despite the
difficulties of the English Court with the Spanish Ambassador.

One might delay, pleasantly and forever, with Cambridge
reminiscences. The problem remains, however: what theology
was taught at Cambridge in the earlier seventeenth century?
We limit ourselves to dogma, casuistry, and ritual.

The sacred theology taught at Cambridge in the earlier seven-
teenth century was Protestant and scholastic a safe enough
statement. As one reads through the notebooks and the records
of Cambridge disputations, one is not surprised that the questions
proposed in the schools were largely those having to do with
the issues disputed most hotly between Protestants and Catholics.
In a random sampling of seven manuscripts, 25 we found that,
in a total of fifty-one questions (treated at length as full de-
terminations or summarized), thirty-six were specifically Prot-
estant, and fifteen held, commonly, by Protestant and Catholic.
The total breaks down: twenty-one questions on grace, justifica-
tion, and free will; four on the ministry; four on the papacy;
four on the Eucharist; three on the state of persons after death;
two on the cult of sacred images; six on moral theology, and
seven miscellaneous. 26 That twenty-one of the fifty-one questions
should have been about grace and justification will puzzle none
who is aware of what the Reformation was all about. The ques-
tions on grace, in general, meet frontally the teachings of Trent.
Typical of these questions on grace are three from Pembroke
College Library, MS. 19 (proxime post 1590):

Justitia Christi e formalis iustitia renatorum.
Deus non dedit omnib 8 auxilium sufficient ad salutem.
Concupiscentia in renatis habet vera ratione peccati.

In connection with these theses it may be pointed out that Trent
defined carefully that justification is intrinsic to the soul itself,
not a mere extrinsic imputation of the righteousness of Christ;
that God grants to all sufficient means to salvation, and that
concupiscence, the urge to inordinateness in sex and property,
is not of itself sin, but the stimulus peccati. Similarly posited
against the Council of Trent was the following: "Sola imputa-
tione obedientiae Christi per fidem peccatores justificantur ad
salutem." This thesis: "Solely by the imputation through faith
of Christ's obedience are sinners justified unto salvation/' one of
the theses proposed by D. ]on. Overallo in publicis comitiis
quando theologiae doctor effectus est [i5g6], 27 X-rays the fracture

114 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

between Trent and the Protestant Confessions in general. For
the deepest-lying issue between Roman Catholicism and Prot-
estantism was the nature of justification.

Lutheranism and, in mitigated language and concept, Cal-
vinism held that man is intrinsically and irreparably corrupt,
original sin having infected our nature with an incurable moral
disease. "Original sinne then is a full corruption of the whole
nature of man, the which corruption is proceded from Adam
into all his race, and bringeth forth in ma three maner of sinnes.
The first comprehedeth every inward motion and thought in
mans understandynge, although the will give not consent there-
unto . . ." 2S Thus, Beza, the Lutheranizing Calvinist, adopts
Luther's position that every action of man is sin. He does not
go so far as to adopt Luther's Klotzstock-und-steintheorie y that
is, that man is reduced to the status of stocks and blocks. Beza
insists: ". . . we spoyle them [men] not, nor deprive them of
their naturall faculties and powers ; as of Reason, Judgement,
Wyll and suche others to make them stocks or blockes, nor yet
of free will: so that they ioygne this to it, that all is nothing but
darknesse, and enemitie against God, and that by this worde Free-
wil be not understand ["understand" is correct] a natural power,
to thinke, will, or do good or evill, but a wyll not constrained, yt
which notwithstanding cannot nor will not any thing but all
together evill, so much is the nature of man, not beyng regen-
erate (yt is to say, not healed nor restored by grace) not onely
wounded or hurt, but utterly and altogether corrupted." 29 Man
is, then, intrinsically and ineluctably evil, and can be justified
only by shivering under the cloak of Christ.

Catholics, on the other hand, hold that man's nature is essen-
tially uncorrupted, that is, that original sin, while depriving
man of the supernatural and preternatural perfections (dona
superaddita) of sanctifying grace, freedom from concupiscence,
and immortality, leaves the natural faculties unimpaired and
his nature good. Hence, the natural actions of man are good:
such propositions as: "Free Will not aided by God's grace, avails
only to commit sin," and "God could not have created man at
the beginning such as he is now born," were censured by Pius
V, October, 1567, and by Urban VIII, March, i64i. 30 The phrase,
then: "the darkening of the understanding and the weakening
of the will" means that intellect and will are created naked and
uncomforted either by habitual grace or by immunity from
concupiscence and decay and death.

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 115

To Lutheranism, and, dicendis dictis, Calvinism, the soul is
born into this world a sickly and internally ailing thing; to
Catholicism, the soul is born naked and unprotected, but intern-
ally healthy. For Protestants, thus, grace merely hides sin; for
Catholics, grace supernaturalizes a natural goodness, adding an
adoptive sonship to the soul itself, whereby it becomes, now of
its own right, "co-heir with Christ/' Concupiscence and mortal-
ity, to be sure, are not repaired by baptism, but concupiscence
is not of itself sin any more than is death.

From the basic dispute on the nature of justification develop
other positions on ecclesiology, soteriology, mariology, sacra-
mentology, moral theology, and liturgy. As far as Calvinism,
which was the prevailing point of view of the Church of England
at the end of the sixteenth century, is concerned, if there is no
intrinsic justification, then the church is merely an invisible
body of the arbitrarily elect, without essential need of authority,
hierarchy, or consecrated priesthood. (This implication in Beza,
who had hitherto been accepted with a good deal of complai-
sance, suddenly so shook Cambridge divines that Bancroft turned
against Beza in a sermon at St. Paul's Cross, 1588.) 31 In soteriol-
ogy, Christ does not repair the race but redeems by interposing
himself between the child of wrath and the wrathful Father,
for, be it remembered, ". . . inward corruption of ye whole man
(nothing reserved) . . . maketh every man from ye very first
beginning of his conception the childe of wrathe." 32 Without
intrinsic justification, questions on mariology, like the Immac-
ulate Conception and the Mediatrix of Grace, are meaningless.
Furthermore, to the Calvinist, sacraments do not cause and
increase a life in the soul itself, but secure Christ to the soul ab
extrinsecO; operating not "automatically," ex opere operate, as
cause and effect, but merely as declaring a saving faith. As Beza
says: "Concerninge that which wee call signe, wee meane not
by that word a bare signe, naked and emptie, as a thinge repre-
sented or paynted by a Paynter, or some other simple memoryall,
but we understande of signes which represente to us most great
and excellent thinges, declared effectuallye . . ." 33 Finally, lit-
urgy, particularly in the Mass, becomes sorcery and abominably
idolatrous. "[T]he signe and the thing signified [are] always
knit together in this respect, that is to saye, god offreth both
the one 8c the other trulie, not by the vertu of words pronouced,
(for it is sorcery to speake so) ... but by vertu of the holy
ghost . . ." 34 Not that Beza would have admitted the inefficacy

Il6 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

of ". . . the Ceremonies ordayned of God in all this mistery," 35
for "to [these] Ceremonies it is not lawfull for man to ioyne or
put to any newe thinges, neither to diminish without sacriledge
. . . " 36 Logically, however and the Puritan followed the logic
if there is no intrinsic grace to feed, and if sacramentary ritual
is only an occasion, not a cause, of grace, then liturgy and ritual
are as useless as ruffs and curls. The development of doctrine
at Cambridge is not, of course, this simple: swirls and inner-
swirls eddied and crossflowed, so that to do justice to Cambridge
divinity we should have to be able to isolate in a chronological
spectrum when each individual doctrine became clearly dis-
tinguished, then glowed, then dimmed, when the Lutheranizers
at Cambridge yielded to the Bezanizers, when the Bezanizers were
met with the Arminians, and, finally, when Lutheranizers,
Bezanizers, Arminianizers, and all who held (or put up) with
episcopacy were swept out of the Cambridge schools along with
plate and prelate.

From these elementary prenotes on the problem of justification
and its implications, we may return to further theses on grace.
If justification is by extrinsic imputation, how does one know
if one is justified? While the orthodox Calvinist held against any
certain external sign, Vice-Chancellor Jegon, we may remember,
had written Archbishop Whitgift, 1598, that "Questions on Rep-
robation, & certainty of fayth, have lately been revived" in the
Cambridge schools, probably as a result of Beza's influence. One
such thesis appeared in 1596: Fidelis ex fide certus esse remis-
sionis suorum peccatorum et potest et debet The faithful soul
is able, and ought, to be certain by faith of the remission of his
sins. 37 Whether this could be said to be orthodox Anglicanism
or not is precisely the point; certainly the thesis directly opposes
the teachings of Trent: nemini tamen fiduciam et certitudinem
remissionis peccatorum suorum iactanti et in ea sola quiescenti
peccata dimitti vel dimissa esse dicendum est^ 8 The problem of
the consciousness of conversion and the search for signs became
more and more acute as the decades of the seventeenth century
wore on, reaching a climax in the newer England with Jonathan
Edwards and the Great Enlightenment.

Conversion, whether conscious or not, is permanent, as is im-
plied in the thesis: Gratia Dei determinat humanam volun-
tatem a prima conversione, 39 and this determination of the will
is at the divine nutum. Here is the absolute predestinarian po-
sition, the human will losing its capacity to resist grace. Two

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 11?

other theses on predestination are curiously ambiguous. The
thesis: "The decree of election and reprobation depends on the
will of God," 40 and the question: "Whether some are predes-
tined to damnation?" 41 both dating much after 1586, and the
demand for a revision of the Belgic Confession, are phrased so
neutrally that any of the fourteen Jesuits rumored to be present
at a Cambridge disputation in 1622 42 (saucy devils!) could have
responded affirmatively dicendis dictis in good conscience.
Catholics held for predestination as sincerely as Protestants: the
issue was not the fact of predestination but the basis for the
divine decree. Between Calvinism and Arminianism, between
Banez and Molina, the bone was not: "Does God predestine?**
but "On what Groundes doth God predestinate?" In the two
theses above, the divines are carefully noncommittal. Certainly,
according to D'Ewes, there was no Arminianism bruited about
in the Cambridge schools: "But yet [1620] no Anabaptistical or
Pelagian heresies against God's grace and providence were then
stirring, but the truth was in all public sermons and divinity
acts asserted and mentioned." 43 The "truth/' of course, is Cal-
vinian orthodoxy.

Three other Cambridge "position-questions" demand com-
ment. In the University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29,
the question is proposed: "Can true faith be in the demons
and evil men?" Here is a quaestio complexa, one of the forms
of the sixth type of logical fallacy, fallacia figurae dictionis. As
it stands, the question cannot be answered Yes or No. An elu-
cidation of the question, however, may clarify another phase of
the basic dispute between Protestants and Catholics on the role
of faith with respect to salvation.

"True faith," in a Protestant context, usually means fides
salvifica, the saving faith whose primary characteristic is con-
fidence in Jesus Christ to save. "True faith," obviously, cannot
be in the devils, who are beyond salvation. Neither can a saving
faith be in sinful men who are reprobate, since these, likewise,
are beyond salvation. But, since all men are intrinsically sinners,
then, "true faith" must be found in those sinners who are saved,
Hence, the meaning of "true faith," the case of the devils versus
sinful men, and the types of sinful men must be carefully dis-
tinguished before the question can be answered.

The question is similarly complex for a Catholic. Faith, as
St. Thomas defines it again and again, is the assent of the intel-
lect, as determined by the will, to a revealed truth, 44 an act which

ll8 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

required grace to perform salutarie, that is, efficaciously toward
salvation. Thus, "true faith" cannot be found in Catholic devils,
either. The words of St. James: "The devils also believe and
tremble" 45 are explained by St. Thomas: "It is not willingly
that they assent, but they are compelled thereto by the evidence
of those signs which prove what believers assent to is true, though
even those proofs do not make the truths of faith so evident as
to afford what is termed vision of them." 46 But such an act is
not supernatural nor of Divine Faith: it is merely philosophical
and natural. 47 Still, can "true faith," in the Catholic sense, be
found in sinful men? Catholic theologians hold that faith, with
hope and charity, are theological virtues, supernaturally infused
and inhering in the soul itself. By mortal sin, charity, the super-
natural love of God, is lost, though faith and hope can remain.
Hence "true faith" can be in sinful men. We must note, how-
ever, that faith can be lost by sins directly opposed to it.

This lengthy spinning out of the question of true faith in
devils and sinners will emphasize, we hope, the very radical
difference between Catholics and Protestants on the concept of
faith. We may note, further, that such a quaestio complexa was
often enough proposed in a disputation precisely in order to
bring out the various phases of a problem, much in the manner
of a paper at a convention of learning. In a disputation on a
quaestio complexa the "opponent" would simply pick up a part
of the issue, for example, true faith in relation to the demons,
and begin his "line" by asserting: Atqui, vera fides potest esse
in daemonis, et sic probo: etc.

Another thesis, dating from the very early years of the seven-
teenth century, is worth comment: "Temporal dominion is not
founded on grace." 4S Behind the thesis and surrounding its
enunciation are many questions. In back of the thesis is Wy-
cliff's contention that mortal sin deprives a ruler, secular or
spiritual, of his right to govern: Nullus est dominus civilis,
nullus est praelatus, nullus est episcopus, dum est in peccato
mortali.^ Round about the thesis is the whole context of for-
tune in this world vis-a-vis salvation in the next. There are
those who oversimplify the Calvinistic attitude toward worldly
goods as a signum praedestinationis^ drawing out Weber's thesis
far beyond his intent. There is no design here to attempt a
summary of Weber, Troeltsch, Tawney, Fanfani, Talcott Par-
sons, and the other scholars who have treated the problem. It is
worth a quiet note that Cambridge held, flatly, that the dominium

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 1*9

temporale is not founded on grace therefore, it cannot be a
sign of grace. And, if dominium temporale is not a sign of grace,
then, a minore, neither is the possession of wealth and worldly
fortune.

Connected with this problem on dominium temporale is usury.
The Cambridge thesis: Usura est illicita 50 was held by both
Protestants and Catholics, though the concept of usury was
undergoing modification precisely at this time. The early Re-
formers, Luther, Melanchthon, and Zwingli, forbade lending at
interest, while Calvin allowed interest, at least on money lent
to a wealthy man, an opinion that Salmasius codified. Catholic
opinion at this time on usury is a difficult problem, which engages
the effort of many modern Catholic theologians. This much is cer-
tain: in the Middle Ages, St. Thomas and Scotus held that the
mutuum, or loan of things meant for immediate consumption,
could not bear interest and that any interest exacted on a
mutuum must be returned. This opinion was followed by such
late scholastics as de Lugo, Molina, and Lessius. But what should
be said of interest on what we now call risk capital was the
real problem, a problem as deeply perplexing to Catholics as to
Protestants.

A final Cambridge thesis (ca. 1605) connected with the nature
of grace and justification requires elucidation: Omne peccatum
est sua natura morttfera [sic!] Every sin is of its nature mor-
tal. 51 Catholics are used to the distinction between mortal and
venial sin, between acts which are heinous enough to deprive
one of God's love (charity) and acts which, while they offend
God and threaten charity, do not cause death in the soul. A
Catholic understands, therefore, that he is bound to confess
adultery, fornication, grave theft, blasphemy, and so on, if these
are committed with sufficient reflection and full consent, since
these are mortal sins of such seriousness that God turns His face
away from the perpetrator (more correctly, the perpetrator has
turned completely away from God). Other sinful acts, for ex-
ample, "gossip" (which, of course, can be mortal), impatience,
the continual omission of prayers, and such, are venial sins, not
seriously offensive to God and remissible outside confession. On
the other hand, Protestant Cambridge seems to have held, as
many Protestants still hold, that every sinful act is mortal, a
tenet consistent with the intrinsic corruption of fallen man. This
thesis, by the way, Omne peccatum est sua natura mortale, ap-
pears as a full determination in Anthony Tuckney's Praelec-

120 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

tiones theologicae . . . in scholis Academicis Cantabrigiensibus
habitae. 52

While the heart of seventeenth-century controversy is grace,
Cambridge divines did not restrict themselves to the topic. The
problem of the ministry itself suggested theses for the schools.
"Anglican ordination is legitimate/' 33 and "It is not permitted
for a minister to abdicate the ministry" 54 were theses defended
in the schools, together with: "It is licit and expedient that
ministers of the church contract matrimony." 55 Each of these
theses begs for full-dress inspection, but we hurry on to record
two Cambridge theses on the situation of the Pope, "The infal-
lible determination of faith is not annexed to the papal chair," 56
and "It is likely that the Mohammedan or Turk together with
the Roman pope constitutes Anti-Christ," 5T sufficiently put His
Holiness somewhere across the Channel.

Cambridge theses on the Eucharist, opposing corporeal pres-
ence and advocating communion under both species, 58 and one
on sacred images: Nefas est Deum colere in simulachro enter
again the storm center of controversy. In contrast to such con-
tentious questions are the following: An Henoch et Ellas sint
in coelo 60 and "Whether the use of ye profane names of our
Monthes & Dayes be lawful?" 61 An interesting moral thesis to
find in those days of the relative eclipse of canon law was:
"Church canons bind in conscience." 62 The last thesis we shall
treat, distinctive of those days with a Persons behind every hedge,
is the chestnut: "The blind obedience of the Jesuits is not law-
ful." 63 The role of the ". . . Jesuit missionaries who then infested
England/' 64 and their influence on the course of intellectual
history -if only by their presence has never been treated
adequately. Among the manuscripts in the University Library,
Cambridge, is a treatise (1623) on " The dangerous policies of
the Jesuites." 65 The present writer regrets that he has been,
hitherto, so ill-informed as to the kind of Jesuit he might have
been. Says our manuscript:

To enact their designes, they never accept into their order any other
than such whose natures & complectiones correspond to their use, w ch
they judge by their outward appearance, and inward inclination, and are
distinguished thus in 4 degrees.

1. BOLD AND RESOLUTE.

2. SECRET AND CLOSE.

3. DISCREETE AND CONSIDERATE.

4. JUDICIOUS AND GRAVE.

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 121

By these their disciples they conduct their lay-policies as followeth:

i. Those younge Resolute and sullen natures, that apprehend no
perills whatsoever, they take in hand, these they send out as probationers
in Caeca Obedientia and are comonly their Assasins . . .

However lightly we now take such a view of a Catholic order,
we must not forget that to seventeenth-century Cambridge the
Jesuits were looked, upon as conscienceless revolutionaries, mo-
tivated by caeca obedientia.

The theses and questiones on divinity which we have memo-
rialized, omitting many which do not seem pertinent or distinc-
tive, sufficiently show Cambridge as orthodoxly Protestant and
scholastic. Since we have previously made a point of scholasticism
at earlier seventeenth-century Cambridge, especially in theology,
we may delay here to show the currency of scholastic authority
on the Cam.

Aquinas, Bonaventure, and Scotus, durable old masters, are
peppered through out notebooks with such moderns as Suarez,
Molina, and Victoria. Lawrence Bretton's notebook summary
of the question: Deum esse non est articulus fidei, cites Bellar-
mine, Lib. i, De Ghristo, 6, 3. Another notebook, anonymous, in
Queens' College Library, casually mentions Aquinas (za, 2ae, q.
66, a. 2) and Scotus (Lib. 4, sent. dist. 15, quaes. 2). On the flyleaf
of MS. 44 in St. John's College Library, is the interesting jotting:
"Sanctius one of ye best commentators. Durands sentences
best more profitable than casuistry." In a little treatise: De
homicidio casuali, QQ are references to Francis a Victoria, Molina,
and Aquinas (za, zae, q. 64, a. 8). In the same manuscript (ff. 16
sqq.), this time on the question of usury, we read: "If you desire
more, these authors following [:] Dominicus a Soto, Thorn. Aq.,
P. Lombardo, Cajetan, Azarius, Covarruias, Bie[l], Bansai
[Bafiez], Parallius, Bucer, Musuulve, Aratius." 67 Finally,
Thomas Barlow in his Exercitationes Aliquot Metaphysicae
(1658) shows his high regard for three modern scholastic theolo-
gians: Et multos habeo, if nominis magni authores, & judicii quos
ex praescripto sequerer; sic scripsit Suarez, sic Mendoza, sic Vas-
quez. Q8 These scholastic names, some Protestant, some so obscure
as not even to appear in the standard dictionaries of biography,
are not here paraded as celebrities in a New York gossip column.
The point, here, is that early seventeenth-century Cambridge
held with, and understood, the scholastics, even if some of them
were proscribed: Suarez's book De Defensione Fidei was burned

122 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

in London. 69 As was said earlier, Cambridge carried on pretty
much in doctrinal disregard of the London court.

But much more significant than sporadic references is the sys-
tematic advice of the author of St. John's College Library's MS.
K 38 to a young student of divinity. The old theologian's list
of books is nothing if not catholic:

When ye are of ripe understanding, to reade them with some judge-
ment, some Schoolmen will bee usefull; read first Lombard, then Aquinas,
then Estius, Ferrariensis, or Caietan, or Bannes, or some others of his
followers, then Scotus (most iudicious as well as subtile) & some of his
followers, especially Lichettus [?] & Rhada, also Sancta Clara, Deus,
Natura & Gratia, & those yt gather his philosophy, as Faber Faventinus
on his Physicke, Merisse on his Metaphysicks . . . 70

If the reader is not already stuttering over Latin cognomina, here
are more authors suggested to a young divine: "... then read
Gregorie Arminensis, Alexander Alensis, Fran: Cummell, &
Gabriell Biell, Camarius, Rivet, Hurtado, Suarez, Vasquez, also
Durandus, 8c Aureolus, read also Gerson, Gulielmus Parisiensis,
Alexander Fabritius his destructorium, Gulielmus de Sto Amore,
Marsilius, Delavinus defensor Parisiensis." 71 Next follow several
amazingly erudite pages on various editions of the fathers and
of the acts of the councils, with a note of warning here and there,
for example, "That Latine Translation by Christopherson ye
Papist, 72 is very false." After recommending the "Centuriatores
Magdeburgenses," he offers:

Baronius his Annals, who hath made a long 8c learned Collection of
Ecclesiastical story, 8c digested it into a good methode, & will be much
advantage for a full comprehension of Ecclesiasticall Storie; But take
heed how Y u trust him, for

1. He makes use of very many spurious Authors

2. Hee endeavors reight or wrong, to advance the Papall Monarchy,
& to this end, makes great flourishes with false Authors & misquotes, &
misconstrues those that are true.

As the above shows, in admonishing his young reader to "take
heed/' the old cleric means to offer a select bibliography. His se-
lectiveness appears in what he has to say of Scripture study. After
recommending the reading of "... Justine Martyr, Tatianus,
Asyrius, Arabius, Lactantius, Clemens Alexandrinus, Minutius,
et al" 73 he says:

more especially, I should comend (as more learned, more full, & satis-
factory) the Workes, & Tracts of some gallant men in this Later Age; As,

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 123

Philip Mourney du Plessis, & Hugo Grotius, who have both writt de
Veritate Religionis Christianae; and which is more rational then all ye
rest, (if I mistake not) that tract of Dominicus Lopez, de Authoritate S.
Scrip turae: the Author of it was not Dominicus Lopez, or any Jesuit . . .
but* Faustinus Socinus (ubi bene nemo melius) was the Author of it.

*So Socinus himselfe tells us Ep. 2 ad Christoph Montu, inter Epist F
Socinus pag. 497- 74

That the old divine had swallowed all these theological pills
himself, he leaves no doubt in the charming passage following:

Soe much in Answere to y r Importunate desires, though y u might have
consulted many fitter in souche Businesse; for as I have not had ye op-
portunitie to search many vast Libraries, yet I durst not comend unto y tt
those that I have not tryed, but reseaved only by report of others (save
some very fewe) & therefore am faine to fetch almost all ye materialls out
of the compasse of mine owne private studye.

This fine old character (in the seventeenth-century sense) was
not, however, as bookish as he sounds. He leaves his young friend
(and us) with a very sound bit of advice: "Fetch ye matter of y r
sermons, not only from y r Bookes, 8c Invention, but from ye Con-
sideration i) of y r owne experience, 2) of y r peoples necessityes,
sinnes & miseryes." Swift's better known A Letter to a Young
Gentleman, lately entered into Holy Orders contains no wiser
advice than that of our kindly old Socinianizer.

We turn from Cambridge dogma to a brief view of casuistry,
a science whose floruit was the seventeenth century, though
Thomas Barlow wrote: 'Tor Protestants there is no part of
Divinity which has been (I know not why) more neglected; very
few have writ a just and comprehensive Tract of Cases of Con-
science." 75 The elimination of the confessional, as we said in
treating ethics, had thrown the English conscience on its own,
a plight which Jeremy Taylor, in the preface to Ductor Dubi-
tantium (1660), called ". . . the careless and needless neglect
of receiving private confessions." Casuistry added to ethics the re-
vealed, in contrast to natural, norms of judging human actions.
Its method was to take a specific case, or question, and apply
scriptural texts and the rulings of theologians.

Typical of Cambridge casuistry is a notebook treatment,
whether copied or original we cannot determine, of the question:
"Wheth r frizl'd, curld & bushy foreheads be a dress becoming
modest & vertuous woemen?" 76 The writer does not reject the
practice as absolutely sinful, but as "highly Inexpedient/' a

124 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

qualified, therefore "casuistical/' conclusion. He says: "Suppose
those things i Pet. 3. 3 in themselves lawfull according to some
modern writers, Be the Ancient Fathers generally mistaken who
thought otherwise, yet plaited hair and frizl'd foreheads will
not be found equally tolerable: That these things are in them-
selves unlawfull I shall not contend, but that they are highly
Inexpedient & therefore to be rejected I will avere." The student
now adds the reasons for his conclusion: first, "Tis not season-
able. In a time of Luxury, when the Harlots attire is ala mode.
In a time of trouble w ch calls not for silks but sackcloth. Isa. 3."
The wearing of frizzled foreheads is not charitable nor decent,
". . . but gowdy and fantastick, justifying the Ceremonies. It
robbs the face of its beauty w c]l consists cheafly in a fair and open
front." Further, "[t]is not Modest. Some think it an Embleme
of Imodesty, too palpable a signe of what should not be signified.
2 too danger, an Incentive of Lust & wantoness." Curls are not
only immodest, but immoderate, and, worse, curious: "Tis not
Moderate but Curious or what is worse & when you thinke of
curiosity, forgett not your Grandam Eve." Who, since our student,
has referred to our common ancestor as "Grandam Eve"? Nor
is the wearing of curls sincere: "Tis not Sincere, nor their owne;
witness Borders, Earwiggs, Periwigs: & why not borrow another
face as well as another head."
This delightful touch of sarcasm now flares to anger:

Tis not Prudent. I had like to have y 11 chaste: One can hardly think
better of these dresses but y* they were purposely devisd to be handsome
covers & masks of baseness: I will appeal to any man's reason, if he had
such a heat: a fitter cover for such a shame than Periwiggs, Spotts & flued
foreheads & tis an unsufferable & unworthy thing y* the Simplicity of
Innocent people should serve this base age for nothing else but gilt to
cover their rotton parts; may they keep their maners 8c fashons to them-
selves & I make noe doubt but in a few years they will stink above ground.

Such fury against seventeenth-century cafe* society is concerned
with overdress: we wonder, impishly, what our student would
say of modern playsuits. His final reason is that the wearing of
frizzled foreheads is not ". . . safe, but nigh to danger. Flaina
fumo proxima. Surely the best way to keep out of the fire is to
keep out of the smoke." And, on this point of safety, "The Ser-
pent lurks in such tuffts."

Following his "solution" of the case, the student answers the
objections, of which we quote one example:

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 125

Obj. But the hair is given them for a covering.

Ans. i. Not y t it should be one, but y* they should need one. Calv. 8c
Beza in locum. 2. To the head true verse 4 etc. but not to the face . . .

Besides dogma and casuistry, a final concern of Cambridge
divinity was ritual. With the concept of the objective efficacy
of the sacraments challenged, ritual became a serious problem
to English Protestants. And with the problem of ritual and the
way to regard it was the problem of religious symbols as a whole.
D'Ewes is very definite on Cambridge attitudes in 1620: "None
then dared to commit idolatry by bowing to, or towards, or ador-
ing the altar, the communion table, or the bread and wine in the
sacrament of the Lord's Supper." 77

The position of Puritan versus prelatical on liturgy is too
well known to need exposition. Emmanuel College, whose chapel
was purposely built north and south, 78 was continually being
singled out for Puritanizing. In a poem, "presented before his
Majesty, 1614," the lines occur:

. . . But the pure house of Emmanuel
Would not be like proud Jesabel,
Nor shew her self before the king
An hypocrite, or painted thing:
But, that the ways might all prove fair,
Conceiv'd a tedious mile of prayer. 79

A situation which was tolerable, even amusing, in 1614, had
become, by 1628, serious enough for the King to reprint the
Thirty-Nine Articles and threaten his displeasure at all who
". . . should affix any new sense to any article, or publicly read,
determine, or hold public disputation, or suffer any to be held
either way . . ." 80 Eight years later, on September 23, 1636,
the situation was so badly out of hand that a report was drafted,
either by John Cosin, master of Peterhouse, or Richard Sterne,
master of Jesus, and sent to Archbishop Laud, which the latter
endorsed: "Certain Disorders in Cambridge to be considered of
in my visitation." 81 When one compares the beauty, cleanliness,
and order of St. Mary's and the college chapels today, 82 and hears
Evensong in King's Chapel, where the music seems to fall from
the stone vaulting like a summer's rain, it is hard to credit the
very factual report sent to Lambeth. "St Mary's Church," says
the account, "at every great Commencement is made a Thea-
ter ... ," 83 especially with respect to ". . . The Prevaricatours
Stage wherein he acts & setts forth his prophane and scurrilous

126 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

jests . . ." For the rest, St. Mary's is part church, part ware-
house: "All the yeare after a parte of it made a Lumber House
for ye Materials of ye Scaffolds, for Bookbinders dry Fats, for
Aumeric Cupboards, & such like implements, which they know
not readily where else to put . . ."As for the services in Great
St. Mary's: "Before our Sermons the forme of bidding prayers
appointed by the Injunctions 8c the Canon is not only neglected
but by Most men mainly opposed and misliked." The opposing
and misliking of liturgical forms on the part of the majority is
significant enough, but even more meaningful is the fact that
". . . we have such private fancies fc several prayers of every
Man's own making (and sometimes sudden conceiving too) vented
among us that besides ye absurdities of ye language directed to
God himself our young Schollers are therebye taught to prefer
the private spirit before ye publick, 8c their own invented and
unaproved Prayers before all the Liturgie of ye Church . . ."
Such Anabaptistical goings on are due to liturgical laxity. "To
such liberty are we come for want of being confined to a strict
form." The situation in the colleges was even more deplorable.
In Trinity, "[s]ome Fellows are there who scarce see the inside
of ye Chappell thrice in a yeare . . ." In King's, unbelievably,
"some of the Quiremen cannot sing & are diverse of them very
negligent. The Choristers are neere one half of them mutes . . ."
And in Caius! "Any Man that is not in holy Orders may execute
& read or sing Service, and he that executes upon ye weeke days
with no Surplice . . . Mr. Cooke, when he was Fellow there
. . . once tooke upon him to consecrate, & instead of ye wordes
'This my Body,' used aloud 'This is my Bread' 8c went on withall
(the Master they say being present) without any controule or
then or since. Some here (of which the Master is one) bow not
at ye name of Jesus ..."

Emmanuel is, of course, the shocker! "Their Chappell is not
consecrate. At Surplice prayers they sing nothing but certain
riming Psalms of their own appointment instead of ye Hymnes
between ye Lessons. . . Before Prayers begin the Boyes come
in and sitt down & put on & talk aloude of what they list . . ."
Sidney was similarly feathered: "They have no Consecrated
Chappell . . . Are much like Emanuel for the rest" presum-
ably, even to "riming Psalms."

Unliturgical Cambridge was only part of the rubrical head-
ache inherited by Laud, when he became Archbishop in 1633,
and visitor to the Universities in 1636. Almost from the accession

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 127

of James, the problem of ritual in the Anglican Church had be-
come increasingly distressing: to some the ritual was an emas-
culated disgrace and a yielding to the Puritanizers, while to
others, even when performed with rubrical moderations, it was
a Romish rite wherein "Religion paints a purple wolf."

The modified performance of the Anglican ritual and its abom-
ination even in that state appears in 1606, in some Latin verses
of Andrew Melville. The occasion is notable, for in that year
James had summoned a number of Scots, including Melville, to
come to England because of continued and grave disagreements
between the English Church and the Kirk. Melville, a vinegarish
male shrew, loudly proclaimed that he would have nothing to
do with anything but a Free Assembly. In the course of the meet-
ings he had noticed the ceremonies in the royal chapel at Hamp-
ton Court and in sarcastic verse had twitted the English for their
unlit candles, closed books, and empty basins:

And. Melvinus in Altare Regium

Cur stant clausi Anglis libri duo Regia in Ara?

Lumina caeca duo, pollubra sicca duo?
Num sensum cultumq. Dei tenet Anglia clausum,

Lumine caeca suo, sorde sepulta sua?
Romano ritu Regalem dum instruit aram,

Purpuream pingit Religiosa Lupam. 84

When the verses reached the King's ear, Melville was thrown
into the Tower, where he stayed four years. A more interesting
consequence (from our selfish point of view) is a set of verses
in reply to Melville, written by Emmanuel's own Joseph Hall,
a moderate man in theology but England's "first satirist" as he
called himself.

Josephus Hall in Melv.

Qui mens felle nigra est et aceto lingua redundat,
A Melle et Vino quam male nomen habet?

On th' Altar Royall Melvin frownes to fynde

Two Basons dry, closed Bookes and Tapers blynde.

And would he lesse have wondred at the sight,

Of Basons full, Bookes open, Tapers light?

At both alike. And why these, thus, there, then?

Say Oedypus, what might these riddles meane?

Is it to curse the curious Spectator

With dreadfull signes of Book, of Fyre, of Water?

Why two? To bind the offending lips, Hands, Eyes.

128 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

Why blynde? closed? dry? to teach in forreine guise
To have blynde eyes, closed lips, Hands voyd and free,
From foule support of wrongfull jealosie. 85

In view of Melville's fate, the lesson of having blind eyes and
closed lips may seem unsporting, but theology was a rugged
pastime in those days.

We have inserted this Hall-Melville digression to show that
the state of affairs in 1636 (gross negligence in non-Puritan col-
leges and extreme practices in the Puritan) was only a drawing
out of a cleavage noticed thirty years before. At any rate, liturgy
was an important issue, and the seventeenth-century attitude to-
ward it can be traced to the basic problem of the nature of grace
and the relation of sacramentary sign to salvation.

Whatever else we should have said of Cambridge divinity, our
original two points should be established: that theology was
the primary frame of reference at Cambridge (a truisml) and
that theology was still scholastic. Nothing, perhaps, will bring
this home so sharply as a bit of verse in a Trinity College manu-
script on the nepotistic rigging of an election of fellows:

Animadversions upon the Election of Fellows
in Trin. Coll. Ann. dom. 1656 , . .

Because that Arminians we would not be thought,

Our Election had its Predestination,
Yet a Scheme of Philosophy in there was brought,

To judge of mens Qualities by theire Relation. 86

MEDICINE

Alma Mater Cambridge's most devoted lover will make no
extravagant claims for her medicine in the seventeenth century.
In explaining her relative mediocrity, some rationalize the med-
ical "failure of the universities" 87 in England by affirming that
"Cambridge, in Harvey's time [B.A., 1597], was a school of logic
and divinity rather than of physic." 88 Similarly, Wordsworth
thinks that ". . . the abiding part of the society in each college
being clergymen, it was to be expected that the education there
should be either theological, or at least not such as should train
students and their teachers for any other profession rather than
for Theology/' 89 True, Cambridge was heavily ballasted on
the side of divinity, but so was she in the late sixteenth century,
when she was able to bear, between 1570 and 1590, thirty-two
sons who took the M.B. or the M.D., twenty-six who received

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 12Q

their licentiate, and two surgeons (surgery being even then
the most difficult of Cambridge degrees). Further, on the very
threshold of the seventeenth cenutry, two of England's very
greatest medical men are associated with Cambridge: William
Harvey and the great John Caius, that lonely man, who lies in
the college chapel under the simple epitaph: Fui Caius. In the
earlier seventeenth century, between 1610 and 1640, Cambridge
produced sixty-one M.D.'s, eighteen M.B/s, and fifty-four licen-
tiates, a very respectable increase, and such illustrious names as:
Roger Drake [g. 1627], w ^ replied to Primrose's attack on
Harvey in 1641, with his Vindiciae contra animadversiones Prim-
erosii (1641), Thomas Winston of Clare, who took his M.D. there
in 1608, and gave at Gresham College lectures, which he pub-
lished (1659), and the great scholar, John Gostlin, later president
of Caius, whose disputations in medicine, dated 1624-26, are
preserved in Caius' library (MS. 432-433) under the title: Jo.
Gostlini med D ris C[oll] G. C. Custodis, Disput: Determ: et
Creationes in Comitiis. Finally, we should ask ourselves why, if
theology stifled English medicine, Galen's art flourished in France
and Italy, especially in Paris and Padua, which were as theologi-
cally conscious as Cambridge. The answer to Cambridge's com-
parative mediocrity in medicine is simply the unsatisfying plati-
tude that great teachers make a great university, leaving unan-
swered the question why so great a university as Cambridge in the
seventeenth century attracted so few great instructors in the medi-
cal arts. Still, what university could have competed with Padua,
the medical Mecca? Harvey, having taken his degree at Gonville,
hurried to Padua, where he took his doctorate in medicine in
1602. Anyone who has walked through the charming old orto
bottanico at Padua, climbed Galileo's plank rostrum, sat in the
old medical theater where Harvey sat, meditating the while
upon Padua's line of medical scientists Versalius, Zabarella,
Colombo, Fallopio will understand Harvey's deserting of Cam-
bridge for Padua, where he could sit under the eminent Fabrizio
d'Aquapendente, then at the zenith of his powers.

Relatively mediocre as we admit early seventeenth-century
medicine at Cambridge to have been theological preoccupa-
tions had something, but not all, to do with it it would be com-
pletely wrong to stretch mediocrity to inconsequentiality. All
through the seventeenth century, Cambridge sought to improve
her "physitians." In 1627, under the Regius professorship of
Dr. Collins of St. John's, a grace was passed, as Macalaster no-

130 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

tices, whereby all were reminded that the regius lector was bound
to perform one anatomy, bachelors to witness three, and students
of medicine to attend two. 90 In 1646, again, the University Stat-
utes requiring three dissections from candidates for the M.D.
and two from students aspiring to the M.B. were revived.
Further, by royal decree foreign practitioners of medicine might
no longer, after 1675, qualify until they had passed the require-
ments of the English universities. 91 This seems to have rescinded
the grace of January 28, 1634, whereby those who had taken the
M.D. in partibus transmarinis might incorporate in Cambridge;
this development indicates that Cambridge felt, by 1675, that she
had attained her majority in medicine and must no longer defer
to the Continent. In 1681, Charles R. sees fit to publish and ap-
point that the requirements for the ". . . degree of bachelor in
physick be heretofore according to that for the same degree in
law (save as before excepted that they shall stand bound to one
opposition as formerly) . . ." &2

Nor can inconsequentiality be predicated of a seventeenth-
century university which can claim such names as Helkiah
Crooke, Sir George Ent, Francis Glisson, William Briggs, Clop-
ton Havers, Thomas Wharton, William Croone, Martin Lister,
Walter Needham of Trinity College, George Jolyffe, James
Drake, Humphrey Ridley, Edward Tyson, the incomparable
Thomas Syndenham, and Sir Samuel Garth. 93

The reader will recall Isaac Barrow's oft-quoted passage on
"vividisection" (In Comitiis): 'Tor, when, I pray, since the foun-
dation of the university has a blood-thirsty curiosity been so
savage in the slaughter and butchery of so many dogs, fish and
fowl, whereby the structure and use of the parts of animals might
become known to you. O most innocent cruelty and brutality
quite excused!" 94 The passage conjures up the vision of busy
anatomical laboratories and exciting discoveries, but, as far
as confirmatory evidence shows, Barrow describes a vision and
a dream. There was some anatomy at Cambridge (the acts of [we
think!] 1664, which Barrow introduces, are lost), but anatomy
was, in general, a casual, almost clandestine, study. A paragraph
in one of Joseph Mede's letters, which might serve as an opening
paragraph for a Further Adventures of E. Gordon Pym, conveys
how suspiciously Cambridge regarded anatomy:

Going on Wednesday from Jesus Colledge pensionary with Dr Ward
to his Colledge through the closes and gardens and espying a garden dore

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 131

open I entred and saw there a hideous sight of the skull and all other
bones of a man with ligaments and tendons hanging and drying in the
sun by strings upon trees, etc., I asked what it meant. They told me it
was the pedler they anatomised this Lent and that when his bones were
dry they were to sett together again as they did naturally and so reserved
in a chest or coffin for their use who desired such an inspection. It was
the garden of one Seale a surgeon and a chiefe in the dissection . . , 95

In another letter of Mede, we may learn how difficult was it to
witness an anatomy without a proper theater. On March 15,
1627/8, Mede writes: "We had an anatomy lecture upon a boy
of some 18 years old, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, twise a day
the last two days. I was once there, but saw it so ill accommo-
dated that I came no more; for it was in the regent house upon
a table, when onlye halfe a skore of doctors could come to see
anything, standing close by the table, and so hindering others
seeing . . ." 96

Despite the number of medical degrees granted, there are among
the official records, that is, among the broadsides kept in the
University Library and in the archives of the University Reg-
istrary, no medical acts recorded from 1586, when two theses
were defended, 97 and 1697, when we find the following on neu-
rology: Affectiones spasmodicae oriuntur ab Ataxia Spirituum
Animalium, and Nervi nutriaticus [sic!] materiam non suppe-
ditant. 98 With a medical layman's awe of medical knowledge,
even when translated, we offer an explanation of these theses,
with the help of Bart. Castilli's Lexicon Medicum (1713). Spas-
modic affections (. . . paralyticus, epilepticus, hypnoticus. Idem
est quod convulsivus . . .) 99 are caused by a disturbance of the
animal spirits. Scholastics had held that the rational soul per-
formed a threefold function: rational, sensitive, and vegetative.
Late seventeenth-century Cambridge was holding for a plurality
of animal subsouls, not denying, however, the hegemony of the
rational soul. As Castelli speaks of animal spirits, citing Stahl
(Georg Ernst, 1660-1734): D. D. Stahlius in sua Disseratat. de
Sanguificatione c 2 ad fin principium illud activum omnes actus
organ icos sive corporeos perficiens esse ipsam animam rationalem,
sed absque concursu rationalitatis operantem, aut plures agnosci
debere animas in corpore humano existimans . . . 10 To blame
paralysis and epilepsy on ataxia of the animal souls is hardly a
medical explanation; indeed, the thesis shows again the confusion
of philosophy and science. The second thesis above, that the nerves
do not supply the material of nutrition to the parts of the body,

132 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

indicates that Cambridge was abreast of the latest (and correct)
theory. Whether the nerves or the arteries fed the tissues was not
yet established in 1713, as Castelli implies: An vero succus ille
nutridus per arterias an vero per nervos ad paries feratur, non
est huius loci dirimere. 101 On the same occasion on which the
above theses were defended, Henry Leigh responded to the fol-
lowing: "The inspection of urine and the exploration of the
pulses do not indicate the true essence of diseases" and "The acid
humor, inhering in the capillary veins and suffused in the time
of paroxysm in the body, solves all the phenomena of intermit-
tent fevers." 102 The old theory of humors is here compromised
with Harvey's circulation of the blood with Cartesian over-
tones. Castelli, discussing acid humor, notices that ". . . from
the principles of Cartesian Philosophy acid particles are likened
now to little swords, now to razors, to needles and sharp points,
now again to little wedges . . ." 103 Here, again, Cartesian phi-
losophy is attempting to enter the no man's land between phil-
osophical speculation and science, and not successfully.

In 1698, we find Master Morley, who is aiming at his doctorate,
defending the propositions: Scorbutus & Cholorosis oriuntur a
Torpore spirituum Animalium and Medicamenta specified non
agunt ratione aut Qualitatum Evidentium, aut Principiorum chy-
micorum. 104 That scurvy and cholera are caused by a torpor of
the animal spirits explains nothing. Interesting, however (and we
delight in the linking of cosmography with medicine), Castelli
has this to say about scurvy: "Scorbutus. A disease formerly said
to be familiar only to Northern peoples and dwellers about the
Baltic [maris Balthici acolis, a cosmographical term] and, as it
were, endemic. Today, indeed, being so widely diffused, it seems
hardly less than epidemic to many peoples." 105 The point, here,
is that Englishmen and other Europeans, adventuring exten-
sively on the high seas during the previous two centuries, had
found themselves subject to a new disease. The second of Mor-
ley's theses, that specific medications do not act by reason of
evident qualities or chemical principles, introduces a brand-
new problem, which we shall discuss later: how, after all, does
a medicament work its effect, medicaments being tied with
elements, which are indigestible? There was something preter-
natural about medication in the seventeenth century. As Castelli
says: Propria magis notio medicamenti ad ilia solum special,
quae vim non alendi habent^ sed agendi in corpus et naturam,
aut invitandi, aut irritandi in officium, quoties id ignavius obiit,

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 133

uti eleganter scripsit Linden. Ex., Ill, #39, sqq. Recte commen-
dantur ex Herophilo, quod sint Divinum munus. WQ Medica-
tion includes such a supernaturality as the king's touch: Prorsus
enim, quod tactus Divinus efficere potest, praestant medicamenta
usu, experientiaque probata. . . . Unde if Gal[en] Munus Deo-
rum vocavit^ 1 The point of all the above is that seventeenth-
century philosopher-scientists were not ready to attribute to
secondary causes the effects which seventeenth-century causes
seemed to produce: effects happened, too marvelous to be natural.
When we turn from the public records of the disputations to
our students' notebooks, we shall form an even sketchier view of
seventeenth-century Cambridge medicine. While Richard Holds-
worth recommended some reading in medicine for his under-
graduates in their final year ("I could wish you could find some
time this yeare ... to run over some short Compendium of
the Speculative part of Medicine, w * 1 might be done in a month
. . ."), 108 the notebooks reflect little 109 beyond what the gen-
erality believed of quackery and nostrums. In Alexander Bolde's
commonplace book, for example, we found seven prescriptions
against the plague. We offer a sample "receipt":

Another Praeservative against die Plague, or a Medicine for the Plague
approved.

Take a handfull of Sage vertue, & a handfull of [heart's ease?] & a
handfull of elder leaves, & a handfull of red bramble leaves, & stamp
them altogether 8c straine them in a faire cloth with a third parte of
white wine, & then take a quantity of ginger & mince them altogether,
8c drinke of the medicine a spoonful every day 9 daies together: & after
the first spoonfull thou shalt be safe for 24. daies, Be after 9 spoonfuls thou
shalt be safe for the whole yeare by the grace of God. 110

Despite Bolde's last phrase, where he hedges his bet on herbs
with God's grace, we do not think Bolde was being ironical. 111
In another notebook we found: "For ye Piles. Take a good hand-
full of nettles and sting the piles well w^ them; having first cover
[sic!] all ye adjacent parts, 8c left none open to ye nettles, but
ye piles themselves." 112 These notebook jottings (we wonder:
do modern undergraduates scribble of sulfa derivatives and
chlorophyll?) recall the currency in England of such books on
household medicine as Aristotelis ac philosophorum medicorum-
que complurium ad varias quaestiones . . . , better known as
Aristotle's Masterpiece, a delightful little pseudo-Aristotelicum
cum aliis, which went through editions in 1563, 1595, 1638 (which

134 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

we quote), even until 1930. In The Problems of Aristotle, as it
was called in 1638, we discovered under the heading: "Of Con-
ception" the following question treated: "Why doth a woman
sometime conceive twins? According unto Galen, because there
are seven eels or receptacles of seed in the wombe. . . And
therefore if a woman should have more than seven children at
once, it should rather be miraculously than naturally." 113 And,
"Of the Stomacke":

Question Why is it a good custome to eat Cheese after dinner, and
peares after all meat?

Answer. Because that Cheese, by reason of his earthinesse and thick-
nesse, tendetli downe toward the bottome of the stomacke, and so putteth
downe the meat: and the like is of Peares. Note that new Cheese is very
naught, and procure th the headach and stopping of the liver, and the
older the worser. Whereupon it is said, that Cheese is naught, and
digesteth all things but its selfe. 114

Another book on popular medicine, which likely inspired under-
graduate jotting, was Sir John Harington's The Englishman's
Doctor (1607), an expanded translation of the famous Regimen
Sanitatis. Harington is outrageously charming. In dealing, for
example, with garlic, which some considered mildly aphrodisiac,
Harington writes:

Sith Garlicke then hath powers to save from death,
Bear with it though it make unsavory breath:
And scorne not Garlicke, like to some that thinke
It onely makes men winke, and drinke, and stinke. 115

However tempting the prospect of strolling down these seven-
teenth-century medical closes, we must record two items which
throw further light on the state of Cambridge medicine. In the
Gonville and Caius College Library (MS. 759-421) is a petition of
Richard London, MA., one of the senior fellows of the College,
fora trip to the Continent (1638). London begs in the third per-
son: ". . . whereas by a locall statute of ye said College leave is
given to students of Physicke onely to travell beyond ye seas for
ye study of Physicke and ye advancement of learning in that pro-
fession ... he ... is unable to defray ye charges of his iourney
and maintaine himselfe in transmarine universitys as Padua,
Bononia, Montpelier, Paris, etc. mentioned in statute by our
learned founder Dr. Caius." The account informs us of the pe-
culiar Caius tradition of providing traveling fellowships for medi-

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 135

cal men, and supplies a contemporary list of what Caius consid-
ered the leading medical centers abroad. The other item, from the
Annales Caio-Gon. per J. Gostlin M. D. Praes. a reditu Caroli 2*
1660 ad An 1678, is an account of John Robinson, ". . . one of
the two medical fellows of Dr. Caius's foundation, hence he dis-
puted solidly, acutely and often in the medical schools alter e
sociis ex fundatione D tis Caii medicinae studiosus, unde in Medi-
corum scholis solide et acute saepius disputavit . . ," 116 We
should not like to make too much of a single conjunction, but
Gostlin's use of the inferential unde seems to take it for granted
that the Caius fellows were traditionally prominent.

However slightingly some have spoken of the "Scole of Fisyke"
at Cambridge, the University seems to have continued her tradi-
tion of serious study of the human body, not a light task in those
theological days. As William Bulleyn, a Cambridge man, who died
two years before Harvey's birth, said in his curious A little dia-
logue betwene two men, the one called Sorenes the other Chyrurgi,
on the human body: "For allthough it be fraile, sore and weake,
yet it is the pleasure of God to call it his Temple his instrument
and dwelyng place and the Philosopher dooe call it Orbiculus,
that is a little world." 117

LAW

From the twelfth century onward, England possessed three great
bodies of law: canon, civil (or Roman), and common. The teach-
ing of the canon and the civil law had become the prerogative of
the two Universities, while the Inns of Court had acquired the
monopoly of teaching, and conferring degrees in, the common
law. 118

The Reformation in England, which some see as no more, ini-
tially, than a legal casus, IIQ was destined to work an enormous
change in the concept and the development of English law. Few,
outside of Thomas More and John Fisher, saw the dogmatic im-
plications of Henry's defiance of canon law; fewer still (perhaps
none) foresaw what would happen to the study and organization
of the general law in England as a result of Henry's proscription
(1534) of degrees in canon law, or even lectures in Gratian's
Decretals.

The canon and the civil law, both overdowered with an im-
mense gifting of medieval commentary, 121 were indissolubly wed
in university teaching. This mixed marriage had been so thor-
oughly consummated, that upon the death of one of the partners

136 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

to the marriage (canon law) at Henry's decree, the relict (civil law)
was so weakened that law itself all but ceased to be a university
study as the seventeenth century opened. In fact, there was a
rumor at Oxford in 1603, tnat tne study of law was to cease alto-
gether. 122 The destruction of the canon law had not only ruined
university teaching, but had left vast areas uncovered by legal
remedy. In the Journals of all the Parliaments . . . , for 1571
(H. C.), D'Ewes records that a Mr. Clarke argued against the sec-
ond reading of the Usury Bill of that year that: "The Civil Law
would not avoid them [usurious abuses], because by that Law
there is allowance of Usury. The Canon Law is abolished; and in
that respect the Temporal Law saith nothing ... yet that it was
ill, neither Christian nor Pagan ever denied." 123

The death blow inflicted on the civil law as the result of the
decapitation of the canon law is evident in a passage of My Lord
Somerset to Ridley: "We are sure, you are not ignorant how nec-
essary a study that study of civil law is to all treaties with foreign
princes and strangers, and how few there be at present to do the
King's Majesty service therein. . . . Merry, necessity compelled!
us also to maintain the science." 124 And, as time passed and
James I succeeded, it became more and more urgent, that the
civil (Roman) law, from which England had cut herself off, was
"... most necessary for matters of treaty with forreine na-
tions." 125

But the fact was that the Roman law was almost ignored in
England as a result of a flurry of interest in the common law.
Although Sir Thomas Smith ". . . did his best to prepare himself
to teach his new subject [the civil law as divorced from the can-
on]," 126 at Cambridge, any of his contemporaries could have
predicted his failure. There were too many cases involving the
common law to leave place for the law of the Romans. The prob-
lems of Elizabeth Fs headship of the church, of the succession, of
the rights of the bishops against the Crown, had caused in the late
sixteenth century and early seventeenth century a scurry of anti-
quarian research in English customary law by Sir Edward Coke,
Robert Persons, John Selden, William Prynne, Camden, and
Philemon Holland. The battles royal between King James and his
"cousin," the Cardinal Bellarmine, between James and Persons,
and between Parsons and Coke, did nothing to help the civil law,
"[n]or did the dispute between lord Ellesmere and Sir Edward
Coke, concerning the powers of the court of chancery, tend much
to the advancement of justice." 127 These struggles among the

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 137

lawyers opened the way for the social theorists, from Hobbes
through Milton to Locke, to find an acceptable view of society as
subject to law. True enough, Hobbes, Milton, and Locke only for-
mulated their theories concomitantly with events in the political
world: Hobbes's De Give appeared significantly in 1642; Milton's
tracts, for example, The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates . . .
(1649), defend a different concept of the source of law, and Locke
wrote after the Glorious Revolution of 1688. Merely to state it
differently, each was struggling in his own way to find a basis of
legal order in an England which was in transition from Roman
to common law.

The point of all the foregoing is to count the factors making for
the death of university law: to wit, civil law had been weakened
by the proscription of canon law, while the common law was be-
ing proportionately strengthened, not only because it had its
articulate source in the Inns of Court 12S ("Taught law is tough
law!"), 129 but because the political and religious problems of the
time sought solution in the consuetudo Anglicana, rather than in
the Roman tradition. The universities, however, were not legal
nonentities. Sir Robert Rede, Judge of the King's Bench and Chief
Justice of the Common Pleas in Henry VIIFs day, had thought so
warmly of his alma mater (Rede was a member of Magdalen Hall)
that he left money to found lectures in humanity, logic, and phi-
losophy, money now used for the annual Rede Lecture in law.
(We are not sure that Sir Robert would be entirely happy with
the present disposal of his monies and his usances!) Coke went out
of his way to praise the Universities: Academiae Cantabrigiae
[Coke was an incorporated member of Trinity] et Oxoniae sunt
Athenae nostrae nobilissimae, regni soles, oculi et animi regni,
unde religio, humanitas, et doctrina in omnes regni partes uber-
rime diffunduntur. 13 Further, the universities prepared students,
as Sir William Holdsworth maintains, for the study of law in the
Inns: "It became customary for many (as at the present day) to
start their career at the universities . . ." 131 Finally, Master Rich-
ard Holdsworth of Emmanuel (to be distinguished from the his-
torian of the law!) urged his undergraduates: "I could wish you
. . . allso to read cursorily over Justinians Institutions w cl1 are
the grounds of Civil Law, and might be done in a fortnight
. . ." 132 Despite such evidence, it cannot be denied, at this point
of investigation, that there was no study of law worth a doit at
Cambridge between 1600 and 1670.

On June 26, 1673, Master Wilson, responding for his ". . .

13 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

grad. Bacchl. in jur. Civil.," replied to the following two ques-
tions: "A simple donation between husband and wife is not valid/*
and "A transaction, entered upon after a case has been judged, is
null and void." 133 The two theses are simply disposed of according
to the principles of civil law, which, we recall, is the law taught at
the universities. "By the civil law ... a donatio or gift as be-
tween living persons is called donatio mera or pure when it is a
simple gift without compulsion or consideration . . ." 134 Before
we dismiss this law thesis as just another haggle over the habeas
corpus of a straw man, we must remember that donation, in eccle-
siastical law, was "A mode of acquiring a benefice by deed of gift
alone, without presentation, institution or induction." 135 Recall,
now, the legal mess in England on the title to church lands in the
late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, and see in a simplex
donatio between husband and wife a scholastic thesis which the
disputants might enlarge in almost any direction. The second
of Wilson's theses involves transaction, "[t]he settlement of a
suit or matter in controversy, by the litigating parties, between
themselves, without referring it to arbitration." 136 After judicial
decision is rendered, the decision becomes part of English case-
law, and subsequent settlement is null. A Holmesian might see
here a clear vindication of the Holmes theory ("The prophecies of
what the courts will do in fact, and nothing more pretentious, are
what I mean by the law."), 137 but since the thesis enunciates a
civil-law concept, basic to which is still the natural law, Wilson
was doing no more than affirming the validity in law of the court's
decision post, not ante, factum.

The same notebook in which the above theses occur includes
two theses of the following year (1675), similarly concerned with
property (indeed, the reader of these late Cambridge law theses
begins to repeat the refrain of Tennyson's "Northern Farmer,
New Style"). Mr. Warcop of Christ's College maintained in 1675:
"The right of primogeniture is approved by all law," and "Par-
ents are obliged to dower their children." 138 While Warcop might
have anticipated no difficulty on primogeniture, dowry was some-
thing else, where he had to clear his way through such old dicta
as: Dos de dote peti non debet, 139 and Doti lex favet. 140

A year later (1676), our notebook records two very important
propositions, rising to the philosophy of law: "Promulgation is
of the essence of law/' and "The force of civil law can be dimin-
ished by the usage of a contrary custom." 141 Promulgation, a
well-known term in Roman law, meant, simply, to make publicly

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 139

known. While all agreed that a law does not bind until it is pro-
mulgated, the scholastics had hotly disputed whether promulga-
tion was of the essence, or a mere property, of law. Further, in
light of the thesis, what was the validity of juridical ruling in those
days, when "[t]he elder English judges did really pretend to
knowledge of rules, principles, and distinctions which were not
entirely revealed to the bar and to the lay-public"? 142 The second
thesis above, on the power of custom to limit the force of civil law,
is much more important. In both the canon and the civil law, the
validity of custom (now regarded as a common practice enduring
for some fifty years) was allowed. In our present thesis we seem to
see a legitimatizing of common law, where it differs from civil; in
fact, the old name for the common law was consuetude Angli-
cana. 143 In other words, the thesis seems to accommodate Cam-
bridge to the prevalence of the common law.

The other theses remembered in the present notebook, mostly
concerned with property, require little more than transcribing:
In emptorem hereditatis non transit jus adcrescendi "The right
of survivorship does not pass to the buyer of an heredity"; 144 Re
communi simpliciter Legata, pars testatoris duntaxit debetur
"When joint property is the legacy, only the portion belonging to
the testator is owed"; 145 Naturali prohibita jure civili non con-
f[i]rmatur "The civil law does not confirm something forbid-
den by the natural law"; 14G Nuptias no concubitus, sed consensus
facit "Consent, not cohabitation, makes the marriage"; 147 Heres
non tenetur corporaliter ex debito [lex] definit "^The law says
that an heir is not to be held corporally for debt"; Bona naufraga
non fiunt apprehendentium "Shipwrecked goods do not belong
to the seisin in fact"; 148 Jure primogeniturae, nepos ex seniore
fratre, excludit patruum "By right of primogeniture, a grand-
son by the elder brother, displaces a second son"; 149 and, finally,
Princeps contractus a se gestos in contrahentium damnu retr[ac]-
tare no potest "A ruler cannot retract contracts, drawn by him-
self, to the damage of the contracting parties." 150 Historians of
English constitutional law will see much more in this thesis, enun-
ciated at the very threshold of the constitutional monarchy, than
we can pretend to.

Scrabble as we would, we found no further theses in law until
1696, after a lapse of twenty years. In that year (there may have
been, must have been, other acts between!) Thomas Ayloffe de-
fended for his doctorate in law two theses, again on property: In
querela inofficiosi Testamenti locus successorio Edicto "In a

140 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

litigation re: an inofficious will [where the will is not in accord-
ance with the testator's natural affection and moral duties], 151
one applies the rule for succession provided by law." The force of
Edict o, here, is absolute, since according to Justinian's Institutes
(i, 2, 6) an edictum is an ". . . ordinance of the emperor without
the senate." Thomas Ayloffe's second thesis is identical with one
held twenty years before: Jus accrescendi non transit ad Emptorem
Hereditatis. 152 The day after Thomas Ayloffe defended the above
two theses for his doctorate, his brother, 153 James, replied for his
LL.B. (July 7, 1696) to the following: "Upon the death of a son
before his marriage, all his children are legitimatized by the
subsequent marriage of the grandfather"; 154 that is, A dies, leav-
ing B, his bastard. B is eo ipso legitimatized by the subsequent
marriage of C, his grandfather. James Ayloffe's second thesis em-
phasizes, again, property: "In a personal or real will, a false desig-
nation [". . . an addition to a name, as of title, profession, trade
or occupation, to distinguish the person from others"] 155 does not
vitiate the deposition/' 156

In the comitial disputations on July 5, 1697, Thomas Brett de-
fended the following two theses for his doctorate: Ex Paenalibus
causis non solet In Patrem de Peculio Actio dari, and Jus Naturale
est immutabile. 15 ' 1 The concept of the natural law and its inherent
immutability goes far back and was particularly prominent in the
philosophical speculations of the Roman jurists of the Antonine
age. The medieval scholastics, of course, refined and expanded the
notion to denote a system of rules and principles, legal and moral,
for the guidance of human action which, independent of enacted
law or of the legal ways peculiar to any one people, might be dis-
covered by the reason of man, and would be found to grow out of
and conform to his nature, meaning by that word his mental,
moral, and physical constitution. The validity of the concept of
natural law in England at this time, and the pertinence of a dis-
putation thereupon at Cambridge at a time when the lawyers were
shifting from the sure ground of code law to the quicksands of
customary law, cannot be overstressed. Two other theses of that
year (1697), defended by James Johnson for his bachelorhood in
law, require no comment: "Upon a son's repudiating his heredity,
a substitute named by the father is preferred/' and "An exceptio
non numeratae pecuniae [one of the classical exceptions, whereby
a defense might be set up by a party who was sued on a promise
to repay money which he had never received (Institutes, 4, 13, 2)]
cannot be opposed after two years." 158 Finally, two theses of 1698,

THE GRADUATE STUDIES M 1

John Laughton defending for his doctorate, are worth note. The
thesis: Juris dicendi Ratio non est Arbitraria, is self-evident,
though the second thesis seems to have political vibrations:
Princeps utcumque cesserit Imperio jure Majestatis excidit "A
prince, in whatever way he yields his imperium, forfeits his right
of majesty," 159 Such a thesis, proposed only ten years after 1688,
surely was aimed at pretending Stuarts.

The outburst of legal theses at Cambridge in the 1670*5, and,
again, in the 1690'$, after the near extinction of university law at
the beginning of the century, curiously bears out Blackstone, to
whom law in the hands of lawyers as against the fist of the king is
the very essence of civil liberty. "[T]he recovery of our civil and
political liberties was a work of a longer time; they not being
thoroughly and completely regained, till after the restoration of
king Charles, nor fully and explicitly acknowledged and defined,
till the aera of the happy revolution." 16

Blackstone was, of course, speaking primarily of the common
law. And well he might, for by the end of the seventeenth century
civil law was heaving but a last few sighs. Indeed, writing in 1708,
T. Ward asks: "Why should not the Common Law of England be
studied at the universities . . ." since it is ". . . of infinitely
more use amongst us even than the Civil and Canon Laws, and of
more value than the ordinary studies of those societies?" 161

MUSIC

Kind Ignoramus whosoe're Thou art

Not having Skill in This most Glorious Art^

are words which seem directly addressed to anyone who would try
to discover the academic status of music at seventeenth-century
Cambridge. It is thwarting that, while the seventeenth is Eng-
land's richest musical century, there should be so little evidence
of Cambridge musical activity in student notebooks, diaries, and
other relicta.

Every educated Englishman, except John Earle's "Downe-right
Scholler," whose ". . . fingers are not long and drawn out to
handle a Fiddle/' 163 seems to have possessed, as one of his natural
faculties, not only an instrumental skill, but an appreciation of
the science whereby he was expected to enter into the sanctuary
of a composer's dream and follow the rubrics of his production.
Such, at least, is the implication of a famous passage in Thomas
Morley's A Plaine and Easie Introduction to Practicall Musicke
(1597). On the very first page, Philomathes says: "But supper be-

14* THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

ing ended, and Musicke bookes, according to the custome being
brought to the table: the mistresse of the house presented mee a
part, earnestly requesting mee to sing. But when after manie
excuses, I protested vnfainedly that I could not; euerie one began
to wonder. Yes, some whispered to others, demaunding how I was
brought vp . . ," 164 Everyone knows of Milton's expert knowl-
edge of music, not only from the masques and the sonnet in praise
of Henry Lawes, but from the Areopagitica ("It will ask more
then the work of twenty licencers to examine all the lutes, the
violins, and the ghittarrs in every house; they must not be suffer' d
to prattle as they doe . . .") 165 and from the tractate Of Educa-
tion ("The interim of unsweating themselves regularly [after
wrestling!], and convenient rest before meat may both with profit
and delight be taken up in recreating and composing their tra-
vail'd spirits with the solemn and divine harmonies of Musick
heard or learnt; either while the skilful Organist plies his grave
and fancied descant, in lofty fugues, or the whole symphony with
artful and unimaginable touches adorn and grace the well studied
chords of some choice Composer"). 166 We can imagine the effect
of piping a symphony into the shower rooms of the Harvard foot-
ball team or the Harvard crew, but before we scorn Milton, let us
remember the supposed effect of the Harvard band in Harvard
Stadium.

John Wallis, among others, admits a debt to Cambridge in
music. Having come up to Emmanuel in 1632, he speaks of his
last year at school and his first in the University: "At this time I
also learned the rudiments of Musick . . ." 167 Nicholas Hookes,
B.A., Trinity College, 1653, in a poem addressed: "To Mr. Lilly,
Musick-Master in Cambridge," says reservedly: "We have good
Musick and Musicians here, If not the best, as good as any-
where." 168 Roger North, speaking of his brother Francis, admit-
ted to St. John's, 1653, writes: "And here he began his use of
music, learning to play on the bass viol, and had opportunity of
practice . . ." 169 Dryden, another Cambridge man, salted his
works with musical references and was never greater than when
he heard "The diapason closing full in man." Pepys, finally, of
Magdalen College, is the fourth most famous fiddler (we rank him
after King Cole's trio!) in English literature.

The seventeenth century was heir to a glorious English musical
tradition. The very existence of a Pseudo-Bede 17 and the wide-
spread influence of Ranulf Higden's Polychronicon^ 71 are mere
reminders that English musical tradition stretches back into the

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 143

Middle Ages. England's musical tradition was broken, however,
by Henry VIII's suppression of the monasteries and the destruc-
tion of an irreplaceable amount of medieval music, acts for which
we are the sadder and poorer. 172

Even ill winds blow good, however, and the constant changes in
the type and order of the liturgy in the reigns after Henry VIII
called forth an outburst of musical activity. Responsible were
Christopher Tye, who had been a singer in King's Chapel, Cam-
bridge, and such as Thomas Tallis, who trimmed his music to fit
the reigns of Edward VI, Mary, and Elizabeth, and of the great
William Byrd, who, though a Catholic, remained a member of
the Chapel Royal until his death in 1623. Byrd is, perhaps, the
greatest figure to emerge during the golden age of English music
called by some the Madrigalian Era which covers the half-
century beginning in 1588, the date of Nicholas Yonge's collection
of madrigals (Musica Transalpine!,). It was Byrd's spirit, as all
admit, which loosed the flood pouring from the presses at the
extreme end of the sixteenth century. Thomas Watson published
The first sett of Italian Madrigalls Englished (1590). This, too,
was the age of Thomas Morley, Thomas Weelkes, John Wilbye
("Flora gave me Fairest Flowers" and "Sweet honey-sucking
Bees"), of Thomas Bateson, of Orlando Gibbons and his brother
Ellis. In 1609, Thomas Ravenscroft published Pammelia, the first
collection of catches, rounds, and canons published in England,
and, in the same year, appeared Deuteromelia, also edited by
Ravenscroft, another collection famous for the catch, "Three
Blinde Mice." Finally, in 1652, John Hilton published Catch
That Catch Can, which, if we judge by the times it was reprinted,
was extremely popular.

All this being true, it is astonishing that there is practically no
record of university music at Cambridge in the early seventeenth
century. In view of such Cambridge amateurs as John Wallis,
Nicholas Hookes, Francis North, and John Dryden, in considera-
tion of the background of medieval tradition, and with regard to
the generally active publishing of music in the earlier seventeenth
century, it is difficult to believe that Cambridge University was
not a hot-frame of musicians. Professional historians of music,
however, assure us that "the history of musical degrees at both the
old English universities is consistently anomalous and obscure." 173
Nan Cooke Carpenter, in an essay, "The Study of Music at the
University of Oxford in the Renaissance ( 1450-1 600)," 174 points
out the general superiority of Oxford in music, though she does

144 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

memorialize several important Cambridge degree-takers who
transmigrated from the Cam to the Isis. Despite the continuing
force of the statutes with the regard to music, Cambridge did little
to secure her musical tradition during the seventeenth century
until the appointment of her first professor of music in 1684, as
against Oxford's first establishment of a professorship in 1626.

In the notebooks and records consulted, there is little to dis-
abuse one of the opinion that music was taught only by "rule of
thumb" (as Professor Patrick Hadley says) at Cambridge. There
is a very short tract De Musica in the notebook of Henry James, 175
but this little declamation tells us no more of contemporary music
than its companion-piece, De Venatione, tells us of seventeenth-
century hunting practices. Christopher Wordsworth recalls that
D'Ewes describes a young sophister appearing in the schools, car-
rying with him his viol. 176 The student began the proceedings by
playing on the viol an original lesson or exercise, after which he
entered upon his position "of sol, fa, mi, la," against three op-
ponents. After the opponents had been routed, the sophister
played another piece, whereat the moderator exlaimed: "Ubi
desinit philosophus, ibi incipit musicus." D'Ewes thought this "a
very pretty jest."

Still, according to MSS. Baker (quoting a letter of Joseph Mede
of Christ's College to Sir Martin Stuteville), we find that although
"on Thursday Morning they had an Act at the schools well per-
formed [September 26, 1629] . . . The Music was not so well
supplied, as seyd those, who have skill in that way . . ," 177 The
Baker MSS. further record an act of 1658, in which "a concert in
five, six or eight parts in the Music School" 17S is remembered. By
and large, though, Cambridge music in the seventeenth century is
better remembered in its forgetting. Esquire Bedell Buck, in 1665,
notes with typical Cambridge understatement that the "music act
was not always put on." 179

There was one memorable music act, however, of which we have
record. Late in the century, in 1696, William Turner (the doughty
old composer, now famed for his sixty-nine years with one wife
rather than for his then famous anthems) was granted an hon-
orary doctorate in music by Cambridge. In the comitial verses
written for the occasion, graceful tribute is paid to Henry Pur-
cell, who had died the previous year: PURCELLO indoctior uno
Cantor TURNERUS, cui Musica dextera suaves / Designat mo-
dulos . . . 1SO In the seventy-four Latin verses of the poem, the
comitial versifier rings the changes upon the musical common-

THE GRADUATE STUDIES M5

places used by Dryden nine years before (1687) in his first "Ode
for Saint Cecilia's Day." A yet more famous act took place in the
next century, when Alexander Pope wrote: "An Ode Composed
for the Public Commencement At Cambridge on Monday July
the 6th 1730 At the Musick-Act' ' (Descend ye Nine! descend and
sing).

One final item which pleads for comment is Roger Long's note-
book (Pembroke College Library, Ms. 21) dating 1698. Long, in
summarizing William Holder's A Treatise on the Natural Grounds
and Principles of Harmony (1694), shows the persistence of Py-
thagorean theory and scholastic terminology until the end of the
century. Long writes:

f matter sound or voice

Harmony consists of J form the apt disposition of the several tones
[ grave and acute.

The notebook then summarizes the rest of Holder's chapters: Of
Sound in General. Of Sound Harmonick, Of Consonancy and
Dissonancy, Of Concords, Of Proportions, Of Discords and De-
grees, Of Differences ~ synopsizing thus seventeenth-century mu-
sical science.

Roger Long's synopsis may at last prove useful, should Thomas
Mace be right: "And I am subject to Believe, (if in Eternity we
shall make use of any Language, or shall not understand One
Another, by some More Spiritual Conveyances, or Infusions of
Perceptions, than by Verbal Language) That Musick (It Self) may
be That Eternal, and Caelestial Language, Allelujah, Allelujah,
AllelujaJi." 181

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

The foregoing pages are an essay toward an understanding of
the curriculum according to which our literary ancestors of the
Renaissance and the earlier seventeenth century were trained at
Cambridge. Why Spenser, Bacon, Fuller, Milton, Dryden, to name
but a few, thought and wrote as they did, can be explained in
some degree by scrutinizing their university background. Even the
adversely critical attitudes of Bacon, Fuller, and Milton toward
scholastic Cambridge can hardly be appreciated without under-
standing the object of their criticism.

Scholasticism, logical, systematic, and largely Aristotelian, is
now pretty much outre monde. To the seventeenth century, how-
ever, scholasticism set a familiar table; and many ideas, which now
require an explanatory footnote, were bread and butter then.

SCHOLASTIC FORMS

The forms of scholasticism are, for the most part, completely
unfamiliar to the modern mind, though they had been trans-
planted to Harvard and Yale, and at one time were as rightfully
American as a first-generation Puritan.

The scholastic lecture, which by 1660 had fallen on evil days
because of the prevalence of printed books and the continued
ignoring of the new areas of knowledge, remained in full force as
a Cambridge institution until almost the end of the seventeenth
century indeed, the scholastic lecture, though changed, has
never been supplanted.

The disputation, though it had degenerated into a mere form
by 1700, was, in the first four decades of the i6oo's, a lively ex-
change of wit and learning, and an excellent way of examining
the talents of those who aspired to a Cambridge degree. The third
main scholastic form, the declamation, a polished essay meant
specifically and especially (though not less than the disputation!)
to be spoken, tried the student time and again, both in the pri-
vacy of the college and the publicity of the schools, in eloquent
presentation. In the declamation the student was advised to aim

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION 147

at a "clear, & perspicuous, smooth & plaine, & full" style, "nervous,
& vivid, 8c masculine." The clarity, conviction, and general
smoothness of seventeenth-century writing can be explained in
part by their attention to these exercises. After three years of
"diting" and repeating to the tutor logically organized lectures, a
Jeremy Taylor or a Dryden might be expected to be clear. The
hours the student spent in disputation (in the quadragesimals, be
it remembered, the student was allowed to pick his own "position-
side") trained him to express himself, not only subtly, but with
conviction. Finally, in writing his declamation with the aim of
speaking it, the student was forced to write for the ear, and writing
for the ear is still the secret of smoothness.

The more specialized scholastic acts, the clerums, quadragesi-
mals, sophomes, determinationes, and so forth, terms which com-
pletely baffle the- beginner in seventeenth-century Cambridge his-
tory, are merely variations on the lecture, the disputation, and the
declamation.

THE CONTENT OF SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY SCHOLASTICISM

The scholastics systematically divided the curriculum into the
arts, which are concerned with action, and the sciences, which
have to do with knowledge.

The undergraduate arts at Cambridge were three: logic, which
taught the student correct patterns of thinking; rhetoric, which
taught him to express himself according to the very-long-estab-
lished principles of eloquentia; and ethics, which taught him the
principles of moral behavior, as these principles are discoverable
by reason from the natural law.

The logic notebooks follow pretty much a beaten path, analyz-
ing first the three chief mental operations, that is, the simple ap-
prehension, the judgment, and the linking of judgments into a
reasoning process. Next, the various kinds of judgment-linkings
or syllogisms are presented, and the student was drilled, both
orally in the tutor's rooms and in written exercises, in the tech-
nique of syllogizing. Knowledge of the syllogistic forms meant,
finally, that the student would learn to recognize and know how
to refute the various logical fallacies.

University rhetoric included a study of the formal precepts of
the ars dicendi (largely from the classical rhetoricians or from
manuals based on them); involved wide reading in, and memoriz-
ing of, Greek and Latin orators, historians, and poets; and, above
all, required written exercises in imitation of whatever author the

*4 8 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

tutor should assign. While English orations were studied, the pri-
mary aim at Cambridge was the acquisition of a classical, well-
rounded Latin style, with the particular purpose of success in the
public and private disputations and declamations on which a
student's preferment depended.

Ethics, the third undergraduate art, considered virtue generally
as Aristotle defines it: the proficiency in willing what is conformed
to right reason. The Aristotelian virtues were first considered
singly in themselves; then, the virtues were applied as they affect
social relationships, whether between individuals as such, between
the individual and the natural group-units of the family and the
state, or, finally, between group-units themselves.

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES

Ars gratia artis was never a scholastic ideal. Beyond his arts'
study, the seventeenth-century Cambridge student was expected
to acquire a mastery of the sciences which would give him some-
thing more than the mere arts to think about and something for
his eloquence to convey. The realm of knowledge available to
undergraduates was divided into four provinces (each province
concerned with some phase of being): metaphysics (being in gen-
eral), physics (being as qualified), mathematics (being as quanti-
fied), and cosmography (the being of this geographical world).
The very neatness of such an arrangement concealed an intransi-
gence, and seemed to excuse Cambridge dons, and too many other
scholastic masters, from any obligation to rethink the old cur-
riculum in terms of the busy findings of the new mathematics
and the New Sciences.

Metaphysics introduced the student to the concept of being as
such, together with its transcendental attributes (the one, the true,
the good) and its principles (potency and act and the four causes:
efficient, final, material, and formal). The science of metaphysics
then considered the divisions of being according to the ten Cate-
goriae of Aristotle, emphasizing particularly the idea of substance.
Immaterial substances, angels and God (metaphysics prescinded
for the moment from the human soul), demanded first considera-
tion. Among immaterial essences, God was first, the Prime Cause,
Himself uncaused, whose many dazzling attributes included fore-
knowledge. After God and His foreknowledge, seventeenth-cen-
tury metaphysics might consider what it would.

Physics was concerned with extended being, so far as it was
qualified or modified according to the Categories of Aristotle,
because extended being was changeable. In the first part of physics

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION 149

(physica generalia: Keckermann's Liber Primus), the student con-
sidered such concepts as change itself, time, place, quantity (in-
cluding the continuum), and the specific aspects of matter and
form. This is physica as Aristotle limited it.

The second part of physica, as presented by the late scholastic
manualists, lumped the other Aristotelian tractates on extended
being, for example, De Partibus Animalium.De Meteoris, et cetera,
which the Philosopher himself had kept distinct from his Physica,
into a hodgepodge of astronomy, chemistry, biology, psychology,
physics, anatomy, meteorology, and geology. In the same discipline
Keckermann and others included such materials as the composi-
tion and matter of the heavens, the four elements, brute creation,
the human soul and its faculties, human physiology, Nature, and
the origin of the world. True, these were organized according to
logic into a system, seemingly according to Aristotle, but it is in
this second part of physica where late scholasticism was weakest
and where it first broke down. The charges against the seven-
teenth-century scholastics of (i) an aprioristic view of natural
phenomena, where the principle is enunciated prior to a study of
the fact, (2) a superstitious authoritarianism, which had supplant-
ed the sound traditionalism of someone like St. Thomas, and (3)
the tendency to bring metaphysics into science, can justly be
leveled against this second part of late scholastic physica.

Mathematics at earlier seventeenth-century Cambridge was, as
far as we could gather, a neglected science. At least, the students,
teste John Wallis, knew very little of the subject, nor is there any-
thing in the notebooks to contradict such a testimony.

Perhaps because of the neglect of mathematics, a prerequisite
for any understanding of navigation and its problems, cosmogra-
phy appears very seldom in the notebooks of the seventeenth-
century Cambridge student.

THE GRADUATE STUDIES

Of the four graduate fields theology, medicine, law, and mu-
sic the first was far and away the most important, though medi-
cine was not altogether inconsequential.

Theology was to Cambridge what science is now to a modern
university; and if most bachelors commenced divinity, it was be-
cause as undergraduates they had breathed the heady air of the
sacred science, not only in university sermons, clerums, and chap-
el exhortations, but in the divinity acts of the schools.

Prelatical versus antiprelatical was not the chief issue at earlier
seventeenth-century Cambridge. Basic to matters of ecclesiology

15 THE SCHOLASTIC CURRICULUM AT CAMBRIDGE

were certain questions of dogma, centering about the problems of
grace and justification. Depending on one's answer to the twofold
question: whether justification is intrinsic or extrinsic to the soul
(Cambridge held, of course, that justification is extrinsic!) and
whether sacraments produce grace, occasion it, or merely symboli-
cally "sign" it, one will accept a priesthood and a ritual or reject
them. Even the problem of predestination, so divisive among Eng-
lish theologians, arose from the concept of grace: whether it can
be rejected or no, and, if it cannot be rejected, on what score God
grants saving grace to one man and not to another.

Casuistry was an important part of Cambridge theology, though
there were those, such as Jeremy Taylor, who bewailed the uni-
versities' neglect of the science. Ritual, too, suffered neglect in the
Cambridge colleges as Puritanism came more and more into the
open. Through it all, however, Cambridge divinity remained
scholastic until well after 1640; nor can we forget that the Catholic
scholastics were as thoroughly studied as the Protestant.

During the century Cambridge produced many medical men,
who, if they were not completely Cambridge-trained, received
from alma mater inspiration and background enough to com-
mence elsewhere. There was considerable interest in anatomy,
and, if dissections were crude, they were at least performed.

University law, whether at Cambridge or Oxford, was in poor
case, indeed. The universities enjoyed exclusive right to teach the
civil law, but the civil law, divorced from canon, found it in-
creasingly difficult to survive. Common law, taught at the Inns of
Court, gradually supplanted civil law at the universities, though
there is record of civil law acts at Cambridge almost to 1700.

Music, finally, presents a mystery. Why in England's golden age
of musical publication music studies should have been so neg-
lected in the universities, none can say. Records of only two or
three acts survive for the entire century. But, then, universities in
our own day are seldom conspicuous for musical studies.

Such was the scholastic curriculum at Cambridge. For all its
defects and however open to criticism in several areas, the system
affected its share of the minds who framed Renaissance and seven-
teenth-century England. Or, as Nicholas Fitzherbert wrote in 1602:
"The system of education so effectively works, forms, and sharpens
the mind, and brings out its energies, that, unless the student be
quite leaden and worthless, it will adapt him, not only for the
retired pursuits of the Schools, but for the public duties of the
State." *

BIBLIOGRAPHY

MANUSCRIPTS

British Museum

3565. A kind of student's lexicon of scholastic terminology, belonging to

Thomas Millington and dated April 7, 1648, 12, paper.
38856. A miscellaneous collection of late seventeenth-century materials,

including a "Letter to John Strype," ca. 1680, 162 sqq., and a letter,

undated, ridiculing the Philosophy Society of Dublin, fiE. 158-161.
Birch Coll. 4266. The correspondence and works of Mrs. Cockburn, vol.

Ill, including "A Vindication of Mr. Locke's Christian Principles."
Cotton Faustina D II (21 g 3). "Quaestiones Philosophicae in Vesperis

Comitiorum" by Mr. [John] Bois, 12, paper.

Harl. 1779. A notebook, "authore Francisco Boughey, Col. Bal." contain-
ing physica and metaphysica.
Harl. 5043. A notebook of Nehemias Rogers, Queen's College, Oxon.,

containing logic and ethics, 8, paper.
Harl. 5356. "Synopsis totius Philosophiae," by Robert Booth; a notebook

summary of scholastic philosophy of the early seventeenth century.
Lans. 797. "John Coles Logical Exercises," mid-seventeenth century, 8,

paper, 1142.
Sloane 629. Miscellaneous tracts translated by Dr. Foote, including "Log-

icke is useless," 269 sqq., dated 1696.
Sloane 1221. A student's notebook, "Explicatio Quorumdam Termino-

rum Mathematicorum . . . ," Edinburgh, with dates 1662 and 1663.
Sloane 1472. A student's notebook, perhaps of John Hearne, including

logic, geography, mathematics, ca. 1660, 8, paper.
Sloane 1981. A student's notebook, containing part of "Magyri Phisica"

and several disputation questions; also tract on logic and De Anima.

Very early seventeenth century.
Sloane 2613. A notebook which contains a summary of Principia Carte-

siana Tyronum Captui Accomodata, 1-99 ff., and "Thomas Thom-

kinson's book" ff. 103-113.
Sloane 2851 B. "Exercitium Disputationum in Regulas Metaphysicas B.

Donati" (29 Mail 1695). Contains something on the disputation it-
self, and scholastic axioms.
Sloane 3007. "Collegii Physici," a series of tracts on Physica, seventeenth

century, apparently by a German (e.g., Respondente Sigismundo

Derschow . . . , f. 31).

152 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Add. 4553. A philosophical notebook, identified only "Croidanae, 21

Aprilis 1691," containing disputation questions.
Add. 27219. "Disputationes in Aristotelis Libros Physicorum et de Coelo,"

early seventeenth century.

University Library , Cambridge

Dd. 3. 85, 5. Praelectio Domini Doctoris Overalli, ca. 1600, small folio,

55 -
Dd. 5. 47. A Compendium of Logic, anon., seventeenth century, small 4,

paper, 55 ff.

Dd. 6. 30. A notebook containing miscellaneous materials, anon., small
hand, late seventeenth century, 4, paper, 142 pp.

Gg. i. 29. A collection of miscellaneous theological and historical docu-
ments, written from both ends, 4, paper, 279 ff.

Mm. i. 35 Mm. i. 53. Baker MSS., vols. 24-42, 19 folio volumes, collect
most widely varied materials which pertain to Cambridge. The first
23 volumes are preserved in the British Museum, Harl. 7028-7050.

Mm. 5. 42. Collections relating to the University of Cambridge, Latin
and English, chiefly in the hand of Adam Wall, small 4, paper of
various sizes, 250 ff.

Add. H 2640. A notebook of John Smyth of Gonville and Caius College,
ca. 1681, containing logic, ethics, and physics, 4, paper, no pagina-
tion.

Add. 3854. A "Discursus on Logic," anon., late seventeenth century, 4,
paper, no pagination.

Add. 4359. A logic notebook, probably of an English student at Sala-
manca, dated 1652, 4, paper, 190 ff.

Emmanuel College Library, Cambridge

I. 2. 27 (James 48). Richard Holdsworth's Directions for students, ca.
1645,71^x534, paper.

I. 4. 36. A notebook of John Balderston, ca. 1660, 6x4, paper, 160 ff.

II. i. 13, 14, 15. Sir Matthew Male's Manuscript "Tentamina de Ortu

Natura et Immortalitate Animae Humanae," 1692, 1334 x 83^,
paper, 3 vols., 439 ff.

III. i. 11. Directions and advice to students [Joshua Barnes* reduction of
Richard Holdsworth's Directions], ca. 1696, 8, paper, 123 ff.

III. i. 13. Miscellaneous papers, including a sermon of John Cotton, An-
thony Tuckney's "A Brief and Pithy Catechism," etc., 1134x73^,
paper, ca. 250 ff.

III. i. 22. A theological essay, very possibly from Sancroft, called "A Di-
rection to be observed by N. N. if hee meane to proceede in answer-
ing the booke intituled Mercy and Truth or Charity mayntayned by
Catholicks," late seventeenth century, 6 x 33^, paper, 44 ff.

III. 3. 25. Comment. In Naturalia Aristotelis, ca. 1653, 10x7, paper,
498 pp.

BIBLIOGRAPHY 153

Gonville and Cams College Library

416633. A dialogue wherein "Nature's secret closet is opened ... by
Thomas Tymme, Professor of Divinitie," small 4, paper, 45 ff. (The
ms. dates after 1612 when Tymme's book was published in London.)

432. John Gostlin's Disputations, Determinations, etc. in Comitiis, 1624-
1626, 4, paper, 80 ff.

613-686. A miscellaneous notebook, possibly of John Collins, ca. 1646,
folio, paper, not paginated.

616-548. Miscellaneous historical extracts, anon., small 4, 201 ff.

685-257. A commonplace book, belonging to William Burkitt, dated
1666, 12, paper, 113 ff.

725-752. Miscellaneous materials, chiefly pertaining to Francis Lee, early
eighteenth century, 12, paper, ca. 300 ff.

744-259. Description of University Ceremonies (especially for visit of
King James, 1622), R. Simpson, 5^4 X4, paper, 279 ff.

748-259. A theological notebook, anon., containing disputation notes and
university orations, 1614-1627, 16, paper, 96 ff.

759-421. A copy of the Annals from 1603 to 1648 (the work of William
Moore), Charles Tucke [?], small 4, paper, 216 pp.

776689. A collection of eighteenth-century disputations, largely mathe-
matical, 4, no foliation.

King's College Library

15. A commonplace book, anon., late sixteenth or early seventeenth cen-
tury, much influenced by Johan Crellius, 4, paper.

Magdalen College Library, Cambridge

F. 4. 21. A commonplace book, anon., mid-seventeenth century, 12, pa-
per, leather cover, 357 pp., index.

Pembroke College Library

6. 14. 8 (also 23). A collection of popular cures. (The MS. is probably the
gift of Mark Frank, 1664; vide M. Wren's "Catalogue of Benefac-
tors/' 93, a 83.)

19. Sermons, sermon notes, and lectures of Lawrence Chaderton, July,

1590, small 4, paper.

20. A notebook of Richard Crossinge, ca. 1695, small 4, paper.

21. A mathematical notebook of Roger Long, 1698-99, 4, paper.

26. A notebook of Richard Crossinge, containing "prelections/* Greek

verse, and an elementary French grammar, 4, paper.

27. Sermon notes of James Duport (?), mid-seventeenth century, small 8,

paper.

29. i. i. A commonplace book of Roger Long (1698-99).
29. i. 4. A notebook of Roger Long, ca. 1696, 4, paper.

154 BIBLIOGRAPHY

38. A notebook containing some arithmetic and occasional verses, be-
longing perhaps to Charles Parkin, late seventeenth century.
40, 41. Bishop Matthew Wren's commentary on Acts, 4, paper.
43. A notebook of Roger Long, 169 [7].

48. Apparently a continuation of the above.

49. A notebook containing Quaestiones Determinandae, 17 in number,

chiefly theological, 1671-74, 8, paper.

50. A commonplace book, early seventeenth century (?), anon., 8, paper.
Unclassified. Disputationes Metaphysicae of Nicholas Felton, early seven-
teenth century, small 8. (Kept in locked case on north wall.)

Unclassified. A notebook, chiefly of classical subjects, anon., seventeenth
century, 12. (Kept in drawer at east end of library.)

Queens' College Library, Cambridge

Home 39-1002. A logic notebook, anon., seventeenth century, 12, paper,

no pagination.
Home 41. Theological notes, containing reference to Thomas Lovering,

early seventeenth century, 12, paper.
Home 43. Abstractio Compendiosa Philosophiae Nat[ural"\is, Richard

Morton, early seventeenth or late sixteenth century, 12, paper.
Home 89. "Collections of some materiall things which do concerne both

ye corporation viz. ye University and Towne of Cambridge," by John

Buck, 1665.

Home 54. Statuta Collegii Reginalis, 1727, 8, paper.
Unclassified. A Notebook of Lawrence Bretton, ca. 1605, 8, paper. (This

and the following four mss. are tied in a bundle marked "From the

President's Lodge, 1932.")
Unclassified. A notebook, most likely of Henry James. Contains two

hands, one early seventeenth century, the other much later, 8,

paper, vellum covered.
Unclassified. A collection of determinations in the reign of James I,

anon., 8, paper.
Unclassified. A notebook commentary on Latin poetry, early seventeenth

century, 12, paper, leather bound.
Unclassified. An extensive list of books, possibly in Queens' Library,

anon., post 1650, 8, paper, vellum covered.
Unclassified (preserved in "Vigani Cabinet"). "A Course of Chymistry

under Signior Vigani Professor of Chymistry in the University of

Cambridge at the Laboratory," 1707, paper.

St. John's College Library

Aa 2 (James 491). A commonplace book of Zachary Grey, early eighteenth

century.
Aa 3. 70. The commonplace book of Henry Docker, dated 4 August, 1686,

4, paper.

BIBLIOGRAPHY 155

I 34 (James 328). In Januam Rerum sive Totius Pansophiae Christianae

Seminarium Introitus, anon., early seventeenth century, small 4,

paper. [A curious philosophical medley!]
I 5 & 6. MS. of Lord Herbert of Cherbury's De Veritate, perhaps for the

private edition of 1624, folio, paper, 2 vols.
K 38 (James 347), Commonplace Book of H, Vaughan, containing (pp.

180-208) "Advice to a Young Divine," ca. 1652, 4, pp. 219.
K 56-58. Theological treatises, anon., mid-seventeenth century, 4, no

foliation.
L 2 (James 359). Elementa Physicae Practicae, William Davison, 1631,

small 4, paper, ca. 200 flc.
S 17 (James 411). The Common Place Book of Allsop, ca. 1685-88, 4,

paper.
S 18 (James 412). A commonplace book of theology, anon., post 1629, 4,

paper.
S 20. A Commonplace Book of Theology, anon., post 1644, 4, paper, no

foliation.
831 (James 422). A commonplace book of a student of Christ's Church,

mid-seventeenth century, small 4, paper.
S 34 (James 425). A book of Themes, Versus . . . by Alexander Bolde,

electus Soc. AuL Penbroch, 1620, small 4, paper.
S 44 (James 434). A Common-Place Book, anon., post 1635, 12, paper.

Trinity College Library, Cambridge

O loA 33. The "Rules for Students" of James Duport, cum alia, 1650-
60, 12, paper, leather covered.

R. 16. 6. An immense commonplace book, "Edward Palmer" on the fly-
leaf, early seventeenth century, 14 x 91^, paper, ca. 700 fL

R. 16. 7. Commonplace book, in hand similar to previous, 14x8^4, pa-
per, 281 ff.

R. 16. 8. Another commonplace book in similar hand, 133^ x 8/, paper,
ca. 400 fL

MSS. R. 16. 10-19 * nc A series of anonymous commonplace books, in-
cluding much Greek, especially of Aristotle, and all dating from the
early seventeenth century. Various sizes and hands.

Claughton Hall, Claughton-on-Brock, Lanes, (in possession of Maj. John
Fitzherbert-Brockholes).

A Fragmentary Comment on Scholastic Ethics, anon., late seventeenth
century, 4, paper.

Swynnerton Hall, Swynnerton, Staffs, (in possession of Lord Stafford).

An English translation of Nicholas Fitzherbert's Oxontensis Academiae
Descriptio, by John Harkness, 1848, 12, paper.

156 BIBLIOGRAPHY

FUGITIVE PRINTED MATERIALS

University Library, Cambridge

Camb. d. 714. 2. Quaestiones Una cum Carminibus. . . (Cambridge,

1714). (A bound volume of commencement verse.)
Cam. d. 732. 4. Quaestiones philosophicae in usum juventutis academiae

collectae et digestae (Cambridge, 1732).
Cam. d. 730. 5. Quaestiones una cum Carminibus . . . (Cambridge,

1730). (A bound volume, as above.)
Sel. i. 11. A collection o commencement verses, printed on separate

sheets of folio, mostly anonymous, various years, 1574 to 1730.
Sel. i. 24. A collection of commencement verses, printed on separate

sheets of folio, mostly anonymous, for various years, 1612-1713.

Cambridge University Registrary

#75. "Triposes/* a collection of commencement verses, 1693-1767, print-
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NOTES

PROLOGUE

1. See, e.g., Elizabeth and Essex (London, 1928), p. i.

2. The Seventeenth Century Background (London, 1934), p. 3.

3. See Harrison's Description of England in Shakespere's Youth, ed.
Frederick J. Furnivall (London, 1877), pt. I, bk. II, ch. 3, pp. 72 sqq.

4. Oxoniensis Academiae Descriptio, tr. in a manuscript at Swynner-
ton Hall, Swynnerton, Staffs., /. i2 v . The work was published in Rome.

5. Cambridge Characteristics in the Seventeenth Century (Cambridge,
1867), p. 119.

6. Charles Cooper, Annals of Cambridge (Cambridge, 1842-53), III,

349-

7. An Essay Upon Study (London, 1731), p. 181.

8. "Bacon's Part in the Intellectual Movement of His Time," Seven-
teenth Century Studies Presented to Sir Herbert Grierson (Oxford,
1938), p. 27.

9. The English Universities, 2 vols. (London, 1843), II, pt. I, 74-75.

CHAPTER ONE

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM

1. See, e.g., [William] Harrison's Description of England in Shake-
pere's Youth, ed. F. J. Furnivall (London, 1877), p. 76. Harrison would
put the figure nearer fifteen hundred.

2. Legally, the statutes promulgated by Elizabeth were unchangeable.
See George Peacock, Observations upon the Statutes of the University of
Cambridge (Cambridge, 1841), p. 59. In fact, the entire shift from scho-
lasticism to the eighteenth-century curriculum was illicit, since no statute
ever sanctioned the change.

3. University Library, Cambridge (hereafter referred to as ULC), MS.
Baker, Mm i. 38, p. 77.

4. Chancellors at this time, of course, exercised actual power in the
university.

5. ULC, MS. Baker, xxvii, p. 27.

6. Charles H. Cooper, Annals of Cambridge, 5 vols. (Cambridge,
1842-53), III, 130.

7. Trinity College Library, Cambridge, MS. o loa 33. I am indebted
to the Master, G. M. Trevelyan, for pointing out this manuscript, which
contains, pp. 1-15, James Duport's "Rules to be observed by young pupils

170 NOTES TO CHAPTER ONE

and scholars in the university." Duport, who taught Isaac Barrow, who,
in turn, taught Newton, divides his Rules into six chapters of 12 to 60
rules apiece, covering not only the proper performance of exercises and
suggestions for private study and note-taking, but deportment in chapel,
proper sports, the dangers of too-frequent bathing, etc. The Rules date
before 1660, when they were copied, and after 1650, the date of Baxter's
Saint's Rest, to which Duport makes reference as Soul's Rest. Most of the
Rules were published by Mr. Trevelyan in The Cambridge Review,
LXIX (May 22, 1943), 1575, 328-350.

8. Statuta Regis Henrici Octavi, an. xxvii regni sui, 22 Oct., 1535,
Statuta Antiqua Cantabrigiensis, in Statuta Academiae Cantabrigiensis

(Cambridge, 1785), pp. 137-138.

9. Idem (translation ours). Scotus seems always to head the litany ot
the damned among the medieval scholastics, being singled out by Henry
in another place as leader in "those inextricable labyrinths of authors,"
though recent scholarship has restored the great Franciscan to his right-
ful place as a first-rate mind. "Burleius" is Thomas Burley (or Burleigh),
the tutor of the Black Prince, who was a harmless journeyman-commen-
tator of Aristotle. Of the others, the less said, the better. Thomas Bricot
(Textus abbreviatus logicus, Basle, 1492) and George of Brussels (Sum-
mularum artis dialecticae inter pretatio, Paris, 1508) were close to being
Terminists or Nominalists. Antonius Trombeta (d. 1518) had further
complicated Scotus with his In Scoti formalitates, Quaestiones quod-
lib e tales.

Adam Trebbechovius, who wrote what is probably the first history of
scholasticism, makes a chant of the minor late scholastics: "Habes post
Scotum, Holcot, Tricot, Bricot, Boquinquam et plures altos . . ." De
Doctoribus Scholasticis . . . (Giessae, 1665, and Jena, 1719), p. 333.

10. Statuta Academiae Cantab., pp. 227-228.

11. Oxoniensis Academiae descriptio, from manuscript at Swynnerton
Hall, Staffs., /. 24*". The translation is by the Reverend John Harkness,
1849. Tne manuscript is in 12, bound in red leather, and kept in the
cases on the east wall of the library.

12. Pembroke College Library, Cambridge, manuscript without class-
mark, "Nich. Felton, Disputationes Metaphysicae." Felton is one of the
forgotten figures of the early seventeenth century. Having taken his B.A.
from Pembroke in 1580-81, and his D.D. in 1601/02, he was a close
friend of Lancelot Andrewes, to whom he owed his election to the mas-
tership of Pembroke, 1616/17, and his subsequent elevation to Ely. In
1624, he opposed John Preston's candidacy for the lectureship in Trinity
College. The present manuscript has more than passing importance, as
we judge from a statement in DNB (V, 1173): "Felton 's exact theological
position is not easy to determine. He left no writings, and little is re-
corded by his contemporaries of any part taken by him in the controver-
sies of the day."

13. Emmanuel College Library, Cambridge, MS. I. 4. 36.

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 17 1

14. ULC, MS. Baker Mm 1.38, p. 77.

15. ULC, MS. Baker Mm i. 38, p. 33.

16. "His opinion was that, since books are so frequent as now they
are, public lectures are not so necessary, or (perhaps) useful, as in older
times . . ." Roger North, The Lives of . . . Francis North . . . (Lon-
don, 1826), III, 309.

17. Statuta Academiae Cantab., p. 146.

18. ULC, MS. Baker, xxvi, p. 34.

19. Ibid., p. 121.

20. See Antonius Possevinus, Eibliotheca Selecta (Rome, 1593), i, 26.

21. Fasti Aberdonienses, p. liii, in Alexander Morgan, Scottish Univer-
sity Studies (London, 1933), p. 68.

22. Idem.

23. Trinity College Statutes, an. ii Eliz., ULC, MS. Baker, Mm 1.40,
p. 152.

24. Ibid., pp. 153-154.

25. Idem.

26. Peacock, Observations, App. B.

27. Idem.

28. Idem.

29. Idem.

30. ". . . the master and fellows put these two young men [Andrewes
and Thomas Dove, later Bishop of Peterborough] to a trial before them,
by some Scholastical exercises: upon performance whereof they pre-
ferred Sir Andrewes . . ." Henry Isaacson, The Life and Death of
Lancelot Adrewes, ed. Stephen Isaacson (London, 1829), P- 2 7-

31. Peacock, Observations, App. A, p. xlvL

32. Idem.

33. Idem.

34. ULC, MS. Baker, Mm i. 47, p. 444.

35. Gonville & Caius College Library, Cambridge, MS. 744-249, p. 63.

36. ULC, MS. Dd. 3. 85, #5, p. 6.

37. An adequate sampling may be found in ULC, MS. Gg. i. 29.

38. MS. S. 18.

39. Mr. Love's jovial loquacity may have been due to a stronger liquor
than well-water. In "Some account of the proceedings in the case of the
controverted election, betwixt Dr. Love 8c Mr. Holdsworth to the Master-
ship of St. John's College," we read: "Mr. Coate wit. That for the most
part of these 17 last yeares, Dr. Love hath been a very intemperate man
8c given to excessive drinking 8c disorder therein, & that he hath seen him
drink liberally, & 3: or 4: times overcome with drink, naming St. John
Port Latin day from one about 7 or 8 a clocke in the eveninge . . .

"Dr Love denyeth this accusation, 8c proveth by divers witnesses, that
he was temperate and sober at St: John Port Latin day, till 7: of the clock
at night . . ." MS. Baker, Mm. 1.38, pp. 95-96.

40. Peacock, Observations, App. B.

172 NOTES TO CHAPTER ONE

41. Gonville & Cams College Library, Cambridge, MS. 744-249, p. 63.

42. Peacock, Observations, App. B.

43. The Works of John Milton, Columbia ed., 18 vols. (New York,
1931-38), XII, 10.

44. The broadside bears no date, but it is inserted in ULC, Sel. i. 24,
immediately before a set of verses dated tentatively 1630. The text runs:

OMNES HOMINES NATURALITER SCIRE DESIDERANT

Quis non Aonios latices, Phoebiq; fluenta

Quaerit, & Hyblaeo mella petenda jugo?
Scilicet humanis haec est innata medullis,

Haeret 8c in nostro pectore sacra sitis
Scrutari secreta Deum, viresq; Parentis

Naturae, in tacito quas tenet ipsa sinu.
Vt sciat aethereos, perfert cervicibus, axes;

Et non ingrato pondere sudat, Atlas.
Vt sciat Aglauros flavae secreta Dianae,

Non metuit tantae jurgia saeva Deae.
Ipsas scire juvat Rhodopeia carmina sylvas,

Quam vellent doctum vel dedicisse melosl
Scire juvat summus quot sydera gestat Olympus,

Quot tenet accensas nos tenebrosa faces,
Seu petis Icarijs superum palatia pennis,

Seu Phoebi currus cum Phaetonte regis.
Pectore quis toto sacras non imbibit artes?

Aut quis non tantas ambit avarus opes?
Hos satus Japeto de coelo sustulit ignes,

Hanc ille aeterno pectore pascit avem.
Tantalus & medio sitit has in flumine lymphas,

Haec & jejuno pectore poma petit:
Prima per aequoreos ausa est quae currere fluctus,

Haec tantum petjt vellera, Graia ratis
Cimmerias animi tenebras, & flumina Lethes

Odimus, baud ulli pectora caeca placent

Ergo animis dedit ipsa sitim Natura sciendi,
Hoc lacte Infantes nutrjit ipsa suos.

VERITAS EST CONFORMITAS REI CUM INTELLECTU

Arte senex Siculus vitreum Jovis aemulus orbem

Finxit, & in fragili sydera mota globo;
Intima respexit propriae Penetralia mentis,

Mentis & Ideae contulit Artis opus:
Vtq; animo vidit bene respondere nguram

Verum opus, artificis approbat inde manus;
Intuitu lustrans vno fit omnia Numen,

Ideasq; videns cuncta referre suas,
Protinus agnoscit pro veris omnia: falsus

Spectandus toto nee fuit orbe no thus:
Nutria infantem genitor commisit alendum

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM *73

Zelotypus, Nati ducta figura fuit:
Mutatur soboles: manet vsq; simillima forma,

Agnovit prolem qua pater esse suam.
Omnia Naturae commisit Numen Alumnae.

Addidit & vires queis, quasi mater, alat:
Ne tamen imponat nutrix errore, vel arte

Credenti nimium subdola forte; cavet.
Ideas rerum Deus alta mente recondit,

His quasi mensuris germina vera patent.
Nee patitur falsas melior natura Chymaeras;

Haec labor Alcidis monstra domare fuit.
Divinus falsum fugit Intellectus, vt ingens

Formidat formam Barrus in amne suam.

ERGO

Archetypus rerum pater est: sunt Entia Proles;
Progenies debet vera referre Patrem.

Univ. Lib. Camb., Sel. i. 24.

45. Paradise Regained . . , , ed. Merritt Y. Hughes (Garden City,
New York, 1937), p. 121.

46. Gonville & Caius College Library, Cambridge, MS. 744-249, p. 63.

47. British Museum. MS. Cotton Faustina, D. II, f. 61: "Elizabeth
nostra, naturae decus . . ." There is no clue as to the year of the dis-
putation, but from two names of opponents, it seems probable that it
took place between 1594 and 1600. A Mr. Bois of Clare replied in 1594,
according to Bedell Ingram's Book, MS. Baker, xxxii, p. 530.

48. Duport, "Rules . . . ," cap. 4. The use of the enthymeme, a
syllogism in which one premise is suppressed because obvious, e.g.,
"Every good man should be rewarded. Therefore, John should be re-
warded," is common enough, but better form is a syllogism employing
two explicit premises. When Duport urges the categorical syllogism, he
shows die logician's contempt for the lazy man's use of the hypothetical
or conjunctive form, where a fallacy may be easily concealed in the con-
nection of protasis and apodosis, i.e., between the condition and the
consequent in a hypothetical syllogism, or in the supressed tertium quid
in the conjunctive. As Isaac Watts says: "Most [conjunctive syllogisms]
may be transformed into categorical Syllogisms." Logic (London, 1736),
p. 301.

49. Duport, "Rules . . . ," cap. 4.

50. Idem.

51. In applying a distinction to a term which appears in the major
and minor premises, what is conceded in the major is denied in the
minor, i.e., the distinction is applied contrariwise in the minor or coun-
terdistinguished. If the distinguished term appears in a premise and
again in the conclusion, it is "pariter-distinguished," i.e., what is con-
ceded in the major (or minor) is similarly conceded in the conclusion.

52. Gonville & Caius College Library, Cambridge. MS. 748-259, f. 23*.

1?4 NOTES TO CHAPTER ONE

53. The custom of treating after the disputation seems to have got out
of hand at least, according to Puritan tastes for, on April 29, 1647,
"... a grace passed setting forth that by a most vicious custom, candi-
dates after the disputations in the schools had introduced private feasts
altogether unknown in former times . . . and that if anyone should
offend in this kind they should be disgraced for their luxuriousness &
disobedience . . . and . . . fined twenty shillings."

54. Life of Lord Herbert, ed. Sidney Lee (London, 1886), p. 26.

55. Lord Hardwicke, Miscellaneous State Papers (London, 1778), I,
394. Of the divinity act, "performed reasonably well" (John Davenant
answering, John Richardson responding), Fuller has a delightful ac-
count: "The question was maintained in the negative concerning the
excommunicating of kings. Dr. Richardson vigorously pressed the prac-
tice of Saint Ambrose excommunicating of the emperor Theodosius;
insomuch that the king in some passion, returned Trofecto fuit ab hoc
Ambrosio insolentissime factum/ To whom Doctor Richardson rejoined,
'Responsum vere Regium, et Alexandro dignum. Hoc non est argu-
mentum dissolvere sed desecare/ And so sitting down, desisted from
further dispute/' (The History of the Worthies of England, ed. John
Nichols, 2 vols. [London, 1811], I, 238.) It is hard to imagine such irony
escaping even James.

56. Samuel Clarke, "The Lives of Thirty Two English Divines/' A
General Martyrologie (London, 1677), pp. 80-81.

57. Idem.

58. Idem.

59. Hardwicke State Papers, i, 394.

60. See Peacock, Observations . . , , App. B. Ixxxii.

61. Statuta Academiae Cantab., p. 336.

62. MS. Dd. 6. 30.

63. The prevarication can hardly be the work of Thomas Fuller the
historian. Though the prevarication is signed: "Thomas Fuller E Coll:
Sydn: Cantabrigiae/' which would make it the work of the historian,
J. E. Bailey does not think it belongs to the author of The Worthies of
England. A reference to the abortive college at Durham (ad novam
Acad: Dunalmensemf. 38"), which was authorized by Cromwell in
1657, puts the prevarication much too late for the Fuller of The
Worthies. Bailey feels that the composition belongs to a Thomas Fuller
of Christ's, that the ascription to Fuller of Sidney Sussex is a copyist's
mistake. For a discussion of the matter, see J. E. Bailey, The Life of
Thomas Fuller, D.D. (London, 1874), pp. 465-467.

64. The haecceitas was an entitatulum, or real mode, which was
tacked onto essences to individualize them, i.e., universal man becomes
this John because of his "haecceity."

65. ULC, MS. Dd. 6. 30, 39 r .

66. Gonville & Caius College Library, Cambridge, MS. 627-250;

THE FRAMEWORK OF SCHOLASTICISM 175

printed in Christopher Wordsworth, Scholae Academicae (Cambridge,
1877), P- 274-

67. Idem.

68. ULC, MS. Dd. 6. 30, /. 28*.

69. Gonville & Caius College Library, Cambridge, MS. 249-744, p. 58.

70. Cooper, III, 68.

71. Queens' College Library, Cambridge. The manuscript, which has
neither classmark nor pagination, is tied in a bundle, marked: "From
the President's Lodge, 1932." There is no doubt that it belonged to
Lawrence Breton, or Bretton, who matriculated at Queens', 1601, and
took his B.A., 1604-05. All the identifiable disputants in the manuscript
were contemporaries of Bretton: Mr. (Joseph) Hall, Emma., M.A., 1596;
Mr. (John) Hanger, Corp. Xti., M.A., 1602; Mr. (John) Mansell Queens',
1601, et al. The notebook is an invaluable source, since it gives a repre-
sentative view of the curriculum of the time in both form and content:
rhetorical declamations, with philosophical and theological questions.
The philosophy is almost entirely Aristotelian, with the exception of the
thesis quoted above, fol. 56, which is Platonic. The second part of the
manuscript is in another hand and consists of sermon notes.

72. ULC, MS. Baker xxxii, p. 530.

73. From the Account of James Tabor, then Registrary of the Uni-
versity, Cooper, III, 84.

74. For an example of an imaginatio, see Rolls Series, Imaginatio
Gervasii quasi contra Monachos Cantuarienses Ecclesiae (a pretended
disputation before the Pope) and Imaginatio Gervasii quasi contra
Baldwinum Archiepiscopum, in The Chronicle of Gervase, Rolls Series
(London, 1879), pp. 29-40.

75. Ed. G. B. Harrison, 1927, p. 61. Italics ours.

76. St. John's College Library, Cambridge, MS. S 44.

77. Idem.

78. ULC, Sel. i. 24.

79. Emmanuel College Library, Cambridge, MS. 48.

80. The Autobiography and Correspondence of Sir Simonds D'Eiues,
Bart., ed. James O. Halliwell, 2 vols. (London, 1845), I, 147.

81. James Duport, "Rules . . . ," cap. 4.

82. Idem. N

83. Idem.

84. Peacock, Observations . . . , App. B, Ixv.

85. Ibid., Ixxvi.

86. Idem.

87. Jeremiah Dyke, Caveat (London, 1620), p. 23.

88. Peacock, Observations . . . , App. B, Ixiv.

89. Peacock, Observations . . . , App. A, v.

90. Duport, "Rules . . . ," cap. 4.

17 6 NOTES TO CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

THE UNDERGRADUATE CURRICULUM: THE ARTS

i Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

2. An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent (London, 1913), p. 5.

3. Port Royal Logic, p. 314, in Peter Coffey, The Science of Logic
(London, 1912), II, 9.

4. This John Cole is hard to identify. The handwriting in the manu-
script (British Museum, Lans. 797) belongs to the mid-seventeenth cen-
tury. There were several John Coles at Cambridge, the most likely candi-
date being the John Cole who took his B.A. at Queens' in 1655. There
are two John Coles at Oxford, who would fit, one at New College (1643)
and the other at Magdalen (1664). Since the schema is only generally
descriptive of scholasticism, common to both Oxford and Cambridge, the
author's identification is secondary. And since the author of the note-
book has been unsung these three hundred years, he is not likely to pro-
test his being confused with several of his contemporaries.

5. British Museum, MS. Lans. 797, /. 2.

6. See St. Thomas, in Anal Post., lib. i, lect. i, n. i.

7. Summa Theol, i a , q. 22, 2, c.

8. Ibid., 1% 2 ae , q. 57, 3, ad 3.

9. St. Thomas, in Anal Post., lect. 7 med. 44, fin.

10. Aries liberates sunt speculativae [having to do with knowledge]
sed dicuntur artes quia habent aliquid per modum opens. See Summa
TheoL, i a 2 ae , q. 57, 3, 3.

11. Cole properly lists ethics under science. As St. Thomas says:
"Scientia moralis, quamvis sit propter operationem, tamen ilia operatio
non est actus scientiae, sed actus virtutis, ut patet V Ethic. Unde non
potest dici ars . . ." (Super Boet. de Trin., q. 5, a. i, ad 3). Ethics is an
art only in the very wide sense that it is concerned with an operabile,
something to be worked on or perfected, namely, the just man. As
Maritain elucidates: "Ethics is a practical science, whose object is not
the making or perfecting of works produced or fashioned by man, but
the good and perfection of the agent himself. Its object is thus an oper-
abile. It is a science, too, because ethics does not apply, but discovers and
provides rules immediately applicable to particular cases." (An Intro-
duction to Philosophy, tr. E. I. Watkin [New York, 1947], p. 265). We
trust our treating ethics under the arts, for the sake of convenience and
because it is often linked with logic and rhetoric in the seventeenth cen-
tury, will be forgiven by the philosophers.

12. British Museum, MS. Lans. 797, /. 2.

13. Cole, British Museum, Ms. Lans. 797, /. 2.

14. Statuta Academica Cantab., p. 146. "Ludus literarius" is, of
course, the usual euphemism for the Renaissance grammar school.

THE UNDERGRADUATE CURRICULUM: THE ARTS 177

15. Primus annus rhetoricam docebit: secundus et tertius dialecticam.
Quartus adjungat philosophiam et artium istarum domi fortsque pro
ratione temporis quisque sit auditor . . . Ibid., p. 229.

16. See Peacock, Observations, p. 59.

17. The Autobiography and Correspondence of Sir Simonds D'Ewes,
Bart., I, 121. D'Ewes is referring to the year 1618.

18. On the date of Holdsworth's manuscript, see Samuel Morison,
The Founding of Harvard College, p. 62, n. 2. The manuscript could not
have been written before 1647, since Holdsworth lists Alexander Ross's
Mystagogus Poeticus, which appeared that year, nor after 1649, ^-^ Y ear
of Holdsworth's death.

19. From a note appended by another hand to Holdsworth's "Direc-
tions."

20. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

21. Because some of the above names and texts, well known in their
time, are now obscure, it may be worthwhile to identify a few:

Thomas Goodwin (or Godwin), educated at Magdalen Hall, Oxford,
died in 1642. His book, Romanae Historiae Anthologia, An English Ex-
position of the Roman Antiquities, wherein many Roman and English
Offices are paralleled, and diverse obscure Phrases explained (Oxford,
1614; 2nd and enlarged ed., 1623), * s an elementary text designed for use
in his school at Abington.

Marcus Junian[i]us Justinus wrote an epitome in Latin of Pompeius
Trogus's Historiae Philippicae, probably in the third century A. D.

Mystagogus Poeticus, or the Muses Interpreter (London, 1647), * s t ^ ie
work of the crusty Alexander Ross (15911654), to whom Butler makes
reference in Hudibras (Pt. I, can. ii): "There was an ancient sage phi-
losopher/That had read Alexander Ross over." A. Ross was a stout
Aristotelian and an enemy of the new modes.

Theognis, fl. ca. 544 B. C., is the elegiac poet of Megara.

"Valla's de Elegantia" is Lorenzo Valla's famous De Elegantiis Linguae
Latinae, probably the finest critical study of Latin grammar and style
in the Renaissance. Valla (1406-1457), protdge* of Pope Calixtus III and
Alphonso V of Aragon, is better remembered for his exploding, in 1439,
the spurious Donation of Constantine.

Vigerius (Pere Francois Viger) was a French Jesuit, born in Rouen,
died in 1647. f* s & e Idiotismis praecipuis Linguae Graecae (1632) helps
justify the judgment: "II etait tres habile dans des langues anciennes."
Biographie Universelle Ancienne et Moderne (Paris, 1860-), XLIII, 37ib.

Lucius Annaeus Florus' Epitome bellorum omnium annorum DCC, an
abridgment of Roman history to Augustus, was an extremely popular
textbook in the seventeenth century.

Causinus is Pere Nic. Caussin (1583-1651), a French Jesuit of Troyes,
whose strange book, De Eloquentia sacra et humana, was a favorite of
Holdsworth.

Famiano Strada (15721649) was an Italian Jesuit, a poet and his-

17 8 NOTES TO CHAPTER TWO

torian, who wrote Prolusiones et Paradigmata eloquentiae (Rome, 1617).

Robert Turner's Orationes XVI probably refers to the edition of 1615.
Turner was a Roman Catholic, who attended Exeter at Oxford and
Christ's at Cambridge, at neither of which he took a degree. He went
to Douay, was ordained (1594) and died (1599). He studied under Ed-
mund Campion.

Philippus Cluverius (Cluwer, Cluver, Cluvier), was a German his-
torian and geographer, born 1580, died 1622. His Germania Antiqua
(1616) and the posthumous Italia Antiqua (1624) and Introductio in
Universam Geographiam (1629) were well-thumbed texts in Cambridge.

22. John Hall, An Humble Motion, p. 26.

23. That Milton was a Ramist is shown by his little tract on Ramus'
logic. And that Ramists were not in accord with the university curric-
ulum originates from Ramus' own difficulty with the University of Paris.
Ramus likes to boast that his own little college could produce scholars
faster and better than the University. William Gouge is another Ramist
who found trouble at Cambridge. See n. 36, below.

24. Tractate on Education, The Works of John Milton, Columbia
ed., IV, 278-279.

25. University Library Cambridge, MS. Mm. i. 46 "Some directions
for the collecting materials ... for the Life of Mr. Nich. Ferrar." Cf.
Two Lives of N. Ferrar (Cambridge, 1855).

26. The Autobiography . . . , I, 108.

27. Samuel Clark, The Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons (London,
1683), p. 138.

28. The Works of Thomas Hearne, III, cxlv-vi.

29. The Lives of . . . Francis North, III, 283.

30. Clarke, The Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons, p. 186. For an
obiter dictum on school studies see Donald Leman Clark's "The Rise
and Fall of Progymnasmata in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century
Grammar Schools," Speech Monographs 19:1-5 (November 1952).

31. An Humble Motion, p. 25.

32. Cf. Holdsworth's "Directions."

33. So classically designated because its object is the operation of the
intellect itself, which in turn directs the other arts.

34. British Museum, MS. Sloane, 1472, /. 2.

35. University Library Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30, /. i.

36. B. Keckermann, Systema Systematum, ed. J. H. Alsted (Hanover,
1613), p. 23. James Duport in his "Directions" (cap. 5) expresses a dis-
like of Ramus: "Follow not Ramus in Logick nor Lipsius in Latine, but
Aristotle in one and Tully in the other." For a description of a near riot
caused by William Gouge, who presumed, ca. 1596, to defend Ramism
against Aristotle in the Public Schools at Cambridge, see Samuel
Clarke, A Collection of the Lives of Ten Eminent Divines (London,
1662), pp. 96 ff.

THE UNDERGRADUATE CURRICULUM: THE ARTS l?9

37. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

38. Logic notes which may be of interest are included in the follow-
ing manuscripts: University Library Cambridge, Add. H 2640. Anno-
tamenta Logica, belonging to John Smyth of Gonville and Caius and
dated 1681. University Library Cambridge, Add 3854, a late seven-
teenth-century notebook. Emmanuel College Library, I. 4. 36, belonged
to John Balderston, and, while not complete, treats the praedicamenta
at length. Trinity College Library, Cambridge, R. 16. 19, an early
seventeenth-century commonplace book with appropriate Aristotelian
texts on the categories: quis, quale, quomodo, etc. Queens' College Li-
brary, n.c, in bundle marked "From President's Lodge, 1932." The note-
book was Henry James's of Magdalen (ca. 1650) and besides a brief sum-
mary of logic (gff.) contains, among other interesting items, an unpub-
lished diary in Thomas Shelton's system of "short- writing/' the same
system which Pepys, also a Magdalen man, was using. Pembroke College
Library, MS. 20, a notebook of Richard Crossinge, containing a ten-page
summary of logic, called: Abecedarium argumentandi (1697). British
Museum, Sloane 392, John Dury's Logica. British Museum Harl. 5043,
a notebook of Nehemias Rogers, Queen's College, Oxford, 1677, in-
cludes a synopsis of "Heerebord: Logic, et Sander."

39. The reader will recall Locke's insisting in the Essay Concerning
Human Understanding (bk. Ill, ch. 2, sect, i) that words are the signs
of ideas, ". . . not by any natural connexion that there is between par-
ticular articulate sounds, and certain ideas . . . but by a voluntary im-
position, whereby such a word is made arbitrarily the mark of such an
idea," and that the fourth ". . . great abuse of words, is the taking them
for things" (III, 10, 14). Arbitrarily or no, however, words when once
given meaning, must be treated respectfully, even the particle "but"
(III, 7, 5). Against Locke we find the pertinent thesis hi 1717/18:
"Lockius non recte statuit de Particula Anglicana BUT" (Carmina
Comitialia, ed. V[incent] B[ourne], [Cambridge, 1721]).

Locke's target was the hypos tatizing of words on the part of "sects in
philosophy" (especially the peripatetics of his own day), whereby an ab-
stract word seemed to him to be used as if it had an abstraction corre-
sponding to it in nature itself. No scholastic of the earlier seventeenth
century, we think, would be guilty of reifying the ten predicaments as
Locke understands his contemporaries to be doing. The earlier scholastic
would have defended mordicus the reality of substantial forms, vegeta-
tive souls, and intentional species, but not as existing separately (except
for the human soul) nor ever as anything but an unabstract, concrete
singular.

40. University Library Cambridge, MS. Dd. 5. 47, /. 7.

41. St. John's College Library, MS. Aa. 3, p. i. Docker matriculated in
1684.

42. We offer a sample of Docker's logical finger-exercises:

i8o

NOTES TO CHAPTER TWO

animal non sentiens

DE ENUNCIATIONIBUS

Omne animal sen tit

Est enunciatio simplex, pura universalis, affirmans, finita, vera, neces-
saria, de omni, per se, primi modi.

Convertitur

Per Accidens Aliquod sentiens est animal

Per Contrarium Quod non sentit non est animal

Aequipollentes
Purae Nullum animal non sentit

Non aliquod animal non sentit
Modales Necesse est animal sentire

Impossibile

Non possibile

Non contingit

Subalternantes
Purae Aliquod animal sentit

Bucephalus sentit
Modales Possibile

Contingit aliquod animal sentire

Non impossibile est

Non necesse est animal non sentire

Oppositae Contrariae

Nullum animal sentit

Non aliquod animal sentit
Pure Impossibile est

Modales Non possibile est animal sentire

Non contingit

Necesse est animal non sentire

Oppositae Contradictorie
Aliquod animal non sentit
Non omne animal sentit
Pure Possibile est animal non sentire

Modales Contingit animal non sentire

Non necesse est animal sentire
Non impossibile ets animal non sentire

Docker continues the exercises through the propositions: Aliqua qualitas
est color, Nullus homo est lapis, and Aliquis homo non est Justus.

43. Summa TheoL, i a , q. 79, a. 8.

44. See J. Maritain, Formal Logic (New York: Sheed and Ward,
1946), p. 190.

THE UNDERGRADUATE CURRICULUM: THE ARTS l8l

45- F. 23 V .

46. F. 26 V .

47. Idem. Cf. J. Earle's "Downright Scholar."

48. F. 26.

49. Idem.

50. British Museum, MS. Sloane 1472, /. 35.

51. British Museum, MS. Sloane 1981, /. 43.

52. Queens' College Library, MS. Home 39-1002.

53. Idem.

54. Idem.

55. Idem.

56. Gonville and Caius College Library, MS. 725-752, /. 11.

57. Holdsworth, Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

58. Magdalen College Library, MS. F. 4. 21, p. 325.

59. Idem.

60. Idem.

61. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

62. (Cambridge, 1641), p. 8.

63. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

64. Idem.

65. Notes are to be written ". . . in a little pocket-paper-book, that
you may carry them about with you, when you walke abroad, for fear
you write them in larger volumes, and then lay them aside and never
look at them more." (Trinity College Library, MS. O loa 33 printed
in The Cambridge Review 49:1575 [May 22, 1943].

66. See n. 21, above.

67. Gerhard Johann Vossius (1577-1649), German philosopher and
historian, was a friend of Grotius. Accused of Arminianism, he was
forced to leave Leyden. Cambridge invited him, but he accepted instead
a benefice from Archbishop Laud.

68. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

69. Idem.

70. Idem.

71. Idem. Aphthonius of Antioch, A. D. fourth century, wrote his
Progymnasmata as a popular textbook of rhetorical exercises. Thomas
Vicar's Manuductio appeared in 1620.

72. Idem.

73. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

74. Idem.

75. Idem.

76. Idem.

77. Seepage 104, n. 21.

78. Renolds or Rainolds, John, seems to be the John Rainolds who
wrote many sermons and religious tracts, e.g., An Excellent Oration -for
all Such as Effert the Studie of Logic (1638). We cannot determine which
Campion Holdsworth means.

182 NOTES TO CHAPTER TWO

79. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

80. Idem.

81. Idem.

82. Idem.

83. Idem.

84. Idem.

85. Queens' College Library, MS. n.c, in bundle marked "From the
President's Lodge, 1932," items 1-4.

86. St. John's College Library, MS. S. 34.

87. St. John's College Library, MS. S. 44. The notebook is difficult to
date. It is in two hands, one sprawling, which records chiefly sermons of
a Mr. Strond and of "my cousin Mr. Stansfield, 1686-88"; the other part
of the notebook, the part from which we take the questions, is in a small
and very neat hand and dates sometime after 1662, for reference is made
to the fate of Francis Cummins, who was ejected from Aldbury in that
year.

88. There are two John Alsop[p]s of Derby. One, who entered John's
in 1663, but left without a degree, seems eliminated, since the notebook
contains the supplicat speech for a degree. The other John Alsop was
admitted to John's in 1685, took his B.A. in 1688/9, n * s M.A. 1692, and
was elected fellow in 1692, resigning in 1701.

89. At least that is a fair presumption, since few resigned from their
university livings for any other reason,

90. St. John's College Library, MS. S 44.

91. St. John's College Library, MS. S 17, p. 99.

92. Holdsworth has a section entitled "Of Gathering Notes." He says,
"Young students many times neglect gathering of notes out of books
they read either because their memory is good enough to retain them
without noting or else because they are slothful and will take no pains.

"Let such as trust to much to their memories know that however for
the present things seem so fresh in their memories that they think they
cannot forget them, yet they will find the progress of time and other
studies will so wipe them out that they shall remember very little in a
whole book unless they have memorial notes to run over now and then.

"And besides, though this noting were of no use to the memory, yet
it hath another advantage which alone would make it worthy in the
meanwhile and that is it helps you endeavor to abbreviate and contract
the sentence and makes you take notice of many things which otherwise
you would have passed over . . ." (Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48).

93. Trinity College Library, MS. O loa 33, "Rules . . . ," Cap. 5.

94. Idem.

95. Idem.

96. Ibid., Cap. 4,

97. The manuscript is one of a bundle marked "From the President's
Lodge, 1932" and bears the date 1621.

98. This is Junius Otho, rhetor, praetor (A. D. 22), an elementary

THE UNDERGRADUATE CURRICULUM: THE ARTS 183

schoolmaster, who owed his advancement to Sejanus (cf. Tacitus, An-
nales, 3.66).

99. Samuel Clark, The Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons, p. 129.

100. D'Ewes, The Autobiography . . . , I, 132.

101. Mullinger, Cambridge Characteristics in the ijth Century, pp.

54-55-

102. "Oratio in Comitiis," Theological Works, ed. Alexander Napier,
9 vols. (Cambridge, 1859), IX, 36.

103. "Oratio Sarcasmica," Ibid., IV, 111.

104. Pembroke College Library, MS. 29. i. 4.

105. Richard Crossinge, whose notebook is kept in the Pembroke Col-
lege Library (MS. 20), came from Plymouth, was admitted to Pembroke
(1687), and elected fellow (1693). ** e "wrote devotional and theological
works.

106. Italics ours.

107. The Taming of the Shrew, I, i, 32-33. Some texts vary ethics
to optics or even checks. Surely, Tranio would not have mentioned the
rest of the university curriculum and omitted ethics, especially "Aris-
totle's ethics."

108. The presence of the standard Catholic commentators through-
out the notebooks, not only in ethics and the other branches of phi-
losophy, but especially in theology, will come as no surprise to those who
have studied either university in the seventeenth century. The break
with Continental scholastic thought came only with the breakup of
scholasticism itself. For a record of the widespread influence of the
Catholic scholastics in an English university, see in St. John's College
Library, Ms. K 38, "Advice on the Choice and Reading of Books."

109. Archives, Cambridge University Regis trary, #75.

no. Emmanuel College Library, MS. I. 4. 36, sec. 17. (Translation
ours.)

111. University Library Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

112. Emmanuel College Library, MS. I. 4. 36, sec. 34. (Translation
ours.)

113. Queens' College Library, MS. notebook of Lawrence Bretton.
SeeCh. I, n. 71.

1 14. British Museum, MS. Cotton Faustina D II.

115. Emmanuel College Library, MS. I. 4. 36, sec. 23. (Translation
ours.)

116. British Museum, MS. Sloane 1981.

117. Queens' College Library, MS. notebook of Lawrence Bretton,
n.c.

118. An Introduction to Philosophy (New York, Sheed and Ward,
1947), p. 268.

119. St. John's College Library, MS. S 17.

120. St. John's College Library, MS. S 18, dated 1629.

121. Politics, VII, 7, tr. Wm. Ellis (London, 1912), p. 213.

184 NOTES TO CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES

1. P. 9 .

2. Cambridge in the Seventeenth Century, part II, Autobiography of
Matthew Robinson, ed. J. E. B. Mayor (Cambridge, 1856), pp. 20-21.

3. Aristotle, Meta., IV, i, ioo3a, 21.

4. Franciscus Burgersdicius, Institutionum Metaphysicarum Libri Duo
(Lugduni Batavorum, 1642), p. 8.

5. P. 11.

6. The etymology o "metaphysics" is not here o serious moment.
The meaning we have given the word that which lies behind the phys-
ical phenomenon was current in the seventeenth century and stems
from medieval tradition. St. Thomas uses the word transphysica: "Meta-
physica, in quantum considerat ens et ea quae consequuntur ipsum.
Haec enim transphysica inveniuntur in via resolutionis, . ." S. Thomae
Aquinatis in Duodecem Libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis Expositio,
ed. M.-R. Cathala, O. P., and R. M. Spiazzi, O. P. (Turini, Marietti,
1950), p. 2. The historical origin of the term is explained by the editor-
ship of Andronicus of Rhodes, who, ca. 70 B. C., believing that this part
of Aristotle's philosophy came naturally after the physical tractates,
simply entitled it "after the physics." For a thorough study of the matter,
see Werner Jaeger, Studien zur Entstehungsgeschichte der Metaphysik
des Aristotles (Berlin, 1912), pp. 148-163.

7. Pembroke College Library, MS. 41, p. 419.

8. George P. Klubertanz, S. J., Introduction to The Philosophy of
Being (New York, Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc., 1955), p. 24. On the
proper concept of being as being see also Gerard Smith, S. J., Natural
Theology (New York, Macmillan, 1951), p. 10.

9. Ibid., p. 25.

10. Etienne Gilson, Being and Some Philosophers, 2nd ed. (Toronto,
Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1952), p. 46.

11. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

12. Paradise Lost, V, 401-402.

13. Ibid., II, 146-147.

14. Ibid., VI, 433-434.

15. Ibid., Ill, 6.

16. Ibid., I, 117. As for quiddity: "Neither shal I stand to trifle with
one that will tell me of quiddities and formalities, whether Prelaty or
Prelateity in abstract notion be this or that . . ." The Reason of Church
Government, bk. II, ch. I, Columbia ed., Ill, pt. i, 244.

17. Aristotle, Meta. V, i, ioi3a, 18.

18. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

19. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

20. Plus Ultra (London, 1668), p. 118.

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 185

21. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

22. Meta., V, 2, loiga, 32-33.

23. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

24. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook,

25. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

26. Aristotle, Physica, II, 3, ig4b, 32-36. In listing the kinds of final
causes, we omitted finis operis and finis operantis. The watchmaker's pur-
pose in making his watch is money (finis operantis); the purpose of the
watch is to tell time (finis operis). Here, the fines do not coincide, as
they do, presumably, in the case of Vanderbilt University. Mr. Vander-
bilt's purpose in endowing the University (finis operantis) is the same as
the University's (finis operis), i.e., education.

27. John Locke, Essay Concerning Human Understanding, bk. II,
ch. 23.

28. We are overobvious when we note that the category, habitus, re-
ferring to dress, etc., does not refer to habit or disposition, which falls
under the category of quality.

29. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24 (1697).

30. I.e., that it contains all the possible grades of being. See Summa
TheoL, I, 50, i, ad corp.: Unde necesse est ponere^ ad hoc quod univer-
sum sit perfectum, quod sit aliqua incorporea creatura. The thesis was
defended: Universitas Creaturarum est perfecta, at Cambridge, ca. 1628.
University Library, Cambridge, Sel. x. 24.

31. Summa TheoL, I, 50, i, c.

32. P. 322. (Translation ours.)

33. Summa TheoL, I, 50, i.

34. Archives, Cambridge University Registrary, #75.

35. Musae Subsecivae sen Poetica Stromata (Cambridge, 1676), p.

529-

36. P. 180.

37. Pembroke College Library, MS. without classmark. See Ch. I, n.
12.

38. For a summary of the documents involved, see H. Denzinger,
Enchiridion Symbolorum (Friburgi Brisgoviae, Herder, 1947), pp. 358-
359; also J. H. Serry, O.P., Historia Congregationum de auxiliis (Lo-
vanii, 1700); and G. Schneemann, S.J., Controversariarum de div. gratia
. . . initia et progressus (Friburg Brisgoviae, 1881).

39. P. 11.

40. The concept of the scientia media of Luis Molina, S.J., is subtle
enough. In scholastic terminology, God's knowledge of the simple
future, e.g., "Eve will sin," is called scientia visionis. His knowledge of
the purely possible, that which might be without any consideration of
whether it will or will not be in the future, e.g., "Adam may eat oysters,"
is called scientia simplicis intelligentiae. God's knowledge of future con-
ditional events, where only one of the eventualities in the apodosis is
true, e.g., "Had Adam been tempted by the serpent as was Eve, he

l86 NOTES TO CHAPTER THREE

would either have sinned or not have sinned," is called the scientia
media. As Molina saw it, such a proposition is less knowable than a cer-
tainly future event ("Eve will sin"), since it corresponds to no future
actuality, but more knowable than a merely possible event, since it has
the determination at least that only one of the alternatives ("would sin
or would not sin") is true. Hence, scientia media. It is to be noted that
the object of the scientia media comprehends not only such "futurible"
acts as those which will never take place because the condition will never
be fulfilled, but also all absolutely future acts considered "in signo
priori," or antecedently to God's absolute decree, which removes the
condition. Thus, God knows by scientia media the truth of the proposi-
tion: "If God would expel Adam from Paradise, Adam would not re-
sist," antecedently, in signo priori, to his knowledge of the absolute
future: "Adam will not resist." See B. Beraza, S.J., Tractatus De Gratia
Christi (Bilbao, 1916), p. 549. A very clear discussion of the scientia
media in English is to be found in "Molina and Human Liberty," by
A. C. Pegis, in Jesuit Thinkers of the Renaissance (Milwaukee, 1939).

41. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

42. St. John's College Library, MS. Aa. 3.

43. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Baker, Mm. i. 42, p. 239.

44. Aristotle, Meta., XI, 4, io6ib, 6.

45- P-4-

46. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Baker, Mm. i. 48, p. 318.

47. Queens' College Library, MS. Horne 43.

48. Queens' College Library.

49. Sy sterna Physicum, p. i.

50. St. John's College Library, MS. S 17, p. 125. (Translation ours.)

51. Autobiography of Matthew Robinson, p. 21.

52. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

53. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

54. Idem. An ma\teri~\a sit ingenerabilis et incorruptibilis'?

55. Idem. An ma\teri\a appetit formam?

56. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30. An potentia ma-
\teri\ae sit ide\rn\ realiter cum ma\teri}al

57. Idem. An prwa\ti~\o et ma[teri~\a sint idem realiter*}

58. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

59- P- 15-

60. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

61. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24. The date of the thesis
is ca. 1630.

62. Paradise Lost, VIII, 18-27.

63. Ibid., V, 433-438.

64. Ibid., VI, 656-657.

65. Paradise Lost, V, 479-485.
66.

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES 187

67. De Rerum Princ., Q. VIII, a. iv, n. 30, in Opera Omnia, 23 vols.
(Paris, Vive's ed., 1891).

68. James Duport, Musae Subsecivae, p. 523. It is hard to resist quot-
ing some of Duport's beautiful verses, which introduce his thesis, and
noting their reflection of Boethius:

. . . hinc varia est vitae mensura, modosque,

Ut rerum species, 8c mundi postulat ordo.

Nempe creaturis, quibus est coelestis origo,

Principium sine fine dedit, sine limite seclum.

Sic chorus Angelicus manet, aeternumq. manebit,

Sic anima humana spernit mortem atq. sepulchrum . . .

. . . nam sunt & Ephemera quaedam,

Sunt quae per biduum, sunt quae per secula durant,

Sed neque conditio melior, quia longior aetas;

Vilia sunt mundi potius, pejoraq. ferine

Corpora, quies natura dedit durantius aevum . . .

Sunt quibus indulsit stabilem natura tenorem,

Nee fluxisse dedit (rerum quae maxima moles)

Sic etiam fragilis durat substantia, donee

Esse suum servat, propriaq. in sede quiescit,

Nee patitur fluidi mensuram temporis ullam.

Nee pars succedit parti, sed permanet omnis,

Indivisa simul totumq.; integra per aevum.

69. Aristotle, Physica, TV, 11, 219 b, i.

70. Paradise Lost, VIII, 1 1 1-1 14.

71. British Museum, MS. Harl. 1779, p. 36. Boughey matriculated at
Balliol in 1637.

72. Aristotle, Physica, IV, 4, 212 a, 20.

73. Aristotle, Meta., XI, 10, 1067. The problem of space and the allied
problem of "actio in distans" (the problem of whether a finite material
efficient cause can produce an effect upon a distant body without an in-
tervening medium, say, an ether) still stirs the mathematico-metaphysical
world. See: I. Bernard Cohen, "An Interview with Einstein/' Scientific
American 193:71 (July, 1955).

74. Summa TheoL, I, 50, i.

75. Paradise Lost, V, 822-825.

76. British Museum, MS. Harl. 1779, p. 37.

77. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

78. Classically, it is Achilles who cannot overcome the tortoise, and
the sophistry is called the "Achilles."

79- P- 91-

80. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook: Coelum
movetur ab Intelligentiis. Also, St. John's College Library, MS. R. 16.
23, belonging to Robert Smith: An coelum movetur Intelligentiis?

81. Keckermann, p. 102.

82. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24 (ca. 1628).

l88 NOTES TO CHAPTER THREE

83. Gonville & Caius College Library, MS. 613-686.

84. Pp. 92-93.

85. Aristotle, Meteor., I, 3.

86. P. 92.

87. P. 93.

88. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29.

89. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

90. P. 132. Sir John Harington in The Englishman's Doctor (Lon-
don, 1607), p. 32, helps the memory in keeping the various elements in
firm relationship with their corresponding humors:

Like ayre both warme and moist, is Sanguine cleare,
Like fire doth Choler hot and drie appeare.
Like water cold and moist is Flegmatique
The Melancholy cold, drie earth is like.

91. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Baker Mm, i. 47, p. 178.

92. St. John's College Library, MS. 817.

93. Keckermann, p. 199.

94- P-235-

95- P- 238.

96. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

97. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

98. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

99. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

100. P. 450. See also Sir John Harington, The Englishman's Doctor,
p. 126 "Exceed not much in meate, and sleepe, For all excesse is cause
of hurtful fumes . . ."

101. P. 481.

102. This thesis: Hepar secundu Aristotele non est sanguinis
ai[jLoiTu<n<s (Aristotle, De Partibus Anim., Ill, 4, 666 a, 25) was the third
of three proposed for the disputation. The first: Omnes possessiones in
rep: non debent esse comunes, was treated at length; the second: Nihil
vivit sine calore, a thesis in physica, was treated only briefly; the third
question on the liver was entirely ignored: ". . . intactam igitur prorsus
omitto."

103. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

104. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

105. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

106. Pembroke College Library, MS. 19.

107. St. John's College Library, MS. S 18 (1629).

108. Ad Philosophiam Teutonicam Manuductio seu Determinatio de
origine Animae humanae, viz. An a Deo creetur fa infundatur, an a
parentibus traducatur, habita Cantabrigiae in Scholis publicis in Comi-
tiis, Martii 3. 1646 A Carolo Hotham socio Petrensi & tune uno ex Pro-
curatoribus Academiae (Londini . . . 1648).

109. Musae Subsecivae, pp. 528-529.
no. Ibid., pp. 525-526.

THE UNDERGRADUATE SCIENCES log

111. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

112. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

1 13. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

114. The thesis occurs as a matter o course in Lawrence Bretton's
notebook and in MS. S 34, St. John's College Library.

115. The Averroists, of course, held that there was only one numerical
intellect for mankind.

116. Intellectus primo intelligit singulars. Queen's College Library,
Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

1 17. Dantur proprii rerum singularium conceptus in Intellectu; Idem.

118. Difficultas intelligent provenit tantum ex parte intellectus;
James Duport, Musae Subsecivae, pp. 527-528.

119. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

120. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

121. P. 541.

122. P. 545. _

123. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

124. Summa TheoL, I, 16, 4, ad 2.

125. Musae Subsecivae, pp. 530-531. The mutuality of intellect and
will appears in Duport's explanatory verses:

Squalidum nativis tenebris humana Voluntas
(Heu quantum caeca pectora noctis habent!)

Accipit infirmum mentis de lumine lumen
Ut Phoebe a Phoebo, nee micat ilia suo . . .

126. P. 573.

127. Paradise Lost, X, 891-892. Notice the opinion of St. Thomas:
per respectum ad naturam particularem, femina est aliquid deficiens oc-
casionatum. (Summa TheoL, I, 92, a. i, ad i).

128. P. 596.

129. P. 573. Aristotle had said: "For females are weaker and colder in
nature, and we must look upon the female character as being a sort of a
natural deficiency" (De Gen. Animal. IV.6.775a). Again, ". . . the
woman is as it were an impotent male, for it is through a certain in-
capacity that the female is female . . ." (De Gen. Animal. 1.20.7283).
But note that Aristotle is not saying this in his Physica but in a natural-
science treatise.

130. Says Lindewode: Quidam dicunt q d ratio est: quia mulier
calidior est, unde citius impetrat venia aetatis q m masculus. . . Alii
dicunt q* ratio est q* difficilius agere q m pati. . . Pla. dixit q d ratio est
quia mala herba cito crescit, Lib. IV, Sec. De Desponsatione impuberum,
Provinciale (Londini, 1525).

131. Questiones and theses on this subject:

Bruta non habent rationem; Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bret
ton's notebook.
Anima plantae non est divisibilis; Idem.

19 NOTES TO CHAPTER THREE

An natura intendit monstra; Queens' College Library, Henry James's
notebook.

An Cometa sit de natura coelesti [Neg.]; Idem.

An monstra intendatur a natura; University Library, Cambridge, MS.
Dd. 6. 30.

132. Systema Physicum, p. 836.

133. Collegium Physicum, ed, 2 (Lyons, 1642), p. 343.

134. Keckermann, Systema Physicum, p. 838.

135- Pp- 740-74L

136. King's College Library, MS. 15. Crellius was published in Jo-
hannes Volkerius' De Vera Religione Libri Quinque (Racoviae, 1630,
and Amsterdam, 1642).

137. Ad Philosophiam Teutonicam . . . Hotham, of course, replied
in the negative.

138. Pembroke College Library, MS. 20.

139. Archives, Cambridge University Registrary, #75.

140. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

141. Musae Subsecivae, p. 531.

142. John Aubrey, Brief Lives, ed. Andrew Clark (Oxford, 1898), I,

201.

143. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29.

144. The Taming of the Shrew, I, i.

145. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30.

146. The Works of Thomas Hearne, vol. Ill, Containing the first
volume of Peter Langtoft's Chronicle (London, 1810), preface, p. cxlvii.

147. Ibid., p. cxlviii.

148. Walter Pope, The Life of . . . Seth [Ward] (London, 1697),
p. 10.

149. The Works of Thomas Hearne, III, cxlviii.

150. Pembroke's College Library, MS. 21, /. 78*". Another Pembroke
notebook, which probably belonged to Charles Parkin (Pembroke Col-
lege Library, MS. 38), copied the few lines "On a Passage in Dr S[ache-
vereljl's Sermon, where He affirmed a certain sect to be as surely Damn'd
as Two Parallel-Lines will meet in ye same Center.

As Creech once went off in a Sanctify'd Twine

So I would advise This Reverend Divine,

To hang himself too in a Parallel-Line.

Then all but my soul upon it I'll venture,

If ye Scriptures be true, they'll meet in ye Centre;

Oh! How it will please those Swearing Fanaticks

To see High C h built on such Mathematicks!"

151. Late Tudor and Early Stuart Geography (1583-1650) (London:
Methuen & Co., 1934), p. 68.

152. Apianus, p. 31. C/. Peter Heylyn's Cosmographie in Four Books,
2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1657).

153. Idem.

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 191

154. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Baker, Mm. i. 43, p. 530.

155. Queens' College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook.

156. Apianus, p. 30.

157. Idem.

158. Ibid., p. 32.

159. Idem.

160. Pembroke College Library, MS. 20.

161. Crossinge's text (1697) * s > unbelievably: Ultra Indiae Littora
veteribus nil erat cognitu nunc ante Europeis navigantibus compertu est
tantu ibi esse insularu numerum ut Archipelagus diceretur ad com-
paratione Archipelago Europei i. e. Maris Aegaei. Japan omnium cele-
berrima est If one cares, he may relate this late seventeenth-century
passage on geography to Swift's fumbling in the third book of Gulliver's
Travels.

162. See Joaquim Bensaude, in Les Legendes Allemandes sur L'His-
toire des Decouvertes Maritimes Portugaises, deuxieme partie, 1925-27
(Coimbra, 1927), praesertim, re: Humboldt, pp. 144-154.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE GRADUATE STUDIES

1. The Founding of Harvard College (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1935), p. 60, n. i.

2. See "The Friars and the Foundation of the Faculty of Theology in
the University of Cambridge," Melanges Mandonnet (Paris, 1930), II,
389-401.

3. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Baker, Mm. 2. 25, p. 58.

4. Rational Theology and Christian Philosophy in England in the
Seventeenth Century (London, 1872), I, 37.

5. MS. Baker, 27, pp. 15-16; printed Cooper, II, 611.

6. MS. Baker 24, Mm. i, 35, pp. 382-383.

7. MS. Baker B, Mm. 2. 23, p. 198.

8. The notebook, St. John's College Library, MS. 20, was written
after the publication of Histriomastix (1632) and during the reign of
Charles I, since "King James' raigne" is mentioned as the previous.

9. John Tulloch, Rational Theology . . . , I, 74.

10. Ibid., I, 75.

1 1. Cambridge Characteristics in the Seventeenth Century, p. 48.

12. Documents Relating to the University and Colleges of Cam-
bridge, 3 vols. (London, 1852), III, 505. [Italics ours.]

13. Ibid., Ill, 504.

14. Ibid., Ill, 558.

15. Emmanuel College Library, MS. Ill, i. 13.

16. Idem.

1Q 2 NOTES TO CHAPTER FOUR

17. The Autobiography and Correspondence of Sir Simonds D'Ewes,
Bart., I, 120.

18. Ibid., I, 137.

19. Ibid., I, 137-8.

20. Emmanuel College Library, MS. III. i. 13.

21. Idem.

22. The Autobiography ... of Sir Simonds D'Ewes, Bart., I, 145.

23. Ibid., I, 120.

24. Ibid., I, 168.

25. These manuscripts are: University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg.
i. 29; Queen's College Library, MS. (n.c.), Lawrence Bretton's notebook,
and MS. (n.c.) marked "from the President's lodge, 1932," 8, first item
a commonplace on Luke 19, 41; Pembroke College Library, MS. 19 and
MS. 50; Gonville and Caius College Library, MS. 748-259, and St. John's
College Library, MS. S 44.

26. We should not like to conclude anything final from this break-
down, but it is evident, at least, that the Council of Trent and its canons
were conscious burrs under Cambridge saddles.

27. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29, #10.

28. Theodore de Bdze, A Briefe and piththie sum of the Christian
faith, made in forme of a confession, tr. R[obert] F[yll] (London, 1572),
/.6, #15.

29. Ibtd.,f. 5a, #14.

30. H. Benzinger, et al., Enchiridion Symbolorum, #1025, P- 35 1 (^ n
Bulla: Ex omnibus afflictionibus . . . October i, 1567); The Catholic
Encyclopedia, 15 vols. (New York, 1907-14), III, 20ob.

31. This is Richard Bancroft (1544-1610). For incident, see DNB, I,

32. Theodore de Bdze, A Briefe and piththie sum . . . , # 13, /. 5.

33. Ibid., #38, f. 57.

34. Ibid., #44, /. 59".

35. I6td.,#38,/.57'.

36. Idem.

37. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29.

38. Sess. VI, Cap. 9, Denzinger, Enchiridion . . . , #802, p. 289.

39. Gonville & Caius College Library, MS. 748-259.

40. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i, 29.

41. Idem.

42. Cooper, III, 145.

43. Autobiography, I, 142.

44. De Veritate> XIV, i; Summa, 2, 2 ae , q. II, a. i, ad 3 and a. 2, c;
ibid,, q. IV, a. i, c.

45. II, 19.

46. De Veritate, XIV, 9, ad 4.

47. Idem.

48. Queen's College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook, n.c.

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 193

49. The proposition is condemned in the Council of Constance and
by the bulls Inter cunctas and In eminentis, 22 February, 1418 Den-
zinger, Enchiridion . . . , #595, p. 242.

50. Pembroke College Library, MS. 19.

51. Queen's College Library, Lawrence Bretton's notebook, n.c.

52. Printed in Amsterdam, 1679 see ff. 82-88.

53. Gonville & Caius College Library, MS 748-259.

54. University Library Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29.

55. Pembroke College Library, MS. 19.

56. Gonville & Caius College Library, MS. 748-259.

57. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29.

58. Modum praesentiae X u in Eucharistia non esse corporalem. Uni-
versity Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29, ff. 22 sqq.

59. Idem.

60. Idem.

61. St. John's College Library, MS. 44.

62. Gonville 8c Caius College Library, MS. 748-259.

63. Idem.

64. Tulloch, I, 180.

65. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29.

66. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29, f. 45.

67. Aquinas, Peter Lombard, Cajetan, Biel, Banez and Bucer need
no identification.

Dominicus a Soto, renowned Spanish Dominican theologian, b. Se-
govia, 1494, died in 1560, at Salamanca, where he had succeeded Melchior
Cano in the chief chair of theology, at what was then the metropolis of
the intellectual world. (Cath. Enc., XIV, i52c).

Covarruias is undoubtedly Diego Covarruvias y Leyva (1512-1577),
bishop of Ciudad Rodgrigo and jurist. (Michaud, Biographic Uni-
verselle.)

Musuulve is possibly James (Severus) bar Shakako, bishop of Mosul
(d. 1241), author of "JDialogues," a philosophical course, and "Book of
Treasures/' a course of theology. (Cath. Enc., XIV, 4i3a.)

Azarius, possibly Juan Azor (1553-1603), Spanish Jesuit theologian
and philosopher; his Institutionum Moralium, 1600, was famous in Con-
tinental centers.

Parallius a guess would be Athanasius, bishop of Parallus, who as-
sisted at the Council of Ephesus, A.D. 431 (G. F. Mansi, Sacrorum Con-
ciliorum . . . Collectio, 31 vols. [Florence and Venice, 1758-98], IV,
1128, 1160, 1220; V, 590; VI, 874).

68. Led. 3. Mendoza, Francisco Sarmiento de, Spanish canonist and
bishop, d. 1595, at Jaen. He wrote Selectarum Interpretationum Libri
VIII (Rome, 1571) and De Redditibus Ecclesiasticis (Rome, 1569).
(Cath. Enc., X, 187.)

Gabriel Vasquez, 1549-1604, Spanish Jesuit theologian, great rival of
the venerable Suarez, to whom he paid the supreme theological insult o

1Q4 NOTES TO CHAPTER FOUR

of designating him sometimes among the moderns. (Cath. Enc., XV,

275C-)

69. See Cath. Enc., XIV, 32oa.

70. The manuscript dates ca. 1650. Some of the authors mentioned
require introduction to the assemblage:

Estius, William (1542-1613), Dutch divine, who studied divinity and
philosophy at Louvain, taught there the same subjects, and wrote (ca.
1615) Commentarii in quatuor Libros Sententiarum. (A. Chalmers, Gen.
Biog. Diet., XIII).

Ferrariensis Francisco Silvestro di Ferrara, b. at Ferrara ca. 1474, d.
Rennes, 1526, the great Dominican theologian, who commented monu-
mentally on St. Thomas* Summa Contra Gentiles (Paris, 1552).

Lichettus or Licetus, Fortunius, physician and philosopher, born in
Italy, 1577. He taught at Padua, 1609-26, and wrote De Monstrorum
Causis, Natura et Differentiis. (Chalmers, Gen. Biog. Diet., XX.)

Rhada John of Rada (1599), Franciscan, who sought to reconcile
Thomism with Scotism. (Cath. Enc., XIV, 49 ic.)

Sancta Clara is certainly Christopher Davenport, alias Franciscus a
Sancta Clara, alias Francis Hunt, alias Francis Coventry, b. 1598, at
Coventry, d. 1680. He is the brother of John Davenport, the eminent
Puritan divine, who helped found New Haven in 1638. Christopher was
converted to Catholicism, 1615. He wrote a treatise, 1634, attempting an
interpretation of the Thirty-nine Articles, reconciliatory with Catholic
doctrine, called Paraphrastica Expositio Articulorum Anglicanae, which
he published as an appendix to his Deus, Natura, Gratia, mentioned
in our text above. The treatise was put on the Index in Spain, but
escaped the Roman Index, thanks to Panzani, the Pope's nuncio in
London.

Faber Faventinus, Philip Faber or Fabri, b. 1564, near Faenza, d.
1630, of the Order of St. Francis (Conventuals), theologian, philosopher,
noted commentator of Scotus (Philosophia naturalis Scoti in theoremata
distributa [Parma, 1601]).

71. Gregorius Arminensis, St. Gregory the Illuminator (257-332),
patriarch and apostle of the Armenians.

Alexander Alensis, Alexander of Hales in Gloucestershire, where he
was born, dying in Paris, 1245. *^ s Summa Universae Theologiae was
closely followed in both method and arrangement by St. Thomas in the
Summa Theol.

Rivet, Andre*, a Huguenot theologian, who brought out his introduc-
tion to Scripture at Dordrecht (1616).

Casper Hurtado, Spanish Jesuit and theologian, b. 1575, at Mondejar,
New Castile, d. at Alcala, 1647, as dean of the faculties. He writes with
the economy and clarity of an ampersand. One of the first Jesuit scho-
lastics to deviate from St. Thomas.

Aureolus, also known as Petrus Aureoli, b. 1280, d. 1322, Franciscan,
a Conceptualist in philosophy and forerunner of Occam. He defended

THE GRADUATE STUDIES *95

the Immaculate Conception in a disputation at Toulouse, 1314. (Cath.
Enc., II, ma.)

Gerson, Jean le Charlier de, b. 1363, d. 1429, that good, moderate,
peaceful soul, not yet known half well enough.

William of Paris, Guillaume de Paris, also known as Guillaume d'Au-
vergne (n8o?-i249?), prelate and natural philosopher, who wrote the
celebrated De Universo.

William of St-Amour, thirteenth-century theologian and controversial-
ist, d. 1273, leader of the so-called "seculars" in their bitter quarrel with
the mendicant friars. In 1256, he published his "De periculis novissi-
morum temporum."

Marsilius surely of Padua (1270-1342)!

Delavinus Andre" de La Vigne (Le Verger d'Honneurfi

72. John Christopherson (d. 1558), bishop of Chichester, was educated
at Cambridge, became fellow of Trinity, where he revised Greek studies.
Works: Jephthah; Philonis Judaei; An Exhortation to all menne. (DNB,
IV, 293-295.)

73. Tatianus, originally from Syria, studied under Justinus, but adopt-
ed the heretical doctrines of the Encratites. Remembered for his Oratio
ad Graecos and his gospel harmony, Diatessaron.

Asyrius perhaps John Asser (Asserius Menevensis), the learned monk
of St. David's, Menevia, who died, 910.

Arabius possibly the Bishop of Synaus (Synaitensis), who was repre-
sented by his metropolitan at the Council of Chalcedon, 451. (Cath.
Enc., XIV, 382.)

Minutius Minucius Felix, ft. between 160-300, Christian apologist
who is remembered for Octavius.

74. Philip Mourney du Plessis, Signeur du Plessis-Marly, commonly
known as Duplessis-Mornay (1549-1623), Huguenot leader, adviser to
Henry of Navarre, who retired from the court to devote himself to
writing.

75. Advice to a Young Divine in The Genuine Remains (for John
Dun ton, 1693), p. 46.

76. St. John's College Library, MS. S 20.

77. Autobiography . . . , I, 142.

78. The original Dominican chapel, running the liturgical E 8c W,
had been converted into the college hall, with the New Chapel, long
since also converted into a hall, askewed N 8c S. John Evelyn remarks on
this: Cooper, III, 460.

79. The verses belong to Mr. (later, Bishop) Corbet and were ". . .
made rather to be sunge than read, to the Tune of Bonny Nell . . ."
Cooper, III, 76.

80. Cooper, III, 210.

81. Cooper, III, 279.

82. Even in F. Brittain's brilliant little satire of a mock visitation of
modern college chapels: Babylon Bruis'd (Cambridge, 1940)!

1Q6 NOTES TO CHAPTER FOUR

83. Cooper, III, 280.

84. We are using the version in the University Library, Cambridge,
MS. Gg. i. 29, /. 15". It differs slightly from the printed version of Mel-
ville's works: Viri Clarissimi A. Melvini Musae . . . (Edinburgh [?],
1620).

85. University Library, Cambridge, MS. Gg. i. 29. /. i5v The poem
is, as far as we can determine, unpublished. It appears in no edition of
Hall, not even in A. Davenport's thorough and excellent edition of 1949.
The reason it has lain unnoticed so long may be that in the Library
catalog, in which the contents of this manuscript are listed folio by folio,
i5v simply notices Melville's verses, the cataloger assuming the rest to
belong to him.

There can hardly be any question of the poem's authenticity. The
style is Hall's, and there is the hallmark, not, however, exclusively his,
of punning on the name of his adversary. Cf. his In Bellarminum, in
which Hall sees bella and arma as indicating the Cardinal's bellicosity.

86. Trinity College Library, MS. O. loa. 33, p. 16.

87. G. Parker, The Early History of Surgery in Great Britain (Lon-
don, 1920), p. 103.

88. Robert Willis, William Harvey (London, 1878), p. 157.

89. Christopher Wordsworth, Scholae Academicae (Cambridge, 1877),
p. 264.

90. Alexander Macalaster, The History of the Study of Anatomy in
Cambridge, A Lecture Delivered, Jan. 29, 1891, on the opening of the
New Anatomical Lecture Room (Cambridge, 1891), p. 10. Anyone who
would do anything at all on Cambridge medicine will do well to run to
this great Scotsman. We hereby acknowledge our debt.

91. Cooper, III, 566.

92. Statuta Academiae Gantabrigiensis, pp. 308-309.

93. Each of these names, household words, surely, to medical scien-
tists, deserves remembrance by us, the nonscientific beneficiaries of their
knowledge:

Helkiah Crooke took his degree at St. John's, Cambridge, 1599, and
published (1616) hisMIKROKOSMOGRAPHIA on descriptive anatomy.

Sir George Ent (1604-1689), graduate of Cambridge and Padua, lec-
tured to the College of Physicians. He was an original fellow of the
Royal Society and wrote Apologia pro circuitione sanguinis (1641).

Francis Glisson of Caius took his M.D., 1634, and was Regius Profes-
sor, 1636-1677. Glisson published his Anatomia Hepatis (1654), his
Tractatus de Rachitede (1658) and, in 1677, ^ s work on the stomach and
intestines. Of his philosophical labors (1672) we shall speak later.

William Briggs, Corpus Christi, got out a monograph on the eye
(Ophthalmographia sive oculi eiusque partium descriptio Anatomica,
Cambridge, 1675) and, as Newton's friend, taught the young genius all
he knew of anatomy, a grace which the younger Newton acknowledged
by prefacing Briggs' 1686 edition.

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 197

Clopton Havers, St. Catherine's, studied anatomy there, 1684, but did
not take his degree. He gave five discourses before the Royal Society and
published (1691) Osteologia Nova. Called after him are the Haversian
canals in bones.

Thomas Wharton (1614-1673) of Pembroke, wrote Adenographia
(1656). He describes the ducts (Wharton's duct) of the submaxillary
glands.

William Croone, of our beloved Emmanuel, took his M.D. in 1662.
Lecturer on anatomy in Surgeons' Hall and founder of the Croonian
lectures. He was one of the earliest Cambridge embryologists, contribut-
ing a paper, "On the Conformation of a Chick in the Egg," to the
Philosophical Transactions (1671).

Martin Lister (1638-1712), the zoologist, suggested the idea of a geo-
logical survey, proposing to the Royal Society a new kind of map. He
also contributed to Philosophical Transactions articles on spiders and
mollusca, for the second of which he is best known.

Walter Needham (1631?-! 691?) of Trinity, physician and anatomist,
was an Honorary Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians. In 1667,
appeared his Disquisitio anatomica de Formatu Foetus.

George Jolyffe, who joined Clair and graduated from Cambridge,
1651, shares in the discovery of the lymphatic system.

Thomas Sydenham (1624-1689) wrote the extremely important Ob-
servationes Medicae (1676) on his treatment of the plague.

Sir Samuel Garth (1661-1719), one of the rare poet-physicians, whose
dream was to establish services for the sick poor. In 1699, he published
"The Dispensary, a Poem," which was widely read for a half-century,
enjoyed many editions, and is still quoted by those who know their
eighteenth century.

94. Works, IX, 46.

95. April 16, 1631; Harleian MSS., quoted in Macalaster, p. 12.

96. March 15, 1627/8; printed in Heywood and Wright, II, 364.

97. The two theses were (University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24):
Humores [sunt~\ morborum causae and Galeni medicamenta chymicis
meliora, the latter of which we shall treat later in the text.

98. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

99. B. Castelli, Lexicon Medicum (Lipsiae, 1713), sub: Affectiones
spasmodicae.

100. Ibid., sub: Animalium Spiritus.

101. Lexicon, p. 531.

102. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

103. Lexicon, sub: Acidus humor.

104. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

105. Lexicon, p. 658.

106. Lexicon, sub: Medicamentum.

107. Idem.

108. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

ig8 NOTES TO CHAPTER FOUR

109. An odd thesis does crop up, as in the University Library, Cam-
bridge, MS. Dd. 6. 30: An Sc\ieri]ciae Med[iciri]ae sint magis physicae
quam Mathematicae, though this is rather a philosophical (physicoruml)
thesis than medical (physitioruml). The confusion of physica and medi-
cine in the early seventeenth century is not as difficult as distinguishing
whether a man was a scholar in physics (physicus) or a medical man
(physicus).

1 10. St. John's College Library, MS. S 34.

111. No one joked, ever, of the plague at Cambridge. In 1630,
Samuel Ward, master of Sidney, wrote to Archbishop Usher of the "most
suddain dispersion of our Students that ever I knew, occasioned by the
Infection. . . So as, whereas this time was our chief time of the Year
for Acts and Disputations, now our school-gates are shut-up . . ." (Rich-
ard Parr, The Life of James Usher [London, 1686], letter clx). Accord-
ing to MSS. Baker, 42, 107, "On the isth of September [1631], a grace
was passed for suspending sermons at St. Mary's and exercises in the
Schools on account of the plague." Again, in 1642 (MSS. Baker, 25, 165),
"... a grace passed for discontinuing, on account of the plague, all
University sermons, lectures, and exercises until the Vice-chancellor and
Heads should again convene the University." Finally, on the eve of
Annus Mirabilis, we find (MSS. Baker, 42, 107): "On the loth of October,
a grace passed the Senate for discontinuing sermons at St. Mary's and
exercises in the schools, on account of the prevalence of the plague."

112. Pembroke College Library, MS. 23 (6. 14.8), /. 45v. The manu-
script is probably a gift of Mark Frank, 1664; vide Wren's Catalogue of
Benefactors, no. 93, art. 83. The manuscript contains a collection of
medical cures, not in the same hand, some in a very old hand, inserted
loose-leaf into an 8.

1 13. "Of Conception" (the edition is not paginated).

1 14. "Of the Stomacke."

115. P. 86.

1 16. Gonville and Caius College Library, MS. 616-548.

117. Bulleins Bulwarke of defece againste all Sicknes, Sornes, and
Woundes . . . , by Williyam Bulleyn (London, 1562), /. viii. We cannot
resist quoting the whole passage, if only for framing in the offices of
deans of medical schools: "He [the doctor] must begin first in youth
with good learning & exercise in this noble art. He also must be clenly,
nimble handed, sharp sighted, prignant witted, bolde spirited, clenly
apparalled, pitefull harted, but not womenly affeccionated: to wepe or
trimple [tremble], whe he seeth broken bones or bloodie woundes,
neither must he geve place to the crie of his sore paciente, for Chyrur-
gians maketh fowle sores. Of the other side, he maie not plaie the partes
of a Butcher to cutte, rende, or teare, the bodie of manne kynde. For all
though it be fraile, sore, and weake, yet it is the pleasure of God, to cal
it his temple, his instrumet and dwelyng place, and the Philosopher dooe
call it Orbiculus, that is a little worlde."

THE GRADUATE STUDIES 1Q9

118. See Sir William Holdsworth, A History of English Law, 12 vols.
(London, 1914-1938), 2nd ed., IV, 229. Sir John Fortescue, in De Laudi-
bus Legum Angliae (1616), explains the assignment of the two monop-
olies on the basis of language: "In the Universities of England . . .
[subjects] . . . are not taught but in the Latine tongue; and the laws
of that land are to be learned in iii several tongues; to witte, in the
English tongue, the French tongue, and the Latin tongue." (c. 48)

Students of the English language cannot afford to ignore the macaroni
spoken by seventeenth-century lawyers. Maitland, citing Dyer's Reports
(i88b, in notes added in the edition of 1688), quotes: "Richardson, ch.
Just, de C. Bane, al Assises at Salisbury in Summer 1631. fuit assault per
prisoner la condemne pur felony que puis son condemnation ject un
Brickbat a le dit Justice que narrowly mist, & pur ceo immediately fuit
indictment drawn per Noy envers le prisoner, &: son dexter manus am-
pute & fix al Gibbet sur que luy mesme irnmediatment hange in pres-
ence de Court.'* F. W. Maitland, English Law and the Renaissance
(Cambridge, 1901), p. 68, n. 40.

119. Archdeacon William Hale, Precedents and Proceedings in Crim-
inal Causes, 1475-1640 (London, 1847), xxxvi-xxxvii.

120. John Strype, Memorials of Thomas Cranmer . . . (London,
1694), i, c. 29; see also Sir William Holdsworth, IV, 232: ". . . the sud-
den change in the position of the canon law naturally reacted on the
study of the civil law."

121. The reader may recall Rabelais' fun (Pantagruel, liv. II, ch. x):
"Sottes et desraisonnables raisons et ineptes opinions de Accurse, Balde,
Bartole, de Castro, de Imola, Hippolytus, Panorme, Bertachin, Alexan-
der, Curtius et ces autres vieux mastens, qui jamais n'entendirent la
moindre loy des Pandects, et n'estoient que gros veaulx de disme, ig-
norans de tout ce qu'est necessaire a 1'intelligence des loix."

122. Wordsworth, Scholae Academicae, p. 139.

123. The Journals of all the Parliaments During the Reign of Queen
Elizabeth, collected by Sir Simonds D'Ewes (London, 1862), p. i7ib.

124. Cooper, II, 35.

125. Works of James 1 (London, 1616), p. 532.

126. Holdsworth, A History of English Law, IV, 232.

127. Sir William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England,
i2th ed. (London, 1795), Bk. IV, 436.

128. Holdsworth, A History of English Law, II, 497.

129. Maitland, English Law and the Renaissance, p. 18. Again, "Law
schools make tough law" (p. 25).

130. Coke's English King's Bench Reports, 8, at f. n6b, "Bonham's
Case," quoted in Holdsworth, A History of English Law, V, 345.

131. Holdsworth, A History of English Law, V, 345.

132. Emmanuel College Library, MS. 48.

133. St. John's College Library, MS. S 18.

200 NOTES TO CHAPTER FOUR

134. Black's Law Dictionary, Henry Campbell Black, 4th ed. (St. Paul,

i95*)> P- 575*.

135. Ibid., p. 576a, sub: Donation; also sub: Donative Advowson.

136. Ibid., p. i668b.

137. "The Path of the Law," included in Lon L. Fuller, The Prob-
lems of Jurisprudence, temp. ed. (Brooklyn, 1949), p. 329.

138. St. John's College Library, MS. S 18.

139. Slack's Dictionary, p. 577a.

140. Ibid., p. 5783.

141. St. John's College Library, MS. S 18; see Black's Dictionary,
p. 388a.

142. Sir Henry Sumner Maine, Ancient Law, included in Fuller, The
Problems of Jurisprudence, p. 363.

143. Black's Dictionary, p. 388a.

144. St. John's College Library, MS. S 18; see Black's Dictionary t

P- 995*.

145. St. John's College Library, MS. S 18; see Black's Dictionary,

p. 1469^

146. Idem.

147. Idem.

148. Idem.

149. Idem.

150. Idem.

151. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24; see Black's Dictionary,
p. 9283.

152. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

153. See John Archibald Venn, Alumni Cantabrigienses (Cambridge:
The University Press, 19221951), I, sub: Ayloffe. Thomas Ayloffe was
eventually appointed Regius Professor of Civil Law at Cambridge, 1702.
Wordsworth, Scholae Academicae, p. 140.

154. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

155. Black's Dictionary, p. 533b.

156. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

157. Idem.

158. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24; see Black's Dictionary,
p. i2i8a.

159. University Library, Cambridge, Sel. i. 24.

160. Blackstone, Commentaries . . . , Bk. IV, 442.

161. Some Thoughts Concerning the Study of the Laws of England,
in Wordsworth, Scholae Academicae, p. 142.

162. Thomas Mace, Mustek's Monument (London, 1676), p. 30.

163. Microcosmo graphic, #20.

164. (London.)

165. The Works of John Milton, Columbia ed., IV, 317.

166. Ibid., p. 288.

167. The Works of Thomas Hearne, III, cxlviii.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION 201

168. Nicholas Hookes, Amanda, p. 58. (We quote facsimile edition.
[New York, 1923]-)

169. The Lives of Right Hon. Francis North . . . , I, 12.

170. Musica quadrata, found among the Dubia et spuria Bedae
Venerabilis, Migne, Patrologia latina, XC, 922 2 B. On the problem of
attribution, the author is certainly not Bede; it belongs, possibly,
". . . & un certain Aristote du xii-xiii e sicle." H. Quentin, "Bede,"
Dictionnaire d'Archeologie Chretienne et de Liturgie, XII, i, 646, n. i.
See also Charles W. Jones, Bedae Pseudepigraphia: Scientific Writings
Falsely Attributed to Bede (Ithaca, N.Y., 1939), p. 84.

171. The Polychronicon went through many important editions, in-
cluding Caxton's (1482), Wynkyn de Worde's (1495), and Peter Treveris's

to*?)-

172. See James E. Matthews, A Handbook of Musical Knowledge and

Bibliography (London, 1898), p. 80.

173. Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 4th ed. (London:
H. C. Colles, 1940), p. 33a.

174. The Musical Quarterly 41:191-214 (April, 1955).

175. Queens' College Library, MS. n.c., in bundle marked "From the
President's Lodge, 1932."

176. Wordsworth, Social Life at the English Universities (Cambridge,
1874), p. 280.

177. Cooper, III, 219; MSS. Baker, 32, 389.

178. See Percy A. Scholes, The Puritans and Music (London, 1934),
p. 180.

179. Peacock, Observations . . . , App. B.

180. ULC, Sel. i. 24. William Turner (1651-1740) was a frequent
sharer in the celebrations of St. Cecilia's Day, which took place almost
every year from 1683 to 1702. He set the ode written by Nahum Tate in
1685. In 1696, Turner was graduated Doctor of Music from Cambridge,
a grand concert being given at the Commencement, July 7. DNB (XIX,
1293) notices that "a Latin poem written on the occasion was printed on
a folio sheet; it compliments Turner as inferior to Purcell alone."

181. Mustek's Monument (London, 1676), pag. ult.

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION

i. Oxoniensis Academiae Descriptio, f. 27*.

INDEX

A secundum quid ad simpliciter,

fallacy of, 54
Abdiel, 89

Abecedarium argumentandi, 179 ngS
Abelard, Peter, 12
Abington, 177 nsi
Absolute predestinarianism, 116
Absolute predestinarians, 81
Abstemiousness, 66
Abstracting, power of soul, 95
Abstraction, 71
Accent, fallacy of, 53
Accidens et substantia, 75
Accident, 76, 77, 78; metaphysical,

5 1

Accidentis, fallacy of, 53, 54
"Achilles," sophistry of, 187 n78
Act, 32

Actio in distans, 187 n73
Action, 38, 52, 77
Actwnes sunt suppositorum, 77
Acts, of masters, 107
Actuality, 73; pure, 82
Adam, 78
Adultery, 119
Aegean Sea, 106
Aegean Isles, 106
Aeneid, of Virgil, 43, 61
Aequipolation, logical, 48
Aequivocatio, 52
Aesop, 59, 61
Aeveternity, 88
Affectiones physicae, 93
Affectiones spasmodicae, 131
Affections, 55, 57
Agricola, Rodolphus, 9
Airplane, 72
Ajax, 33

Albertus Magnus, St., 51
Alcala, University of, 7, 194 n7i
Alcuin, 7

Alensis. See Alexander of Hales
Alexander of Hales, 122, 194 n7i
Alexander the Great, 59
Alexandrian sources, 10

Allein, Joseph, 44

Allusiveness of style, 32

Alsop, J., 59, 84, 85, 182 n88

Amasia, 28

Ambrose, St., 174 n55

Amicitia, 67

Amphibolia, 52

Amphiboly, 53

Amphistii, 105

Anabaptists, 117, 126

Anatomy, 85, 94, 130, 149

Andrewes, Lancelot, 15, 26, 170 ni2,

171 n3o

Andronicus of Rhodes, 184 n6
Angels, 78-79, 88
Anglican Church, 120, 127
Animal, 51

Annus Mirabilis, 198 nm
Answerer, in disputation, 16, 17, 20
Anthony, Mr., 63
Anthropology, 104
Anti-Aristotelianism, 3
Anti-Christ, 112, 120
Antichthones, 105
Anticolae, 105
Antipodes, 105
Antoeci, 105
Aphrodisiac, 134

Aphthonius of Antioch, 57, 181 n7i
Apianus, Petrus, 104
Apodosis, 173 1148
Apollo, 60
Appetibile f 73

Appetite, for vision of God, 81
Apprehension, simple, 147
"A-priorizing," 100
Aquapendente, Fabrizio d', 129
Arabian sources, 10
Arabius, 122, 195 n73
Aratius, 121
Aratus of Soli, 81
Arbor Entis, 86

Archetype, 18
Areopagitica, 33, 142

2O4

INDEX

Argumentation, 48, 50
Aristocracy, 68
Aristotelian cosmos, 90
Aristotelian curriculum, 39
Aristotelianism, 9, 10, 41
Aristotle:

1. TOPICS: 32, 42, 45, 59, 61,
63, 74, 81, 178 n36, 188 nios; on
accident, 9; on act, 9; authority of,
9; categories of, 51, 148; on con-
traries, 22; on definition of physics,
83; on distinguishing general from
special physics, 100; on division of
arts and sciences, 37; on division
of disciplines, 37; and dualism, 87;
eclecticism of, 10; on eternity of
world, 99; on ethics, 64, 68; ethics
of, weakened, 64; on form, 9; on
happiness, 65; on Intelligence of
Intelligences, 82; to be judged on
own merits, 46; on mathematics,
37; on matter, 9; on metaphysics,
37; metaphysics of, discarded, 64;
on mode, 9; on motion, 9; on na-
ture, 9; on object of Physica, 85;
overfidelity to, 101; on physics, 37;
on potency, 9; predominance of,
in seventeenth century, 9; re-
systematized, 45; on soul, 9; on
space, 187 n73; on substance, 9,
72; system of, 37; and virtue, 66,
148; and will, 65; on women, 189
ni29

2. WORKS: Categorice, 8; De
Anima, 42, 101; De Coelo, 27, 42;
De Gen. Animal., 189 ni2g; De
Interpretation, 8, 39; De Mete-
oris, 101; De Partibus Animalium,
101; De Parvis Naturalibus, 101;
De Sophisticis Elenchis, 8; Eight
Books of Physics, 42; Ethica, 42;
Meteorologica, 42; Meteoromin-
erals [sic], 29; Organon, 42; Phys-
ica, 83, 85, 101, 189 ni29; Politica,
38; Prior Analytics, 8; Prior and
Posterior Analytics, 34; Problems,
14; Topics, 8

Aristotle's Masterpiece, 133
Arithmetic, 9, 38

Arminensis. See Gregorius Arminen-
sis

Arminianism, 117, 181 n67

Arminians, 81, 116, 128

Ars Amatoria, of Ovid, 59

Art, 37, 38, 96

Artemidorus, 60

Arteries, 132

Asiatics, 68

Asserius Menevensis, 122, 195 n73

Assimilation to God, Platonic, 65

Astronomers, 84

Astronomical wonders, 101

Astronomy, 38, 70, 85, 149

Asyrius. See Asserius Menevensis

Ataxia, 131

Athanasius, bishop of Parallus, 121,

193 n67

Attwater, A. L., 3
Aubrey, John, 190 ni42
Aulus Gellius, 43
Aureolus. See Petrus Aureoli
Averroists, 99, 189 nii5
Ayloffe, James, 140
Ayloffe, Thomas, 139, 140, 200 ni53
Azarius, 121, 193 n67
Azor, Juan. See Azarius

Baccalaureate sermon, in American

universities, 33
Bachelor, 15, 17
Bacon, Francis, 5, 10, 48, 146, 169

nS

Bailey, J. E., 174 n63
Baker Manuscripts, 3, 108
Baker, Thomas, 3

Balderston, John, 12, 65, 66, 179 n38
Baldwin, T. W., 44
Bancks, Mr., 63
Bancroft, Richard, 115
Banez, Dominicus, 81, 117, 121, 122
Baptism, 115
Baptismal font, 38
Barbara, 49

Barlow, Thomas, 108, 121, 123
Barnes, Joshua, 39; Praelectiones

Graecae, 63
Baroco, 49
Baronius, Cesare, 122
Baroque, 49

Barrow, Isaac, 2, 63, 103, 130, 170, n7
Bateson, Thomas, 143

INDEX

205

Bathing, 170 117

Battle of the Books, 59

Baxter, Richard, 48, 170 117

Baedles. See Bedells

Bedells, 15, 16, 17

Being, 71, 72, 73

Belgic Confession, 117

Bellarmine. See Robert Bellarmine,

St.

Bensaude, Joaquirn, 191 ni62
Bentley, Richard, 63
Beraza, B., S.J., 186 n4O
Bethell, Samuel L., i
Beza, Theodore, 114
Bible, 64

Biblical beasts, 106
Biel, Gabriel, 121
Biology, 149

Blackstone, Sir William, 141
Blasphemy, 119
Blind obedience, 120
Body, of man, 94
Boethius, 32
Bois, Mr., 173 1147
Bolde, Alexander, 59, 133
Bologna, University of, 122
Bonaventure, St., 121
"Bonny Nell," 195 n79
Bononia. See Bologna, University of
Bonum apparens, 97
Bonum in communi, 96
Book of hours, 38
Boston, 76, 89
Boughey, Francis, 88, 89
Bourne, Vincent, 179 n39
Boyes, John, igff., 63
Braggart, 67
Brett, Thomas, 140
Bretton, Lawrence, 30, 84, 91, 94,

121, 175 1171

Bricot, Thomas, 9, 170 ng
Briggs, Henry, 103
Briggs, William, 130, 196 ng$
Brinsley, John, 44
Brittain, F., 195 n82
Broadside, theses, 17
Bruta non habent rationem, 189

11131

Bucer, Martin, 121
Buck, Esquire Bedell, 19, 34, 144
Bulleyn, William, 135, 198 nn7

Burgersdicius, Franciscus, 45, 78, 93,

98, 101, 184 114
Burke' s Peerage, 71
Burleius. See Burley, Thomas
Burley, Thomas, 9, 170 ng
Burtt, E. A., i
Bury School, 44
Bush, Douglas, 2
Byrd, William, 143

Cabalistic erudition, 79

Caesar, Julius, 59

Caius, John, 129, 135

Caius College. See Gonville and

Caius

Cajetan, Gaetanus, Card., 121, 122
Caligula, 49
Calvin, on usury, 119.
Calvinism, 114, 115, 117, 118
Cam, 56, 144
Cambridge Review, The, 170 n7, 181

n6 5

Camden, William, 136
Campion, Edmund, 178 n2i
Canon law, i, 107, 120, 136, 143, 150
"Cantos on Mutabilitie," of Spenser,

9

Carre", Meyrick, i
Carlovingian schools, 7
Carpenter, Nan Cooke, 143
Cartesianism, 4, 132
Carleton, Sir Dudley, 24
Casaubon, Meric, 3
Castelli, Bartholomew, 131, 132;

Lexicon Medicum, 131
Casu, 76

Casuistry, 123-125, 150
Cataloging not knowledge, 51
Catches, 143

Catechism, of Anthony Tuckney, 111
Categorical syllogism, 173 n48
Categories, 51; of Aristotle, 148
Categorimatice, 74
Cathala, M.-R., O.P., 184 n6
Catholic scholastics, influence of,

183 nio8
Causa Prima, 81
Causam causae esse causam causati,

72

Cause, final, 76
Causes, four principles, 74-76

206

INDEX

Causinus, Nicholas, 43, 56, 57, 177

H21

Cavalier, 69

Caxton, 201 11171

Cecil, Robert, 8; reform decree of,

12

Certitude and faith, 116

Chalcedon, Council of, 195 n73

Chamberlain, John, 24

Chance, 75

Chancellor, office of, 169 n4

Change, 88

Charity, 118, 119

Charles I, 191 n8

Charles II, 130, 141

Cheese, 134

Chemistry, 149

Cherbury, Lord Herbert of, 24

Chicago, 89

Chichester, 195 n72

Chillingworth, William, 109

Chlorophyll, 133

Cholera, 132

Choleric, 188 ngo

Chris topherson, John, 122, 195 n72

Christ's College, 138, 178 n2i

Church lands, 138

Church of England, 115; and ortho-
doxy, 108

Churchill, Sir Winston, 72

Cicero, 10, 32, 43, 58, 61, 63, 178 n36;
tags from, 33

Circumscription of bodies, 89

Circuncolae, 105

Citation, 72

Civil law, 107, 150; factors making
for decay of, 136; lectures in, 13;
and usurious abuses, 136; weak-
ened, 136

Civil society, 68

Clare College, 129

Clarendon, Edward Hyde, first earl
of, 107

Clark, Andrew, 190 ni42

Clark, Donald Leman, 178 n30

Clarke, John, 4

Clarke, Samuel, 44, 174 n56, 178 n27

Classical geography, 39

Claudian, 43

Clement of Alexandria, St., 122

Clerum, 33, 112, 147

Cluverius, Philippus, 43, 178 n2i

Cobbler, 75

Cocktail, 92

Coctile, 92

Code law, 140

Coffey, Peter, 176, ns

Coke, Sir Edward, 136

Collins, John, 129

Colombo, Matteo Realdo, 129

Colurus Aequinoctionum, 105

Colurus Solstitiorum, 109

Cole, John, 37, 38, 174 n4

Colloquia of Erasmus, 43

Colonialism, 69

Cometa, 190 ni3i

Commencers, 15, 17

Commissioners of the Scottish uni-
versities, 14

Common law, 136, 150

Commonplace book, 57

Commonplace headings, 32

Communion, under both species, 120

Commutative justice, 66

Comparative religion, 104

Compositio, 52, 53

Concept, 47, 50

Conception, 134

Conceptualism, 8, 194 n7i

Concupiscence, 113, 115; freedom
from, 114

Confessional, 123

Confusion, of philosophy and
science, 84; of physica with science,

85

Conges, 16

Congressional Medal, 66
Conjunctive form, of syllogism, 173

1148

Conning, 58

Consent, in marriage, 139
Consequentis, fallacy of, 54
Constitutional law, 139
Consuetude Anglicana, 137, 139
Constance, Council of, 193 1149
Contingent causes, 79
Continuum, 89
Contracts, 139
Conversion, logical, 48; religious,

116; permanency of, 116
Cooper, Charles, 3, 169 n6
Corbet, Richard, 195 n79

INDEX

207

Corona, Oratio de, 63
Corporeal Presence, 120
Cosin, John, 125

Cosmography, 41, 104-106, 148; def-
inition of, 70

Cosmos, 55; Aristotelian, 90
Cossack, 75
Cotton, John, 112
Courage, 66

Counterdistinction, 173 n5i
Courtly Love tradition, 98
Covarruias. See Covarruvias
Covarruvias y Leyva, Diego, 67, 121,

193

Covenant, 42
Cowardice, 66
Co well, John, 13
Crates, 59

Creation, 149; known by reason, 99
Crellius, Fortunatus, 190 ni36; Liber

de Deo, 99

Crooke, Helkiah, 130, 196, n93
Croone, William, 130, 147 .n93
Crossinge, Richard, 63, 106, 179 ns8,

183 nios; quoted, 191 ni6i
Cudworth, Ralph, 2
Culling, 58

Cummell, Francis, 122
Cummins, Francis, 182 n87
Curls, 123
Curtsying, 16

Custom, 138, 139; Jewish, 106
Cynaethus of Chios, 60
Czechoslovakia, 83

Davenant, Edward, 100
Davenant, John, 174 n55
Davenport, Alexander, 196 n85
Davenport, Christopher, 122, 194

n7o

Dead Sea, 29
Death, 32

De Amicitia, of Cicero, 43
De Anima, of Aristotle, 101
De Give, of Hubbes, 137
De Defensione Fidei, of Suarez, 121
De Elegantia, of Erasmus, 43
De Eloquentia, of Causinus, 43
De Finibus, of Cicero, 43
De Interpretation, of Aristotle, 39
De Mixtis, of Aristotle, 92

De Meteoris, of Aristotle, 101

De Officiis, of Cicero, 43

De Oratore, of Cicero, 43

De Partibus Animalium, of Aris-
totle, 101, 188 nio2

De Parvis Naturalibus, of Aristotle,
101

De Senectute, of Cicero, 43

Declamation, 31-34, 35, 146, 147, 175
n7i

Declarations, 8

Decretals, of Gratian, 135

Deductive science, 49

Defendant, in disputation, 15

Definition, logical, 47, 50

deKTiK6v, 74

Delavinus, 122, 195 n7i

Democracy, 68

Demons, true faith in, 117

Demosthenes, 32, 43, 61, 63; First
Olynthiac, 64; Oratio de Corona,

63

Denzinger, H., Enchiridion Symbo-
lorum, 185 ns8

Descartes, Ren, 76, 101

Desdemona, 106

Determinationes, 8, 35, 147

Deuteromelia, 143

Devils, 117

D'Ewes, Sir Simonds, 32, 41, 42, 44,
63, 111, 125, 136, 144, 175 n8o;
autobiography, 43

Dialectics, 9

Dickenson, Mr., 44

Dionysius of Syracuse, 49, 106

Dioptrics, 101

Directiones, of Holdsworth, 43

"Directions," of Duport, 56

Discipline, directive, 37, 39; objec-
tive, 37

Discorsi, 103

Dismissal speech, in disputation, 24

Disputation, scholastic exercise, 8,

14-3 1 ' 35- 146

Disputationes Metaphysicae, 81
Dissembler, 67
Distinction, 173 n5i; explaining of,

in disputation, 23; in disputation,

21

Distributive justice, 66
"Diting," 13, 14, in

208

INDEX

Divide, mathematically, 90

Divinations, of astronomers, gi

Divine attributes, 80

Divinity, So

Divisio, fallacy of, 52, 53

Division, logical, 47

Docker, Henry, 47, 82; logical exer-
cises of, 180 042

Dogma, i, 123

Dogs, making syllogisms, 25

Domestic society, 68

Dominicans, on predestination, 81

Dominium temporale, 119

Dove, Thomas, 171 n3o

Downes, Andrew, 63

"Down-right Scholler," of John
Earle, 70

Drake, James, 130

Drake, Richard, 91

Drake, Roger, 129

Drama, 39

Dreams, 94, 101

Dryden, John, 142, 143, 145, 146, 147

Dualism, of potency and act, 74

Ductor Dubitantium, of Jeremy Tay-
lor, 123

SvvdfJLei 8v, 75

dtj>afj.t,$, 73

Duns Scotus, 9, 51; form of lecture,
11; on matter, 86

Duport, James, 9, 20, 29, 32, 33, 56,
61, 63, So, 95, 97, 99, 102, 169 n7,
170 n7, 173 1148, 173 n49, 178 n36,
187 n68

Durandus, 121, 122

Duration, 88

Durham, college at, 174 n63

Dury, John, 179 n$S

Dyer, George, 3

Dyke, Jeremiah, 33, 175 n87

Earle, John, 70, 141, 181 n47
Earth, 90
Earwigs, 124
East Indies, 106
Ecclesiology, 115
Eclogues, of Virgil, 43, 61
Economics, 32, 68
Edictum, 140

Education of form from matter,
85-86

Edward VI, 109, 143

Edwards, Jonathan, 116

Efficient cause, 75

elSos, 74

Election, 117

Elementa Mixta, 91-93

Elements, 91, 92, 149

Elias, 1 20

Elixatie, 92

Elizabeth I, 7, 109, 136, 143, 173, n47

Ellesmere, Thomas Egerton, baron,

136

Ellis, William, 183 nm

Eloquence, patterns of, 70

Eloquentia, 147

Emmanuel College, 25, 42, 57, 63, 65,
100, 102, no, 111, 125, 126, 127,
142, 170 ni3

Enborn School, 44

Enchiridion Symbolorum of Den-
zinger, H., 185 n$8

Encratites, 195 n73

End. Sec Finis

Englishman's Doctor, The, of Sir
John Harington, 134, 188 ngo

715, ab alio, 71, 76; a se, 71, 76;
contingens, 71; in alio, 76; in se,
76; necessarium, 71; participial,
73; per aliud, 76; per se, 76; sub-
stantive, 73

Entitatulum, 174 n64

Ent, Sir George, 130, 196 n93

Enthymeme, 173 n48

Epicureans, 65

Epilepsy, 131

Episcopacy, 108

Epistemology, 93

Epistola Dedicatoria, of Janich, 84

Epistolae t of Cicero, 43

Epistolae, of Ovid, 43

Epistolary prose, 39

Equator, 105

Equivocation, 53

Erasmus, 43

Esquire bedells, 15, 16

Essence, 50, 53, 70, 73

Essex, Robert Devereaux, second
earl of, 30

Estius, William, 122, 194 n7o

Ether, 91

Ethical dialogues, 39

INDEX

209

Ethical gentleman, 67

Ethical saint, 66

Ethics, 10, 32, 38, 41, 55, 64-69, 147,

148, 183 mc7; Aristotelian, 69;

Aristotelian, and Maritain, 67; as

practical science, 176 nn
Eucharist, 113, 120
Eucharistic Presence, 89
Euclidean geometry, 46
Eudemian ethics, of Aristotle, 68
Eudaemonia, according to Aristotle,

65

Euripum, 59

European Archipelago, 106

Europeans, 68

Eustachius of St. Paul, 45, 93

Evil, 97

Evelyn, John, 195 n78

Evensong, 125

Exceptio, 140

Execratio, 62

Exercises, Latin, 58; rhetorical, 58

Ex opere operate, 115

Extension, 70

Faber Faventinus, Philip, 122, 194

n7o

Fabritius, Alexander, 122
Faculties, 95
Fairness, 66
Faith, 117, 118
Fallacia, 52, 117
Fallacies, logical, 52-55, 147
Fallopio, Gabriello, 129
False stress, 53
Falstaff, 67
Family, 67, 68
Fanfani, Aminatori, 118
Far East, 106
Fasting, 100
Father, patron of defendant, 17, 19,

34; speech of, 27
Faventinus. See Faber
Fawcett, George, 109
Tearfulness, 66 *
Felsted, 44

Felton, Nicholas, 12, 81, 170 ni2
Female, 97; characteristics of, 98
Ferrar, Nicholas, 44, 178 n25
Ferrara, Francisco Silvestro di. See

Ferrariensis

Ferrariensis, 122, 194 n7o

Fides salvificci) 117

Final cause, 75, 185 n26; of human

soul, 94

Finis, 75, 76, 185 n26
First cause, 75, 79
"First Philosophy," 72
Fisher, John, S.J., 109
Fisher, St. John. See John Fisher,

St.

Fitzherbert, Nicholas, 2, 10, 56, 150
Flaccidity, 92
Flora, 104

Florus, Lucius Annaeus, 43, 177 1121
Fluency, 58
Form, 74, 75, 93, 98
Formalism, 5
Fornication, 1 1 9
Foro externo, in, 64
Foro interno, in, 64
Fortescue, Sir John, 199 nn8
Fortune, 118
Fossils, 98

Frank, Mark, 198 mis
Fredegis of Tours, 7
Freedom, 65, 96
Free will, 113, 114
Friendliness, 67
Friendship, 67
Frigidity of Saturn, 91
Frizzled foreheads, 124
Fiiggers, 106

Fuller, Lon L., 200 ni37
Fuller, Thomas (of Sidney Sussex),

3, 27, 29, 48, 146, 174 n 55 , 174 n6 3
Fuller, Thomas (of Christ's College),

174 n63

Furnivall, Frederick J., 169 n$
Further Adventures of E. Gordon

Pym, of Edgar Allan Poe, 130
Fyll, Robert, 192 n28

Galen, 129, 133, 134

Galileo, 5, 7, 103, 129

Garlic, 134

Garth, Sir Samuel, 104, 197 ng3

Generation and decay, 79

Genus, 51

Geography, 9, 104

Geology, 149

Geometry, 38

210

INDEX

Geophysics, 104

George of Brussels, 9, 170 ng

Georgics, of Virgil, 43, 61

Germany, 102, 106

Gerson, Jean le Charlier de, 122,

195 ^71

Gervase of Canterbury, 175 n74

Gibbons, Ellis, 143

Gibbons, Orlando, 143

Gill, Alexander, 18

Gilson, Etienne, 72, 184 mo

Glanvill, Joseph, 2, 74

Glisson, Francis, 130, 196 ng$

Glorious Revolution, 137

Gloucestershire, 194 n7i

God, 70, 80, 82

Gonville and Caius College, 103, 126,
129, 134, 171 n35, 172 1141, 173
n46, 173 np, 179 n$8

Good and evil, not immediately con-
trary, 22; not dependent on hu-
man law, 64

Goodness, natural, 24, 51

Goodwin, Thomas, 43, 177 n2i

Gossip, 119

Gostlin, John, 109, 129, 135

Gouge, William, 178 n23

Grace, 113, 114

Grammatica analysis, 62

Gratian, Decretals of, 135

Great Enlightenment, 116

Grecians, 68

Greek, preuniversity training in, 44;
study of, 45, 62-64

Greek Testament. See Testament

Greek to the Temple, A, 55

Greene, Robert, 31

Gregorius Arminensis, 122, 194 n7i

Gremium materiae, 74

Gresham College, 129

Grierson, Sir Herbert, 169 n8

Grotius, Hugo, 64, 123

Gyges, 59

Habit, category of, 52, 77, 78
Habitus, referring to dress, 185 n28;

of style, 61
Hadley, Patrick, 144
Haecceitas, 74, 174, n64
Hair, 94
Hale, William, 199 niig

Hall, John, 3, 5, 43, 178 n22
Hall, Joseph, 127, 175 n7i, 196 n85
Halliwell, James O., 175 n8o
Hamlet, prevarication in, 31
Hampton Court, 127
Hanger, John, 175 n7i
Hannibal, 59

Happiness, according to Aristotle, 65
Hardwicke, Philip, first earl of, 174

n 55 papers of, 26
Harington, Sir John, 188 ngo, 188

nioo; The Englishman's Doctor,

134

Harkness, John, 170 nn
Harmony, 145
Harrison, G. B., 175 n75
Harrison, William, 2, 169 ni, 169 n3
Harvard University, 33, 142, 146
Harvey, William, 128, 129, 135
Havers, Clop ton, 130, 197 n$3
Haversian canals, 197 ng3
Hearne, Thomas, 178 n28, 190 ni46,

190 ni49
Heavens, 149; motion of, 187 n8o;

moved by angels, 78
Hebrew, study of, 44
Heerebord, Adrianus, 45, 179 n38
Heidelberg, University of, 99
Helen of Troy, 59
Hemispheres, 105
Henoch, 120
Henry III, i
Henry VIII, i, 135, 136, 137, 143,

170 ng; reforms of, 9
Heriditary monarchy, 17
Heredity, 139
Herodotus, 60
Hesiod, 43, 61
Hesychius of Miletus, 60
Heterogeneities, 74
Hexameron, 98
Heylyn, Peter, 190 ni52
Heywood, John, 31
Hierarchy, 115
Highmindedness, 67
Hilton, John, 143
Historia, of Justinus, 43
Historia Generalis, of Cluverius, 43
Historians, Greek, 63
History, 39
Histriomastix, 191 n8

INDEX

Hitler, 50

Hobbes, Thomas, 64; De Give, 137

Holbech, Martin, 44

Holds worth, Richard, 32, 41, 42, 43,

45' 46> 55 5 6 > 57 5 8 61, 63, 102,

!33 *37
Holdsworth, Sir William, 137, 199

nii8, 199 ni20
Holland, Henry Rich, first earl of,

i?

Holland, Philemon, 136
Holmes, Edmund, 71
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, Jr., theory

of law, 138
Holy Land, 106
Homer, 43, 59, 61, 81; Iliad, 63;

Odyssey, 63
Homo politicus, 68
Homogeneities, 74
Homogeneous plurality, 75
Homonymia, 52, 53
Homonyms. See Homonymia
Hood, Thomas, 104
Hook, Charles, 44

Hookes, Nicholas, 142, 143, 201 ni68
Hope, 118

Horace, 43, 56, 61; Satyrae, 61, 62
Horizon, 105
Hotham, Charles, 95, 99, 188 nio8,

190 ni37

Howell, Wilbur, 2
Huber, V. A., 5
Hudibras, 177 n2i
Human nature. See Nature
Human soul. See Soul
Humors, 132, 197 n97
Hurtado, Casper, 194 n7i
Huss, John, 4
Hylomorphism, 98
Hypnoticus, 131
Hypo-mixolydian modes, 107
Hypos tatizing, of words, 179 n39
Hypothetical form, of syllogism, 173

n48
Hysteron proteron, 54

Idioms, 56

Idiotisma, of Vigerius, 43
Ignoramus, 141
Ignoratio elenchi, 52, 54
Iliad. See Homer

Images, sacred, 113

Imaginatio, 31, 93, 175 n74

Imitation, 56

Immaculate Conception, 115, 195

n7i

Immanent power, 93
Immaterial beings, 65
Immaterial soul, 94
Immaterial substances, 78
Immortality, of the soul, 95
Impatience, 119
Imputation, 113
Inceptions, 34
Indians, 105
Index, Roman, 194 n7o
Indies, 106

Indifference, moral, 22
Individual, and the state, 68
Induction, 49, 50
Infallibility, 120
Infralapsarianism, 107
Ingram, Bedell, 173 n47
Inns of Court, 137
Institutes, of Justinian, 140
Institutionum Oratoriarum, of Quin-

tilian, 43

Integration, of curriculum, 39
Intellect, 95, 96, 189 nii5
Intellectio, 39

Intellectus, qua dirigibilis, 51
Intelligence of Intelligences, 82
Interaction of will and intellect, 96
Interrogatio, 62
Invention, 57
Isaacson, Henry, 171 n3o
Isaacson, Stephen, 171 n3O
Isis, 144
IcroVi 66
Italy, and mathematics, 102

Jaeger, Werner, 184 n6
James, Henry, 144, 179 n$8
James I, 7, 8, 24, 109, 127, 136, 174

n55, 191 n8
James, St., 118
Janich, Peter, Epistola Dedicatoria,

84

Japan, 106

Jegon, John, 108, 116
Jeffray, Mr. (of Pembroke), in

212

INDEX

Jesuits, 14, 109, 117, 120, 121; at
Cambridge, 30, 31; on predestina-
tion, 81; Portugese Relations of,
106; ridiculed, 29
Jesus College, 125, 130
Jolyffe, George, 130, 197 ngg
John Fisher, St., 135
John of Rada, 122, 194 n7o
Johnson, James, 140
Jones, Charles W., 201 ni7o
Jones, Richard Foster, 2
Journals of all the Parliaments, 136
Judgment, logical process, 47, 50,

H7

Junian (i)us. See Justinus
Junius, Otho, 62
Jurisprudence, 38
Justice, highest of virtues, 66
Justification, 113, 150
Justin Martyr, St., 122
Justinian, 137, 140
Justinus, Marcus Junian (i)us, 43,

177 n2i
Juvenal, 43, 61, 62

Keckermann, Bartholomaus, 39, 45,
46, 85, 86, 90, 93, 99, 101, 149, 178
n36; gynics of, 98; on heavens,
90-91; on memory, 96; on sleep,
93; on women, 97; Sy sterna Physi-
cum, 84

Kepler, Johann, 7

King's Chapel, 143

King's College, 126

King's Parade, 16

King's touch, 133

Kirk, 127

Klotzstock-und-steintheorie, 1 14

Klubertanz, George P., S.J., 72, 184
n8

Knowability of God, natural, 79

Knowledge, 96; of accidents prior to
knowledge of substance, 95; ob-
ject of the sciences, 38

rc6\ovpott 104

Kreisler, Fritz, 74

Kremlin, 50

Laboratory accidents, 49
Lactantius, 122
Lambeth, 125

Lambeth Articles, 108

Latin, grammar, 46; preuniversity

training in, 44; style, 148
Latinity, of students, 60
Latitude, 105

Laud, William, archbishop of Can-
terbury, 125, 126, 181 n67
Laughter, 97
Laughton, John, 141
La Vigne, Andre de. See Delavinus
Law, 10, 107, 135-14!
Lawes, Henry, 142
Lectures, 8, 11-14, 35> 1 4 6 > length

of, 13

Lee, Francis, 54
Lee, Sidney, 174 n54
Legacy, 139
Legerdemain, 78
Leigh, Henry, 132
Leprechauns, 72
Lessius, Leonard, 64, 119
Letter to a Young Gentleman, A, of

Swift, 123
Lexicon Medicum, of Bartholomew

Castelli, 131

Leyden, University of, 107, 181 n67
Liber de Deo et Eius attributis, of

Crellius, 99
Liberality, 67
Licetus. See Lichettus
Lichettus, Fortunius, 122, 194 n7o
Lindewode, William, 98, 189 ni30
Lipsius, Justus, 178 nfi
Lister, Martin, 130, 197 ng3
Liturgy, 115, 126

Literary play. See Ludus literarius
Little, A. G., 108
Liver, 94
Livy, 32, 43, 61
Locke, John, 2, 4, 74, 137; abuse of

words, 179 n39; on substance, 76
Locomotion, 94

Logic, 10, 38, 39, 41, 44> 45-55* *47
Logica, of Seton, 44
Logica analysis, 62
Logical exercise, of Docker, 180 n42
Logical fallacy, 51
Logical-positivists, 50
Logic-chopping, 51
Lombard. See Peter Lombard
Long, Roger, 63, 103

INDEX

213

Longevity, of those in northern hemi-
sphere, 105
Longitude, 105
London, Richard, 134
Lopez, Dominicus, 123
Lord's Supper, 125
Love, Richard, 17
Lucan. See Lucanus
Lucanus, Marcus Annaeus, 43
Lucentio, 102
Lucifer, 73, 89
Ludus literarius, 41, 176 ni4
Lugo, John de, 64, 119
Lutetia, 89
Lutheranism, 114
Luther, Martin, on usury, 119

Macalaster, Alexander, 129, 196 ngo

Macaronics, used by lawyers, 199 nn8

Mace, Thomas, 145

Macrobius, 43, 105

Madrigalian Era, 143

Madrigals, 143

Maecenas, 61, 62

Magdalen College, 31, 55, 137, 142

Magdalen Hall, Oxford, 177 n2i

Magiro, Antonio, 103

Magistratus, 107

Magnificence, 67

Main, Sir Henry Sumner, 200 ni42

Maitland, F. W., 199 nn8

Male, 97

Malefida, 78

Man, 51; intrinsically corrupt, 114;

uncorrupted nature of, 114
Manlius, Titus, 59
Mansell, John, 175 n7i
Manuductio ad Artem Rhetoricam,

57
Manuductio ad Philosophiam Ten-

tonicarrij 188 mo8
Mariology, 115
Maritain, Jacques, 67, 180 n44; on

ethics, 176 nn
Market Square, 16
Marriage, 139

Marsilius of Padua, 122, 195 n7i
Martial, 43, 61
Mary Tudor, Queen, 143
Mass, 115
Materia appetit jormam, 186 n55

Materia ingenerabilis, 186 n54
Materia primo prima, 87
Materiality, 86
Mathematics, 10, 13, 38, 41, 70, 102-

104, 148

Matrimony, of clergy, 120
Matter, 70, 74, 86, 90
Matthews, James E., 201 ni72
Mayor, J.E.B., 184 n2
Mean, 65, 66, 67
Mede, Joseph, 130, 144
Mediatrix of Grace, 115
Medical degrees, 128-129, 130
Medicamenta, 197 ng7
Medication, 132
Medicine, 38, 107, 128-135; lectures

in, 13
Medics, 84
fteyaXoij/vxta, 67
Mela, Pomponius, 32
Melancholy, 188 1190
Melanchthon, Philip, 9, 64; on usury,

119

Melville, Andrew, 127, 128
Memoria orta, 96
Memoria prima, 96
Memorizing, 58
Memory, definitions of, 96
Mendoza, Francisco Sarmiento de,

121, 193 n67
Meridian, 105
Merisse, 122

s, 65
ra <f>\MTLKa, definition of, 72

Metals, 98

Metamorphosis, of Ovid, 43, 64

Metaphor, 57

Metaphysica, of Aristotle, 82

Metaphysical Philosophy, 83

Metaphysics, 10, 38, 41, 44, 71-83,
144 n6, 100, 148

Meteorology, 85, 98, 149

Method, scholastic vs. modern in sci-
ence, 83

Methodology, 11

Metz, Rudolph, 5

Midas, 59

Middle term, 53

Mildmay, Sir Walter, 91

Mildness, 67

Miller, Perry, 2

214

INDEX

Milton, John, 5, 17, 18, 33, 43, 57, 73,

86, 87, 88, 97, 137, 142, 146, 178 n23
Minima, 89-90
Ministry, 113, 120
Minutius, Felix, 122, 195 n73
Miserliness, 67
Mixta, 92
Mixtum vivens, 93
Mnemonic device, 52
Mode, 174 n64

Moderator, of disputation, 16, 26
Modestia, statute on, 27
Modesty, in dress, 123
Mohammed, corpse of, 32, 59
Mohammedans, 120
Molina, Luis de, S.J., 81, 117, 119,

121, 185 n4o, 186 n40
Molineus, Petrus, 44
fj,6\vv<ris, 9 2

Monarchy, 68; constitutional, 139
Monstra, 98, 190 ni3i
Montgomery, Philip Herbert, first

earl of, 17

Montpelier, University of, 134
Moral activity, 65
Moral behavior (ethics), patterns of,

70

Moral instinctivist, 64
Moral science, 65
Moral theology, 115
Moral universe, 49
Morality, 55
More, Henry, 2, 79
More, Thomas. See Thomas More, St.
Mores, 104

Morison, Samuel Eliot, 3, 107, 177 ni 8
Morland, Master, 29
Morley, Thomas, 141, 143
Mornay, Philippe de, 123, 195 n74

lu>P$T]> 74

Mortal sin, 119

Mortality, 115

Morton, Richard, 84

Mosul, 193 n67

Motion, 70

Mullinger, J. B., 3, 63, no, 183 nioi

Multi-location, 88

Mundo, De, 98

Music, 9, 10, 32, 38, 107, 141-145

Musica quadrata, 201

Mussolini, 50

Musuulve. See Shakako, James (Se-

verus) bar
Mutuum, 119
Mystagogus Poeticus, 43, 177 ni8

Nails, 94

Napier, Alexander, 183 nioa

Natural bodies, 74

Natural history, 85

Natural law, 139, 140

Natural science, 70

Natural theology, 80

Nature, 149; corrupt or incorrupt, 23;

definition of, 73; denned by Keck-

ermann, 86; external, 86; human,

and natural law, 140
Navy Cross, 66
Necessary, and the contingent differ,

80

Needham, Walter, 130, 197 ng3
Neoplatonism, 4, 18, 19, 99
Nero, 49
Nerves, 132
Newberry, Berks., 44
New England, 69
Newman, John Henry, 41
Newmarket, 24
New Philosophy, 6, 101
New Science, 4, 148
Newton, Isaac, i, 2, 4, 101, 104,

170 n7, 196 n93
Nichols, John, 174 n55
Nicomachean ethics, of Aristotle, 68
Nomen, 47
Nominalism, 8
Nominalists, 170 ng
Non causa pro causa, 52, 54
North, Francis, 44, 142, 143, 171 ni6,

178 n29

North, Roger, 39, 44, 84, 142, 171 ni6
Notebooks, at Cambridge, 76
Note- taking, 170 n7, 181 n65, 182 ng2
Numismatics, 106

Objector, in disputation, 15

Occam. See William of Occam

Oeconomica, 38

Odium theologicum, 108

Odyssey. See Homer

Old Schools, 13

Oligarchy, 68

INDEX

215

Olynthiac, First, of Demosthenes, 64

Omne ens bonum, 73

One and the Many, problem of the,

68

Oneness, 51

Operations, of human soul, 94
Operimentum, 38
Opponent, in disputation, 20
Opposers, in disputation, 16
Opposition, logical, 48
Optics, 38, 183 nio7
Orationes,'oi Campion, 58; of Turner,

43

Orations, of Cicero, 43; of Demosthe-
nes, 43; of Turner, 58

Oratory, 42, 55, 57

Order, in the world, 99

Origin, of human soul, 94

Original sin, 95

Ornateness, 57

Orto bottanico, at Padua, 129

Othello, 106

Otho. See Junius

Overall, John, 16, 113

Overdaring, 66

Overindulgence, 66

Ovid, 43, 56, 61; Ars Amatoria, 59;
Metamorphosis, 64

Oxford, University of, 16, 136; change
at, 3; disturbance at, 2; had theo-
logical faculty in thirteenth cen-
tury, 108; men of, 17; and music,
144

Padua, university of, 7, 107, 129, 134

Palmer, Edward, 63

Pammelia, 143

Pamphlet war, 35

Pandects, 107

Panzani, Gregorio, 194 n7o

Papacy, 113

Paperbook, 56

Papistry, 29

Paradise Lost, 4, 57, 78, 86, 89, 98

Parallius. See Athanasius, bishop of
Parallus

Paralysis, 131

Paris, University of, 7, 14, 129, 134;
had theological faculty in thir-
teenth century, 108

Parisiensis, Gulielmus, 122

"Pariter-distinguished," 173 n$i

Parker, George, 196 1187

Parkin, Charles, 190^150

Parr, Richard, 198 nm

Parsimony, 67

Parsons, Talcott, 118

Patristic sources, 10

Patterns, of eloquence, 70; of moral

behavior, 70; of thinking, 70
Passion, 52, 55, 57, 77
Passivity, 67
Peace, 32
Peacock, George, 3, 169 n2, 171 n26,

171 n3i, 171 n4o, 172 1142
Pegasus, 72
Pelagianism, 117
Pembroke College, 15, 59, in, 113,

145, 170 ni2
Penelope, 32, 59
Pepys, Samuel, 142
Perioeci, 105
Peripatetics, 65, 179 n3g; philosophy

of, 46

Peristii, 105
Periwigs, 124
Persons, Robert, 136
Persius, 43
Peterhouse, 16, 125
Peter Lombard, 9, n, 121, 122
Petitio principii, 52, 54
Petrus Aureoli, 122, 194 n7i
Petty Cury, 16
Phalaris of Acragas, 49
Philippines, 106
Philosophy, 10

Philosophy without Metaphysics, 71
Phlegmatic, 188 ngo
Physica, 78; in genere, 85; in specie,

90-102. See also Physics
Physica, of Aristotle, 83, 85, 101, 189

Physical accidents, 77

Physics, 10, n, 32, 38, 41, 70, 83-102,

148, 149
Physiology, 149
Piles, 133
Pindar, 60
Place, 77, 88
Plague, 133, 198 mil
Planets, 91
Plants, 98; souls of plants not divis-

ible, 189 ni3i
Plato, 10, 32, 63

2l6

INDEX

Platonism, 4, 30; divergence of, 75
Platonists, 8, 65
Plautus, 43, 61
Playfere, Thomas, 16
Pleasure, Epicurean, 65
Pliny, 10, 32
Plotinus, 5

Plures interrogantes, fallacy of, 52, 54
Plutarch, 32, 60, 61
Pneumococcus, 73
Poetry, 39
Poets, Greek, 63
Poles, geographical, 105
Politica, of Aristotle, 38
Politics, 32, 68
TroXire/a, 68
Polonius, 67

Polychronicon, 142, 201 ni7i
Pope, Alexander, 86, 145
Pope, Roman, 120, 175 n74
Pope, Walter, 190 n 148
Portuguese, on geography, 106
Position, 77

Possevinus, Anthony, 14, 171 n2O
Post hoc, ergo propter hoc, 54
Posteriorums, 34

Potency, 32; and act, principles of, 73
Potentiality, 73, 74
Practical intellect, 97
Praelectio, 13

Praelectiones Graecae, of Barnes, 63
Praelectiones theologicae, 120
Praestigiae, 78
Predestination, 81
Predicables, 51
Predicaments, 51
Prelaty, 184 ni 6
Prescisiones formales, 74
Prescisiones objectivae, 74
Preston, John, 25, 26, in, 170 ni2
Preternatural perfections, 114
Preuniversity training, 43-45
Prevarication, 174 n63
Prevaricators, 27, 125
Priam, 59

Priesthood, 115, 150
Prime matter, 74, 86-87
Primogeniture, 139
Primrose, James, 129
Principle of intelligence, 94
Printing, cause of decline in lecture,
14

Prior Analytics, of Aristotle, 34

Priorums, 34

Private lectures, 13

Private property, right of, 66

Privatio et materia, 186 n57

Probability, 50

Problems of Aristotle, The, 134

Prodigality, 67

Progymnasmata, 57, 181 n7i

Promulgation, 138, 139

Property, 51, 139

Proportionality, 80

Proposition, 47; logical, 47

Proprium, 51

Protasis, 173 n48

Protestant, 112

Protestantism, 64

Prudence, 66, 96

Prynne, William, 136

Psalms, rhyming, 126

Pseudo-Bede, 142

Psychology, 149; of man, 94

Public lectures, 13

Pulpit controversies, in

Pulses, 132

Pun, 53

Punishment, a sufficient deterrent of

crime, I9ff.
Purcell, Henry, 144
Purchas, Samuel, 104
Puritan, 69; on liturgy, 125
Puritanism, 57
Puritanizing, 124, 127
Purpose, 75

Pythagorean theory, 145
Pythagorean Tree, 37

Quadragesimals, 30, 35, 147

Quadrant, 105

Quaestio complexa, 53, 117, 118

Quale, 74

Qualified being, 70

Quality, 52, 77

Quantified being, 70

Quantity, 52, 77, 86

Quantity, in Latin prosody, 56

Quantum, 74

Question-spraying, 54

Questionist, 30

Queens' College, 61, 121, 175 071

Quibbling, 54

Quid, 74

INDEX

217

Quid pro quo, 66
Quiddity, 73, 74, 184 ni6
Quinta essentia. See Quintessence
Quintessence, 70, 91
Quintilian, 43
Quintus Curtius, 43

Rabelais, 199 nisi

Ramist prejudices, of Milton, 43

Ramus, Petrus, 46, 178 n23

Ranulf Higden, 142

Raphael, archangel, 78, 86, 89

Ratio Studiorum, 14, 41

Rationality, 51

Ready and Easy Way to Establish a

Free Commonwealth, The, 57
Real, 72

Reason, 55, 65, 66
Reasoning, 47, 48
Reasoning process, 147
Rede, Sir Robert, 137
Rede Lecture, 137
Reform statutes, 7
Reformation, Protestant, i, 64
Regimen Sanitatis, 134
Registry, of Cambridge University,

13 1 ' 175 n 73
Reifying, 179 n39
Relation, 52, 77
Relational categories, 78
Reminiscentia, 96
Renolds, John, 58, 181 n78
Reparatio^ 93
Repetitio, 13
Reprobation, 117
Respiration, 94

Respondent, in disputation, 16, 20
Responsall. See Respondent
Revelation, 10
Revenge, 67
Rhabanus Maurus, 7
Rhada. See John of Rada
Rhetoric, 9, 10, 39, 41, 55-64, 147
Rhetorica analysis, 62
Rhetorical Compendium, The. See

Vossius

Rhetorical exercise, of J. Alsop, 60
Richardson, John, 174 n55
Ridley, Humphrey, 130
Ridley, Sir Thomas, 136
Righteousness, 66

Risk capital, 119

Rites, Jewish, 106

Ritual, 125-128, 150

Ritus Anglicanus, 109

Rivet, Andre*, 194 n7i

Robert Bellarmine, St., 121, 136, 196
n85

Robinson, John, 135

Robinson, Matthew, 71, 85; autobiog-
raphy of, 184 n2

Rogers, Nehemias, 179 n^S

Roman Antiquities, of Goodwin, 43

Roman law, 136

Rome, 89

Ross, Alexander, 177 ni8

Rounds, 143

Sacramentology, 115

Sacred images, 120

Sacred scripture, 39

St. Catherine's College, 197 ng3

St. Cecilia's Day, 201 ni8o

St. Clement's Church, 111

St. John's College, 7, 16, 17, 42, 59, 80,
85, 104, 106, 112, 121, 122, 129, 142,
171 n39, 182 n88, 183 nio8

St. Mary's Church, 8, 24, 108, 111, 112,
125, 126

St. Paul's Cross, 1 15

Salutarie, 118

Salamanca, University of, 7

Sallust, 43, 61

Salvare phaenomena, 101

Salvation, 113, 118

Salviati, 103

Sanchez de Arevalo, Rodericus, 121

Sancta Clara, Franciscus a. See Daven-
port

Sanctius. See Sanchez de Arevalo

Sancto Amore, Gulielmus de, 122

Sanderson, Robert, 179 n38

Sandys, Sir Edwin, 82

Sanguine, 188 ngo

Sapientia, 96

Satan, 89

Saturnalia, of Macrobius, 43

Saturnus, 91

Satyr ae, of Horace, 61, 62

Scaliger, Julius Caesar, De Subtili-
tate, 42

Schneemann, G., S.J., 185 ns8

2l8

INDEX

Scholastic science, 70

Scholes, Percy A., 201 ni78

Scholiasts, Greek, 63

Science, 38; natural philosophers in,

102

Scientia, 96

Scientia media, 82, 185 n4o, 186 n4o
Scientia simplicis intelligentiae, 185

Scientia visionis, 185 n4o

Scientific categories, 83

Scotists, 8; on primacy of will, 96

Scotus, Duns, 87, 119, 121, 122, 170 ng

Scurvy, 132

Seasons, 105

Second matter, 74

Secundae notiones, 51

Secondary causes, 75

Secundum quid, 74

Seisin, 139

Selden, John, 136

Seneca, 42, 43, 61, 64

Senses, 93

Sensus communis, 93

Sentiency, 93

Separatist, 109

Sermones, of Horace. See Satyrae

Sermons, 126

Serry, J.H., O.P., 185 1138

Seton, John, 44

Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper,

third earl of, 64
Shakako, James (Severus) bar, 193

n67

Shakespeare, William, 31, 67
Shameless ness, 67
Shelton, Thomas, 179 n3 8
Sherman, John, 55
Shipwrecked goods, 139
Sidney, Mr., 16
Sidney Sussex College, 33, 102, no,

126, 174 n63
Significatio, 39
Signo priori, in, 186 n4O
Signum praedestinationis, 118
Simple donation, 138
Simplicio, 103
Simpliciter, 74
Simplicity, of heavens, 91
Sin, 32; mortal, 119; venial, 119
Sincere man, 67
Singulars, 95

Sita. See Situs

Situs, 52, 77

Slaves, 68

Sleep, 93-94

Smith, Gerard, S.J., 184 n8

Smith, Robert, 187 n8o

Smith, Sir Thomas, 136

Smyth, John, 179 n38

Social conduct, 67

Society, 55

Socinianizer, 123

Socinus, Faustus, 80, 123

Sociology, 74

Somerset, Robert Carr, earl of, 136

Somnium Scipionis, 109

Sophismes, 55

Sophisters, 14, 15, 17, 30

Sophists, 52, 89

Sophocles, 63

Sophomes, 34, 147

Sorbonnists, 46

Sorcery, 78

Soteriology, 115

Soto, Dominicus a, 64, 121, 193 n67

Soul, 17, 78, 94, 95

Space, 88; Aristotle on, 187 n73

Spaceship, 72

Spaniards, 105

Spasmodic affections, 131

Species, 51

Species impressa, 95

Specific difference, 51

Speculative habits, 96

Speech, 67

Spenser, Edmund, 66, 146; Cantoes on

Mutabilitie, 90
Spiazzi, R.M., O.P., 184 n6
Sports, 170 n7
Stahl, Georg Ernst, 131
Stansfield, Mr., 182 n87
State, 67, 68
State after death, 113
Statius, Publius, 43
Statutes, of Elizabeth, 169 n2
Sterne, Richard, 125
Stimulus peccati, 113
Stoics, 17, 65
Stomach, 134
Stokeys, Esquire Bedell, 16; Stokey's

Book, 34
Strabo, 61, 63
Strachey, Lytton, i

INDEX

Strada, Famiano, 43, 177 1121

Strapado, 43

Strype, John, 199 niao

Stuarts, 141

Studia antemeridiana, 42

Studio, pomeridiana, 42

Style, 57; in Latin, 56

Suarez, Francis, 11, 64, 87, 95, 121

Substance, 52, 73, 76

Substantial form, 94

Suetonius, 43, 61

Sulfa derivatives, 133

Summa Theologica. See Thomas Aqui-

nas, St.

Summum bonum, 65
Supernatural, 80
Supernatural perfections, 114
Supplicat speech, 60, 182 n88
Supposita, 74
Supralapsarianism, 107
Survivorship, 139
Swift, Jonathan, geography in Gul-

liver's Travels, 191 m6i; A Letter

to a Young Gentleman . . . , 123
Swynnerton Hall, 169 114, 170 nil
Sydenham, Thomas, 130, 197 n93
Syllogism, 53, 147; dogs making, 25;

illegitimate and legitimate, 48
Syllabus of study, of Henry VIII, 9
Symbols, religious, 125
Syncategorimatice, 74
Systema Brevius, 46, 47
Systema brevissimum, 47
Systema Physicum, of Keckermann, 84

Tabor, James, 175 n73

Tallis, Thomas, 143

Taming of the Shrew, The, 64, 183

Tate, Nahum, 201 ni8o

Tatianus, 195 n73

Tawney, Richard Henry, 118

Taylor, E.G.R., 104

Taylor, Jeremy, 147; Ductor Dubi-

tantium, 123
Tears, 97
Temerity, 66
Temperament, 92
Temperance, 66, 67
Temporal dominion, 118
Temptations, 78
Tennyson, Alfred, 138

Tentationes, 78

Tenure of Kings and Magistrates,
The, 137

Terence, 43, 61

Terminists, 170 n9

Testament, Greek, 45, 63

Testator, 139

Testimony and knowledge, 79

Theft, 119

Theme, 50

Theocritus, 43, 61

Theodosius, 174 055

Theognis of Megara, 43, 61, 177 n2i

Theology, 11, 13, 38, 107, no, 123-125

Theological virtues, 118

Thingdom, kingdom of, 72

Thinking (logic), patterns of, 70

Thirty-Nine Articles, 125, 194 n7o

Thomas Aquinas, St., i, 8, 9, 12, 51,
79, 118, 121, 122, 176 n6, 176 ng,
176 nn, 184 n6, 194 1171; on angels,
78, 87; division of disciplines, 37;
and dualism, 87; harmonizes dog-
ma, 10; knowledge of God, 79; Sum-
ma Theologica, and liberal arts,
176 nio; method in Summa Theo-
logica, 11; and perfection of uni-
verse, 185 n3o; position on the
universal, 95; prime matter, 86; on
science, 38; on usury, 119

Thomas More, St., 135

Thomists, on abstractive power of
soul, 95; on primacy of intellect, 96

Thorpe, Robert, 108

Thucydides, 60

Timaeus, 63

Time, 70, 77, 88

Topography, classical, 106

r6iros, 88

Tories, no

Totalitarian, 68

Touchstonian logic, 31

Toulouse, 195 n7i

Tractate on Education, 178 n24

Tranio, 64, 102

Transaction, 138

Transcendency, 72

Transcendental being, 73, 76

Transcendentals, 51

Translations, 61

Transmission, of original sin, 95

Transphysica, 184 n6

Imprimi potest: Henry J, Schultheis, S.J,

Provincial of the Oregon Province
February 7, 1956

Imprimatur: % Edward D, Howard, D.D.

Archbishop of Portland in Oregon
August 14, 1956

(Continued from front flap)

covered concrete details in what might be
considered the miscellaneous contents of
the seventeenth-century student's waste-
basket. The material was often fragmen-
tary, and much of it was nondescript, but
out of the scraps a pattern began to appear,
and by a critical and interpretive resume
Fr. Costello has given a true idea of the
seventeenth-century mind as it was being
shaped at the university.

These are the facts of everyday academic
life at Cambridge, and they are presented
in an extremely entertaining manner.
Other studies will surely enlarge on knowl-
edge in certain areas, but this book has
established a pattern which can be fol-
lowed profitably from now on in re-creat-
ing seventeenth-century intellectual life.

As a scholastically trained philosopher
and theologian, necessarily at ease with
seventeenth-century Latin, Fr. Costello is
very much at home in this area* At pres-
ent he is Associate Professor of English at
Gonzaga University.

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS
CAMBRIDGE 38, MASSACHUSETTS

1 26 787