Universa Philosophia

DISPUTATIONS ON THE SUMMULAE. BY PETRUS HURTADO DE MENDOÇA, OF VALMASEDA, OF THE SOCIETY OF JESUS: Censor before the Inquisitors of the Faith, and professor of theology at the University of Salamanca. THE INSTRUCTION OF THE BEGINNER CONCERNING THE art of arguing.

A summula is a small summa or compendium, or an epilogue, in which matters proposed at greater length elsewhere are briefly set forth. Dialecticians take it to mean a brief outline of the things that one must first know if one wishes to grasp the higher disciplines through understanding and reason. Therefore philosophers, physicians, and theologians cannot set foot in those disciplines unless imbued with the precepts of the Summulae. The common run of jurists despises this discipline, holding that legal prudence is retained by memory alone; cultivated legal counselors, however, will not undertake their own discipline without first paying respects to this one, which is adorned in a remarkable way by the study of the Summulae. For arguments cannot be skillfully constructed by someone unskilled in argumentation. Indeed, nothing can be concluded, no one can win a victory, nor can anyone shine in the lecture hall unless he elegantly explains the conceptions of his mind by some form of argument. Those ignorant of this discipline are often laughed at and mocked with disgrace by moderately learned listeners, because they show that they do not even know argumentation by name. The aim of these disputations is to teach beginners how to argue, so that we may hold aloft a torch to guide students of every discipline to those disciplines themselves. I shall briefly explain what each participant must do.

And first a scholastic disputation begins among three participants. The first undertakes to defend the conclusions; he is often called the Sustentans, for he is the first to withstand every attack and to uphold the propositions he carries written on paper. As soon as the audience has taken its seats, he rises with a modest expression and lowered eyes, and begins the question in these words: The question to be disputed today, most illustrious and noble Rector, most wise President, most learned Masters and Doctors, and assembly distinguished for learning and nobility, is whether. Then, sitting down, he briefly, clearly, and elegantly argues the question on both sides, resolves it in one or more conclusions, and proves them. He refrains from answering the arguments. When the proofs are finished, he says: The arguments proposed, however, will be answered in the course of the disputation. Whatever I have said and am about to say I submit to the judgment of the Roman Church, and also to yours. Rising slightly, he uncovers his head; then, sitting again, he covers it and attentively awaits an argument.

The second participant in the disputation is the Arguens. After the Sustentans has fallen silent, he rises, lowering his eyes and voice and uncovering his head, and begins his argument in this manner: Having been granted leave to speak by the most illustrious and noble Rector, the most wise President, the most learned and most weighty Masters and Doctors, and this assembly renowned for learning and nobility, I shall propose two arguments, noble and ingenious Sustentans, against your sufficiently sharp conclusions: the first against, etc.; the second against, etc. After proposing two arguments, he says: You will easily answer these and others far more difficult, thanks to the skill of your intellect; now, however, to the first.

Then the respondent rises, uncovers his head, and says: Against my conclusion, in which I defend, etc., my noble and ingenious fellow student argues as follows. Then, sitting down and covering his head, he repeats the whole argument. Once it has been repeated and, as they say, taken up again, he returns to the first proposition¹: if he grants it, he proceeds to the second, until he reaches a proposition that he denies. Having denied it, he stops and falls silent, giving the Arguens leave to prove it.

Pay attention: arguments are set forth either by enthymeme or by syllogism. An enthymeme contains two propositions, the second of which is inferred from the first with the word therefore or accordingly. For example: Every man runs; therefore Peter runs. The first proposition is called the antecedent, while the second is called the consequent and the consequence. A syllogism consists of three propositions, the third of which follows from the first two with the same word, therefore or accordingly. The first proposition is called the major premise, the second the minor premise; the third, the consequent and the consequence. No other way of arguing is permitted.

When, then, the Sustentans returns to the first proposition after repeating the argument, he repeats that proposition a second time, by itself, and after repeating it says, I grant the major, or the antecedent. Then he repeats the minor alone, and after repeating it says, I deny the minor. But if the argument was an enthymeme, he says, I deny the consequence. The Arguens is bound to prove the proposition that was denied and to propose a new argument in which he draws the proposition denied by the Sustentans as the conclusion. For example, the Sustentans denied the proposition Peter runs. The Arguens must prove it as follows: Every man runs; Peter is a man; therefore Peter runs. He must pursue the argument in this manner, with a moderately raised voice, modest gestures and expression, without contentiousness, shouting, or stamping his feet. He must always treat the President with the greatest courtesy, listen to him if he wishes to direct the argument or explain the grounds for what the Sustentans says, and must not be long-winded or importunate. He should be sure that it is better to propose a few effective syllogisms modestly than a hundred loose bundles of twigs, as they say, or sand without lime.

Let him observe that a disputation begins badly in this way: Logic is not practical; therefore your conclusion is false. For the question is whether Logic is practical. The Sustentans says, Logic is practical. The Arguens must put another proposition in the antecedent, so as to infer in the conclusion a proposition contradicting the Sustentans; for example: No speculative science is practical; but Logic is a speculative science; therefore Logic is not practical. But if he says immediately, Logic is not practical; therefore your conclusion is false, he begins, as they say, by begging the question.

The Sustentans, for his part, is bound to adhere so strictly to the form of the argument that he says not a word outside it, except perhaps a very brief remark to clarify terms, lest the disputation become tangled and ambiguous. Three words are permitted to him: I grant, I deny, I distinguish. When he distinguishes, he must answer in two parts—that is, his response must have two parts, one of which is denied and the other granted or allowed. When he grants the major, he must not say I grant the proposition: that is what rhetoricians say. Instead he should say, I grant the major, or the major proposition. Then he should proceed to the minor, and not say I deny the assumption, as rhetoricians do; nor should he rhetorically call the consequence a complexion. When a proposition is false or doubtful, and the consequence does not follow well from it, there is no need to deny it; he should say, Let the major pass. He must then proceed to the conclusion, and not turn aside to prove other propositions that do not serve the Sustentans's purpose.

Some who are ignorant of disputations take offense if one says to them, Let the major pass. I do not know on what grounds: for when it is allowed to pass in this way, it amounts to saying, The major proposition is false, but for now I admit it gratuitously, because the consequence does not follow from it—in which no offense is given. Otherwise, they could also take offense when they say, I deny the major, since they could say they are being accused by the defender of lying. But since this ignorance has become widespread among many, the Sustentans may say, I omit the major.

When, then, he omits a proposition in this way, he must never return to deny that same proposition, because its truth or falsity is not at issue; rather, it is omitted as conceded so that the soundness of the consequence may be examined. When the third proposition is distinguished, he must not say, I distinguish the consequence, but I distinguish the consequent. Whenever he omits that proposition, he must not say, Let the consequence pass, or I omit the consequence, but Let it pass, or I omit the consequent. But when he grants or denies it, he must not say, I grant or I deny the consequent, but I grant or I deny the consequence. He also needs modesty and courtesy: he must not disparage an argument, call it empty, or say that it is repeated. That is the concern of the arbiter, or the President of the controversy. The President is the third participant in the disputation. It is his task to bring the Arguentes and the Sustentans together and to moderate them; he must not allow many people to speak, lest the lecture hall turn into a marketplace. Nor should he allow the surrounding audience to whisper among themselves. Rather, he must strive vigorously to make everyone pay attention, settle the controversy, and give the Sustentans room to shine; he himself will add whatever does not belong to the Sustentans's office.

The ancient Dialecticians wrongly called this treatise the Summulae. For in teaching them they wander so far and wide that they seem intent on nothing less than thrusting all natural and divine philosophy into the prison of the Summulae. Thus they produce not so much a summa as an immense heap of material. The early Parisians devoted themselves entirely to devising and refuting sophisms, imagining they offered something divine whenever they brought forward some deceptive triviality. Peter of Spain was more moderate in his teaching of the Summulae, which he presented so briefly and clearly that he is rightly regarded by all as the Prince of Summulists. Dominic Soto, a man renowned for piety and learning, illuminated Peter of Spain's Summulae with commentaries in his book, but at very great length. Villalpando abridged Soto in a brief, clear, and elegant style. Our Cardinal Toledo surpassed Villalpando in brevity and clarity. They banished that ancient and monstrous chaos of the Summulae from the schools, and philosophy began to be taught briefly and clearly, with the darkness and horror of words dispelled. Father Pedro Fonseca brought light to Portugal through his textbooks. Finally, the College of Coimbra, in its recently published Logic, has discussed these matters most successfully and appropriately of all. For my part, I shall touch very briefly on what suits beginners' minds as they take up the other disciplines, leaving the long and exact discussion of everything to its proper place: both so that I may accommodate each discipline in its own way, and so that my listeners not be frightened, supposing that darkness is cast over everything amid the brightest light of philosophy.