And so for the Cambridge "glomerel," if Aristotle held his own against the classics, Dan Homer, and the rest, in the second year of his university course the student would find himself a "sophister," or disputant in the Logic school. To Logic succeeded Rhetoric, which also meant Aristotle, and so the "trivial" arts were at an end, and the "incepting" or "commencing" bachelor of arts began his apprenticeship to a "Master of Faculty." In the next four years he passed through the successive stages of the _Quadrivium_, and at the end received the certificate of his professor, was admitted to the degree of Master of Arts, and thereby was admitted also to the brotherhood of teachers, and himself became an authorised lecturer. A post-graduate course might follow in Theology or Canon or Civil Law, involving another five or six years of university life. In the course for the Canon Law the candidate for a doctor's degree was required to have heard lectures on the civil law for three years, and on the Decretals for another three years; he must, too, have attended cursory lectures on the Bible for at least two years, and must himself have lectured "cursorily" on one of four treatises, and on some one book of the Decretals. Obviously, if this statutory course was strictly observed in those days, the scarlet hood could never grace the shoulders of one who was nothing more than a dexterous logician, or the honoured title of Doctor be conferred on one who had never taught. _Disce docendo_ was indeed the motto of the University of Cambridge in the thirteenth century. The great constitutional historian of our country, the late Bishop Stubbs, in one of the wisest and wittiest of his statutable lectures at Oxford,[23] speaks of England in this age as "the paradise of clerks." He illustrates the truth of his characterisation by drawing an imaginary picture of a foreign scholar making an _Iter Anglicum_ with the object of collecting materials for a history of the learning and literature of England. The Bishop is able readily to crowd his canvas with the figures of eminent Englishmen drawn from centres of learning in every part of the land, from Dover, from Canterbury, from London, from Rochester, from Chichester, from Winchester, from Devizes, from Salisbury, from Exeter, from S. Albans, from Ely, from Peterborough, from Lincoln, from Howden, from York, from Durham, from Hexham, from Melrose; scholars, historians, chroniclers, poets, philosophers, logicians, theologians, canonists, lawyers, all going to prove by the glimpse they give us into circles of scholastic activity, monastic for the most part, how comparatively wide was the extent of English learning and English education in the thirteenth century--an age which it has usually been the fashion to regard as barbarous and obscure--and how germinant of institutions, intellectual as well as political, which have since become vital portions of our national existence.