The masters were charged with the training of their scholars in religion and morals--an onerous duty in too many cases imperfectly performed. This is shown not only by the lawlessness prevalent in the University, but by the low views and low practices that characterized methods of instruction in secular subjects. The term "lecture," as commonly understood in the Middle Ages, implied or included a catechetical system of teaching, in which the master asked and the scholar answered a series of questions. This laborious but effective mode of ascertaining and accelerating progress in knowledge was left irksome by both parties, and "ordinary" lectures--or, as we should term them, lessons--were threatened with supersession by a seductive invention known as "cursory" lectures. These appear to have been neither more nor less than lectures in the modern sense. The master delivered his discourse, and the scholar was left to gather from it what degree of enlightenment he could or would. The statute referring to the subject taxes teachers with favouring scholars in this way, for the "hope of gain," which points to corrupt dealing between them. In both its moral and intellectual aspects the practice met with scant countenance from the authorities, and, save in special cases, any master indulging in it was liable to be punished with deprivation and imprisonment for so long a period as the Chancellor, in his discretion, deemed fit. One learns from an undated statute, which, however, is probably of the thirteenth century, that grammar scholars were expected to construe in both English and French, the object being that the latter language might not be utterly forgotten. When we recall that our ancient pleadings were in Norman-French, and that a sensible proportion of the students embraced that most conservative of professions, the law, the wisdom of this course is at once evident.