111
THE SCHOOLS
DP
CHABLES THE GEE AT
LOS DOS : P1HXTKD BY
SI'OTTW.TOODK AXD CO., NKW-STRKFT frQl AJiS
AXU PAIIUAXBXT
THE
SCHOOLS OF CHAELES THE GREAT
AND THE
EESTOEATION OF EDUCATION
IN THE
NINTH CENTUKY
BY
J. BASS MULLINGEK, M.A.
ST. JOHN'S COIXRGE, CAMBRIDGE
AUTHOR OF *THB UNIVERSITY OP CAMBRtOQK FROM THR RA1U.IES1 TIMK3
TO THE ROJAL INJUNCTION-8 OF W35 ' STC.
ANASTATIC REPRINT 1904.
G.E. STECHERT & CO.,NEW YORK,
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1877
THE KAYE PRIZE.
SOME FRIEXDS of the late BISHOP KAY*, invested a sum amounting to
j£500 3 per Cent. Consols for the foundation of a Prize in the University
of Cambridge, to be called the KA.YTS PRIZE, to be given every fourth
year to the Graduate of not more than ten years' standing from his
first degree, who should write the best English Dissertation upon some
subject or question relating to ancient Ecclesiastical History, or to" the
Canon of Scripture or important pointa of Biblical criticism. The offer
was accepted by grace of the Senate, June 6, 1861, under the following
conditions : —
The Prize to consist of the accumulation of interest on the Capital
sum during the four years preceding, and the successful candidate to
print and publish bis Dissertation ;at his own expense, and to send ten
copies to the Cathedral Library at iLiucoln, and one copy to the Vice-
Chancellor, the Regius Professor of Divinity, and each of the two
Examiners.
The subject for the Dissertation for 1875 was:—
The Schools of Charles tlie &rent
and
The Restoration of Education in the $$nth Century.
,3
AJ?
TO TH£
KEY. CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH, M.A.
FELLOW OF PETBRHOUSK
THI3 VOLUME
IS
GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED
PBEFACE.
THE PERIOD and the subject to which this volume is
devoted have both no ordinary claim on the attention of
the student, — the former, as representing the era wherein,
by the common consent of the most eminent authorities,
we may find the true boundary line between ancient
and modern history, — the latter, as containing the key
to those traditions which have ever since prevailed in
European education and can scarcely even yet be re-
garded as superseded or effete.
The present work, is restricted to an attempt to place
in a clearer light the character of the learning and the
theory of education; which mediaeval Europe inherited
from a combination of pagan science and Christian theo-
logy, before that learning and that education were, in turn,
modified by the teaching of the Schoolmen. The follow-
ing pages accordingly represent but a very limited field
of enquiry in the wide province of Carolingian history ; but
that field, though narrow, is not unimportant. That it is
altogether erroneous to look upon the influences trans-
Tili PREFACE.
mitted by the reforms and policy of Charles the Great as
of no greater permanence than the fabric of the Empire
itself, is now generally conceded, and in no respect have
those influences had a more enduring effect than in con-
nexion with the history of mental culture in Europe. It
is indeed not a little remarkable, that in this somewhat
unduly neglected ninth century we may discern, as in
miniature, all those contending principles — the conserva-
tive, the progressive, and the speculative — which, save in
the darkest times, have rarely since ceased to be ap-
parent in the great centres of our higher education.
While the author has freely availed himself of what-
ever aids or suggestions might be afforded by modern con-
tributions to the literature of the subject, it has throughout
been his endeavour, as far as practicable, to rely mainly on
original research, and the references to his authorities
have been systematically given.1 The valuable correc-
tions of the chronology and text of Alcuiri's letters con-
tained in Dummler's Alcwniana have been carefully
noted, but it has been thought better, as a rule, to refer
in the notes to the text of Migne's Patroloyia (vols. c and
ci), as more generally available.
Two volumes treating on the same subject — Dr. Karl
Werner's Alcnin und sein Jahrlnmdert (1876) and M.
1 With the view of rendering these references more concise, a
List of the Principal Authorities referred to has been prefixed, in
which the title of each work is given in full, together with the
edition used — the references in the text being limited to the name
and the pays.
PREFACE. ix
V&ault's Charlemagne (1877) — have appeared too late to
enable the author to profit by any additional light that
these writers may have thrown upon the period.
In conclusion, his thanks are due to the two adjudi-
cators of the Prize — his lordship, the bishop of Truro,
and professor Edwin Palmer, of Oxford — for their kind
permission to append an additional chapter, which serves
to illustrate more fully the connexion of the present sub-
ject with the commencement of the University of Paris
and of European university history at large.
February, 1877.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
PAttK
and Napoleon I. . . . . . .1
The Carolingian Empire contrasted with modern France . . 1
PROGRTSSS OF CHRISTIANITY AND DECLINE or PAGANISM PRIOR xo
THE AGE OF CHARLES THB GREAT .... 2
Gaul under the Empire • . . . 3
Hostility of the Church to pagan learning .... 6
The true origin of this hostility . . . 6
Pagan literature condemned by the authoritative utterance of the
Church S
Counter-intolerance of paganism . . . . . 8
Decree of Julian against Christian teachers, A.I). 363 . • 9
Impolitic severity of this measure . . . 9
Testimony of Jerome to the growing neglect of pagan literature . 10
Two distinct theories as to the advantages derivable from tha study
&f that literature always discernible in the Church . .10
Difficulties of the position of the Christian educator at this
period . . . « . . 11
ATTSOXIVS . . . , . . ... 11
v Character of -the education imparted in the imperial schools . . 12
Opportunities aflbrded by his high position and by circumstances
for beneficial reforms . . . . . .13
Status of the public instructor . . . . 14
v Scope afforded for private enterprise in instruction . .14
Ausonius unequal to the occasion . . . ..15
Character of his genius . . . . . .15
APOLLIJSTAKI8 . . . . 16
Circumstances of his age compared with those of tliat of Ansonius 17
Triviality of tone that pervades his writings . . .17
His literary sympathies opposed to the theory prevalent in the
Cluirch in iiis time . . . . . 18
That theory bad not yet succeeded in finding complete expression
in practice .... .10
Final overthrow of the Roman or pagan traditions . 20
xii CONTENTS,
TAGS
THE FRAIOJBH INVASION AND CONQUEST . , . .20
The Frank and the Gallo-Koman compared . . . 20
The Frankibh conquest not altogether destructive . . 22
SALVIAX V „ . 22
His despair of his countrymen . . . . "2>]
The De Gubernationc Dei . . . . . 23
Change in popular feeling with respect to paganism . . 24
RISE OF THE SCHOOLS or CASSIAN . . . . . .24
, The monasticism of the West . . . . .24
Antithesis it presents to tbe eastern theory . . *. . 25
Main facts in the life of Cassian . . , . .25
His Collationes and Instituliones « . . . 20
His teaching with respect to pagan literature . . .27
His theory in relation to the study of the Scriptures . 27
The four Scriptural senses . . . . . 28
^ He enjoins active and laborious duties on the monk . , , 28
The monastery a school for heaven . . . .20
Points in which the rule of Cassian harmonised with the Frankish
character . . . . . 20
Rapid progress of monasticism in Gaul in the fifth and sixth
centuries . . . . . . .30
* The monastic and episcopal schools supplant the municipal schools 81
• Character of the education they imparted . . . 81
Compact between the Teutonic conqueror and the Latin clergy . 32
The traditions of the schools of Cassian unfavourable to the literary
spirit ........ 32
Decline of theological learning in these schools « . . So
GKEGORY OF TOURS . . . , . . . 34
His testimony to the decay of learning . . 35
His representations confirmed by tho internal evidence of his
writings . . . . . . .35
Testimony of Fortimatus . . . . 36
The Merovingian dynasty . . . . 30
State of the Church under this dynasty » . 37
Bemoralitsation of the episcopal order . « . 38 '
State of the monastic discipline . . . 38
The servile element in the monasteries . , .38
Charles Martei . . . . . . . 39
Prospects of learning at the accession of Pepin-le-Bref . . 39
CHAPTER I.
CHARLES JHE GREAT AND ALCUIK J OK, IH! SCHOOL OF THE PALACE.
ST. CoLUMBAH . . . . , „ 41
Character of his monastic rule , . « . „ ,41
ST. BONIFACE . . . . , . . . 41
Foundation of the abbey of Monte Cassino , 42
CONTENTS, xiii
ST. BOSTFACE— continued. PAOB
' Introduction of the Benedictine rule . . . 42
Its leading characteristics . . « . , .42
Provision made for regular study among the monks . 42
Boniface in Frankland . . . . , .43
Measures of Church reform . . . . 44
Foundation of the abbey at Fulda . . . ,45
Alliance between Rome and the Carolingian dynasty . 45
Influence of Boniface with respect to education , . .46
ACCESSION or CHARLES . . . . . 47
He meets Aicuin at Parma . . . . .47
His previous efforts in the cause of letters . . 47
Paulus Diaconus . . . . . . .48
TEACHERS AT YORK : Elbert and Eanbald . . . 49
Position of Aicuin at York . . . . ,60
He accepts the office of instructor of the Palace School . . 50
The episcopal or cathedral school at York . . .51
Its tradition of learning . . . . 61
THE TEACHING OF GREGORY THE GREAT . . . .62
Theofie? associated with the fall of Rome . . 62
The pagan tradition . . . . . .63
Views of Christian writers . , . . 5.3
The invasion of the Lombards , . . . . .53
Gregory's belief that the world was near its end . 64
General acceptance of St. Gregory's teaching in England . 54
Its transmission through the teachers of Aicuin . 64
Antagonism of this teaching to the Eastern Church . . 65
Differences between British and Latin Christianity . . . 56
Controversy concerning Easter . . . , ) . 66
Other points of difference . . . . 67
The Roman doctrine supplants that of the British Church . 57
Bedti's sympathy with the former . . . 58
Bede's mental characteristics . . . » 6$
Ale uin's agreement with Bede . . . . 59
N Harmony between his views and the Carolingian policy . . 69
THE LIBRARY AT YORK AND THE AUTHORS STUDIED BY ALCUIN . 61
Boethius . . . . - . . . fll
Portions of his translations of Aristotle known to Aicuin . 62
(Jassiodorus . . . . . . , . 68
Isidorus . . . . . . . .68
Martianus Capalla . . . . 64
Hi* allegorical treatment of his subject . . . .64
Influence attributed to his example . . . . 65
Speculative character of the treatise . . . .65
Mistrust with which it was consequently regarded by the teachers
at York . . . . . . . . 66
Their apprehensions not altogether without reason . . 66
xiv CONTENTS.
THE LIBRARY AT YORK, &c. — continued.
The absence and presence of the treatise alike significant . . 67
Influence of the foregoing text-books on subsequent learning . 67
Favour with which Charles regarded foreigners . . .67
Distractions of the time . . . , 68
, The Saxon war . . . . . . .68
* THE PALACE SCHOOL : question of its previous existence . 68
"Innovation in this school on the Gregorian tradition , . 69
* Character of its members . . . . 60 y
Practical nature of Charles' designs . . . 70 ^
Charles' own acquirements . . . . 70
i Conditions under which Alcuin's instructions were imparted . 71
Members of the circle : Charles and IIIB sons . . 71
His sister, his wife (Liutgarda), and his daughter . . 72
Angilbert, Adelnard and Wala, lliculfus, Einhard, Fre/legis .. 72
Names assumed by members of the school .. . 7*2
Alcuin's admiration of Charles . . . 73
His post a laborious one . . . r 73
Advantages under which he taught . . . 74
Alcuiu not a philosopher . . . . . .74
I Tlis reputation as a grammarian . . . . . 74
^ His instruction in GRAMMAR . . . . .75
The letter defined . . . . . . . 75
The syllable ....... 76
. Strange blunders . . . . „ 76
Limitations with which the term grammatica was employed
by Alcuin ....... 76
Alcuin's views on orthography . . * 78
Value of his treatise . . , . fc .78
Keal extent of his Greek scholarship . . . . 79
Tradition of Greek learning in England f . .80
Bede's testimony . . . . . . . 80
Alcuin's Greek quotations mostly from Jerome . . 80
Inaccurate Greek forms . . . . 80
Illustration from Ozanam of superficial critic 'sm in relation to the
learning of the period , . . . . .81
Alcuin's attempts to amuse his scholars . . 82
His RHETORIC: . . . . . . ,83
His definition of rhetoric . . . ... 88
Meagre treatment of the subject . . , ,84
He descants on the qualifications of the orator . „ 84
His distinction between the moral philosopher and the Christian
teacher ....... 85
His LOGIC: . . „ . . . . . 85
Traditional views of the 'Church with respect to the dialectic
art , .. . • • . . . . 85
Alcuin's treatment of arithmetic and astronomy „ , .88
CONTEXTS. xv
THE PALACE SCHOOL— continued. PACK
His explanation of an astronomical phenomenon . . . 88
/T Alcuin as a THEOLOGIAN : . . . . . .80
His controversy with the Adoptionists . . 89
His adherence to the traditions of the Latin Church . . 89
His influence specially discernible in the promotion of a
spirit of deference for authority . . 90
His tendency to an allegorical interpretation of Scripture . 90
Influence of his example in this direction . . . . 91 ,
< The pretensions of mediaeval and modern teachers contrasted , 91 "
Difficulties of Alcuin's position . . . 92
His contradictions in questions of metaphysics . . .93
* Substance/ * essence,' and ' being ' . . . . 93
Divergence in theory among his successors . . .04
Fredegis as a Realist . . . . . 95
Alcuin's chief friends : Arno, Benedict of Aniane, and Theodulfus . 90
Monasteries placed under his control . . . 90
Suspension of the Saxon war ^j^ . . . . .97
^Charles' CAPITULARY of A.D. 78r - . . . 97
Alcuin's hand discernible . , . . . .99
A Charles obtains the services ofJ^chers o^inging, grammar, and
arithmetic from Rome . ^HV . ^P . . . 100
Council of Aachen, A.D. 789 , . . . . .100
The Roman method of chanting enjoined . . . 100
Defective state of MSS. at this period ..... 100
Charles causes a Homilary to be prepared for use in the churches . .101
Capitularies respecting the clergy . 101
^ Capitulary of A.D. 789 . . » . „ . . 102
Every monastery to have its school «... 102
THEODTJLFPS : Ms Capitulary to the clergy of his diocese . . . 102
He initiates a system of free education . . » . 102
Criticisms of Gibbon and Lorenz on the period compared . . 103
Circumstances that induce Alcuin to wish to retire from his post . 104
His ordeals in the Palace School . . . . 104
Frequent journeys . . . . . . . .105
Excitement of successive wars . . . . . 106
Laxity of the court life . . . . . .106
Alcuin revisits England fc . . . . . 106
Disagreement between the Mercian and the FranMsh court . fc 106.
War averted by Alcuin's efforts . . < . * 107
Subsequent events in England , . . „ . fc 107
THE CAROLINES . . . . . . . 107
Alcuin created abbat of St. Martin of Tours . 108
xvi CONTEXTS.
CHAPTER II.
ALOUIN AT TOURS; OR, THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY,
I-AGl
Alcuin's aims and sentiments as abbat . . . . • .110
.His increasing austerity in relation to classical literature . . . 110
His TO easures of reform . . . . . . .111
His letter to Charles . . . . . . Ill
His representations to Charles somewhat at variance with liis actual
discipline , . . . . . .111
Story told, of Sigulfus . . . . . Ill
Alcuin's general discipline . . . . . .113
Numerous students from England . . . . . 113
Envy of the Neustrians . . . . . . .118
Alcuin's ^reference for his own countrymen . . , . 114
Difference in this respect between him and Charles . . .114
THE IRISH MONARCHIES IN THE SIXTH AND SEVENTH CENTURIES . 115
Golunibaii's successes in Frankland . . . . 115
Controversy between the Celtic and Latin Churches . .116
The light in which, such controversies present themselves in
history . . . . . ... 11G
Other points of divergence between the Celtic and the Latin
clergy . . . . . . ' .117
Denial by the former of the authority of Rome . . 117
Resemblance between the Celtic and the Eastern theological
spirit ........ 118
Boniface arid the Irish clergy . . . . . 119
Astronomical knowledge possessed by the latter . . . 119
Charles' interest in astronomical questions . . . . 120
His relations with Ireland ...... 120
He welcomes Clement of Ireland at Aachen, arid appoints him head of
the Palaco School . . . . . . . 121
Alcuin's discomfiture ....... 121
Alarm of the orthodox party . , . . . 1 22
Alcuin's further correspondence with Charles . . . .123
His triumph over the Adoptionists . . . . . 123
He declines to accompany Charles to Rome . - . . 124
He congratulates him on his accession to the imperial dignity . . 124
His dispute with Theodulfus ...... 125
His last illness and death . . . . . . 125"
His character and services estimated ..... 120
CHAPTER III.
RABANUS MAURUS ; OR, THE SCHOOL AT FULDA.
Charles' fii:al labours . . , . . . . 128
LEWIS THE Piors . . . . . . .128
Hi* measures of reform » . . . 129
Benedict of Amane » . • .129
CONTENTS. xvii
PAOE
The COUNCIL OP AACHEN . . . . f * • 129
The Benedictine rule generally enforced .... 129
Scholars not designed for the religious life to be separated from
the dblati in the monastic schools . . . . . 180
THE EPISCOPAL SCHOOLS ...... 130
Character of the education there given . . • 1&1
The schools at Orleans and Rjiejins . » . . 131
The monastic schools at Oorbey, St. Riquier, St. Martin of Metz,
St. Bertin, &c. . .132
DECLINE OP THE SCHOOL AT TOURS . » . • . 133
Fredegis ....*••> 133
Alcuin's forebodings Yenned . « . . . . 134
Fees exacted from the scholars ..... 134
LEWIS' REFORMS . . . . . • • • 135
Petition of the bishops for the founding of three public schools 136
Outbreak of civil war . . . . . • 136
Lament of Floras . , . . . . .137
RABANTJS MAFRTTS . . . . . . . . 133
He is sent from Fulda to Alcuin at Tours . . .139
His return to Fulda . . . . . . . 139
Is appointed teacher of the monastery school . . . 139
Calamitous experiences of the community . . . 139
Misrule of Ratgar . ..... 140
Sufferings and discontent of the monks . . . 140
Their efforts to obtain redress . . . . .141
Ratgar is deposed and Eigil appointed in his place . . . 141
The monastery school reopened . . . . ,142
Rabanus' De ImtitiUione Clericorum . • . . 142
The rules therein laid down derived mainly from the Fathers . 143
Greater liberality of sentiment than in Alcuin's writings » . 143
His estimate of pagan literature, rhetoric, and dialectic . . 144
His view with respect to pagan philosophy . . . 145
His commentary on St. Matthew . . . . . J46
Extravagancies of his anagogical interpretation . . . 146
His superiority to Alcuin in his interpretation of natural phe-
nomena . . . . » . . .347
His theory of subjective illusions . . . . 147
He rebukes the superstition of the native peasantry . . 148
His own superstitious veneration of relics . . . 149
Points of contrast with Alcuin . . . . ,160
Testimony of Einhard to the clearness of his instruction . .150
Testimonies of Church writers to his merits . . .151
His activity as a founder . . . . . 151
His PUPILS : Walafrid Strabo, Otfried of Weissenberg, Rudolfus,
Liutpert, &c. . . . . . . .153
Difficulties involved in the theory that Rabanua was the author of
the gloss discovered by Cousin . . . . , 153
a
xviii CONTENTS.
RABANUS MAURUS— continued
His sympathies as a politician . . . . .165
His loyalty to Lewis the Pious and to Lothair . . . 165
He retires to Petersberg . . . . . .155
His writings while in retirement . . . . 155
His relations to Lothair and Lewis the German . . . 155
He is elected archbishop of Maintz . . . . . 166
Influence of the episcopal order at this period . . . 156
CHAPTER IV.
LUPUS SERVATUS; OR, THE CLASSICS IN THE NINTH CENTURY.
Lupus and Alcuin contrasted . . . . » .168
Lupus' early education . . . . . . 168
His removal to Fulda and education under Rabanus and Einhard . 159
His return to Ferrieres and promotion to the abbatship . . 1 59
Intercourse between monastic communities at this period . .159
CHARLES THE BALD . . . . . . . 160
His literary sympathies . , . . . . 160
Difficulties that attended his reign . . » . . 160
The invasions of the Northmen . . . . - .161
Lupus in the capacity of a soldier . . . . . 161
Confiscation of monastic lands by the nobility . . . .162
St. Judoc taken from Ferrieres . . . . . 162
Remonstrance of Lupus with Charles . . . , . 1 63
Language of the Council of Thionville . . . . . 163
Services of Lupus to the state ...... 164
Tardiness in the work of restitution . » . . . 164
His services to the Church . . . • • * 164
Probable date of his death . . . . . . . 165
His devotion to letters and exalted conception of their use . . 166
His literary correspondence . . . . • • 166
He deplores the spirit with which learning is regarded by the majority 166
His perseverance in the search for books .... 166
His literary criticisms . . . . . . 167
Enumeration of classical authors that appear to have been known to
him . . . . . . . .168
Difficulties and dangers that attended his efforts . . . . 169
The influence of his classical studies discernible . . . 169
CHAPTER V.
JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA ; OR, THE IRISH SCHOOL.
Observation of Thomas Gale .... .171
John the connecting link between preceding schools of learning and the
scholastic philosophy . . . . ... 171
CONTENTS. xix
PAOK
His birth and early education ...... 172
His reception at the court of Charles the Bald ., . . . 173
Character of that monarch . . . . . .173
His liberal patronage of learning . . . . 174
Influx of Irish scholars into Frankland . . . ,174
Circumstances of John Scotus' arrival contrasted with those of Alcuin's 174
His extensive attainments . . .... 174
His knowledge of Greek . . . . . . . 176
His Celtic culture ....... 176
Influence exercised on his mind by the Timaeus and the Pseudo-
Diouysius . . . . . . . 176
The latter treatise described . . . . . . 176
John invited by Charles the Bald to undertake its translation . , 177
Testimony of Anastasius to his success . . . . 177
Influence of the treatise on his philosophy .... 178
The Timaeus. . . . . . . . . 178
The Platonic theory not reconcileable with predestinarianisin . . 179
Hincmar invites John to reply to Qotteschalk . . . . 179
GOTTESCHALK'S PREVIOUS CAREER . . . . .179
His theory of predestination . . . . . 180
It divides the Frankish theologians .... 181
Gotteschalk strenuously opposed by Kabanus . . . . 181
His efforts at propagating his doctrine .... 182
His appeal to the Synod of Maintz . . . . . 182
His condemnation and disgrace . . . . .182
His sentence at the Council of Chiersy . . . 188
Counter movement in his favour ..... 183
John Scotus' De Praedestinativne . . . . . . 184
He employs the aid of dialectic ...... 184
Maintains that religion and true philosophy cannot be opposed . .185
His fourfold method of argument . . . . .185
Features in his treatise that specially evoked opposition . . . 186
PRTTDENTIUS . . , . . . . . 187
His reply to John Scotus . . . . . . . 187
Small value of these treatises in relation to the question at issue . 188
Sequel of the controversy in the ninth century . . . 189
Value of its literature as illustrative of the progress towards scholas-
ticism . . . . . . . . . 189
Doubts respecting John's latter career . . . * .190
Quid distat inter t . . . . . « . ' . 190
The connexion between this era and that of the University of Paris . 191
Conclusion . 192
%* The subjoined list of works frequently referred to in the following
pages is here given in order to obviate unnecessary repetition of the
title of each work and the edition used.
AXAJUINIANA : ed. "Wattenbach and Diimmler in Jaffe, BMiotheca Serum Germa-
nicarum, 1873.
AMPERE : Histoire Litteraire de la France avant et sous Charlemagne, par J. J.
Ampere. 3 v. 1870.
BALTJZE: (Etienne) Capitvlaria Begum Francorum. 2 T. 1780.
CAROLINA: (Einhardi Epistolae, Einhardi Vita Caroli Magni, etc.) in Jaif6,
Eibliotheca Berum Grermanicarum, 1867.
CJossABT : Labb6 and Cossart, Concilia, ed. Mansi. 1759-^8.
DOMMLBB: (Ernst) Geschickte des Ost-Frankitchen Beichs, 1872.
GUIZOT: Histoire de la Civilisation en France. 5 v. 1828-32.
HATTEBAU : Histoire de la Philowpkie Bcholastigue. Vol. i. 1872.
LioN MAITBE: Les Ecoles Episcopates et Monastigues de V Occident depuit Charle~
magnejusqu'a Philippe- Auguste . 1866.
MILMAK: (Dean) History of Latin Christianity. 9 r. 1867.
MoNNiKja: Alcuin et Charlemagne. 1864.
OZANAM : La Civilisation Chretienne chee lea Francs. 1855.
PALGKAYB ; History of England and Normandy. Vol. i. 185.
PBBTZ: Monumenta Germaniae Historica. 1826-69.
PBANTL: Geschichte der Logik im Abendlande. Vols. i-ir. 1856-70.
RABAia MAUBI OPEBA: the edition in 6 volumes by Colyener. 1626.
THE
SCHOOLS OF CHARLES THE GREAT.
INTKODTJCTIOlsr.
IT is a well-known story concerning the first Napoleon, that INTROD.
when, on his return from the campaign which was crowned ^^
by the splendid victor} of Austerlitz, the adornment of Paris, magne and
as the capital of the newly inaugurated Empire, came again jtapo '
under discussion, lie abandoned a design that he had before
conceived of erecting on the Place Yendome a column
crowned by a statue of Charlemagne, and that there rose
instead a column made from cannon taken on the field of the
late battle, and surmounted by a statue of himself.
His change of purpose was warmly commended by a few The Caro-
discerning judges, who had severely criticised the earlier idea, ^f^ire
and had failed to perceive any legitimate connexion between contrasted
the great emperor of Western Christendom and an emperor
the very coinage of whose realm bore on its reverse the Fraftce.
words Rfyitblique Fran^oise. To tke student of mediaeval
history it soon indeed becomes apparent that differences yet
more considerable than those involved in dynastic descent
separate the empire of Charles the Great from that of modern
France. In tha.t imperial figure which, like some magnifi-
cent colossus, flings its shadow athwart the boundary that
•divides the ancient from the modern era, Le sees a ruler of
purely Teutonic blood, king of the Lombards, emperor of
the Romans, the lord of more than half the Christian world.
The kingdom which Louis xi received from Charles vm, or
even that over which Louis xiv ruled after the peace of
"Westphalia, resembles the domain which Charles the Great
B
2 INTRODUCTION.
INTKOD. bequeathed to Lewis the Pious, only as the province of a
vast empire. Charles himself was German, profond&nent
Germain, as Ampere candidly admits. He spoke the Ger-
man tongue; while the language spoken in Neustria and
Aquitaine — the countries that lay within the boundaries of
modern France — was an unformed patois, a corrupt Latin
not yet sufficiently transformed to. be recognised as French.
Paris, the modest Lutetia whose Gallic simplicity had won
the affections of Julian, was as yet but a third-rate provin-
cial town f which the lord of Koine and Aachen once visited
in the course of a long progress amongst a string of its lowly
fellows/ l Four centuries were yet to elapse before, under
the rule of another dynasty and another race, the Neustrian
land was to become a terror to Western Europe, the rude
patois to have developed into the language not only of France
but of the court and the legislature of England, the pro-
vincial town to have become transformed into a splendid
capital whose genius and learning attracted admirers and
disciples from all parts of Christendom. It will not be irre-
levant to our main enquiry if, before entering upon any dis-
cussion of the state of education in the times of Charles the
Great, we devote a few pages to a consideration of the,
vicissitudes of political power and the traditions of learning
during the dim and troublous period that separates his reign
from that of Augustulus and the suspended succession of the
Western Emperors.
Progress of The history of Western Europe, long before the rise of
Chris- ^ke Qarolingian dynasty, had begun to assume that character
decline of which gives to the annals of Christendom an interest far sur-
passing that of all other histories, in the manner in which
the age of ft exhibits, partly in conflict, partly in fusion, the Aryan and
the Great, the Semitic traditions and habits of thought. With the
commencement of the -seventh century, it is true, the long
but unequal struggle between Christianity and paganism.
must have seemed definitely at an end.. The legislation of
Theodosius had repressed the ancient worship in the East ;
that of Honorius had confiscated its material resources in
1 Freeman, Essays (First Series), p. 176.
INFLUENCE OF ROME. 3
the West. Even so early as the time of Theodosius n the INTROD.
eastern ruler could venture to assume that the old faith was % """"
virtually extinct.1 A like fate might well seem to he over-
taking pagan learning. At Athens the fiat of Justinian had /
closed the schools of philosophy and driven its last adherents/
into exile. At Alexandria, where eclecticism had sought to
mediate hetween that philosophy and Christian dogma, the
Saracen, scornful alike of Christian and pagan culture, had
given the literary treasures of the Serapeum to the flames
and was reigning with undisputed sway.
It was precisely whenjjhristianity thus began to receive
the unquestioning allegiance of the Latin race, that a new
field .of conquest opened up before it amid the Teutonic na-
tions. The records of that congest, although chequered
with much that is melancholy and repulsive, still form un-
doubtedly one of the most glorious chapters in the history of..
tliejChurch. As the thought and literature of subjugated
Greece had led captive the conquering Roman, so the reli-
gion and culture of Christian Rome subdued the strong will
and overthrew the gods of the victorious Teuton. The days
of the decline of the Roman power were indeed", as has been
truly said, the days of its greatest conquest* ;> the victories
gained on the Metaurus, at Fydna, and on tlie Halys, shine
with but an evanescent lustre when compared with those
won by the faith, the laws, and the institutions of Christian
Rome.
Of all the races subdued by the arms of pagan Rome Gaul under
none* appear eventually to have yieldfed' & more oomplete !S^
submission to her rule, or to have enjoyed a, larger share of
prosperous contentment beneath her sway, than the inhabi*
tants of southern G aul. It had; been the constant endeavour
of the emperor Augustus to lead them to forget their ancient
freedom and to abolish or transform their national institu-
tions. With this view he sought to obliterate all distinctions
of race and all local traditions. He redistributed the privi-
leges of states and cities, shifted the centres of government,
1 ' Pagani qui supersunt . . . quamquam jam uullos esse eredamus, etc.*
Cod. Theod. xrv xx.
B2
4 INTRODUCTION.
INTBOJ). ignored tlie distinctions between Celt and Iberian, and
pushed back the northern boundary of Aquitania from the
Garonne to the Loire. His efforts were croAvned by almost
complete success. The Gaul of the south, when the work of
subjugation had been once decisively accomplished, desisted
from the struggle for freedom, and sank, like the kindred
race in Britain, into contented acquiescence with his lot.
No vigorous resistance like that offered by Lutetia, to the
arms of Caesar, and for which she paid so dearly in her en-
forced obscurity among the Vectigales — no sudden insurrec-
tion like that of Civilis — is recorded on the part of the
pleasure-loving natives of Narbonnensis and Aquitania.
Throughout the tranquil and prosperous age of Hadrian and
the Antonines, a halo of prosperity, refinement, and classic
culture surrounds the Gallic cities. It became their pride
to share in the splendour and to reflect the civilisation of
Rome. The native idioms well-nigh disappeared. At
Lugdunum, before the close of the second century, Latin
appears to have become the vernacular speech.1 The inhabi-
tants of Auvergne, the foremost province in wealth and
perhaps in learning, delighted, according to Sidonius
Apollinaris, to believe that along with the founders of the
Roman power they could trace back a common descent from
Trojan ancestors.2 The Burgundians, with equal pride,
asserted their descent from Rome.3
But precisely in proportion as they embraced the institu-
tions and customs of ancient Rome, the Gauls shared in the
degeneracy of the empire. Even so early as the first cen-
tury, the historian had described them as dites et imbelles ;4
and while, on the one hand, the Gaul sought to dignify his
descent by claiming affinity with the Roman, the German,
on the other hand, deemed his ancestry best vindicated by
1 Ampere, i 143.
2 ' Audebant se quondam fratres Latio dicere, et sanguine ab lliaco populos
computare.' Sidon. Apoll. Epist. vn 7.
3 ' Jam inde temporibus priscis subolem se esse Rom ana m Burgundii
eciunt,' Avitus YienBensis, Epist.
4 Tacitus. Anmiletf xi 18.
INFLUENCE OF THE FATHERS. 5
disclaiming kinship to the Gaul.1 As we follow the history INTEOD.
of the wealthy and luxurious cities successively subdued by
the Roman, the Goth, and the Frank, it is ea.sy to perceive
that their civilisation was not of a kind from whence we
could expect a great restoration of science and learning.
History presents us with no such phenomenon in the annals
of a conquered and degenerate people. Bome's most en-
during conquests were achieved., not among the races whom
she subjugated, but among those who had broken down the
fabric of her political empire.
It would be easy accordingly at once to overstep six cen-
turies, by simply assuming that our enquiry is connected, not.
with a revival of learning;, in southern Gaul, but in Fraiikland,
and has its chief interest in relation to a Teutonic rather than a*
Xiatin-elemeiiL Such a summary method of treatment would,
however, leave unexplained much that is interesting in itself,
and directly connected with our subject, and it will conse-
quently be desirable to taka up in chronological order those
important moments in preceding history which otherwise
would admit of being satisfactorily explained only by lengthy
and frequent digressions. We propose therefore to devote a,
few pages to a brief but careful consideration of some of the
chief vicissitudes in the annals of learning, as .its traditions
.changed from those of paganism to those of Christianity,—-
from those of Treveg, Clermont, and Bordeaux to those of
Christian Rome and of Canterbury and York.
(it is a fact familiar to all students of ecclesiastical Hostility
history, that the efforts of the teachers of early Christendom church to
were directed to the abolition and destruction of that very pagan
literature which modern Christendom has done its best to
restore and has cultivated with such untiring assiduity.
Those efforts were attended with almost complete success,
and in. the Western Church the teaching of the Fathers provejd
fatal to the reign of the philosophers. The blame attaching
to what, in the eyes of modern learning, seems but narrow
1 'Treveri et Nervii circa aiFectationem - Germanic® originis ultro
ambitiosi simt, taiirjiiam per hanc gloriam sangruinis a. similitudine et inertia
GaUorum separoutur.' Tacitus, Gsrmania, c. 28.
6 INTRODUCTION.
INTROD. and mistaken illiberally rests perhaps, in tlief first instance,
^dtiL-Tertullian,1 but can scarcely with justice be charged
solely on the teachers of .the Church,, The names of Clemens
of Alexandria,2 of Origen, of Augustine himself, are sufficient
to prove that there were great minds within her pale to
whom the acceptance of Christian truth did not seem to
require the rejection of all that Athens or Borne had be-
The true queathed for the enlightenment of niankinJJTj But unhappily
thif hos- tlie adherents of the old belief, as flS indications of
tility. its approaching downfal multiplied, were led in their
anger and desperation . to adopt a policy which super-
added to the already existing contempt the bitter enmity
ojLihe- Church. They advanced rival claims, opposed their
deities to the newly proclaimed Triune God, and asserted
the possession of miraculous powers. We know — and it is
one of the most important features in the history of the early
Church — thatjthese claims were far from being distinctly,
denied by ller defenders, and thai -they consequently served
to intensify the Christian abhorrence -of, paganism to a ten-
fold degree. The accusation brought against our Lord foy
his enemies— that He cast out evil spirits by Beelzebub's aid
— was substantially identical with that made by Tertiillian,
Arnobius, and La^tantius against; their pagan antagonists.
The ancient polytheism, in their view, was a bowing down to
the very powers of darkness, and the Christian was accord-
ingly bound to cany on unceasing warfare against its
adherents. To the imaginative and fairy-like conception of
the old mythologies there now succeeded a da.rk and gloomy
belief in the omnipresence of hostile and malignant spirits.
Wherever his worldly avocations led him — in the market-
place, the courts of justice, the public baths, in the very
1 'Qoaereadffln autem e&t etiam de hnii-wagistrisetdecaeteris professor-
ibus litterarom, imo non dubitandum afiiiies iilos esse niultimodae idolo-
latriae.' 1)6 Idololat. c. 10 ; Migne, i 67ii-o. Tertullian's chief argument
against the scholastic profession, as involving what was incompatible \vith
fidelity to Christian principles, appears to have been derived from the
necessity that tbe teacher was under of discoursing about the pagan
mythology and of observing the pag-an festivals KB opportunities of gaining
presents from his pupils.
2 Sf* titromat-et, I 9; Migne (S.-G.) viii 739.
PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY.
streets — the Christian walked surrounded by unseen enemies
intent on his spiritual destruction. Between him and paga-
nism there lay no neutral ground; every influence not in
direct alliance with the faith was regarded as alien and
hostile.1 This position, once forced upon the defenders of
Christianity, proved for a long period unalterable, and in-
volved its niaintainers in a bitter and painful contest.
Otherwise, had it not been for pretended miracles, like those
of Apollonius of Tyana — for theurgic powers, like those
claimed by the Neo-Platonists — for aggressive controversial
efforts, like those of Porphyry — it is far from improbable that
paganisin might have been suffered to die out, in obedience,
as it were, to the law of natural decay. And as St. Paul,
•when taking his stand on the Areopagus, recognised, in the
worship that he saw around, an element whereon to found his
own immortal appeal, so the Christian teacher of subsequent
generations might perhaps have regarded the temples and rites
of paganism more in compassion than in anger, might even
have discerned in them traces of a sacred and undying aspi-
ration of the human soul, of men seeking after God if haply
they might find Him.
But this was not to be ; and paganism, as it fell, wore in
the eyes of its destroyers the guise of a foul and monstrous
creation. The legend of St. George and the Dragon, like
many others of the same character, is fairly typical of the
aspect under which the struggle between Christianity and
paganism was viewed by the defenders of the faith. In
sentiments like these it is not difficult to discern the true_ — .
explanation of the attitude assumed by the Fathers. \ {"Their .--. v*-
abhorrence (a milder term would be inadequate) of paganism
as a system generated a vague mistrust of all pagan thought
— of its philosophy, its science, its history, and its poetry.
The concession wrung from the stern Tertullian, in the midst
of his invectives again^ Plato, Zeno, Aristotle, Epicurus,
1 It is not a little reninrkabie that, as Christianity gained the ascendant,
we find the upholders of paganism admitting the superiority of tlio God of
the Christians, but at the same time urging that the objects of theiv worship
might fairly claim to rank as inferior deities ! See a singular passage
quoted by Ampere (i 2.11) from the Panegyrici Vetere*.
8
INTRODUCTION.
INTKOD.
Pagan
literature
con-
demned by
the autho-
ritative
utterance
of the
Church.
Counter-
intoler-
ance of
paganism.
Heraclitus, and Empedocles alike, that, notwithstanding,
something of the spirit of truth — nonnullus etiam afflatus
veritatis l — was discernible in their contempt of the vulgar
creed, could not avail to redeem, the philosophies of the
Academy, the Lyceum, and the Stoa from one sweeping
condemnation. ' Kefrain/ says the authoritative utterance
of the Church of this period, ' refrain from all the 'writings of
the heathen, for wliat hast thou to do with strange dis-
courses, laws, or false prophets, which in truth turn aside
from the faith those who are weak, in understanding? Tor
if thou wilt explore history, thou hast the Books of the
Kings ; or seekest thou for words of wisdom and eloquence,
thou hast ;the Prophets, Job, and the Book of Proverbs,
wherein thou shalt find a more perfect knowledge of all elo-
quence and wisdom, for they are the voice of the Lord, the
only wise God. Or dost thou long for tuneful strains, thou
hast the Psalms ; or to explore the origin of things, thou
hast the Book of Genesis ; or for customs and observances,
thou hast the excellent law of the Lord God. Wherefore
abstain scrupulously from all strange and devilish books.1 2
With this unsparing proscription impending over the
whole body of pagan literature, the severity with which the
emperor Julian retaliated on the Christians must be allowed
to have had a certain logical justification. He argued that
even if the Christian teachers really believed that the gods
whom Homer, Hesiod, Thueydides, and Demosthenes wor-
shipped were impure and malignant daemons, it was never-
theless unfair to make the works of those authors the instru-
ment of an attack upon the ancient faith. To expound
1 Apologia, c. 14.
2 Toil* fOviKioi' /3t/3Xi'o)t' TfCLVTdiV suFt)(OV, T/ ydij crot <al a\\orpiots Xoyoi?, rj
vopois, ij ^*v&»irpo^ra*$, ^ &) *«* vnparptmi rrjs iria^^s rous
ri yap <rot KOI XftVra cv r&> vo/xco roO Beou, iva eV Gtceiva ra pjfj^iutfa o
fire yap icTopwca ^e'Xetv fitep^c^l^at, %X*iS T^s |3tt<nXfMiW| *iTf c
iroujruait *Xfl? TDUV Trpd^jjras-, roi> 'I(u >, TOV Traooifiiafrrr/*'., eVois Tra
Kal arofjjiarTfias 7r\eiova ay^ij/oinj.- evprjirets, ort Kvpfov rov /mofov tro^o'O Q
(frfloyyai eitnv ' cirt ao-.uartKSf »pfyy> *\€ls T0^'£ ty/ty-WS ' are ap^utoyoi'iflts-,
f^ft? Tr)v yci'etriv ' etrf mftipHHf Kal crapayytXiaii', rov %vfto£ov Kvpiov raO @cou
Popov. Ilftrrto;/ ovv r&v ezXXorp/roj' KC.} oiaftohiKtov to-xvpv? fVoo-^ov. Apost.
Const, bk. j, c. 6 ; Coielerins, Patres Apost. i 20G,
DECREE OF JULIAN. 9
Homer with a view to denouncing all that Homer held most INTROD.
sacred and venerable, was malevolent and base. If they j)ecTee of
were determined to reject the belief of Greece and Home, Julian
let them qnit the schools of grammar and rhetoric and limit Christian
their instruction to expounding the pages of the Evangelists
in the churches of the Galileans.1
Such were the grounds on which the philosophic emperor
justified his expulsion of the Christians from the office of
public instructors. His veto, it is to be observed, did not ex-
tend to the Christian learner. Tertullian himself had con-
ceded that the children of the faithful must still seek the
elements of knowledge where alone they were to be acquired,2
and Julian, on the other hand, hoped that in such an atmo-
sphere they would unlearn the narrow bigotry of their reli-
gious creed. Even his positive enactment, if we accept the
view of Baur,3 was not designed to drive the Christian from this mea-
the centres of civilisation and intellectual culture, but simply sure-
to afford protection to the pagan faith, and to make the
missile of its adversaries recoil on their own ranks. But
even by contemporary writers it was regarded as an act of
excessive severity. In the language of Gregory Nazianzen
it seemed to limit to the exclusive possession of a party that
which was rightly the property of the whole intellectual
world;4 and Ammianus Marcellinus,, pagan though he was,
denounced it as illud inclemens, obruend'&m perenni silentio/'
But however Julian's defenders may seek to justify or
extenuate his decree, it is certain that in the sequel it proved
1 Ei 8e TOVS TtjLiioorurouj V7roXa/i/3uj>ou<rt 7re7rXai/J?cr&u, /SaSijJowcop fls ras
rav FaXtXmW c K^X^crms, f^-yrj<rofifvoi Mar&ubv /cat A.OVKUV. .TZpist. 42. No/iw
tKf\fV€, Xpiarutvovs Trench (r«oy p.rj pcrc^a?. "iva firj^ fyi](T\v, a<ovo)p.fvoi rr)V
yX0rrar, eroi'/io)? rrpos TOVS dtaXeKTiKovs rs>v rEXX^yo>p dnavraxnv. Socrates^
Hid. Ecd. in 12. Migne (S. G.), Ixvii 412.
2 *Huic necessitas ad excusationein deputatur, quia aliter discere non
potest/ De Idolol c. 10 ; Migne, i 675.
s Die Chriatlichc Kirche, ii 42. See also Gieselcr, i 313, note 5.
fu?»' cjcatXvcrf, ro ^€ akjQevei* OVK. tTrava-f. Greg. Noz. Orat, I cont, JuHanum}
Migno (S. G.), xxxv 536.
5 Renum Gent. lib. xx x, 7 ; see also xxrv iv, 20 ; ed. Evssenhardt, pp,
248, 328.
10
INTRODUCTION.
IN TROD.
Testimony
of Jerome
to the
growing
neglect of
pagan
literature.
Two dis-
tinct
theories as
to the ad-
vantages
derivable
from the
study of
pagan
literature
always
discernible
in the
Church.
eminently disastrous to that very culture which he had fondly
hoped to protect. Within less than half a century after his
death we find Jerome writing from his cell at Bethlehem, and
recording in exultant tones the universal neglect that had
overtaken pagan learning. In earlier years the great father
had himself found solace in his vigils over the page of Cicero
and Plautus. A heavenly warning admonished him of his
error. One night, while thus engaged, he was overcome by
sleep, and borne off in a vision to heaven ; and there he
heard a voice addressing him, Ciceronianus es, nan, Christianus,
ubi enim thesaurus tuus ibi est cor tuum.1 Thenceforth the
<*
utterances of pagan eloquence and fancy were for him a closed
volume. He candidly admits indeed that as he turned from
the page of Plato to that of the sacred prophets their lan-
guage seemed harsh and rude ; but no father has left more
emphatically on record his conviction that the study of the
pagan authors was incompatible with the Christian profes-
sion. Notwithstanding his earlier predilections, we find him
therefore hailing with apparently unqualified satisfaction the
oblivion that seemed to be spreading over the literature he
had so greatly admired. 'How many,' he asks, 'now read
Aristotle ? How many know even the names of Plato's
writings ? Here and there, in some retired nook, old age
recons them at its leisure ; while our rustics and fishermen
are the talk of all, and the whole world echoes with their
discourse.5'2
Vlt would be a task of considerable research to point out
at length how, as this tradition of the Latin Fathers
gathered strength, the classical spirit declined. From the
days when Tertullian first denounced the ancient literature,
down to the days of Bossuet and Fenelon, two contending
theories are distinctly present in the Christian Church- — the
theory of those who advocated the doctrine of the African
father, and the theory of those who contended that the
1 Epist. ad JEustochiumj Migne, xxii 416.
2 ' Quotusquisque Dune 4-riatotelem legit ? Quanti Pktonis vel libros
iiOYere, vel nomen ? Vix in aiignlis otiosi senes eos recolunt. Ilusticanos
yero et piacatorea nostros totus orbis loquitur, universus niundus sonat.'
Priff. ad Comment, in Epist. ad Galatas, lib. ill, c. 5 5 Migne, xxvi 401.
THE IMPERIAL SCHOOLS. J[j[
knowledge and study of the masterpieces of antiquity might INTROD
fitly and advantageously, Under certain limitations, find a
place in the education of Christian youth. At the time, how-
ever, that Jerome wrote, those who upheld the former view
lahoured under one signal disadvantage—that in the West no
distinct scheme of Christian education had as yet been put
forth as a substitute for the scheme of paganism. Unless
therefore all system and method were to be discarded, the
Christian schoolmaster could only follow in the track marked
out by the imperial schools, and thus, as we shall shortly see,
was still compelled to have recourse to pagan authors. The Difficulties
man might be censured for devoting his mature powers to °* ^J^ of
the study of profane literature ; but the boy and the youth the Chris-
must perforce still derive their training from the page of ^r^t
Horace and Vergil, of -Terence and Pliny, of Quintilian and fchi»
Donatus. It is easy also to understand that in times when,
notwithstanding the activity of thought and speculation, all
technical knowledge was experiencing a general decline, the
teachers in those schools to which southern Gaul was in-
debted for so much of her renown felt little inclined to de-
part from their inherited traditions. Autun, already famed
for her schools in the days of Tacitus, and rejoicing in the
proud appellation of * the Celtic Rome* — Treves, which had
imparted to St. Ambrose his Gallic style, and within whose
precincts Lactantius had composed treatises which recalled
the classic eloquence of Cicero — Clermont, where the princi-
ples of Roman jurisprudence were taught and elucidated —
Besaii90ii, Lyons, Vienne, Narbonne, Toulouse and Bordeaux,
schools of scarcely inferior note— all alike exhibited that tena-
cious adherence to tradition which is nowhere more conspic-
uous than in the history of the great centres of learning-.
During the period that the Church found itself con-
fronted by this dilemma, the name most prominently associ- f/
ated with education is undoubtedly that of Ausonius, whose
long life extended nearly from the commencement to the close
of the fourth century. The education generally imparted in
his day might well txave exercised the capacity of a great
reformer. It had become almost all that education ought
12
INTRODUCTION.
INTKOD.
Character
of the
education
imparted
in the
imperial
schools.
not to be — mechanical, lifeless, artificial, and wanting in
everything that could stimulate the reasoning and reflective
powers. In the arts' course, grammar and rhetoric were the
only subjects that received much attention ; the former, how-
ever, as defined by Suetonius, had long been employed to
denote much more than a technical knowledge of the laws
of speech, and included an extended and critical acquaint-
ance with the principal Latin authors.1 Even in Ausonius'
own time there were * grammarians * who were also philolo-
gists and students of comparative jurisprudence. But, for
the most part, the study, as pursued in his day, was closely
associated with rhetoric, and in common with that art
had acquired a singularly effete and meretricious character.
Ever since the time when Vespasian founded the imperial
schools the training there imparted had remained unaltered,
though the less genuine elements more and more preponde-
rated over the more useful and solid* It was the training of
which the letters of the younger Pliny2 reflect the influence
and also supply an interesting record, and which is more
broadly discernible in the writings of Tertullian, Arnobius,
and Apnleius — the training of the dialectician and rhetori-
cian, wherein all mental culture was made subservient to the
supposed requirements of the forensic orator. Its most
prominent feature was the committing to memory long
passages from the poets and orators, a practice which, how^
ever beneficial in moderation, was carried to an injurious
excess. The memory acquired abnormal strength, but its
developement was out of all just proportion to the finer
mental powers, and tended to an almost entire extinction of
originality of thought. Even in their own compositions the
scholars generally fell back for ideas on Cicero, Horace, or
Vergil, and their theses became one continuous process of
ingenious but mechanical reproduction. Sometimes — a far
more rational exercise — they rendered a passage from the
poets into their own prose ; sometimes themselves attempted
the a.rt of .-metrical composition. But, in either case, it was
1 See author's History of the. University of Cambridge, p. 7, n. 2.
2 See especially Epist. l'l3: v 3; vn 17 ; Vm 12 aud 26.
AUSONIUS. 13
a mere trickery of words, wherein the thought was entirely INTROD.
subordinated to the expression, while the fantastic diction
and far-fetched imagery combined to form a style which
could only be paralleled by the compositions of Les Precieuses
or those of our English Eupliuists. Greek, though it would
appear to have been familiar to the scholars of the extreme
south, of Aries and Marseilles, was almost unknown in the
more northern cities. Ausonius himself appears to have
learned nothing more than the rudiments as a boy.
In short, of the system of public instruction that prevailed
from the first to the fifth century, it may with justice be said,
that by the prominence which it assigned to the mere
ornam&nta of pagan culture, to the rejection of the more in-
tellectual and useful elements, it afforded the best justifica-
tion of the veto which the Church had already pronounced
with respect to the whole body of pagan literature.
Such were the tendencies of learning in the age wherein Opportu-
Ausonius was called upon to act, and rarely does the history
of letters present to our notice a more disappointing career,
His experience was considerable; his opportunities were
great. He had been educated at Toulouse, and had himself b? circum-
i . r> t> • i • i ' •i/.-r.-i stances for
taught grammar lor five years in his native city of Bordeaux, beneficial
He had subsequently been appointed a public instructor in reforms»
rhetoric ; and after a lengthened tenure of this post had been
made the tutor of the youthful Gratian at Treves. By his
imperial pupil he was, it is no exaggeration to say, trusted
and honoured as no tutor had ever been before. He suc-
ceeded to the quaestorship ; he was twice appointed prefect.
The first time, as prefect of Italy, he had jurisdiction over
not only the great cities of the peninsula, but also those of
Africa — over Carthage, then in the zenith of her literary fame.
The second time, as prefect of the Gauls, he ruled not only
the cities of his native land, but also those of Spain and of
Britain. The dignity of the consulship crowned the imposing
array of his distinctions. If we add to this widely extended
political influence the respect commanded by his excellent
moral qualities, it is difficult to suppose that there was any
reasonable amount of reform which he could not have effected
INTRODUCTION.
Status of
the public
instructor.
INTROP. in the educational institutions of his time. Circumstances
again were highly favourable to such reform. At no period
do we find the function of the public teacher more respectfully
regarded by the public at large. That robust good sense
which, in spite of many defects, distinguished the legislation
of Valentinian, had reinvigorated the whole system of instruc-
tion throughout the empire. The instructors appointed by
the state received adequate and even liberal salaries ; they
were exempted from most of the civic and municipal burdens ;]
they were honoured by titles and dignities. Their labours
were also largely supplemented by the enterprise of private
teachers. An edict of the year 364 had made the office of
the teacher practically free.2 A decree of Gratian, promul-
gated twelve years later, had required that public instructors
should be appointed in all the chief cities of Gaul, and had
fixed the ampunt of their salaries,3 but there is satisfactory
evidence that a large body of teachers, not recognised by
official authority, still pursued their calling and found scope
for their activity. Ausonius himself had taught grammar
for five years in a private capacity, before, in Lis thirtieth
year, he received a public appointment in his native city.4
The conditions therefore under which the work of education
was carried on in his time closely approximated to those
Scope
afforded
for private
enterprise
.in instruc-
tion.
1 ' Siu absque houore connectivae cujuslibet scholae regimen fuerint nacti,
absolutes militia inter eos, qui dures fuerint provinciamui, numerari
jubemus.' Cod. Theod. lib. vi, tit. 13 (ed. Haenel), p. 54»5; see also p. 1321.
2 < Vita pariter et facundia idoneus vel iiovum instituat auditorium \el
repetat iiitermissum.' Ibid. p. 1322, dat. ni Id. Janu. 364
8 ' Per onrnem dioecesim coiumissara Magniticentiae tuae, frequentissimis
in cmtatibus quae pollent et eminent claritudine praeceptonuu optinii
qmque erudiendae praesideant juventuti, rhetores loquitiiur et grammaricus
atticae romanaeque doctrinse.' Impp. Valmsy Gratianus et
Antonio Pf. P. GaVMtrwn, Ibid. p. 1325.
4 ' Nos ad Grammaticen stadium convertimus et mox
Rhetorices etiam quod satis attiginms.
Nee fora non celebrata mibi ; sed cura docendi
Cultior : et nomen Grammatici merui.
Exactisque dehinc per trina decennia fastis
Asserui doctor municipalem operam.'
Quoted by Kaufmann, von Raumer, Hist. Taschmbiich (1S69), p. 91.
AUSONRJS. 15
which modern experience seems to have finally accepted as re- INTROJ).
presenting a just mean between purely legislative and purely
spontaneous action. The state, by fixing- and securing a
certain standard, protected the public from mere charlatans
and adventurers ; while the opportunities afforded, on the
other hand, for private enterprise acted as a check upon a too
perfunctory discharge of the official duties. The most zealous
reformer could scarcely have asked for more favourable con-
ditions ; and had Ausonius, in that plenitude of power and
confidence which he enjoyed, been endowed with the capacity
to discern the critical character of his time, he might not
improbably have arrested the growing illiberality of the
Church and have rendered signal and lasting service to the
cause of learning.
Unfortunately, he was wholly unequal to the occasion.
He either failed to realise the opportunity, or he preferred not
to grapple with the difficulty. Ampere has very happily sion.
compared him and his brother rhetoricians to a set of
Chinese mandarins, expending their energies on a series of
literary futilities, and perfectly content so to do, while com-
fortably conscious that, whatever the abstract value of their
productions, they were thus advancing themselves on the
path that led to emolument and high office. Ausonius indeed
owes his reputation with posterity mainly to his Mosella, a
really admirable description of the scenery of the beautiful
river. Whether, as some critics hold, the predominance of Character
poetry of this character is always to be regarded as a sign of
a degenerating literary taste is a question into which we
cannot here enter, but it is undeniable that the admirers of
graceful Latin verse and the admirers of descriptive poetry
alike still turn with pleasure to this fine poem. Admirably
true to nature, the accuracy of its details may still be
recognised by the wanderer along the river's course. Cuvier,
it is said, found it of real service in enabling him to identify
the different species of fish that formerly existed in those
waters. Otherwise there is little that Ausonius has be-
queathed to posterity which, regarded simply as poetry,
might not very well be spared. Peats of perverted ingenuity
10 . INTRODUCTION.
INTROD. like his Inconneza, or pedantic stanzas like his Parentalia,
are valuable only as curiosities of literature or for the
historical facts they incidentally supply. Yet in trifles like
these a virtuous and able man, of Christian faith l and classic
culture, frittered away his leisure, his powers, and his oppor-
tunities. We see him, as his own muse depicts him,
dreamily watching the fisher lad who plies his craft on the
banks of the river, inhaling the perfume of the surrounding
rose gardens, arid composing verses in which the concluding
syllable of one line is echoed by the commencing syllable of
the next. Eminently a trifler and unprescient of the future ;
while at his feet the murmuring Moselle steals on, by woods
and vineyards and castled heights, to join the rapid Rhine,
beyond which Nemesis is already forging the bolt of
vengeance and retribution.
Sidonius It is not improbable that Ausonius, who had seen the
Apoili- pj-ants retreating before Gratian, may have died still
b. 430 ; cherishing the fond illusion that the empire would always be
d' 489t able to hold its own against the barbarians ; but in the fol-
lowing century, the age of Sidonius Apollinaris, no such
belief could any longer exist. ' The last of the gentleman.
bishops of the Roman age,5 as he has been styled, Sidonius
witnessed in strange conjunction the old learning, the new
faith, and the pagan invader triumphing in Gaul. During
the interval between his age and that of Ausonius the diver-
gence between the Roman and the Christian tradition of
learning becomes yet more strongly marked. Claudian, the
last representative of the purely classical genius, who died at
the commencement of the century, still preserved much of
the antique spirit, but only by a process of self -isolation:
' His muse/ to quote the language of Ozanani, c chanted her
graceful strains out of hearing of the Ambrosian chant at
1 The facts advanced by Beugnot (Hist, de la Destruction du Paganism*,
ii 76) to shew that Ausonius was of pagan belief have been disproved by
Ampere (i 247-50) ; see also an article by G, Kaufmann, Rhctoremckulm
und Klosferschulen; oner heidmsche und christliche Oultur itt Gatiien wahrend
des 5. und 6. Jahrhundcrts, in YOU Rauraer's Hisiorisehc* Taschenbuch,
1869, pp. 10, 11. ' Man hatte/ says Booking in his edition of the Moattta, p.
43, ' statt der Frasre, ob Ausonius Christ gewesen sei, eher die aufsteileu
sollen ; was fur ein Christ Ausonius gewesen sei ? '
SIDONIU3 APOLLINARIS. 17
Milan.' Sidonius, in turn, offers the last eminent example, INTROD.
for a long period, of an attempted combination of classic and
Christian culture.1
Sidonius was a native of Lyons, where he was born about
the year 430,, of noble parents, the representatives of a family
from which the illustrious house of the • Polignacs claim to
trace their pedigree. He was son-in-law of the emperor
Avitus, to whom he addresses some of his most elaborate
panegyrics — compositions which afford excellent illustra-
tion of the literary taste of the period. His connexions and
high position, together with a certain similarity in his
writings, at once suggest a comparison with Ausonius, but
the difference in the circumstances of their times is all- Circum-
important. The age in which Sidonius lived was one in j^n^of
which the most sanguine and the most discerning observer compared
might alike well have despaired of the future of civilisation. Of that of
In his earlier years, it is true, some rays of hope might still
have seemed to linger over the prospect. The first efforts of
his muse were called forth to commemorate the brief suc-
cesses of Ae'tius, as the e liberator of the Loire ; ' and he
listened, while yet a youth, to the tidings of the dread struggle
at Chalons. But the Frank had already crossed the Rhine,
to be driven back no more ; and a few years later Sidonius
witnessed the occupation of Clermont, afterwards the seat
of his own episcopate, by the Gothic invader. In his
maturer years he saw the insignia of imperial power trans-
ferred from Italy to Nova Roma, and the verses are still
extant in which he plaintively concedes the inferiority of the
western to the eastern capital. He died only four years
before the Frankish advance under Clovis upon Soissons.
That a writer whose lot was cast in such troublous times Triviality
should have left behind little save elaborate panegyrics, °£toriew
trifling extemporaneous verse, and letters which rarely varies his
•writings.
1 As regards Sidonius, the uncritical optimism of M. Chaix in his >S'£.
Sidowe Apollinaireet son- siecle. (2 v. 18(U>),and the hasty verdict of Nielmhr
(Kleine Schriftenj p. 325). are corrected by KaufinannV criticisms: see
Inaugural-Dissertation (Gottingen, 1804) and article 'iiifich wcizer Museum,
1805. See also observations of J. "W. Loeboll in his Gregorvon Tours (e<J
1869), p. 800.
C
18 INTRODUCTION.
l STROP, bespeak a thoughtful mood will scarcely appear surprising to
those who have rioted the tendencies of literature at like
periods. In their very triviality and frivolity of tone the
writings of Sidornus attest the deep despondency that had
taken possession of the age. From the stern realities around
it is thus that the litterateur often seeks to find relief in the
exercise of the inventive faculty. It is thus that Boccacio
represents his circle of refugees from the plague-smitten city
telling their wanton tales. So again the merciless warriors,
Garcilaso and Mendoza, sought amusement, in the intervals
of massacre and pillage, in the composition of madrigals and
sonnets. The Almanac des Muses, of tLe terrible year '93, is
said to be as replete with joke and witticism as any that went
before or followed.1 We have, however, sufficient evidence
that Sidonius was in no way insensible to the real significance
of the events of his time. In a manner that he could hardly
himself explain he would seem to have been forlornly conscious
that the power and vitality of former times had departed
<God,J he exclaims, ' gave strength in other measure to bygone
generations/ He more than once betrays a melancholy pre-
sentiment that the very extinction of learning is approaching.
In a letter to Arbogast, a resident in the Moselle district, he
expresses his delight that in the noble heart of his corre-
spondent the literary spirit, * now dying out/ still finds a
refuge. As for himself, his muse, he elsewhere confesses,
falters before the depressing influences of the time. " How,'
he asks, ' can I write six-feet hexameters when surrounded
by seven-feet barbarians ? *
His liter- Regarded as a bishop of the Church, there is much, it
arysym- must be admitted, in Sidonins that harmonises but iiidii-
patmes . . *
opposed fereiitly with either the primitive or the modern conception.
I'j^v His own theory of the office seems to have been rather that
prevalent of a political chieftain than a spiritual guide, and his effusive
ChLvdi ia admiration of the career of Apollonius of Tyana is certainly
his time. a Si11guiar and somewhat puzzling feature. He was evi-
cientlj' of opinion that classic culture might, in judicious
hands, prove a valuable weapon of the Church. We find
* Ampere, ii 238.
S1DQNIU3 APOLL1NAIUS. J9
lii)n, for example, writing to the semi-Pelagian bistep 1NTROD.
FauBtus in terms of almost fulsome flattery respecting a-
treatise on the materiality of the aonl, "which the bishop
had composed in answer to Olaudian Mamerius. Sidonius
assures him that c he has pressed pagan science and philosophy
Into the service of the Church., and has attacked the enemies
of the faith with their own weapons.' * It probably marks,
however, the prevailing tendency to an opposite theory that
he implicitly admits, in another passage, that the study of
pagan literature, though permissible as a recreation in
earlier life, is unbecoming in the ecclesiastic of mature years.
' Improve your opportunities, young men,' he exclaims. ' and
iake your fill of Horace and Cicero. When age comes upon
you, you must turn your thoughts to things eternal, and
leave the ancient pagans alone. Now, however, use your
time ! '
It is evident indeed that the influences which were to That
result in a remodelling of the whole scheme of Christian edu- {^°^f
cation had not as yet come fully into operation. Sidonius yet sue-
himself speaks of the pleasure he had derived from reading fin"h£.W
a play of Terence with one of his sons, and comparing tlie complete
Roman copy with the Greek original of Menander. In another sion in
letter he reminds one of the friends of his youth, how lie, the Practlee
latter, had been wont of old 'to assume the garb dT the Greek
sophist' when studying the categories o£ Aristotle, and
alludes to 'the nets which Aristotle spreads; by means of his
syllogisms.' A third letter contains au interesting iicconiit
of the library possessed by his friend Ferreol of iNismes.
The volumes appear to have boon divided into three divisions.
Of these the first was set apart, fo# the use of the women,
and was exclusively composed of Christian literature. The
second contained only paga&i literature, .and was open only to
the mei). The tlti^e!, invading1 books of both kinds, was
accessible to both s&xes. The library was also a rendezvous
for literary and philosophic discussions-2 But, in fact, there
can be little doubt that in the time of Sidonius, and even in
1 Ohaix, ii 49-54 ; Kauimanii ('see p. 16, note I ), p. 33
2 Ib. i 214.
c 2
20 INTRODUCTION.
USTROD. tlie succeeding generation, the ancient culture still exercised
considerable influence. The names of Ennodius, bishop of
Pavia, the poet Constantius, St. Avitus, .bishop of Vienne,
St. Hilary of Aries, Felix, the rhetorician of Clermont, St.
Remy himself, are all those of men educated in the imperial
schools, and who either insensibly reflected, or still regarded
with a favour they could but imperfectly disguise, the old
Final over- rhetorical training. The decisive and final overthrow of these
throw of traditions in Gaul is to be referred to a twofold influence —
the Roman
or pagan an influence from without, tha Frankish invasion aud con-
traditions. ques£ — an^ ^ influence from within, the rise of the
monastic schools under the rule put forth by Cassian,
It was far from mere hyperbole when one of the pane-
gyrists of the fourth century represented his fellow country-
men as ever watching, with anxious eye, the waters of the
Rhine — rejoicing when the broad current rolled in fuller
The volume, and trembling when it fell. For a long time it had
Frankish seemed their tutelary guardian against Frankish invasion.
Imcfcon- But already in the fourth century the Frank had permanently
quest crossed the barrier. In 398, Treves, the metropolis of
northern Gaul, had been burnt to the ground ; and in 445
the conquest of Cambrai by Clodion, to which the arms of
Aetius offered but a temporary check, extended the domain
of the Salian Franks to the Somme. At Chalons, Franks
contended on either side; but in the year 486 came the
memorable march of Clovis upon Soissons, and thenceforth
the history of Gaul is for the greater, certainly for the most
interesting, part that of another race.
~.ho In almost every respect the characteristics of the con-
Frank and qneror stand in striking contrast to the influences which had
Koman ^ previously shaped the destinies of Gaul. He brought with
compared. fom none of that refined civilisation and speculative philo-
sophy wherewith the Greek had stirred and humanised the
great cities of the South. Lawless indeed he was not ; but
bis Salic Code was at best but a rough and incoherent con-
ception when compared with that imperial system which ex-
torted his admiration in the subjugated land. In all the
arts that minister to social enjoyment, in all the higher cul-
THE FRANKS. 21
ture that dignifies existence and mitigates even the loss of INTEOD.
liberty, he was incomparably inferior to the Gallo-Eoman
over whom his conquest was so easy and so rapid. Yet,
notwithstanding, in these stalwart Franks, issuing from their
forest lands and niorass-gnarded homes, we recognise some-
thing more than mere superiority of brutish force and savage
energy. Their love of freedom was unconquerable. From
the time when the genius of Caesar overthrew Ariovistus,
they had rarely ceased to trouble and disquiet the Empire.
Tacitus himself could riot but note that Arminius dared to
provoke the wrath of Rome, not like other kings and chief-
tains as she rose to power, but in. the fulness of her imperial
might. Combined with this ineradicable love of liberty was
another sentiment which lent to their long resistance addi-
tional force., Their simple habits of life and rude morality
inspired them with fierce contempt for the vices and the whole
civilisation of the Empire. The relations of ihe family — that
primeval institution to which scientific investigation refers
back the origin of the most hallowed sentiments of the
human race — were cherished by them with a fidelity that
offered a complete antithesis to vices like those that moved
the satire of Juvenal andPersius. Womanhood was respected
and protected ; veracity was held in honour 5 even slavery,
as it existed in their midst, would scarcely seem to have been
more grievous than the condition of an English agricultural
labourer at the commencement of the present century. That
spirit o% .individual! t y? which Guizot regards as their chief
contribution to the coinmcii stock of civilized conceptions,
becomes increasingly apparent as they are to be seen enter-
ing upon a, settled mode of life. As the German hon-
oured his wife and loved his children, so he found his main
happiness in his home. Hence that more isolated manner
of living, which to the Latin seemed mere unsociable morose-
ness. The crowded thoroughEres. the theatres, the games,
the enervating dissipation amid which the inhabitants of the
Gallic and Italian cities frittered away the strength a,nd dig-
nity of manhood, had for th»3 German no charm. He buiJt
no cities, but fixed his little homestead near some perennial
22 INTRODUCTION.
INTHOD. stream, amid iruitful pastures, shut in by woodland, and there
ruled supreme over his family and dependants* Living1 thus
very near to Nature and rendering a rnde instinctive obedi-
ence to .her laws, he received from her as his reward a robust
and powerful frame, and exulted in an invigorating sense of
freedom which, unlettered and unrefined though he was,
enabled him to look down with not all-unmerited scorn on
the degenerate races whom he subdued.
The The most authoritative and recent research tends rather
Frankish fo contravene the representations of those writers who, like
conquest , .
not ah o- Thierry, have depicted the Frankish conquest as an over-
dtitruc- whelming and eminently destructive invasion of a barbaric
tivt>. host. The arms of Ciovis can scarcely be said to have sub-
jugated the people south of the Loire; aud even the north-
ern provinces were reduced only by a process of successive
occupations. The cities were many of them burnt j the
farms were overrun and pillaged ; but the municipal institu-
tions of the Gallic race survived in the one case, their com-
mercial and industrial habits in the other. Above all, Chris-
tianity, so far from being extinguished, as in Britain, achieved
in turn a conquest over the conqueror. The military victory
at Soissons was compensated by the spiritual triumph sym-
bolised by the baptism of 'Ofovis at Rlieims.
SaJvian, Among those who, in the earlier part of the century, had
<?.circ.i96. jjC(j kefore |ne invader, when iite flaming cities on the Rhine
and the Moselle fcold of the advance of Clodion, was the cele-
brated Salvian. It is conjectured that he was a native of
Cologne and received his first training at Treves ; and his
writings undeniably afford conel'isive evidence that he had
early become deeply imbued with Ike rhetorical culture for
which the latter city was famed. He found a refuge in Mar-
seilles, and there formed ail acquaintiuif-e y/ith Hilary of
Aries, E acker ins, bishop of Lyons, and others who, as we
have seers, still sustained the traditional leaguing' of southern
Gaul. It was not, however, to resume, in a .more tranquil
atmosphere, the studies of kiti youth that Salvian had Ifed to
Marseilles. His ardent an dimagi native spirit was stirred to
iis very depths by the calamities that had overtaken the
SALVIAN. 2S
country of Ids birth ; the aspect of the times cast a gloom IK TROD.
over his whole nature. He beiieved that it was but the ^T^1
beginning of the end — the end of the Roman polity, the
Roman civilisation, the Roman learning ; and he looked upon
such a sequel as nothing more than a long- merited retribution me»-
for the wanton abuse of power arid almost universal demorali-
sation that characterised his age. Like Augustine in. his
De Civitate Dei, like Orosius in his History, the presbyter
of Marseilles, in his turn, put forth the De Ct-uberna-lif/ne
Dei, to point the moral of contemporaneous history,
i — ' and justify the ways of God to man,'
(it was in the same year that the battle of Chalons was
fought tha-t Salvian is said to have commenced his treatise,
and in its turbid eloquence and abrupt transitions we seem
to see the reflex of the tumult around. ' Ye complain,
Romans/ is his cry, ' because the barbarian crushes you ; but
ye complain without right, for ye merit all. your woes/
6 These barbarians/ he fiercely adds, "'are as good as you, and
even better.'1 Christianity itself seemed to hiui powerless
to reform a state of society thus utterly corrupt; it was
in the barbaric element that his hopes of a regenerated
and reinyigorated Europe really centered. Among the \«;
Latin races he could discern nothing but corruption, vice,
and crime : the hand of authority stretched out only to
oppress— the riches of the wealthy squandered in sensual and
debasing pleasures — the needy, despairing of justice against
the employer and of honest recompense of labour, betaking
themselves to the recesses of the forest and the mountain to
assu-me the career of the brigand. While in the .midst of
this widespread, this almost universal, lawlessness and de-
moralisation, when the Vandal was triumphing in .Africa and
the Frank was marshalling his forces for aiinai descent upon
Gaul, the denizen of the great cities, reckless of the inorrow,
shouted, and applauded in the theatre and the circus-J^mfr/r
suorum supplicia ridebat.* * Ye ask for public games, ye citi-
1 De Gub. Dei, iv 12 ; Mig-ne, liii 84 : < Ubi sublinnor est praerogativa,
major e8t culpa,' says Salvian.
2 Ibid, vi 12; Migne, liii 123.
*.
«L
\J
24
INTRODUCTION.
INTROP,
Change in
popular
fee] ing
with
respect to
paganism.
Rise
of the
schools of
Cassias.
The
monastic-
i«n of
tho West :
zens of Troves ! After bloodshed and executions, ye clamour
for shows. Ye demand of your prince a circus — and for
whom ? For a pillaged and ruined city, for a captive and
plundered people, decimated and in tears ! ' l
To the despondency thus produced in the minds of the
teacners of the age by the combined spectacle of deepest
social corruption and the severest national calamity, must in
a great degree be attributed the disposition, now generally
discernible, to abandon the ancient system of instruction — a
disposition which was still further increased by the change
in popular feeling. As the majority of the people became
Christian by profession, and learning declined in estimation,
their prejudices, cnce so strong against the faith which they
subsequently embraced, became directed against all pagan
institutions and habits of thought. Legislation, which Con-
stantine had invoked to protect the Christian instructor, was
needed in torn to protect the professor of rhetoric from
persecution. jEven those who, like Sedulms, Claudius Marius
Victor, an Irrosper, sought to impart a Christian tone to the
traditional culture by applying it to new themes, found that,
in the temper of the times, this middle course was impracti-
cable.
It was precisely as this change in popular sentiment
began to find expression, that the ri.se of the schools of
Cassian afforded, in connexion with the monastic foundations,
an escape from the previously existing dilemma. A system
—narrow, illiberal, and defective, it must be confessed, but
still a system — of education was presented which rendered the
rejection of the old discipline less difficult. The choice no
longer lay between the methods of paganism and .the sacrifice
of all methods whatever.
Monasticism, as is well known, is of oriental origin ;
but the spirit which it breathed and the discipline which it
enforced in the East differ in many import-ant respects from
those which characterised it in western Christendom, Its
dominant conception was familiar to eastern communities
long before the Christian era, associated apparently, if not
identical, with that theory of the contemplative life which iu
J l)e Gub. Dei, vi 18 j Migne, liii 120.
MONASTICLSM. 25
the oriental philosophies was regarded as the loftiest ideal INTROD.
of human existence, and whose influence is especially dis-
cernible in the doctrines of the Neo-Platonists. In the West,
however, there is no evidence that inonasticism was ever
known save in conjunction with the Christian faith, while
in its passage from tropical to temperate regions its discipline
became inevitably modified by those conditions a-nd limita-
tions which natural laws impose on all theories of morality
and life. The inertia which to the denizen of India, Syria, antithesis
and Egypt might seem only repose, was irksome and even 1t^eesontd
painful to the inhabitant of Gaul. A Simeon Stylites, passing eastern
whole years on the summit of a lofty column, exposed to all
the vicissitudes of the seasons, became a physical impossibility.
Even the abandonment of all active pursuits was felt by the
energetic races of the North as a.n almost intolerable penance.
Hence, while the solitary member of the Therapeutae, and the
cenobite of Egypt under the rule of Antony and Pacomius,
to whom their own spiritual welfare was proposed as the sole
aim of existence, remained, for the most part, unsociable, un-
productive, and unbeneficent members of the human race,
the monk of the West became the cultivator of the soil,
preserver of letters, the teacher of the people.
So completely however, in its assumption of duties of
this character, did monasticism depart from its primary con-
ception, that an eminent critic has not Hesitated to assert
that ( the monk accomplished his mission by ignoring the
very principle of original monachism.' l It is the first stage
in this important revolution, marked by the monastic rule of
Cassian, that now claims OUT attention.
With respect to the country of which Cassian, who was ?Iai«
born about the middle of the fourth century, was a native, Of Caasian.
there exists considerable doubt. His classic learning, the
tenour of a casual reference, and the frequency with which
the name of Gernianua, his Mend, occurs in the history of
Gard at this period, would incline us to conclude that he was
born in Marseilles, the city in which his latier life was spent ;
but it is certain that he was brought, very early in life, under
1 Hadclan, Re'tnains, p. 203.
26 INTRODUCTION.
I M TROD, the influence of eastern monasticism. His youthful imagina-
tion was fascinated by the fame of that remote and solitary
region of the Th.ebais, where, in strange contrast to the pre-
vailing tone of society iu the fourth century, the saintly and
contemplative life was lived, with almost unprecedented
austerity. Along with Gerrnanus he penetrated to those
burning solitudes. The enthusiasm of the youthful adveii-
turers was in no way diminished by what they there heard
and witnessed ; and, during a residence of ten years in
Palestine and in Egypt, they both submitted to the ascetic
discipline and ratified their choice by their mature sanction.
It was not until the year 404 that Cassiaon returned to mingle
again with men ; but the reputation acquired by his previous
life at once marked him out for distinguished service in the
Church, arid he was forthwith appointed on a, mission from
Constantinople to Rome which had for its main object thef
suppression of the Aria,u heresy. He does not, appear, after
this time, to have returned to the East, but took up his resi-
His Cotta- dence at Marseilles- There, in his Collaf/iones, he committed
tiones and ^o writ.ing the record of conversations which, in former years,
Hones. he and German as had held with eminent anchorites and
fathers of the East. There also he founded the famous
monastery of St. Victor, and assisted in that of the yet more
celebrated society on the neighbouring island of Lerins ;
while in the volume of his Imfitutiones he drew up the rules
for their observance — a code which, down to the time when it
gave place to that of St. Benedict, is to be regarded as the
law of monasticism hi Gaul. Hitherto., as he himself tells
us, that law had been vague and fluctuating ; every monastery
had a rale of its own: to Cassian therefore is to be ascribed
the original character of those institutions which, for good or
for evil, have exercised so powerful an influence on the history
of Christianity in Europe.
The distrust shewn by the Church of his day of pagan
learning was fully shared, perhaps largely increased, by
Cassian, but it is evident that his sentiments were not dic-
tated by the aversion of unlettered ignorance. The disciple
of St. Chry sos torn, he had in his youth studied ardently the
CASSIAN. 27
/n as terpieces of Greek learning and eloquence; and hi after INTROD.
lltb he found it easier to deplore than to shake off their early
fascination. In one of his Collationes his friend German as is His leach-
represented as consulting the abbat Nestoros on the best respect to
means of expelling tho recollections of profane authors from
* . literature,
the mind. He complains that even m the hours of devout
meditation these memories will often intrude. The poetic
strains, the idle stories, the martial narratives of this for-
bidden literature rise up aud distract his soul. They drag
him down from heavenly contemplations ; tears are un-
availing to wash them away.1 The reply of the abbat is not
ill-conceived. f Head/ he says, ( the sacred books with the
same ardour that thou once didst those of heathen writers —
and then thou shalt be freed from the influence of the latter.'
An ominous reply, however, as Kaufmann justly observes, for —
the fate of letters in the monasteries of Gaul.
The sanctification of the heart was Cassian's professed
aim ; and we find him contrasting the spiritual elevation
and profitable thoughts which the discipline of the monas-
tery under his guidance would be likely to develops in its
members, with the barren teaching of the rhetorician. No-
where indeed is the influence of his oriental experiences
more clearly to be discerned than in his theory of the right
method of arriving at divine truth. He cast aside the com- His theory
mentators and directed his monks to give themselves to *n rflatio/1
to the
mating, prayer, and meditation, m order to attain to an en- study
lightened understanding of Scripture.2 Such an understand-
1 * ... mine meus mea poeticiy vel infecta uanmnlbus, illas fabalaruin
augaa historiAgque belloruiu qiiibus a parvnlo priniis atudionim imhuta est
rudiuteniis. orationis etmm i em pore lueditetui1, psalJeutiq^ae, vel pro pecca-
toru.Ti indulgeruia supplicariii ant. impudent* poeraatura mexnoria pu^geratur,
nut qua>-i >/eUati(iuTn hero;mi anta oculos iimigo versetur, taliamque me
phaiita,* mar/urn hiiagiuatio semper eludeus, iU meutem meaia ad supernoa
intuitns aspirarq BOH patitur, ut quotidianis tifetibus nou poesif. expelli/
w xrr, c. 12 (Migne, A!IX 74).
•' Mpnaduan ad Scrip turaruin nutitiaui pertbgere cupieiitcm ueqiiaquHin
Ubores saos erga comiueatatoum libros impeiiflero, Bed potiua
omtiem mentis inffagfeiaxn et intontionem cordb orga emundutioiieuj vitium
carnaUuin detinere, Quibua expulsis coufestiiu cord.id oculi* sublato vehuuinu
^acraiueuta • Script ura rum vnlut naturaJitariucipiQDt conieiu\>Uti.
The four
Scriptural
senses.
28 INTRODUCTION
INTROD. ing, he held, was not easy of attainment, but had purposely
been rendered difficult in order that its very possession might
serve to distinguish the sanctified from unregenerate natures. ,
The puqjort of the Scriptural narrative, which he designated
as the historical sense, was, he admitted, obvious to all : it
was written that he that ran might read. But beyond or
within this lay hidden what he termed a tropologieal sense.;
then an allegorical, and finally an anagogical, sense ; l and.
these different senses revealed themselves only to him who
read with the mental illumination proceeding from a sancti- ,
jied and purified heart* Such illumination, such Scriptural,
knowledge, were regarded by Cassian as the ultimate aim of
the monastic discipline, and in comparison with these all
other studies sank into insignificance. He does not, indeed,,
appear altogether to have proscribed knowledge which might
prove of service to the learner in enabling him to understand
more correctly the historical sense; but as this same his-
torical sense ranked lowest in his estimation, so all studies
that were subsidiary to this alone suffered in his view a cor-
responding depreciation. His theory of the religious life
betrays its oriental origin in its marked similarity to the-
Nee-Platonic theory of the philosophic life ; and there is ore
passage, wherein he adverts to the exaltation of the soul
when absorbed in prayer, which recalls very forcibly the ee-
stasis of Plotinus.
He enjoins feut while Cassian undoubtedly regarded the eontempla-
active and tivelife as the highest, he seems to have considered, like
Aristotle, that the active life was indispensable as a pre-
^minarj to the more advanced stage. He held with the
eastern proverb, that the industrious spirit is assailed by but
one devil — the idle, by a legion. Hence laborious duties and
hard, e?en painful, toil were strictly enjoined npon the
monk. When not occupied with religious services or the
study of the Bible, he was bound to devote himself to pre-
Institutiones, v 34 The sense, Cassian held, was often revealed in dreams
Cottat. xiv io.
1 '. , . in duaa dividitur partes, id est, in tdstoricam interpretaticneru e
intelligentiam spiritalem . . . Bpiritaiis autera scientiae genera auni
tropologia, allegoria, aiiogoge.' Coll. viu 3.
CASSIAN.
29
scribed menial tasks. The severity of the labour thus im-
posed, especially during the novitiate, is one of the harshest
features of Cassian's rule, and was wisely mitigated by St.
Benediet,\
\The fundamental conception of his rule was in harmony
with the whole discipline. Cassian looked upon the monas-
tery as a school where, by the study of the Scriptures and the
instruction of their elders, youth were to be educated to a
holy life ; and just as the studies of the schoolboy are de-
signed to prepare him for the trials and duties of manhood,
so the monk, who has renounced the present world and
whose aims and hopes are centered in heaven, was to be
trained solely with reference to a future existence. The
same theory pervades the rule of St. Benedict ; it confronts
us again, though with a less rigorous interpretation, in the
commentary on the Benedictine rule, drawn up by Eabanus
Maurus;1 it was maintained and defended by the eminent
Dominican, Thomas Aquinas, Cassian's warm admirer ;
and, however its interpretation may have been modified or
varied, must be regarded as the prevailing theory of the re-
ligious education throughout the mediaeval eraT]
The foregoing outline will serve in some
explain the fact that, in spite of its affinities to the oriental
spirit, the rule of Cassian nevertheless made its way under
the domination of the half-Christianised Frank. The Frank
could respect a high morality, arid in these communities
which now began to rise throughout Gaul he found it. He
despised the dreaming asceticism of the East, but in the
laborious, hard-faring, and self-denying monks of the West
there was an energy of resolve and action which accorded
with his own nature, yjhe beauties of classic literature and
the refinements and subtleties of Gallic culture lay beyond
the range of his intellectual appreciation, but the simple
1 t Ergo, sicut in schola pueri cum discipliim quae illis necessaria eunt
discunt et quae in futuro prosiiit capiuht, ita et monachi in monasterii
regularis schola et quae eos in praesenti Koneste vivere faciant et quae in
futuro felices reddant, discere sagaciter et efficaciter debent implere.'
Itabanus Maurus, Comment, in Regulam S. Benedictt, Opera, vi 267.
JflTROD.
The
raonassery
a school for
ieaven.
Points in
which the
rule of
Cassiaii
harmon-
ised with
the
Frankish
character.
INTRODUCTION,
1NTEOD. narrative and moral grandeur of the Gospels and the fervid
eloquence of the prophets appealed forcibly to his heart.
And thus, notwithstanding the justice of Ozanam's assertion,
that monasticism is alien to the genius of the French
character — an assertion that may be made with at least
equal truth in relation to our English forefathers — monastic
foundations in Frankland, as in England; multiplied and
Rapid grew even in the age of invasion and conquest. As the
monastic-0 l?1'ankish supremacy successively extended itself from the
oTuHu Rnine ^ the Men-e, from the Meuse to the Soimne, from
the fifth the Somme to the Loire, and from the Loire to the Garonne,
wlll*le tlie scilools °f tne rhetoricians died out, new monas-
teries rose throughout the land. Before the close of the
fourth century, St. Martin — who may be regarded as tho
founder of the monastery m Gaul, as Oassian was the au-
thor of the monastic discipline — had already instituted the
societies of Ligtige near Poitiers and that of Marmoutiera
near Tours. Then, with the commencement of the fiftli cen-
tury, there rose under Honoratus, on the; island that still
bears his name,1 the monastery which preeminently reflected
the best features in Cassian's influence, and from whence
proceeded the great majority of those distinguished men who,
known as the Insidani? still imparted bistre to the history of
southern Gaul. From, these islands the movement extended
itself along the valley of the Bhone, and from Harmoutiers
along that of the Loire ; so that when, in the latter part
of the sixth century, St. Manr introduced the Benedictine
rule into Frankland. the monastery was -already a familiar
institution in Burgundy and Aquitaine. Si-ill ohurg;.;d, how-
ever, with much of the original oriental influences, the
movement seems to have faltered as it encountered the
rude northern blasts; for while 240 monastic communities
are enumerated as existing, at this period, in the country south
of the Loire, only ten appear to have been as yet founded in
the wide tract that lies between the Yosges and the Rhine.
1 The Isle de St. Ilonorat, one of the Levins proup off Cannes.
* The Stttdium Insulanum was famous in the iifth uud :>L\th centuries;
see Binghara, JEccles. Antiy. vu ii 11.
THE SCHOOLS OF CASSIAN. 31
Within the walk of these iustitutions learning now found INTB.QD.
its chief, and for a long period almost its only, refuge ; while ^~~*
the municipal schools rapidly disappeared before the Frank- monastic
ish advance. They exhibited a culture with which the con- episcopal
queror had no sympathy, and the cities from which they Lad schools
formerly derived their support were either laid in ruins, theP
crushed beneath overwhelming imposts, or impoverished by
the cessation of commerce. Trade revived and order was
in some measure restored, but the Christian proscription
continued to oppose an effectual barrier to the reestablish-
ment of pagan education ; and the rule of Cassiau may be
said, in a certain sense, to have seconded the destroying arm
of the Frank. Yet, notwithstanding, whatever survived of
education and letters undoubtedly owed its preservation to
the monasteries and the episcopal schools. If, on the one
hand, the Christian teacher suffered once large and fertile
tracts in the domain of letters to lie neglected, on the other,
he alone guarded and cultivated the narrow portion that still
blossomed and bore fruit.
/~The monastic school now began to appear as an almost character
invariable adjunct to the monastery. Under the severe
limitations indicated in the rule of Cassian, the education
imparted was of the most elementary and narrowest kind,
designed as it was solely for those who were looking forward
to the monastic life. The boys were taught to read that
they might study the Bible and understand the services \ to
write, in order that they might multiply copies of the sacred
books and of the psalter ; to understand music, so that they
might give with due effect the Ambrosian chant. Even
arithmetic found a place in the course of instruction mainly
on the plea that it enabled the learner to understand the
Computua — that is, to calculate the retum of Easter and of
the different festivals. In those cities which represented the
centres of the different dioceses, a similar system of instruc-
tion prevailed in the cathedral schools ; but here again it
was strictly subordinated to the direct requirements of the
priestly office, and aimed at noihiug more than to qualify the
pupils for the performance of the services of the ChurchJ
32
INTEOD.
INTRODUCTION.
Compact
the^Teu-
tonic
Latm
traditions
schools of
Cassian
able to the
\fn this manner the great revolution was gradually
effected. To the municipal school there succeeded the
cathedral school ; the grammaticus of the former was sup-
planted by the scholasticm of the latter; the Christian preacher
occupied the place of the professor of rhetoric ; the bishop
of the Church was at once the head of his diocese, the chief
magistrate of the city, the guardian of order, the protector
of the defenceless and oppressed. Whatever still survived
'of moral force, of social influence, of capacity for organisa-
tion, when the Frank subjugated Gaul, was to be found shel-
tering in the monastic cloister, by the episcopal chair, or by
the altar of the ChurchjJ The shrewdness of Clovis dis-
cerned the opportunity ; the religious zeal of the Latin
clergy hailed the prospect of a decisive triumph over their
pagan or Arian antagonists. Hence the memorable com-
pact, pregnant with momentous consequences, not only to
Frankland but to all Europe, first ratified when the con-
queror bent before the cross uplifted by St. Eemy at Kheiras
— faQ compact between Teutonic might and the aims and
theories of Christian Rome.
j The sole surviving agencies of education were thus the
scKool of the monastery and the school of the cathedral,2
an(* °f these the former undoubtedly, at this period, included
the more extended range of instruction. The monastery was
still a lay institution and unsubject to the control of the
bishop, and the transcription of manuscripts was a recog-
nised occupation among its members. Yet even here the
dominant conception, as interpreted by the followers of
Cassian, was incompatible with a genuine devotion to letters.
In the unreserved subjection of learning to exclusively reli-
gious ends and its absorption in an ulterior purpose, was
proclaimed the divorce of the literary from the religious
spirit. The pursuit of knowledge for its own sake, the dis-
1 ' Avant Tarrivee cles Barbares la puissance du clerge" restart soule
debout an milieu des mines de Vempire.' Guizot, JSssais (13me edit.), p. 185.
2 The evidence for a third class, faoks de campagne, as Guizot styles
them, recommended by the Council of Vaisnn in 520, is too slight to admit
of their being regarded as an appreciable element in the culture of the period.
Guizot, ii 117 ; Ampere, ii 260-1.
THE SCHOOLS OF CASSIAX. §3
interested demotion of the intellectual powers to philosophy INTROD.
and speculation, w,as no longer recognised as commendable
or even permissible/? ' II n'j a plus de litterature desinteres-
see/, says Guizot, c plus de litterature veritable/ l
(The whole character of Cassian, together with the bold
and lofty traditions of the school which reflected his in-
fluence at St. Honorat, forbid us to believe that he would
have regarded with satisfaction the decline that waited upon
theological learning in the institutions that professed his
rule. But, unhappily for his fame, his precepts, like those
of not a few other great reformers, were destined to receive
at the hands of his successors a harsh, illiberal, and too
literal interpretation. Theology, in the monasteries of Gaul,
would thus seem to have degenerated to a condition closely
resembling that of some more modern experiences. The
monk and the priest learned, it is true, to read their Bibles,
but no attempt appears to have been made to hand down,
along with this elementary instruction, either a sound canon
of criticism or an approved interpretation of the sacred
writers' meaning, or to assist the student, in any way, in the
intelligent study of that meaning for himself. He was con- Decline of
sequently at the mercv of every pretender to especial spiritual theological
,. , -L aV £ . ,. learning
discernment, however arrogant or unlearnedJJ JJassian him- in these
self, we can readily understand, had been, like other eminent scl10018-
contenmers of traditional culture, only half conscious how
much his judgement was still guided and his fancy controlled
by the learning of his youth. The observers of his rule, in
the next century, however, were liberated from such restraints;
and the scornful prediction of Julian, that the man who
exchanged the study of the ancients for that of the Evangelists
would sink to the intellectual condition of the slave, was
almost verified by the state of many of the monasteries in the
period succeeding upon the Frankish conquest. The undis-
ciplined fancy, seizing upon that feature in Cassian's teaching
which assigned to nearly every passage a metaphorical as well
as a literal or historical sense, distinguished itself by fantastic
vagaries and unwarrantable inventions, to parallel which we
1 ii 122.
34
INTRODUCTION,
Gregory
b. 0441™
d. 59f>.
1NTROD. must turn to the wildest extravagancies of the most fanatical
and illiterate sects of modern times j If, as can hardly be
denied, the attempts to construct a formal system of theo-
logy have oiten proved a perilous task to both teacher and
learner, it must also be admitted that the assumed right of
individual interpretation, on the part of the unlettered and
ignorant, has been attended with yet more deplorable results.
But, unfortunately, while the errors into which endeavours
of the former kind have fallen are perpetuated in the
memory by the ingenuity and ability with which they have
been associated, the warning afforded by the irreverent ex-
position of the illiterate enthusiast is forgotten in the ob-
livion to which his memory has been consigned.
(it would be difficult and of but little interest to trace out
the gradual extinction of letters during the period when
Austrasia and Neustria, the Frank and the Gallo-Boman,
contended for the superiority. Within less than a century
afte1' ^ie death of Sidonius Apollinaris, Gregory of Tours
compiled his Historia E'cdesiastica Franco-rum. The in-
vidious comparison between the two writers, instituted by
Gibbon, is familiar to most scholars. * Each of them,' he
says, 4 was a native of Auvergne, a senator, and a bishop.
The difference of their style and sentiments may, therefore,
express the decay of Gaul, and clearly ascertain how much,
in so short a space, the humau mind had lost of its energy
and refinement.'1/
\ That- Gregory's early training probably included whatever
f (Hagaic education still lingered in
^
of classic education still lingered in southern Gaul will
scarcely be called in question. His writings sufficiently
prove that he had acquired some familiarity with Latin
authors : his Yergilian quotations are frequent ; and, ad-
mitting what is perhaps somewhat questionable proof, he_
would appear, by like evidence, to have been acquainted with
Sallust, Pliny, and Aulus Gellius. But the fatal influences
of his time a.re clearly reflected in his own style of Lafcinity
1 iv 380. So Ampere: Centre ces deux liommee, que separe UD espace
de qua.ranle an noes, il y a un abime. On pourrait dire qu'ils appartiexmeut
a deux Sges du iiionde.' Hist. Lilt, ii 257.
GREGORY OF TOURS. 35
— in his candid avowal that he is not solicitous to avoid a INTHOD.
solecism — in his deferential appeal to the student of the
compend of Martiaiius Capella, as one who might be re-
garded as learned in the learning of the age — and in his
melancholy statement of the motives which have led him to
compile his History. * Inasmuch as,* says the poor bishop,
4 the cultivation of letters is disappearing or rather perishing His
in the cities of Gaul, while good deeds and evil are com-
mitted with equal impunity, and the ferocity of the bar- decay of
barians and the passion of kings rage alike unchecked, so
that not a single grammarian skilled in narration can be
found to describe the general course of events, whether in
prose or in verse, the greater number lament over this state of
affairs, saying, " Alas for our age ! for the study of letters
has perished from our midst, and the man is no longer to be
found who can commit to writing the events of the time ! "
— these and like complaints, repeated day from day, have de-
termined me to hand down to the future the record of the
past ; and, although of unlettered tongue, I have nevertheless
been unable to remain silent respecting either the deeds of
the wicked or the life of the good. That which has more
especially impelled me to do this is, that I have ofiten heard
it said that few people understand a rhetorician who uses
philosophical language, but nearly all understand one speak-
ing in the vulgar fashion/^
With this dismal strain Gregory ushers in his work ; and, His repre-
notwithstanding the efforts of some writers2 to prove that confirm^
1 Migne, Ixxi 161. There can be no "better comment on this passage than S?: ^
the words of Loebell: — 'In der That hatte Gregor Grund genug, die evidence
Nachsicht des Lesers fur seine Schreibart in Ansprueh zu uehmen. Wie afforded
sehr sie deren bedarf. bezeugt jedeSeite, ja fast jedJeZeile seiner Werke. by his
Sie ermangelt mcht nur jeder Freiheit und jeder Feinheit, sondern ist roh,
Lolperig und unbeholfen, bald matt, breit und zerflcssen, bald durch das
Ungeschick, "Worte und Siitze ziisammenziifiigen, so dunkel, dass man den
Sinn mehr errathen als mit Sicherheit bestimmen kann.' Gregor von Tov,r*t
p. 307. The use of the accusative for the ablative absolute is perhaps the
most glaring of Gregory's barbarisms.
3 Among these Ozanara is one of the most prominent. He contends,
notwithstanding Gregory's declarations, that there is good reason for sup-
posing that the condition of letters was far less diseonraginjr than the bishop
of Tours would fain represent it to be. He asks (p. 404), ' Comment les
02
3(J INTRODUCTION.
INTROD. the date of letters was really far more favourable than he
would have us believe, and that his lament is little more than
the cry invariably raised by the scholar in times of great
political disquiet, the candid student can hardly fail to per-
ceive that the internal evidence afforded in the pages of the
History is strongly corroborative of the writer's own state-
ment, and that the almost unanimous conclusion of the
ablest investigators of the period does not admit of being set
i aside. It is evident that, apart from other causes, the pro-
scription of pagan literature had done nothing towards
bringing about greater mental activity in the field of Chris-
tian studies ; the literary spirit, though confined in narrower
channels, rolled only in yet feebler current. Of this fact the
o/FortuJ7 frank avowal of Fortunatus, the most conspicuous writer of
natus. the doggrel that passed for poetry at this time, ;s a striking
illustration. He had received his education at Ravenna, and
the latter part of his life was spent in the service of the
Church at Poitiers. But he admits that not only were ' Plato,
Aristotle, Chrysippus and Pitta CDS (a singular jumble !) un-
known to him , but that he had not even read Hilary, Gregory,
Ambrose, or Augustine.' l
The Mero- VJji ^ne midst of this general decline of learning, the
Merovingian kings, with the wantonness of a half-barbaric
e"coles restaurees par Gratien, ce'le'bre'es par Ausone et Sidoine Apolliuaire,
toutes debout au cinquieme siecle, apres le premier choc de rinvasiott,
seraient-elles toinbeea au sixieme, sans laisser un historian de leur chute ? '
The fact probably only serves to show how little of the historical spirit or
of literary ability still survived. The instances adduced by Ozanain to
prove the contrary are singularly unfortunate. He cites that of Desiderius
or Didier of Cahors, who was not born until within a few years of Gregory's
death. It is probable that Desiderius was a man of considerable culture ;
but it appears that his endeavours to instruct his pupils in ' grammar ' were
of so exceptional a character as to draw upon him the special rebuke of
Gregory the Great (see infra, p. 77). The next instance cited by Ozanam
\& that of Paul of Verdun,, who died fifty-two years after Gregory of Tours ;
and the third instance (pp. 405-7) is that of St. Bouitns, who died at the
beginning of the eighth century ! Facts which have to be sought for at
8«oh wide intervals as these implicitly refute the argument they are adduced
to support. The f soeiete polie et lettre'e du sixieme siecle/ of which Ozanam
speaks, and of which he considers the poet Fortunatus to have been ' le repre-
sentant le pins fidele,' had little existence save in his own imagination.
1 See letter to Bishop Martin, Migue, Ixxxviii 180.
THE PRANKISH CHURCH. 37
despotism, assumed, on the one hand, to dictate the terms of INTROD.
theological belief; on the other, the rules of orthography,
Chilperic i drew up for the Church's use a new Confession of
Faith, in which he suppressed the distinctions of the Three
Persons of the Trinity ;* while, like another Claudius, he
enjoined the use of four additional letters of the alphabet,
and is even said to have commanded that all manuscripts
which did not embody this startling innovation should be
destroyed. He not only deemed himself, like Sigisinund,
super grammaticam, but even super metrdcam, and composed
verses which in their reckless defiance of quantities, appear
to have caused Gregory himself, certainly not a fastidious
critic, to stare and gasp/
^And while, under tfeeMerovingian dynasty, learning almost State of
ceased to exist, the circumstances of the time were such that it u^ep J£?a
may fairly be doubted whether it would ever .have revived dynasty,
without some potent external impulse. It had found refuge
in the Church and in the monastery, and the condition of
these, at the accession of Charles Martel, was one of utter
demoralisation?! The state of the former in one respect
strongly resembled that of the Gallican Church at' a later
period, in the complete prostration of the clergy ^beneath th *
power of the episcopate, an episcopate in the eighth century
utterly demoralised and corrupt. It is a significant fact that
at the time when the influence of the Church for good was
at its lowest, her material prosperity was at its highest. It
is supposed that at the end of the seventh century at least
one third of the Gallic territory represented Church property .3
The monarch, with whom the decision in elections to
bishoprics really rested, supported the creatures of his choice.
' Let him,' said ChiJdebert, * who refuses to listen to his bishop
and has been excommunicated, endure the eternal condemna-
1 Gregory, Hist. Eccles. Franc, lib. v, c. 45 j Migne, Ixxi 360-1.
2 ' Scripsit alias libros idem rex versibus, quasi Sedulius secutus ; sed
versiculi iJii nulli penitus inetricae conveniimt ratioiii.' Ibid.
8 1 give this fact on the authority of Perry, The Franks, from their j t,
Appearance in History to the Dentil of King Pi-pin (Longmans, 1657), p. ± •().
He refers to Montesquieu, IS Esprit des Lois, xxxi 10.
38
INTRODUCTION.
INTROD.
Demoral-
isation
of the
episcopal
or.Jer.
of the
monastic
discipline.
The servile
element in
the monas-
teries.
tion of God, and let him be excluded for ever from our palace.*1
Sometimes indeed when royalty refused to defer to the inter-
ests of the order, it found, the combined power of the episco-
pate superior to its own. ' Our dignity,' said Chilperic, on
one occasion, ' our digriity has departed and is transferred to
them.' Even to the Frankish nobilitayi bishopric seemed a
valuable prize, dissociated as it was f^^ spiritual duties and
accompanied by envied immunities.2 Ever since the time of
Gregory the Great, the Gallic, bishops had exercised their
authority unrestrained by the pope of Rome. Freed accord-
ingly from all sense of responsibility, and in awe neither of
councils nor their metropolitan, they discarded even the
visible signs of their profession. They took rank among the
wealthier la-nded proprietors, imitating their habits of life
and adopting their interests. They were sportsmen and
warriors, and sometimes were to be seen taking part in expe-
ditions of violence and brigandage. The actual relapse of
some of the remoter dioceses into paganism is explicitly
referred by the monk Jonas to the fatal influence of the
episcopal example.
The condition of the monasteries was not less deplorable.
It had been the injunction of Cassiau that they should shut
their doors to the bishop, and preserve, as far as possible, a
spirit of isolation from ecclesiastical strife and turmoil.
The hope of sharing in the Church's wealth and influence
hid been, however, too strong a temptation, and the monk
had gradually ceded many of his peculiar privileges and
rights only to find himself under the thraldom of the
episcopal jurisdiction. He appealed to the royal or to the
papal authority for protection, and purchased it at the cost
of the few liberties that yet remained to him.
Another cause largely contributed, at this period, to the
decline of the monasteries in the general estimation. They
were recruited, to a great extent, from the servile class ; and
J 'Qui episcopuin suum noluerit audire et exconimunicatus fuerit
perenuem condenmationem apud Deuni sustiueat, et insuper de palatio
nostro «it omnino extra neus,' Baluze^ i 17.
3 Guizot; EssaiSj p 101.
THE MONASTERIES. 39
Gregory the Great himself had held that slaves might, under INTROD.
certain circumstances, be beaten or tortured.1 The relations
of the abbat to his monks accordingly closely resembled those
of a master to his slaves ; and just as, in reference to the
latter, the legislator had found it necessary to enact that
mutilation and punishment resulting in death were illegal,2
so, even as late as tl^Bouncil of Frankfort of 794, an article
reminds us that aWmts required in like manner to be re-
strained from blinding or mutilating their monks.3
Barbarities of this revolting character, it is true, are far
too common a feature throughout the mediaeval era, but in
the history of the Merovingian dynasty they present them-
selves with sickening frequency. The accession of Charles
Martel to power brought about the overthrow of the episcopal
tyranny, but his so-called work of reformation more closely
resembled one of wholesale confiscation, and he looked upon
the resources of the Church chiefly as sinews of war, or as
means for enabling him to reward his soldiery for past
achievements. The inroads of the Saracen jcompleted the
work of destruction in the south ; and at Autun, Narbonne,
and Bordeaux learning was extinguished in the very asylum
to which it had fled for refuge.
jSuch were the circumstances under which the first of the Prospects
Carolingian monarchs assumed the supreme-authority. That ftt ^
rich, fertile and populous land, which had so long sustained the acc<«sK>n
traditions of Roman culture even when these had well-nigh le-Bref.
vanished from Italy itself, was in turn overshadowed by the
darkness of barbaric conquest. The voice of the teacher was
silent in the city and in tk*5 monastery. The treasures of
the ancient literature lay mouldering in neglect, while no in-
considerable portion was irrevocably disappearing from the
possession of man*
1 That is, when convicted of practising magical rites. Epi&t. Ixv;
Migne, Ixxvii 1002.
a * Si magisler in disciplina yulnersverit servum vel Occident . . . qui
eluscaverit discipulum iu disciplina/ Ulpian, Digest, ix ii, o.
8 ' Nulla ex culpa monachos abbati caecare aut inutilare licet.' Baluze,
I 2(31.
40 INTRODUCTION.
1XT.KOD. ^;n other lands indeed the signs were not wanting of a
great and in some instances a permanent revival. At York
and at Canterbury, at Lindisfarne and at Yarrow, and in the
monasteries secluded from continental strife within the pre-
cincts of Holy Isle, there were to be found enthusiastic
scholars and noble libraries. In Italy, on Monte Cassino,
learning had set her lamp, there long to burn with surpassing
and enduring splendour ; from amid the calm solitudes of
Squillace in the south and the plains of Lombardy in the
north, there shot a faint but hopeful ray ; while from
beneath, the mountains of the Vosges a gleam pierced even
the darkness in Frankland, where all was night as yetl
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 41
CHAPTER L
CHARLES THE GKEAT AND ALCUIN ; OS, THE SCHOOL
OP THE PALACE.
TOWARDS the commencement of the _aej^]itk^c£aitiirj, there
had appeared at the court of the haughty Brunehaut an
Irish monk, the famous St.... JPobimban., He represented a St. Col-
different school of theology from that of the Church with ^43°!
which the Frank had made his compact — a school which &• <>35-
will shortly claim considerable attention at our hands. For
the present, however, it will suffice to note the influence of
Columban as a monastic reformer in Frankland.
His appearance in Austrasia appears to have been nearly Character
coincident with that of St. Maur in Neustria, but his efforts ^nastfc
were directed to the establishment of a rule differing widely rule.
from that of St. Benedict, and approaching more closely even
than that of Cassian to the discipline of the ascetics of the
Thebais. The ardour of his genius obtained for this rule a
temporary acceptance 5 but, at the period which we are now
approaching, the austerity of the life which it enforced had
inevita/bly led to its abandonment for the rule of St. Benedict,
which harmonised far better with the climate and tempera-
ments of northern Gaul.1
In other respects the influence of Columban in Frankland St. Boni-
was superseded by that of a yet more eminent reformer — the fc$SQ .
great _§£. Boniface, the devoted assertor cf the Romish supre- d. Tod.
.xnacy, the heroic "apostle of the faith amid the strongholds of
paganism, the energetic advocate of the Benedictine rub,
the reformer whose labours paved the way for Alcuin when,
1 See on this subject a note ( sur la Regie soivie dans los Mouasteres
Austrasiens/ in Digot's Hi&oirc du .Ttoyaume d'Austrasie, iv, note 41.
42
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN,
Founda-
tion of
abbey of
Monte
Cassino.
A.D. 628.
Introduc-
tion of the
Benedic-
tine rule.
Its leading
eharactoi.*-
Lstie*.
Provision
made for
regular
study
among the
monks.
forty years later, that famous teacher accepted the invitation
joLCharles the Great to Aachen.
During the period that separates the age of Cassian from
that of St. Boniface, monasticism and the cause of letters
had found a wiser legislator in Italy. Within a few months
of the day when Justinian closed the schools of Athens, and
Simplicius and Isidore wandered sadly forth into exile and
obscurity, the sound of the axe and the hammer was heard
on Monte Cassino. On the summit which overlooks the
plains through which the Liris steals slowly in long reaches
to the sea, arose the walls from whence proceeded the
utterances of the ' Sinai of the Middle Ages ; * — eloquent
mount, speaking from beyond the silent river with voices
still audible across the centuries !
The Benedictine Rule — * first and foremost in discretion
and clear in style/ as St. Gregory pronounced it — was at once
more comprehensive and more definite than any by which it
had been preceded. It was in no way designed to supplant
the rule of Cassian, whose Collationes were especially indicated
by Benedict as a text-book * for study and second only to the
Scriptures in value and edification, but ifc laid down precise
instructions on many points that had before been left dis-
cretionary, and invested the whole monastic life with an air
of greater solemnity and importance. It prescribed, for the
iirst time, a year's novitiate, after which, if the purpose of the
novice remained unchanged, his vow consigned him to a step
which was irrevocable. The authority of the abbat was ren-
dered more absolute, and the whole principle of fobedit?nce'
more binding, and explicit. The duties of the day were
marked out with greater precision, and the regulations as t9
diet wisely rendered less ascetic. In no respect, however, was
the difference from preceding rules so marked as in the pro-
vision made for regular daily study. The main energies of
the monk were still to be given to active labour, but the grey
dawn of the winter day and the meridian heat of summer
were allotted to reading ; and, in the season of Lent, the time
assigned for this purpose was extended. St. Benedict names
no authors, only the books of the Old and the New Testaments,
1 Migne, xlix 45-6.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 43
together with such expositions thereon as c the most illustrious CHAP.
doctors of the orthodox faith and the Catholic fathers had , ; —
compiled.' l
The privilege and duty of study being thus established,
the range within which it might be carried on, narrow as it
seemed, admitted of a wide interpretation. Who could say
what great doctors and fathers might yet arise? Who
could say what heresies and erroneous doctrines they might
not be» called upon to refute? Such refutations almost
necessarily involved the perusal of the refuted treatises, and
thus the doors were thrown open to much of pagan and
heterodox literature, fit the time, indeed, that St. Benedict
-drew, up his. rule — a time when the last upholders of pagan
philosophy wpra about to be expelled from Athens, and the
last upholder of lioman learning had recently passed
forth to a fearful death from the tower of Pavia — there
appeared small danger to be apprehended from a revived
activity of speculation; but as monasticism secured the
leisure and retirement essential to the religious life, so the
Benedictine rule enforced the lawfulness and dignity of
study, and letters, sheltered alike from the indifference of
the laity and the contempt of the Church, lived on as in
some charmed enclosure^
Such was the rule that Boniface, early in the eighth Boniface in
century, came to restore in Frankland. He came full of the la^
spirit which the great revival under Theodoras had awakened
m England — the spirit of loyalty to Eome and reverence
te the Benedictine rule.2 His sorrow and his surprise at
tlie state of the Frankish monasteries and the morals of the
elergy surpassed his powers of expression. In an oft-quoted
letter to pope Zacliarias, written in 742, on the eve of the
Council of Saltz, he describes the condition of affairs in
unflinching language. For eighty years no council of the
Church had met in Frankland ; there was no archbishop ;
1 * Et expositiones earum quae a nominatissimis doctoribus orthodoxrs et
catholicis patribus factae sunt.' Reg. 8. Benedicti, c. 8 ; ed. Waitzinann,
1843, p. 32.
2 Of the foundation at Fuida he writes to Pope Zaeliarias, • monachos
constitiiimus sub regula sancti Patris Benedict! viventes/ Migne. Ixsxix
778 ; see also 808 j and Life by Willibald, c. 8, ib. p. 607 ; Pertz, LM<J. 1 17.
44 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP, no one enforced or re-enacted the canonical laws. Deacons
^ ^-^ and priests alike led lives of open immorality; the bishops,
though abstaining from such open scandal, were ' drunkards,
injurious, brawlers, bearing arms in regular battle, and
shedding with their own hands the blood of their fellow-
men, heathen or Christian, no matter.' To use the language
of the summons convening the council, 'the law of God and
the religion of the Church had gone to ruin under former
princes,' l
Measures However little reason we may see for attributing any but
reform?" * purely political motives to Charles Martel, it is certain that
his support, and that of his two sons, largely conduced to
Boniface's success. The reformer himself candidly admits
the fact. The Councils of 742 and 743 restored in some
measure the discipline of the Church. The bishops were
reduced to obedience ; and the * Act of Secularisation,' though
seemingly an encroachment on ecclesiastical privileges, was
in reality of signal service in the manner in which it effected
the expulsion of the more unworthy members of the episcopal
order. Upon the whole order indeed a heavy penalty was
imposed. Deeply scandalised at the spirit of lawless license
which they exhibited, Boniface seems to have concluded that
no expedient was to be left untried to reduce them to^a
position of immediate and strict accountability to Kome.2
Hence, in the first German Christian Council ever held, and
summoned through his instrumentality, one of the earliest
measures was formally to recognise the complete subjection
of the Frankish Church to the Eoman See ; 3 his own oath
of fidelity, taken twenty years before, had admitted in un-
equivocal language the special powers and privileges vested
1 ' Quornodo lex Dei et ecelesiastica religio recuperetur, quae in diebus
praeteritoruin principum dissipate corruit/ Migue. Ixxxix 807.
2 Guizot pronounces in favour of Boniface's disinterestedness (ii 253-4),
but at the same time admits ( il est impossible de fioumettre plus fornielle-
ment a la papauto Ja uouyelle Eglise, les aouvelles peuples Chretiens.
Milman also pronounces his allegiance to Rome ' filial not servile.7 ' Had ii
not been for the reformation begun by Boniface,' says professor Stubbs,
' and worked out by the Karolings, the Gallican Church might have sunl
to the level of the Italian or Byzantine.' Const. Hist, i 8.
3 Cossart, iii 1025 ; Migne, Ixxxk 7C5.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 45
in St. Peter and his successors ; ! and the famous abbey at
Fulda, which rose under his auspices, and was, in his later
years, his most cherished retreat, is the first, and an Founda-
eminently notable, example of the transfer of monastic abbey at
allegiance from what was then the tyranny of the episco- Fulda.
pate to the papal jurisdiction and authority.2 These new
relations, again, were further strengthened and consolidated
by the community of interests established between the
Roman pontiff and the Carolingian dynasty. The Frankish Alliance
monarch became the devoted son of the Church, He pro- Rome an,i
tected her from sacrilege and enriched her with temporal *he paro"
power. Confronted by his aegis, the insolent Lombard dynasty,
turned back from the walls of Rome. To the league ratified
by Clovis and St. Remy, between the Frankish power and
the Latin faith, was now added the compact between the
same power and the ecclesiastical conceptions of Rome,
signalised, on. the one hand, by the consecration of king
Fepin by Boniface at Rheims, and on the other, by the gift
of the Exarchate. * Of all nations under heaven/ wrote
Stephen, when he summoned Pepin to his aid, * the Franks
are highest in the esteem of St. Peter : to nie you owe all
your victories.' ' From thenceforth,' says Milman, with
something of rhetorical exaggeration, but with substantial
truth, ' from thenceforth Christianity had assumed the
complete power, not only of the life to come, but of the
present life, with all its temporal advantages. It now
leagued itself with barbarians, not to soften, to civilise, to
imbue with devotion, to lead to Christian worship ; but to
give victory in all their ruthless wars, to confer the blessings
of heaven on their schemes of ambition and conquest. ,The p
one title to_ eternal life is obedience to the Church — the
x^5- ^_^-^ " — , —•»-__ .-— ~~ — r~*
Church no longer the commumty"c7f^p±e«s and holy Christians,
1 Jurnmentum quo S. Sonifacius se Grcgono II Papae astnnxit : . . . nullo
mode me contra unitatem commums et universalis ecclesiae, suadente
qitopiam, eonsentire, Bed, ut dixi, lid em et puritatem meam atque concursum,
tibi et utilitatibua tuae Ecclesiae, cui a Domino Deo potestat liyandi
saivendiqm data est, et praedicto vicario tuo atque successoribus ejus, per
omnia exhibere. Migne, Ixxxix 803.
* ' On ne rencontre jusques-la aucun exemple semblable.* Guizot,. ii
111.
40 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP, but the see, almost the city, of Borne. The supreme obliga-
'r , tion of man is the protection and enlargement of her
domain.'1
It is not without reason that, throughout the vicissitudes
of fortune which Kome has experienced in the long history
of her endeavour to assert these claims over the different
states of Europe, the name of St. Boniface has eve*r been
dear to her most enthusiastic defenders, and that, in the
prof useness of their gratitude, they have sought to associate
his name not merely with the reformation of the Frankish
Church, but with the very Christianity itself of the state. 2
Influence St. Boniface, as is well known, fell a victim to his
face with missionary zeal in Friesland — a martyrdom that largely
respect to enhanced the veneration for his memory and the authority
of his teaching. To Pepin's eldest son, Charles, who at that
time was in his thirteenth year, the name of the great
English apostle — who had won multitudes from paganism
to the true faith, who had restored discipline to the Church,
and whose holy hands had poured the consecrated oil on his
father's head at Eheims — must ever have seemed surrounded
by a halo of superhuman virtues. For learning itself
Boniface had effected little, though famed as a scholar in
his day. He composed, it is said, a treatise on the eight
parts of speech3 and was believed to be a master of the
metrical art ; he also appears to have been distinguished as
a theologian of the mystic school of Cassian.4 Of—the
general direction of his influence therefore there can be no
1 Milman, iii 24.
a The opposite view, which exhibits Boniface as the author of the
sacrifice of the freedom of the German Church to the interests of Rome, has
recently been maintained; though with little breadth of view, by a German
Protestant writer ; see Bonifacius der Aposiel der Deutfschen, und die
Romanmrung von Mitteleuropa. By A. Werner. Leipzig, 1875.
3 The treatise is printed in the seventh volume of Mai's Auctores Classict,
and occupies seventy-four pages. The learned editor observes, ' Bouifacium
paruin oppido de penu suo in hanc opellam eontulisse cognovi, sed earn
potius ex Charisio aliisque grammaticis consarcinasse.' Pntef. p. 11, As
the treatise is mentioned neither by Willibald nor Othlo, some doubt may
reasonably attach to its genuineness.
4 '. . . tam grammaticae artis eloquentine et metrorum raedullatae
facundia modulatione, quam etiam h.istoriae simplici expositions et spirituals
tripartita intelligence interpretatione imbutus.' Wiilibald, c. 2.
THE SCEIOOL OF THE PALACE. 47
doubt, as strongly favouring a revival of letters as well as of CHAP.
discipline. The fourteen years that intervened between the > r' ,
death of Boniface and that of Pcpin-le-Bref, occupied as
they were with the war in Lombardy, and that against tl\e
Saracens in the south, left however no leisure for schemes
of internal reform ; and when, in 768, Charles, then in his Accession
~f» • Til i -i t -i T j of Charles,
twenty- sixth year, succeeded to the crown, similar distrac- 7^
_tions.--as his youthful energy and military genius succes-
sively encountered the Lombard, the Saxon, and the Saracen,
— continued to interpose between the royal designs..and tha.
iinprovement of the people.
At last a breathing space arrived. The Lombard had been
driven from the Exarchate, and new pledges of fidelity to
Koine had ratified the traditional policy of Charles' dynasty.
His own passion for invasion had been severely checked at
Roticesvalles. The Saxon had been smitten hip and thigh on
the Lippe and the Elbe. It was at this juncture that the
Frankish monarch paid his second visit to Italy, in 780.
The Christmas of that year was passed by him at Pavia, the
Lombard capital ; and during the following Easter, his son
Pepin- was anointed and crowned king of Italy by pope
Adrian at Rome.1 /
It would appear to have been in the interval between these He meets
last two events that Charles and Alcuin met at Parma, It pa^J a<
was not the first time that they had met. In passing through
Frankland, in the year 768, Alcuin, who was returning from
Rome in the company of his teacher Eibert, archbishop of
York, had visited the Frankish court, and had probably then
become known to Charles as a rising English scholar.
Daring the twelve years that had elapsed since that time, His
Charles had not been altogether inactive in the cause of V**™**
letters. He had himself acquired something of polite learn- the cause
ing from an elderly Italian, one Peter of Pisa^ who had held of **
office as instructor in the palace at Aachen under Pepin-le-
Bref.2 Through the assistance of Peter^he had also about
this time obtained the services of an eminent Lombard
scholar, the celebrated Paulus Diacouus.
1 Einhard, Annales (Pertz, 1 101). * Leteuf, p. 372.
48
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIK
CRAP.
j.
PftUllW
Diaconiis.
The reputation acquired by the author of tie History of
the Lombards has aroused the jealousies of Latin and Teu-
tonic partisans alike ; bat, without affecting to arrive at a
decision where the facts cannot with certainty be known, we
may be guided by probability to a definite conclusion.
Neither the version which represents the noble Lombard as
the bitter enemy of the Frankish conqueror and even a con-
spirator against his throne, nor that which exhibits him as
Charles' confidant and zealous cooperator in the work of re-
constructing* education, seems in harmony with the known
facts. T-t is certain thatj^aul^from family ties and political
sympathies, must have regarded the ascendency of the
Frankish power with feelings of bitter humiliation ; but it
is also beyond dispute that he resided both at Thionville
and Motz, and rmjlexed a certain amount of assistance to
diaries iu the hitter's schemes of reform.1 But though it is
easy to understand that he might undertake to teach Greek
to certain of the clergy at Metz and to correct the text of
breviaries,2 we cannot but suppose that residence at the con-
queror's court, amid the haughty Frankish nobility, would
have been repugnant to his feelings, and that a lively sense
of injustice and humiliation would render the familiar rela-
tions between a teacher and his pupils a matter of some
difficulty. His retirement, in 787, to Monte Cassino may
na-turally be referred to a sentiment common among the
finer intellects of the period — that of weariness of the world.
It was there that Paul composed his History of the
r3' work which, notwithstanding its monastic
origin,, has extorted the reluctant acknowledgements of
Gibbon^ while the task of restoring learning in Frankland
devolved, fortunately, upon one who stood in happier relations
to the monarch and the people.
Jt was in the year 781 that Charles and Alcuin met at
Parma. The latter was on an august errand — thaxt of con-
veying the pallium from pope Adrian to his friend and school-
1 See an able article by F. Wachter in Ei-sch u. G-raber, sec. iii, pt. 14,
pp. 209-17.
" « Seo infra, p. 101.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 49
follow Eanbald, the newly created archbishop of York.
lEanbald and Alcuin had been educated together at the
"Tamous monastery school at York,1 a school distinguished by
the fidelity with which it sustained the scholarly traditions of
Theodoras and Paulinus. Their chief instructor had been Teachers
Elbert, who had afterwards been raised to the archiepiscopal
throne, and after filling it for twelve years had just retired and
in favour of Eanbald^ Over both his disciples he appears to
have exercised a remarkable influence. He was a scholar
whom a passion for books and the love of learning had often
impelled to visit the monasteries on the Continent,2 and we
can hardly doubt that Alcuin's like tastes were derived in no
small measure from his preceptor.
It is easy to conjecture that Charles' penetrating genius
at once recognised in the still young and vigorous English
ecclesiastic the promise of more effectual aid than he had
hitherto been able to obtain. Peter of Pisa was now a
tottering old man ; Paulas Diaconus, an impracticable
Lombard. Neither seeins to have sought to conceal ki& con-
tempt for the rude vigour and unlettered notion of the
Frank,3 and Paul probably looked upon the coasjaeror with
much the same feelings as those with whiefe an Athenian
sophist of the second century before Christ regarded Metelius
or Mummius. Both looked upon the ascendency of the
Frank as that of an almost barbaric power. It was other-
wise with Alcuin. Between the English and the Frankish
1 Alcuin's own language seems to imply that his education was com-
menced and completed under the same masters: — * Yos fragiles infantine meae
annos materno fovistis affectu ; et lascivum puericiae tempus pia sustinuistis
patieutia et paternae castigationis disc^plinis ad perfectam viri edocuistis
aetatem.' Migne, c 146. It would probably be equally correct to speak
of the school as the cathedral school, for at this time monks and canons
in England appear to have lived together indiscriminately. See Stubbs,
Pref, to De Invention?., p. vi. Alcuin's biographer says of Elbert (c. 6),
' erat siquidem ei ex nobilium filiis grex scholasticorum.'
3 ' Non seinel externas peregrine tramite terras
Jam peragravit ovans, sophiae deductus amore,
Si quid forte novi libroriun seu studiorum,
Quod secum ferret terris reperiret in illis/
Alcuin, Poema de Pontificibug JEcclesiae ISb&racetuit, Migiaey gi.-S^
3 Monnier, p. 60.
5Q CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
race there were strong ethnic affinities, and ever since the
time of St. Boniface the intercourse between the two had been
more frequent and important. Northtimbria, as her star
waned before that of Mercia, had more than once been aided
by the Frankish power, while the relations between Charles
and Offa had not, as yet, assumed a hostile character. If
the Northumbrian scholar would but prove to Frankland
but half as true a benefactor as the great apostle from
"VVessex had been, small need would there be to seek among
the somewhat supercilious literati beyond the Alps for help
in the work of reform.
Position of On Alcuin's side, again, there existed an unfeigned admira-
YorkU at ^on ^or Charles' genius and character ; while, if we may
accept the statement of his biographer, the aged Elbert had
prophesied, when near his end, that his disciple would find
in Frankland a sphere of wide and honourable service in the
cause of the Church.1 Under these circumstances it is not
surprising that Alcuin acceded to a proposal, strongly
urged and accompanied by no ordinary inducements, that he
should exchange the office of scholasticus at York for that of
He accepts instructor of the school attached to. Charles' court. It was
inrtractolf necessary, however, that the consent of both his archbishop
of the an<j the king should be given to such a step, and with this
school. reservation Alcuin parted from Charles at Parma. On his
arrival in England he sought and obtained the desired per-
mission, Eanbald stipulating simply that his departure should
not be regarded as final ; and thus, in the year 782, Alcuin
again crossed the Channel and was installed as teacher of
the school at Aachen,
(The history of Charles the Great, it has been said by a
higuauthority, enters into that of every modern European
state ; 2 with equal truth it may be asserted that the history
of the schools of Charles the Great has modified the whole
1 ' Romam volo venias, indeqne revertens visites Franciam : novi enim
multum te ifoi faeere friictum.' Alcuini Jrita, e. o, Migrte. c 97. Elbert's
death appears to have almost immediately preceded AlciuVs second journey
to Rome and must consequently l-.e assigned to November 6, 780, cot 781
or 782, as given by Dixon, Fusf-i Eboracomet, i 106,
a Palgrave, i 24.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 51
subsequent history of European culture. It will accordingly* CHAP.
be an enquiry of no trifling moment if we endeavour to ^_ / _.
ascertain, with some precision, the extent, character, and
tendencies of the learning which Alcuin had acquired at
York, and was now about to disseminate in Frankland with,
as we shall hereafter see good reason for concluding, but
little colouring* from his individual geniusj
The school of York, at the time that JOciim became a pupil The
there, was scarcely inferior in reputation to that of Canter- j^™^1
bury. If the archiepis copal city of Cantia could recall the dial school
patronage of a Gregory the Great, that of Northumbria afc ^
could point to the presence of a Paulinus. If the former
might- claim to be the nurse of English learning, the latter
would seem to have long been that learning's more distin-
guished supporter; and though, with the redistribution of
dioceses initiated by Theodore, the primate of the south had
acquired an influence far superior to that of his northern
/ brother, the diminution in ecclesiastical power at York was
perhaps accompanied by a more unselfish devotion to letters.1
The tradition of the learning which Alcuin there acquired is jts tw(}i-
directlj stated by his anonymous biographer to have been tion °f
that handed down by St. Benedict, St. Gregory, St. Augus-
tine, St. Cuthbert, and Theoaorus; and the statement is
confirmed by Alcniii's own account in his well-known poem.,
De Poniificibus et Sanctis Ecclesiae Eboracensis. The first
feature in this learning that arrests the attention is the
contrast it presents, in common with the Church discipline
of the land, to all the other characteristics of Anglo-Saxon
life in the eighth century, as a non-Teutonic element. In
every other respect the country that gave Alcuin to the
Franks was German, more German indeed than at that time
was Germany herself. She had preserved, as yet, almost
intact from feudal (that is to say, Frankish) influences her
primitive common law. Among the earliest specimens of
the Low-German tongue is the famous song, to which
Alcuin when a boy may oft have listened in his father's hall,
that tells of the achievements of Beowulf. The customs of
1 Stubbs, Const. Hist, i 218-0 ; Milman, ii 236.
E 2
52 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
Mercia and Northttmbria resemble far more faithfully than
those of Neustria or Austrasia the picture drawn by the
Roman historian of the common fatherland. But when we
turn to the library at York and to the training which Alcuin
received at the cathedral school, we discern a totally different
element, and one that will well repay a somewhat lengthened
examination.
The It was but a ^ew years after the time when Gregory of
Grfor* °f ^ours ^tered his doleful lament over the decay of learning in
the Great. Frankland, that his more illustrious contemporary, Gregory
the Great, laid the foundations of learning in England. In
estimating the character of that learning, it should never be
forgotten that the originator of the mission of St. Augustine
was also the biographer and admirer of St. Benedict, and
himself the impersonation of both the monastic and the
hierarchical spirit. To that tradition of pagan learning
which we have traced, in its decline and disappearance, in
the previous chapter, Gregory was even yet more strongly
opposed than Jerome, Cassian, or Benedict. Romaiiity, as
a system, was at an end ; and in its place monastic mediaeval
Christianity had arisen. The powerful intellect which left
so deep an impress on the history of the latter half of the
sixth century had constructed a new ideal of the Christian
life, compared with which that to be found in the pages of
Ausonius or Sidonius is languid and feeble indeed. The
policy and character of Gregory have been vigorously assailed
and ably defended ; but, as it seems to us, neither his de-
tractors nor his admirers have assigned sufficient importance
to one element in his estimate of human life — an element,
however, which really formed the basis of all his calculations.
Jjt is impossible to study the letters of this Father with-
out perceiving that his whole views were dominated by one
solemn belief. As firmly as the octogenarian believes that
his life is drawing to its close, so firmly did Gregory believe
Theories that the world was near its end. The fall of Borne and of
wSthT* ^ne enrpire were events which pagan and Christian winters
fall of had alike foreseen and had equally depreea/fced, though from
different points of view. To the former they seemed to in-
?
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 53
volve the destruction of art, of science, and of learning ; in CHAP.
fine, of all that civilization which alone made life worth .___ T* *
having1. To the latter they portended that final consumma-
tion which would bring with it, not simply the overthrow of
thrones and empires, but of all earthly things — the anarchy
of Antichrist's reign and the Last Judgement. But neither
the pagan nor the Christian seer professed to believe that
Rome was really 'the Eternal City.' Among the dark tra- The pagan
ditions most familiar to the former, was that which taught tradltloa-
that the twelve vultures seen by her founder from the Pala-
tine symbolised how many centuries the city should endure.
Long before, and long after, Rome was actually taken by
Alaric, we find, ever recurring at times of great calamity, a
disposition on the part of the theologian and the commen-
tator to give a similar precise and definite application to
Christian prophe'cy. The predictions in the Book of Daniel Views of
concerning the Fourth Kingdom, the more distinct allusions ^^^
contained in the apocryphal second book of Esdras, the
denunciations of the later Sibylline verses,1 and the vaguer
predictions Shadowed forth in the Apocalypse^ were all in
turn regarded as having a direct relation to present or im-
pending calamity. It was thus that Tertullian was led to
pray that the power of Rome might long endure ; it was
thus that Jerome, in his Bethlehem cell, interpreted, to use
Villeinain's fine expression, the denunciations of the prophets
by the light of burning Rome ; it was thus that Sulpicius
Severus saw, in the armed strife and struggles for the
supreme power that belonged to his own day, the anarchy
and woes of * the last times,' To this theory the great The inva-
Lombard invasion had given new and terrible emphasis. If
a desolated Italy, smoking cities, ruined monasteries, and
desecrated temples, — if slaughter, rapine, and social disor-
ganisation such as the empire had never before witnessed, —
could be considered as prognosticating the final crisis, then
the end was surely at hand. It is observable that Gregory's
own adoption of the monastic life seems to have followed
closely upon the invasion ; and it is certain that throughout
1 See Milrnan, Hint, of Christianity, bk. u, c. 7.
54
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP,
^ / _^
Gregory's
the world1
was near
General
^g^"06
Gregory's
Its trans-
mission
the teach-
Alcuin.
the rest of his career he believed that the course of time was
all but run : the world's future had dwindled to but a span,
and human aims and destinies stood transformed. Of what
aya^> then, to transcribe the pages of a literature which must
shortly perish in one dread conflagration ? What folly more
suicidal than to expend on the frivolities and errors of pagan-
ism those precious hours of which the Judge of all mankind
would soon demand so strict an account ? To convert the
heathen, to succour the helpless and miserable, to study the
Scriptures and unfold their latent meaning, to adorn and
celebrate the ritual of the Church— -these, and these alone,
were the occupations which either the crisis could warrant
or the conscience sauction^jj^i/j^/^/
In no country, not*^ven in Italy itself, did Gregory's
teaching find more unhesitating acceptance than in England;
and it was but natural that it should be so. To the scholars
*n eac^ monastery and school throughout the land the story
of his compassion, as he saw their helpless countrymen stand-
ing in the market-place at Koine, must have been a thrice-
told tale. It was well known that he had himself started on
the mission which he was compelled to delegate to Augustine;
and Bede relates at length how all questions that perplexed
the latter in his Tvork of conversion were referred for solu-
tion to the former.1 The very music of the English ritual,
as modified by Benedict Biscop, on his return from. Koine,
was associated with Gregory's name. In Gregory's scheme
of evangelisation, the city of York had been especially de-
signated as the seat of a northern metropolitan.2 Of the
authority, therefore, of the Gregorian tradition, as the recog-
nised canon of lawful learning in the English monasteries
and schools of the seventh and eighth centuries, there can
be not the slightest doubt ; of its acceptance at the school
of York we have, as we have already seen, the direct testi-
mony of Alcuin 's biographer; Egbert, the teacher of Alcuin,
was ^ne disciple of Bede, to whom, says the writer, he was
< a devoted Samuel; y and ' in Egbert the same learning and
doctrine were conspicuous that had shone so brightly in his L
Hist. bk. I, c. 27. 2 Milman, bk. iv, c. 3.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 55
teachers — in St. Gregory, the Apostle of the Angles;5 in CHAP.
Gregory's disciple, Augustine ; in St. Benedict, and in Cuth- ..._ *' _.
bert and Theodorus, the followers of the first Father and
Apostle of the Church in all things.' 2 Albinus, who preceded
Egbert as teacher of the school at York, was Bede's intimate
friend, and is expressly named by him in his History as his
' chief guide and helper ' in the compilation of the work.
In the above significant reference to the teaching of Antagon-
these eminent men, as maintaining the Petrine tradition, we teaching *
see brought before us another and scarcely less important to the
feature in the doctrine handed down from Gregory — namely, Church.
the spirit of antagonism to the eastern Church* Admitting,
as we needs must, the wide differences that distinguish the
western Church of the seventh century from that of the
thirteenth-?— the ecclesiasticism of Gregory from that of
Innocent in— rit is &ti!J not difficult to trace back to the
former some at least of the elements of the dispute which
developed into the great schism. Even Gregory's indignant
repudiation of the title of ' universal bishop' — a disavowal
often quoted fco shew the indefensible character of the pre-
tensions of his successors in the papal chair — was called forth,
it is to be remembered, not by any abstract proposition re-
specting each a supremacy, but by the assumption of the title
by his rival at Constantinople. * His very protest/ it has
been said, c was a link in the chain which was to hold the
Latin nations together and to fasten them to the chair of the
successor of St. Peter.'3 It is certain that to this period we
can trace back much of that jealousy of eastern ritual and
1 * The Apostle of the Angles ; ' compare Bede's language, ' for we may
and ought rightly to call him our Apostle.' JEccles, Hist, bk. II, c. 1.
2 l . . . in quo (Egbert) ea, suis quae in praeceptoribus fulserat doctriua
aon mediocriter ecitiiit, in sancto videlicet Angloruin apostolo Gregorio,
Augustino ejus discipulo, Benedicto sancto, Outhbertoque simul et Theodore,
.primi Patris 4& apostoli per omnia . . . sequentibus.' Migne, ci 94.
Wilfrid, -bishop of York, seems to have unlearned at Borne whatever he
might have learned at Lindisfarne of an opposite character ; and Theodorus,
Greek though he was by birth, appears throughout as the staunch a?sertor
of the Roman discipline, though not of papal jurisdiction. See Bede, Ecc.
Hist. bk. ni, c. 29 ; bk. iv, c. 2 ; bk. v, c. 10.
3 Maurice, Philosophy of the First Six Centuries, p. 165.
56 CHARLES THE GREAT ANJ) ALCUIN.
eastern tenets whicli ultimately resulted in the formal sepa-
ration of the two Churches.
Unlike the representatives of Teutonism in Italy, Spain,
, and Gaul, at the same period, the Saxons, Angles, and
British and . . ' \ '
Latin Frisians who invaded Britain in the fifth century were coni-
Chnstian- p}e|e}v ignorant of Christianity, and no influence among
the race whom they subjugated, expelled, or exterminated,
appears to have pleaded in behalf of that faith which was
still cherished as a tradition from the Roman occupation,
No British ecclesiastic saw, like St. Remy, another Clovis
bending in adoration before the uplifted cross ; no Clotilda,
among the conquerors of Cantia or East Anglia, moulded
the stern spirit of her pagan lord by tales of miraculous
powers wielded by the apostles of the Latin faith. Chris-
tianity fled with its British adherents to the mountain fast-
nesses of Wales, to the Gaelic borders in the north, or to
where, within the tranquil precincts of the Holy Isle,
flourishing and wealthy monasteries still afforded shelter to
learning and religion. Between these poor fugitives and the
Church of Rome the Saxon occupation interposed a barrier
oihat resulted in complete isolation. Any attempt to convert
the Saxon conqueror must have appeared hopeless, and
across the hostile populations of Mercia, Wessex, East Anglia,
and Cantia, they could not stretch the hand of brotherhood
Con- to Rome. Between this Church and that of Rome elements
cooe^mng of serious difference accordingly grew silently up. The
Easter* latter Church, with the view of bringing its reckoning of
^Easter into harmony with that of the still powerful and
flourishing communion at Alexandria, decided, in the year
458, to substitute for the older 84-year cycle that of 532
years,1 known as the ID-years' cycle, introduced in A.D. 457
by Yictor of Aquitaine. In the year 525, this reckoning was
in turn modified by the method introduced by Dionysius
1 Obtained "by multiplying together 19, the cycle of the moon, and 28,
the cycle of the sun. See an able summary of the whole question of the
observance of Easter in an article by the Rev. L. Hensley, in Smith and
Oheetham's Diet, of Christian Antiquities, vol. i. That the Irish method
was not derived from the Eastern Church is clearly shewn in Haddan and
Stubbs, Councils and Document^ I, c. ii, Append. D.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 57
Exiguns. Another element of difference was that of the
right mode of performing baptism ; but after the time of
Augustine, the controversy turned mainly upon the mode of
calculating Easter and the fashion of the tonsure. Other Other
points of difference are recorded : the British Church had a difference.
peculiar ritual in the mass and at ordination ; and it is
worthy of note that the consecration of a bishop by a single
bishop was regarded as valid — a view to which the Romish
Church long afterwards gave its sanction.1
It was thus that, when the British clergy and the monks
who accompanied Augustine were brought face to face, it
was found that a formidable if not insurmountable element
of difference existed. In connexion with this somewhat
obscure passage in our history, it is but just to remember
that Bede, from whom we derive our knowledge of the facts,
was entirely on the side of the Latin Church ; and it at least
admits of doubt whether that ' obstinate and indiscrimina-
ting isolation,' for which the British clergy have been cen-
sured by a high authority,2 was not rather the result of a
well-warranted conviction that there was little hope of their
being admitted to treat on equal terms with those who were
supported by the conqueror. But, however we may be in-
clined to apportion the blame, it is certain that about the
time of Theodorus, who was consecrated seventh archbishop
of Canterbury in the year 668, the Roman — that is to say,
the Gregorian — traditions of Church discipline entirely sup-
planted those of the British Church. Wilfrid, afterwards The
archbishop of Fork, unlearned at Rome the Celtic traditions
of Lindisfarne, and at the memorable council of Whitby, in supplants
664, maintained the tradition of St. Peter; Colman, the
bishop of Lindisfarne, maintained, on the other hand, the Church.
tradition of St. John. It is a familia.r story how he never-
theless admitted that St. Peter held the keys of heaven ;
whereupon Os win, the conqueror of the pagan Penda, de-
clared himself on the side of the latter apostle — ' lest, when
1 Bede, Eccles. Hist, iv i ; v xxi.
8 ' There was no reason why the English should not have become
Christian when and as the Franks did, but from the condition and temper of
the native population.' Stubbs, Const, Hht. i 220.
58
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP.
I.
Bede's
sympathy
with the
former.
Bede's
mental
character-
istics.
I offer myself at the gates of Leaver^ he should shut them
against me.' From this time the Petrine, the Gregorian,
the Roman tradition was supreme. The ' Scots,' by which
name Bede denotes the Celtic clergy, either yielded submis-
sion or ' returned into their own country.' l He himself,
educated in the orthodox doctrine, recorded their defeat,
and insensibly imbibed that feeling of strong partisanship
which, combined with his Anglo-Saxon sympathies, has left
a marked impress on his writings. A native clergy grew up
who were, as Milman describes them, ( the admiring pupils
of the Eoman clergy ; * who looked ever to Rome for guidance
in doubt or difficulty. To visit Rome became the crowning
ambition of both the monastic and the priestly life.2 When
we consider that Egbert, the teacher of the school of York,
was largely guided by the counsels of Bede, and that lie,
along with bis kinsman Elbert, was the instructor of Alcuin,
we shall have sufficiently explained the general character of
the traditions that Alcuin inherited and was likely to trans-
mit. His unqualified admiration for Gregory is, indeed,
conspicuous throughout his writings.3
Of Bede, Egbert, Elbert, and Alcuin it may alike be said,
that they all appear to have exhibited with singular uni-
formity the main characteristics of the Anglo-Saxon mind.
Of this the first is perhaps the most striking example. The
ability with which he digested the stores of learning that
Theodorus, Benedict Biscop, Alhinus, and Northelm succes-
sively imported from the Continent, must not lead us into
the error^of attributing to him the possession of original
genius. [The exuberant fancy with which, after the manner
of Cassian and Ambrose, he interprets the Pentateuch and
1 Eccles. Hist, in xviii. Milman, ii 249.
2 It will be observed that this deference to the doctrinal teaching of
Rome stood on quite another basis from that on which it \vas sought to
found the claims of papal supremacy in England. Wilfrid's endeavours to
assert the latter were successfully resisted by Theodorus and tlie Northum-
brian monarch. See an important criticism on this passage in English
Church history in Haddan's Remains, pp. 208-9, 323.
3 'Gregorius . . . toto verierabilis orbi,' 'maximus agrorum Christi
eultor;' Alcuin ranks him with St. Jerome, 'Eccleeiae ille pater, iste
magister erat.J Migne, ci 742, 816.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 59
the Book of Samuel is essentially the activity of a second- CHAP.
rate order of intellect. As it was, however, his powers were v_ / .
exactly of the kind which enabled him to render very effec-
tive service to his age. He appreciated, classified, and
interpreted the newly discovered literature in a manner in
harmony with the traditions of the Latin Church. He
advocated no counter-theory, raised no controversy, founded
no school : it was all that at the time his countrymen needed
at his hands. But whether a simple adherence to the same
canons was sufficient to maintain a vigorous life in the school
a.t York, or in any other school, is a question which
Alcuin's career and experiences will bring very prominently
before us./
As a theologian, Alcuin, like Bede, is little more than an
echo of preceding writers. In the eminently characteristic agreement
with Bede
letter to two Prankish ladies, prefixed to his commentary
on St. John's Gospel, he confesses, indeed, very candidly that
he claims no higher function. As the physician compounds
his medicines from herbs gathered from various fields, so he
himself is but a gleaner in the writings of the great doctors
of the Church — St. Augustine, 8t, Ambrose, St. Gregory,
and Bede.1 He levies, in. fact, sueb. heavy contributions on
the Homilies of the la&t-namcd writer, that Mabillon called
in question his right to be considered the author of the conir
mentary in question ; and the doubt thus raised was decided
in Aleum's favour only when Frobenius pointed out the'
allusions to the Adopt ionists, of whom Bede, of course, could
liave known nothing.2
But although as a theologian Alcuin held but an inferior Harmony
position, his views as a churchman possessed this signal
merit, that they were in complete harmony with the Caro-
liiigian policy. In all questions of authority, his deference
for Borne exceeds even that of Bede or any preceding English lingia
ecclesiastic. As Pepin-3e-Bref, by his grants of territory, F
1 Migne, c 741,
2 Ibid, c 736. Frobenius, howeTer, adds, * Alcuinus tamen omnes Ven.
Bedae hoinilias, in quibus nonnulla capituia S. Joanais exposuit, in suum
commentarium transtulit.'
(50 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCCIN.
CHAP, had laid the foundations of the temporal power, so Alcuin
^ 'f - supported the papal supremacy by citations from those
apocryphal fragments which were afterwards to appear in
the Pseudo-Isidore ; l and as Charles the Great declared
himself to be ' in all things the ally of the apostolic s^e/ 2 so
Alcuin taught that a good Catholic must bow to the approved
authority of the Holy Koman Church.3 The hierarchical
views that prevailed at York were completely consonant with
the political views that obtained at Aacheiw Emperor and
scholar were, each in his way, carrying out the ideas of
Gregory the Great ; and it is not improbable that Alcuin's
influence may have contributed (perhaps more materially
than has ever been suspected) to what some have regarded
as Charles' ' chief political error'4 — the encouragement which
he afforded to the pretensions of Borne.
The Most students of English history are familiar with the
aMfork ^nes *n wk*ch ^C11^n enthusiastically describes the library
of which he was the appointed guardian at York,5 and from
1 'Memini me legisse quondam, si rite recorder, in canonibus beat).
Silvestri, noir minus 72 testibus poutificem accusandum esse, et judicio.
praesentari : et ut illorum talis vita esset, ut contra talem auetoritatem
potuissent stare. Insuper et in aliis legebam canonibus, apostolicam sedeni
judiciarium esse, non judicandum.' Epist. to Arno, Migne, c 324.
2 ' . . , adjutor in omnibus apostolicae sedis.' Capitulary of 769. Pertz,
Legg. i 33.
3 ' Et ne scMsmaticus inveuiatur et non catholicus, sequatur probatis-
simam sarictae Romanae Ecclesiae auctoritatem.' Migne, c 293. See also
Adv. Felicem, l 6, and vn 13.
4 Hallam, Middle Ages, i 13.
' Illic invenies vetenim vestigia Patruni,
Quidquid habet pro se Latio Romanus in orbe,
Graecia veiquidquid transinisit clara Latinis:
Hebraicua vel quod populus bibit irabre superno,
Africa hicifluo vel quidquid limiine sparsit.
Quod Pater Hieronymus, quod sensit Hilarius, atque
Ambrosias, praesul, siniul Augustinus, et ipse
Sanctjis Athanasius, quod Orosius edit avitus :
Quidquid Gregorius summus docet, et Leo papa ;
Basilius quidquid, Fulgentius atque coruscant.
Cas&iodorus item, Ckrysostomus atque Joannes.
Quidquid et Althelmus docuit, quid Beda rnagieter
Qiiae Victorinus scripsere, Boetius : atque
Historici veteres, Pompeius, Plinius, ipse
Acer Aiistoteles, rlietor quoque Tullius ingens.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE.
whence we shall gain our most accurate idea of the extent
and character of the learning which he was now to convey
to the monasteries and schools of Frankland.^TheJmposing
enumeration at once calls our attention to thefaet that the
library at York, at this period, far surpassed any possessed
by either England or France in the twelfth century, whether
that of Christ Church, Canterbury, of St. Yictor at Paris, or
of Bee in Normandy^ The invasions of the Northmen in
the ninth and tenth centuries fell, in both countries, with
peculiar severity on the monasteries ; and the result was
that neither Alfred the Great, St. Dunstan, nor John of
Salisbury had access to libraries like those known to Bede
andJJcuin,
(Allowing for the poetic vein of Alcuin's description, and The
not unreasonably surmising (although he assures us the list studied by
might have been greatly extended) that an enumeration which Alcuin-
includes the names of Phocas (the author of a sorry life of
Virgil), of Euticius, and Comminianus, can hardly have passed
by much of note or value, it is still probable that the library
was the best that England then possessed^
With two exceptions, to one of wmch we shall have Boetbius,
hereafter to allude at length,1 all the text-books of the period ^ 524.'
are there. Of these Boethius must certainly be regarded as
the most important, from the fact that in his pages are pre-
served that slight modicum of school learning which found
Quid quoque Sedulius, vel quid canit ipse Juyencus,
Alcimus (?) et Clemens, Prosper, Paulinus, Arator,
Quid Fortunatus, vel quid Lactantius edunt.
Quod Maro Yirgilius, Statins, Lucanus et Auctor :
Artis grammatical vel quid scripsere inagistri ;
Quid Probus atque Phocas, Donatus, Priscianusve,
Servius, Euticius, Pompeios, Corominianus.
Invenies alios perploTes, lector, ibidem
Egregios studixs, arte et sermone magistros,
Pluriina qui claro scripsere voluinina sensu :
Nomina sed quorum praesenti iu carmine scribi
Longius est visum quam plectii postulet usus/
Poema ik Pont. Eccles. Eboracrnm, 1535-1003, Migne, ci 843-4.
1 The other author is Isidoras, omitted probably on account of the
metrical difficulty, for we have evidence that his writings were well known
to Alcuin.
62
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
his trans-
lations of
Aristotle
known to
Alcuin.
its way into the education of the time. His adaptation of
the Arithmetic of Mcomachus ; his treatise on music ; his
translation, with some trifling additions, of the first four
books of Euclid ; and his version of portions of Aristotle's
Organon, must be looked upon as forming the basis of the
highest education then known. Unfortunately his writings
shared in the fate that overtook so many of the chief lights
Portions of of Latin literature. Of his translation of the Organon the
more important part, including the Prior and Posterior
Analytics, the Topica and the Sophistici Elenchi, seems to
have been lost to learning soon after his death, and was not
recovered until the twelfth century. The Categories them-
selves disappeared from sight for some centuries, their place
being supplied by a meagre Latin abridgement, falsely
attributed to St. Augustine of Hippo. The De Interpretations,
accordingly alone remained, and this, together with a trans-
lation of the Isagoge of Porphyry by Boethius, and some of
Boethins* own logical treatises, must be considered to have
made up the sum of. the Aristotelian logic known to the age
of Alcuin.1 How entirely ignorant that age was of Aristor
tie's ethical, metaphysical, and scientific treatises it is un-
necessary here to explain ; bat the foregoing comments will
suffice to shew that when Alcuin affirms of the library at
York that it contained
Quae . . . scripsere Boetius . . . ipse
Acer Anstoteles,
his statement must be accepted with very important limita-
tions.
1 For the evidence at greater length see my History of ihs University of
Cambridge, pp. 27-29 ; it will be sufficient here to quote the summary of
this important question given by Pranti : * K.UTZ also — urn die Abgranzocg
so entschieden und deutlieh a: 3 moglieh zu wiederholen — es fotfa&t fur
diesen ersten Afachnitt des Mittclalters (las zradr'tionelle Material der Logik
ausschliessKch aus Fok/enHem : Mart. Capella, Angus tin, Pseudo- Angus tin,
Cassiodorns, Boethius ad Porphyriura a Viet transl., ad Porph. a se transl.,
ad Arise. Gateg-. ; ad Arist. De Interpretatione (ed. 1-andlJ), ad Gicerouis'
Topica, Introd. ad Oat, SylL, P. Syll. Cat,, I). Svll. Hyp., De Div., D.
Defin., D. Dift* Top. Hingegen fehlt die Kenntniss der beiden Analytiken,
der Topik, und der SopJtistici EUnchi des Aristotles.' Pranti, ii 4. Sea also
come observations by M. Hanreau, i 1)4 .; also Recherches Critique* sur PAye
et TOriginc des Traductions Latinos &Aristote,par M, A. Jourdcin. 1843.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE.
The De Artibus et Disciplinis liberabilium Utterarum of
Cassiodorus, whom Alcuin also names, must appear, when
compared with Boethiuis, a singularly meagre production. Cassio-
The four subjects of the quadrivium — arithmetic, geometry, A°^g .
music, and astronomy — are each dismissed in two pages ; those d. 568.
of the trivium are somewhat more fully explained, but not a
spark of originality relieves the treatise. Prantl animadverts
upon the confusion, shewn in the discussion of the rovroi,. of
those which belong to rhetoric and those proper to dialectic.1
Nevertheless it is to this writer that, up to the thirteenth
century, students in the Middle Ages were indebted for their
knowledge of the Topics ; for in Martianus Capella nothing
is to be found on this division of logic, arid Isidorus, who
gives the dialectical TOTT<H, appears to have been indebted for
them to the undiscerning industry of his predecessor.2 With
this latter writer we have ample evidence that Alcuin was
well acquainted, though a metrical difficulty appears to have
excluded the name from his enumeration of authors. Isidorus isidoras,
was a Spanish bishop of the seventh century ; and his treatise, ^ ^ '
entitled Onginum sett, Etymologiarum libri xx, was perhaps the
most popular of all compendium^ of school knowledge at this
time. His attainments obtained for him in his own day the
reputation of being the most learned man of his age. Alcuin
himself styles him lumen Hitpaniae, and cites him as an
authority among the doctors of the Church ; but we can have
no more convincing proof of the darkness that reigned in the
kingdom of" the Visigoths, notwithstanding the immunity
that Spain then enjoyed from political commotion, than the
fact that the Origines of Isidorus represents its maximum of
light. The work is a kind of encyclopaedia, in 20 books,
of such information as still survived in connexion with every
subject, whether literature, science, or religion, In as-
tronomy his attainments enabled him to state that the sun
«
1 I give this statement on the authority of Prauti ; otherwise it is well
known that Aristotle himself considered his Rhetoric to be closely connected
with the Topics (Hhet. n, la^t chapter). Blakesley, Lif?. vf Aristotle, p. 144.
Casaiedorufi appears to hare confounded the distinctive elements of the two
subjects.
>2 Pranti, i 724.
64
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
Martianus
Capella
(fi. c. 424)
•unrnen-
tioned.
His
allegorical
treatment
of his
subject.
was bigger than either the moon or the earth ; but he appears
to have known but little more, and the illustration may serve
to shew the extreme vagueness of his scientific knowledge.
In logic he would seem to have derived his information
almost entirely from Cassiodorus, much as Cassiodorus had
derived his from Boethius.
There was yet another text-book which, notwithstand-
ing the completeness of the library at York, does not occur
in Alcuin's enumeration ; nor can we regard the omission as
accidental, for the book was one whf^ there is good reason
for supposing he would never have placed in the hands of
his pupils. Among the most popular writers of the fifth
century was Martianus Capella,1 a native of Carthage, and a
teacher of rhetoric in the schools of that city at a time when
their reputation was at its highest. Martianus was fully
acquainted with the Christian tenets, but, unlike his fellow
professors, Arnobius and Orosius, he appears to have inclined
to an eclecticism borrowed from the yet more famous schools
of Alexandria, of that kind with which the names of Philo
Judaeus, Clemens, and Origen are associated — the Platonic
philosophy in attempted harmony with Christian doctrine.
It was not to his philosophic teaching, however, that
Martianus was indebted for his wide-spread and enduring
popularity. His lively African fancy had suggested to him
the idea of embodying the course of the trivium and qua-
drivium in an allegorical dress ; he is, in fact, a rival claimant
with Augustine for the honour of having first invented that
time-honoured division of the sciences. The first two books
of Martianus are, accordingly, entirely occupied with a
fantastic story of the marriage of Mercury and Philologia,
or, in more modern phrase, of science and eloquence.
Jupiter, warned by the oracles, convenes a meeting of the
gods, and demands the rights of naturalisation for one
hitherto but a mortal virgin. Mercury then assigns to his
1 ' Mcrrtumi Minaei Felicis Capettae Carthayiniensis Viri Proc&n.sularis
Satyricon, in quo de Nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii tibri duo, at de Sept em
Artibusliberalibus libri singulare*,' ed. Eyssenhardt, Lipsiae; 1866; ed. Kopp
and Hermann, Frankfort. 1836.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 05
bride seven virgins as her attendants, each of whom is in CHAP,
turn introduced at the rrmrriage banquet, and descants on , *; f
that particular branch of knowledge denoted by her name.
The humour with which the allegory is relieved is broad,
and occasionally coarse ; but it hit the fancy of the age.
In fact, although we may question the right of Martiamis
to be regarded as the inventor of the trivium and guadrivium,
there is every probability that it was mainly owing to his
fanciful conception that they were so faithfully preserved
in the traditions of mediaeval education, while the idea is Influence
supposed to have suggested the allegory contained in a *0 ^
far better known treatise, the De Consolations of Eoethius. example.
Wherever pious scruples did not prevent, the work became
the favourite test-book of the schools; .Gregory of Tours
frankly admits, that whatever of the arts or sciences was to
be known in his day was to be found in Martianus Oapella j1
it was translated into German so early as the eleventh
century:2 it is often cited even by so late and discerning a
writer as John of Salisbury.
Neither the allegory nor the science contained in the Specula-
pages of the D& Nnptiis would have led to the suppression of ^«rof
the volume on the part of the teachers at York ; but tho trea-
Martianus also ventured to employ his fancy within the
domain of religious belief. Of the two Platonic dialogues
known to mediaeval scholars,3 the Timaeus, as preserved in
the translation of Chalddius, offered powerful temptation to
the speculative mind ; but the divine of the eighth century
could tolerate no scientific theorisation that contravened
that of the inspired volume, and the cosmogony of the
Timaeus could not be reconciled with that of the Mosaic
1 * Q,uod si te; sacerdos Dei, quicumque e&. Mtirtianus nosier septeni
dhciplims erudiit, id est; si te in grammaticJ* docuit legere. ia dialectic-is
altereationum propoaitiones advertere, in rhetoricis genera metrorum
agnoscere, in geometricis terrarum lineanimque meusuras colligere, in
aatrologicis cursus siderum conteraplari, in arithmeticis nunierorum paries
colligere, in harmoniis sonorum modulationes tuaviiun accentnuni car/minibus
concrepare,' Greg1. Turon. x 31.
- Wackernagel (Attdeutsches Lesebuch, p. 150) gives considerable frag-
ments of this version.
3 The other was the Phacdo.
P
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP.
I.
Mistrust
with which
it was eon-
regai
by the
teachers
at York.
Their
apprehen-
sious not
altogether
without
reason.
narrative. When accordingly, on turning the pages of
Martianus, the faithful followers of St. Gregory and his
doctrine read of a great sphere occupying the centre of the
heavens, the Platonic i§£a of the world — of a race of beings
permitted for a time to assume the human form, to mingle
with man and to console humanity, returning afterwards to
their celestial abodes — of 'three gods' to whom the writer
professed to pay special worship, but whom he apparently
regarded as simply more powerful or propitious than other
and pagan divinities — their feelings were much the same
as those of a Christian educator of youth in the present day,
who might discover lurking in the pages of an elementary
treatise on natural philosophy the most advanced conclusions
of modern materialism.1
Nor can it be any matter for surprise that the teachers
at York were keenly alive to the risks attendant upon
teaching of such a character. Christianity was still a tender
plant in England, in some parts of very recent growth.
Bede, in his boyhood, must often have heard how pagan
sacrifice was still offered upon the altars of Sussex. It was
natural that he and his successors should prefer to give
their sanction to authors calculated rather to confirm faith
than encourage speculation. So far, therefore, from its
being simply fortuitous, there seems to be good reason for
regarding it as a fact of considerable significance, that
throughout the writings of Alcuin we find no mention of the
treatise* of Martianus Capella ; that the book is similarly
absent in a catalogue of the library at St. Eiquier in the
ninth century2 — a monastery of which Angilbort, AlcuinX
1 It is, however, but just to recognise the fact that Capella's speculative
tendencies are supposed to have furnished the hint which directed Copernicus
to the discovery of hie system. In his eighth chapter he points out that
Mercury and Venus revolve not round the earth but round the sun, Delanibre
observes that, if this observation really resulted in so eminent a service to
science, 'nous devons lui pardonner son verbiage, ses bevues et son galima-
thias.' ' See edition by Kopp, p. 866.
2 A library, it is to be noted, of 250 volumes. (See SpicUegiwn Achern,
ii 811.) On the appearance of this author in catalogues of the eleventh and
twelfth centuries no stress can be laid, as he had, by that time, become
accepted as a classic, and the guardians of orthodoxy found their attention
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 67
pupil, was abbat ; while ifcs presence, along with the works CHAP.
of Origen, in the catalogue of the library of the monastery at , _ ^_*
Bobbio, at the same period, a foundation of St. Columban, The
and one maintaining the tradition of his teaching, may be
looked upon as subsidiary evidence of an ascertained fact, sence of
that a different school of tliQught was there recognised and aiike^tg^
encouraged. nifioant
In thus endeavouring concisely to point out the distinc- influence
tive characteristics of the; school treatises which Alcuin jftho
ff
carried with him across the Channel, our task has been text-books
one of something more than merely antiquarian interest. °** fe<
As text-books of instruction, it is true, Martianus, Boe- learning.
thius, Cassiodorus, and Isidorus have, for the last six cen-
turies, been altogether discarded, but their influence has
lasted to the present day ; and the critic and historian who
should affect to consider the theories shadowed forth in
these writers, and the speculative or conservative tendencies
respectively discernible, as unworthy of serious discussion,
would scarcely be wiser than the naturalist who should
think it trivial to regard the scarcely perceptible differ-
ences that sometimes distinguish the seed of a poisonous or
useless plant from tliat of one eminently serviceable to man.
>/ At the time that Alcuin made good his promise given to Favour
Charles at Parma he was in his forty-eighth year, the £^lich
monarch in his forty-first. That the reception accorded to regarded
the former at Aachen was in every way calculated to inspire *
him with confidence and hope admits of no doubt., Charles
was distinguished by the favour with which he regarded
guests from other lands. * Amabat peregrinos,' says Einhard :
who indeed adds, that the number of these at court often
formed an appreciable addition to the demands on the royal
revenues.' I'll*? attraction was, however, of a very different
kind from tiia-ti which drew the pleasure-loving Aquitanians
to the court; of Robert Capet ; and the encouragement be-
stowed equally dissimilar from that extended by Henry in or
called away to oilier and more formidable symptoms of heterodox
teaching.
1 Vita Car oli, c. xxi ; Carolina, p. 528.
F 2
68 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP. Edward II to the Poitevin and Aiijevin of their day. It was
s ^ , the sympathy of a truly imperial nature, singularly in-
tolerant of narrow traditions and local prejudices, and
keenly alive to the advantages to be derived from intercourse
with minds formed under other conditions and reflecting the
Distrac- results of different experiences. The supposition of one of
•time. Alcuin's biographers, that the new teacher arrived at a
juncture when cessation from warfare enabled Charles to
give less distracted attention to the promotion of learning.
The Saxon seems to be scarcely in harmony with the facts. In the
very same year the Saxons broke out into formidable insur-
rection,1 and upwards of four thousand prisoners were mas-
sacred by the incensed monarch on the banks of the Aller ;
while for more than four years after his arrival, Alcuin
must have been constantly hearing of sanguinary conflicts
on the Weser and the Elbe. Though far more nearly allied
to the pagan foe than to the Frank by race, we should
hardly expect to find him much moved at the sufferings
and gradual subjugation of the former. The instincts of the
churchman were paramount, and Witikind seemed to him
only another Penda ; but though he regarded the conversion
of these stubborn Saxons at the point of the sword as well-
nigh an indispensable process, it is evident that he would
gladly have seen the vigorous policy of the subjugator com-
bined with something more of mercy.2
Question ^ *s a Diking illustration of Charles* immense energy
of the and activity, that amid distractions like these he yet found
time to welcome his new instructor, and to aid him in im-
parting fresh life to the Palatine school. Whether, as, sx>mc
writers have maintained, this famous school dates as fiw
back as the time- of Pepin-le-Bref, or even to that of the
Merovingian dynasty, is a question into which it scarcely
seems necessary here to enter.3 The testimony of the monl
of Angouleme that, before the time of Charles, * there
1 Vita CaroK> c. 7. Carolina, p. 515.
2 Migne, c 142, 362.
3 See, on this point, Pitra, Hist, de S. Ltger, cc. 2 and 3 : also passage
quoted in favour of the hypothesis by Ozanara, pp. 462-3. Also
Maitre, p, 34 -, Monnier, pp. 62-3.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. (jg
existed in Gaul scarcely a trace of the liberal arts '-4-Charles* CHAP.
own explicit declaration that < the study of letters had been , ^ „
well-nigh, extinguished by the neglect of his ancestors'1-^?
and the account given by Einhard of the sources from whi«h
the monarch himself acquired whatever learning he pos-
sessed— certainly lend no 'countenance to such an hypothesis.
As little do we find, to support the theory of a kind of
Athenaeum or Academy, composed of the adult members of
Charles' court — * le rendez-votts des co artisans, des conseillers,
et des savants.*2 £fhs narrow limits of the studies of the
time, a range so limited that a Martianus or, Isidores seemed
a sufficient compendium of knowledge, rather make it pro-
bable that an intelligent youth of 16 or 17, receiving that-
training which Charles himself had not received in his early
years, must soon have stood on a level with the best scholars
in the royal court — Einhard, perhaps, alone exeeptedj £For
our present purpose it is sufficient to be able safely to con-
clude, that Charles regarded the restoration of letters in hi^
empire as a work only second in importance to the inamte-f
nance of the empire itself — that with this view he assembled
round him the noble youth of his court, destined to high
office and Church preferment, to form the Palace School —
that this school accompanied him wherever he fixed his
court — that he obtained for it the instruction of the ablest
teacher of the age — and that, whenever the affairs of state
and cessation from military operations permitted (which was
chiefly in the winter time), he himself was wont, along with
the more intelligent of his courtiers, to take his seat in the
naidst of the learners, stimulating their ardour by his
example, and gratifying his own thirst for knowledge by dia^
cussion and enquiry. In the manner in which he thus
brought his personal influence to bear on the movement, we
recognise one all-important fact — the Palace School witnessed innovation
the first coneid&rabh innovation on the Gregorian tradition. ^fche.
Had Alcuin, on his first arrival, been placed at the head of tnwfitioiu
the monastery at Tours, his instruction there, it is easy to
1 Conttitvtio de emendatwnc Libromtn, etc. Baluze, i 2G4-5.
9 L6on Maitre, p. 32.
70 CHARLES THE GREAT A3fJ3 ALCU1N.
CHAP, see, would Lave been confined within far narrower limits.
, _ ^ _ , But the circle which he found himself called upon to in-
Character struct at Charles' court craved for something more than to
members ^earn to chant, read Latin, and calculate the return of
Easter. Ecclesiastics or lords of monasteries though some
of them might be, they were also statesmen, courtiers, and
Practical men of the world. Palgrave has justly observed that in
of ^Charles' ^us P&tronising learning Charles5 purposejwas
designs. / to^benefit the state as dictated by any abstract apprecia-
tionof the value of mental culturej the Greek professorships,
forexample, which helsought to establish at Osna-biirg and
Salzburg, were designed for the practical end of facilitating
Charles' intercourse with the eastern empire^ With respect to his
a^uire- own acquirements, the' circumstances oT his early life, ;the
meius. character of his genius, and the explicit testimony of his
biographer, alike point to the conclusion that they repre-
sented the results of an unusually quick perception and re-
tentive memory rather than of laborious application and
early training. His knowledge of the colloquial Latin of the
age was equal to that of his native German. He appears to
have understood Greek, though he spoke it very imperfectly.
His natural facility of expression was such that, as Einhard
admits, his discourse sometimes bordered on loquacity!! He
had acquired when young some knowledge of gramma^ from
Peter of Pisa, but whatever he knew of rhetoric, logic, or
arithmetic he was yet to gain from the teaching of Alcuin.8
He aspired to master the art of penmanship ; but, says his
biographer, his efforts in this respect, * commenced too late
in life, were attended with little success ; ' 4 nor is it difficult to
1 Hist, of England and Normandy. f i 27-8. Baluza, i 418. Charles'
scheme never came to successful accomplishment,
3 ' Adeo quideni facundus erat, ut etiam dicaculus apparerat.' Caroli
Vita, c. 25; Carolina, p. 531. * Dicaculus' is the reading accepted by
Diimniler, and we can hardly doubt that Ihis, and not ' didasculus/ is the
right oi)e.
3 * In disceiida grammatica Pet nun Pisanurn, diacoiiuni, senem audivit
in caeteris discipliuis Albinum, cognouumto Alcoinum, item diaconum
de Britannia, Saxouici generis Ijominem . , . praeceptorem habuit.' Hid.
4 ' Sod paruni suoceaeit labor praepostems ac 'soro inchoatus.' Ibid. The
attempt made by some writers (see Einhard, ed. Teulet, i 83) to shew that
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 71
understand that the royal hand, stiffened with oft-wielding of
the good sword ( Joyeuse,' may have refused to accommodate
itself to the most painful and laborious of all the acquire-
ments of an ordinary education,
/The regular education of the youth of the Palace School Conditions
was derived from the manuals of which we have given an
account, and, as regarded extent and variety, was probably
a simple reproduction of that which Alcuin had himself re-
ceived at York. Of all living scholars, he was the least
likely to introduce innovations uponthe traditional curriculum.
When, however, the circle was joined by Charles and the
older members of his court, the instruction necessarily
assumed a different form// The adult mind can rarely
master knowledge after fEe fashion of more tender years,
That wondrous faculty of the youthful intellect which causes
it to resemble a capacious carpet bag, in the way in which it
receives and retains whatever the instructor may think fit to
put into it, disappears as the judgement becomes matured.
The memory then refuses to burden itself with facts of which
it apprehends neither the importance nor the connexion ;
and so we fine Charles and his courtiers plying the vates
from across the Channel with innumerable questions, often ^
blundering strangely and misapprehending widelj«>.'but
forming a circle which even at this lapse of time it is im-
possible to contemplate without interest) — the monarch Members
himself, in the ardour of a long unsatisfied curiosity, pro- ^{^
pounding queries on all imaginable topics — suggesting, dis-
tinguishing, disputing, objecting,-V-a colossal figure, gazing Charles
fixedly with bright blue eyes on. his admired guest, and and 3as
altogether a presence that might well have disconcerted a
less assured, intellect^ /Alcuin, however, holding fast by his
reference is here intended only to the art of calligraphy as practised at the
monasteries, will scarcely commend itself to the dispassionate critic.
Einhard would never have been content to designate such an accomplish-
ment by the single word ' seribere ; ' nor again, if Charles had once.acquired
the ait of writing, would he have found it difficult to improve hie command
of ic Some lines quoted by Leon Maitre, even if accepted as authoritative,
would tail to prove that the corrections of the MS. referred to were made by
Charles' own hand.
72
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP.
I.
His sister.
His -vrife,
Liutgarda.
His
daughter.
Angilbert.
Adelhnid
and Wala.
Bicnlfus.
Einhard.
Fredegig.
Names
assumed
by mem-
bers of the
Palace
School.
Boethius, Cassiodorus, and Isidorus, is calm and self-pos-
sessed; feeling assured that, so long as lie only teaches what
' Gregorius sumnuis ' and * Baeda venerabiiis' believed and
taught, he cannot go very far wrongl Around him, as the years
went by, he saw successively Appear the three royal sons,
born in rightful wedlock : Charles, the future ruler of Neu-
stria and Australia; Pepin, the acknowledged lord of Italy;
and Lewis, who almost from his cradle had worn the crown
of Aquitaine — the graceful young athlete and mighty
hunter, his mind already opening to that love for learning
which, through all the good and evil of his chequered' life, he
cherished so fondly in later years. There, again, was
Charles' much loved sister, Gisela, abbess of Chelles, who
from her girlhood had renounced the world, but whom the
fame of the great teacher drew from her conventual retire-
ment. Thither also came the last and best-loved of Charles'
wives, Liutgarda, of the proud Alemannic race, hereafter to
prove among the firmest of Alcuin's friends ; and the royal
daughter, Gisela, whom parental affection held too dear for
the proudest alliance. There too was Charles' son-in-law
Angilbert, chiefly distinguished as yet by his fondness for
the histrionic art, but afterwards the saintly abbat of
St. Riquier. There too were the royal cousins, the -half-
brothers, Adelhard and Wala, whose after action shook the
whole fabric of the Carolingian empire — the former brought
back from Corbey to mingle again with the court life which
he bad shpnned, and to forget Desiderata's wrongs — the
latter, whose fair face bespoke his Saxon, lineage, restored
from a mysterious banishment to the royal favour. There too
were Biculfus, destined ere long to fill the chair of St. Boni-
face and rule the great see of Mayence ; Einhard, the royal
biographer, the classic of the ninth century ; and Fredegis,
Alcuin's youthful countryman, poet and philosopher, not
always faithful to his master's teaching.
{it appears to have been a frequent affectation, in mediaeval
times, for distinguished men to assume a literary or historic
alias ; * and to this custom we must attribute the fact that
1 Palgrave, i 277. ' Saepe familiaritas nominis immutationera solet
facere, sicut ipse Dominus Simouem xnutavit in Petrum,' is Alcuin's own
observation on the practice. Epist. 125 ; Migiie, c 361.
ME SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 73
Alcuin usually, in his correspondence, addresses the members CHAP.
of this circle under another name. Charles' second name . .*• ^
would seern to have really been David ; l and this fact may
account for the assumption of Scriptural names by some of
his courtiers. Pepin was Julius; Giseia (the sister),
Lucia ; Giseia (the daughter), Delia ; Liutgarda was Ava ;
Adelhard was Antony ; Wala, Arsenius ; 2 Einhard, with
reference, as M. Teulet conjectures, to his destined state avo-
cation, was Beseleel ; Biculfus, Flavius Damoetas ; Eigbod,
Machairas ; Angilbert, Homer ; Fredegis, NathanaeL
/For the most part, it is evident that Alcuin regarded with Alcuin's
,.,.,,.. , ... «., admiration
genuine admiration the intense and untiring energy of the Of Charles.
royal intellect ; 3 he averred, indeed, that were his subjects
like him, all Frankland wedfr become a second AthensTJ
Sometimes, however, he found it necessary to suggest to the
victorious warrior that the domain of knowledge, unlike the
wide realm, over which the latter ruled, could never become
an autocracy, Charles occasionally indulged in expressions
which seemed to betray a contrary notion— an idea that an
immortal genius might be made to appear at his behest,
much as a new province had often been added to his empire
by the sword. * Why/ he exclaimed on one occasion, * why
have I not twelve of my clergy as learned as Jerome or
Augustine ? ' The devout ecclesiastic was scandalised at such
immoderation of desire, c The Lord of heaven and earth,' he
rejoined, < has but two such, and thou wouldst have twelve ! J
^That Alcuin's duties were both trying and onerous can His post a
hardly be doubted, embracing as they did the instruction of labori°'"
the monarchy the courtier, and the youthful members of the
1 Palgra-ve. i 149. If this were the case, we may safely assume that the
name had been bestowed upon him in tKe sense in which it is erroneously
explained by Isidorus — ' fortia nianu, quia fortissimus in praeliis fuit '
(Etymolotfiae, bk. yiii) — rather than Jioni a knowledge of the meaning of the
Hebrew.
* The same name, it is to be noted, that is given to Wala in the singular ^
contemporary sketch of his political career Discovered by Mabillon. See
Epitaphinm Arsemi, by Paschasius Radbertus. Palgrave, i 275-7 ; Alcuin,
JEpht. 125 ; Migne, c 361.
3 • Gujus mentis miranda est nobilitas, dum inter tantas palatii curas et
regni occupationes philosophorum pleniter curavit arcana scire mysteria,
quod vix otio torpens alius quis modo cognoscere studeC Note sufibted to
Carmen Elegiacum, Migne, ci 649.
74 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAR Palace School. He was like the original settler clearing an
* — ^ — - open space in some virgin forest, and compelled to bestow no
small amount of preliminary toil in removing the wild
growths of centuries, before he breaks up the ground arid
Advan- SOws the seejO On the other hand, he had the counter-
under balancing advantage of being bound by no traditions save
* those of the £reat doctors of toe Church, whom he could in-
terpret as his private judgement dictated. No predecessor
in the Palace School—if indeed the school can be held to
have had a previous existence— had already opened up a path
which Alcuin might have found it equally difficult to follow
or to desert. Holding as he did the very keys of knowledge,
his statements and explanations were received with un-
questioning deference. The dicta of Pythagoras himself
obtained not more deferential assent- It is remarkable,
considering how completely he rested upon authority, that
he very rarely deems it necessary to cite an author when
giving his decision.
not (That he possessed so little aptitude for philosophy was a
serious drawback to his efficiency as a teacher, but it-must5
we think, be looked upon as a matter for congratulation that
he stood identified with no philosophic school. He was
His neither a Platonist nor an Aristotelian. An able writer has
*n<^ee(^ assei>ted that Alcuin was nothing more than a
grammarian ; l and it was in this capacity that his reputation
undoubtedly stood highest even with his contemporaries!
gjotkerus, writing a century later, asserts that Alcuiu's ez-
positions of this, the first stage of the trivium, were so
masterly, that' Donatus, Nicomachug,ii33d Prisei an dwindled
into insignificance when compared with him.' 2 Fortunately,
the treatise is still extant, and we are consequently able to
ascertain its precise value, $be form into which the instruc-
tion is thrown, tliat-of the dialogue, -alone suffices to suggest
the mental status of the majority of his pupils. The cate-
1 Haur£au, pp. 125-6.
2 *Albinus talem gramma ticam coudidit. ut Donatus, Nicomachxis,
Dositheus, et noster Priscianus, in ejus comparatione nihil ease -videantur '
(quoted Migne. ci 849). With M. Haureau, 4 nous trouvons que Notker le
Begue exagere
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 75
chetical method has generally been found the best ada,pted to
the beginner, and many of Alcuin's pupils, whether as regards
power of comprehension or actual knowledge, could only have
been relegated, in any school, to the first or most elementary
classj
(jhe dialogue on Grammar is carried on between two His in-
youths l — the one a Saxon, the other a Frank — respectively 16 in gmm_
and 15 years of age ; the Saxon, as the elder, being accredited g^JJ"
with the larger share of knowledge, and replying to the School.
queries of the younger ; while the master, in whose presence
the dialogue is carried on, occasionally comes to his aid when
the answer is beyond his ability. -* M. Monnier conjectures
that it was Aicuin's design to exhibit Frankish ingenuity!
and ' esprit ' in contrast to Saxon stolidity ; and it is evident
throughout tha.t the questioner has the advantage in the
opportunity afforded for raillery and wit, the respondent
being anxious rather to establish a reputation for accuracy,
and apparently somewhat inclined to resent a too pertinacious
sounding of the depths of his knowledge. It is especially Fore-
wortliy of remark that, at the very outset, the writer Ofjfte
designates the dialogue as a disputatio ; and we can have no
difficulty in recognising, as it were in embryo, the opponent tion?'
and respondent of the famous contests of the schools. The
contest, however, it will be observed, had not as yet assumed
a dialectical form, the scholastic developement of the Aristote-
lian logic being still undreamt of, bnt appears in its more
elementary stage as an intellectual trial of strength between
two cornbatant'sX
' Grammar * tio.ving been first of all defined as the 6 scientia
liiteralis,' 2 the Frank commences by asking^the Saxon why
* littera * is so called ? i I suppose,' replies the latter, ' littera The letter
is the same as iegitera, inasmuch as it forms the path of the definei
reader.3 The Frank, '-Give me its definition/ Tfa Saxon.
' A letter is the smallest part of an articulate sound ' ( vocis).
1 Migna, ci 850-902.
2 In obedience to the precept preserved in BoetLius : ' Dicendi ac dispu-
tandi prima semper oratio est, et jam dialecticis autoribus et ipso M. Tullio
saepius admonecte, quae dicitur defiiiitio.' l)e Divisione, Opera, p. 6-1^.
76 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP: The Frank. 'Master, has not littera another definition?'
„ ^ , The Master. ' It has, but one identical in meaning. The
letter is the individual : for we divide sentences into clauses
(paries), words into syllables, syllables into letters ; but letters
cannot be divided.3
The In the conversation on the syllable we learn that it has
three accents — the acute, the grave, the circumflex; two
breathings, hard and soft ; quantity, two short syllables being*
equivalent to one long ; and number, according to the letters
of which it is composed. Then the master enunciates an
imposing definition of grammar : ' Grammar is the science
of letters, the guardian of language and of a correct style.
It is founded on nature, reason, authority, and usage-. It
is divided into 26 " species ; " to wit, words, letters, syllables,
clauses, sayings (dictiones), speeches, definitions, feet, accents,
punctuations (posituras), critical marks (note), orthographies,
analogies, etymologies, glosses, differences (differentiae), bar-
barisms, solecisms, faults, metaplasms, schemata^ tropes,
prose, metre, fables, and histories.'
Throughout the whole discourse the instructor leans
heavily on Donatus and Priscian; wherever, indeed, he
attempts a less technical definition or explanation, the result
Strange is seldom to render matters clearer. The master's definition
blunders, of £he noun, for instance, confounds it with the adjective t
f its function,5 he says, i is to declare substance, quality, or
quantity/ The Saxon pupil goes yet further astray ; a noun,
he says, ' is that part of speech which assigns to everybody or
thing its common or its distinctive quality.' Evidently dis-
satisfied, however, with this, he appeals again to the master,
who attempts another definition, with somewhat better sue-
Li ita cess, declaring that the noan is * vox signifi cativa,3 'definitum
tionswkh aliquid significans ; 3 and he then lets fall the pregnant ob-
term^ftm- s/Brvation, thiit * there is but one substance, and that it is only
Mwwfcwiras names that differ.31
by Alcuin. llBut by far the most significant feature in the dialogue
are Ehe limitations within which the subject itself is restricted,
as compared with that wide conception of the study that
1 ' Una est substantia, sed drversa nomina.' Migne, ci 869.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 7'
prevailed among the grammatici of the third and fourth cen- CHAP.
turies. The grammarian of the imperial schools, as we have ^__r:
already seen, was also the professed instructor in the critical
study of the great poets and orators of antiquity. Even in
Martianus we find the ars yrammatica defined as the art
which taught not merely docte scribere legereque, but also
erudite intelligere probarequ>e. /But ever since the voice of
the Church had declared against the function of the gramma-
ticusy its profession among the Christian community had
become rarer and rarer ; * while ever since the time of
Gregory the Great, the original interpretation of the study
had dwindled to nothing more than a technical knowledge of
the Latin language) Cassiodorus, who penned his definition
about the time that Gregory was born, says, gratnmatica est
periiifi pulchre loquendi ex poetis iUustriltus oratoribusque
collecta,* a definition which Gregory not unsiiccessfully
laboured to set aside. Among those who in his day still up-
held the traditional conception was Didier, the archbishop
of Vienna. It appears that he even ventured to give in-
struction in harmony with that conception, but was sternly
called to account by the papal remonstrance. The letter is
atill extant 3 in which Gregory expresses his concern ' that
you, ray brother, give instruction in grammar ; ' * inasmuch
as,' he adds, * the praises of Christ cannot be uttered by the
same tongue as those of Jove.' 4
jit is scarcely necessary to add that Alcuin's view is in ac-
cordance with that of Gregory, and that, while admitting that
' fables and histories ' (the poets and the historians) belong
to the subject under discussion, he scrupulously abstains from
dwelling on this aspect of the study. His treatment, indeed,
is guardedly technical and limited ; while following Donatus
1 Of this the rarity of Christian monumental inscriptions whereon the
name is described as that of a grammaticus is significant evidence. Passionei
(Iscrizioni antiche, Lucca, 1763, p. 115) gives one rare exception.
2 Migne, Ixix 1152.
* Epist. ii 54.
* Guizot here observes, *.Te ne sais trop ce que les louanges de Dieu ou
de Jupiter pouyaient avoir a deineler avec la gramniaire ' (ii 120). It will
be seen that his observation arises from a misapprehension with respect to
the sense in which the term was originally employed.
78 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP, and Priscian, he gives ample evidence that these writers
> Jl_, were but imperfectly comprehended : and it is mainly as an
illustration of the educated intelligence of the time that the
treatise can be regarded as possessing any literary va.lueTJ
The task of cla&si ft cation and definition seems, as yet, to
have been almost beyond the strength of the unpractised
intellect; and, as Monnier observes, the mind, bewildered
by the multiplicity of phenomena, and, unable to distinguish
between the substance and its manifestations, often designa-
ted the former by the manifestations themselves.
Alcuin's Another notable illustration of the state of culture at
on°ortho- ^n*s period is afforded in Alcuin's treatise appended to that
graphy. on Grammar, entitled De Orthoyraphia,1 designed chiefly as
a kind of Antibarbarus or enumeration of words in frequent
use especially liable to be misspelt. The transitional state
of the Latin language at this period invests these instructions
Value with a certain philological interest. In the ordinary speech
of his of Neustria and Aquitaine, Latin had conquered jCeltic and
now found itself confronted by Tudesque . The lingua Romana,
of which the earliest specimen extant belongs to half a cen-
tury later, was only in process of formation ; and the pro-
nunciation of words was singularly perplexed and uncertain.
Alcuin accordingly finds it necessary to distinguish not only
5 from v (which are to be found confused so early as the
fourth century), but also from u and fern /.2 If you mean
wool, he says, you must write vellus; i# handsome, bellm; if
a heap, acervus; if cruel, acerbus; if airbed, avena; if a rein,
habena; the Abari are not necessarily cwari. The conjunc-
tion ( or ' is vel; gall is fel; the name of the heathen deity
(idolum) Bel. He tells us that / resembles in shape the letter
known as the digamma ; but as the sound of that letter was
1 Migne, ci 902-919.
2 The disappearance of the I in many words appears to have been
effected by its transmutation into at?; the u becoming in turn absorbed in a
preceding or following vowel or diphthong-,. Ampere observes that in the
ancient ianguage we find b&ivre instead of Hoire ; the v representing the
second, b in bibe*e, just as the v in re9oivre (for recevoir) represents the p in
recipere. Hist, de la formation de la Imigue franqctise (ed. 1869), p. 248.
Of. Roby, Latin Gram, i 410.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 79
more accurately represented by the letter v, it was decided
to write votum, virgo, instead of fotum, firgo. It is question-
able whether he himself did not pronounce albus and alvus
alike ; for he observes that when you mean ventrem you
must write it with u digammon ; when the colour, v/ith a b.
The following distinction would seem to shew that the
Teutonic vagueness in the pronunciation of the terminal d
led to a similar confusion of that letter with t : * Qy.ot,
quando numerus est, per t : quando pronomen per d scriben-
dum est.' * Some of his derivations, with their explanations,
are amusing : * Magister, major in statione ; nam isieron
Graece static dicitur.' * Veniunt, qui vendunt ; veneunt, qui
venduntur.' He speaks of a verb s&ro, seras, seravi, meaning
to shut, and he derives it from sera, i.e. vespera; for the
gates of a city are shut late in the day, i.e. at nightfall, and
hence the bars with which they are closed are called seme !
Sn the much disputed question with respect to the amount
of Greek scholarship that existed in England at this period, cftent of
Alcuin's writings afford valuable evidence 5 and that evidence scholar-
must be considered conclusive against any high estimate. The sbip*
mediaeval tendency to exaggerate the acquirements of great
teachers, and to magnify a very slender acquaintance with
any brancn^of learning not included in the trivium or qua-
drivium into a mastery of the subject, together with a too
literal acceptance of such exaggerations, have led not a few
modern writers to infer that the attainments of the scholars
of this period were far beyond what we know the oppor-
tunities and culture of the times would render probable^
/That Theodorus himself possessed a competent knowledge of
Greek literature is beyond question, and though the testi-
mony of Lambarde and the conclusions of arch bis hop. Parker
are open to considerable doubt,2 it is highly probable that
1 Ampere observes that, in o)d French they wrote wrd *or vert ; tart for
tard ; (/rant for grand, porlad for parlat. Hi»i. de la formation tie la laiujue
frnnqtme (ed. 1869) p. 244.
8 ' The reverend father Matthew, now archbishop of Canterbury (whose
care for the couservat.ion of monuments can never le sufficiently commended),
shewed me, not long since, the Psalter of David and sundry Homilies in
Greek, Homer also and some other Greek authors, beautifully written c
on thick paper with the name of this Theodore prefixed in the front, to whose
80
CHAP.
I.
Tuition
of Greek in
England.
Bede's
testimony.
Alcuin's
Greek
quotations
mostly
from
Jerome.
Inaccurate
Greek
forms.
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUJN.
Ms influence was successfully exerted to promote the study
of the Greek language in England. Bede, long afterwards,
gives testimony that, as the result of the archbishop's efforts,
there were, in his (Bede's) day, scholars still living 4 as well
versed in the Greek and Latin tongues as in their own in
which they were born/ 1 among whom the most eminent
appears to have been AlbinusT/7 But although we may
readily allow that Theodoras spoke with facility the language
of his native Tarsus, the Greek of the Septuagint and the
New Testament, and may be willing to believe that during
the interval between his death, in 690, and that of Bede, in
735, efforts were made to promote Greek learning, the evi-
dence of its having become a permanent study at York is
altogether wanting. The very words of Bede, c still living,'
would seem to belong to a description of an acquirement
already on the wane ; and over against the presumption that
Alcuin had, as the foremost scholar at that seat of learning,
been one of the few who still represented Jts tradition, we
necessarily place the evidence afforded by his works.
/With respect then to the numerous quotations from the
GreeF to be found in Alcuin's writings, we observe that
nearly all, if not all, are to be found in the works of St.
Jerome, the great interpreter between the Christian litera-
ture of the East and that of the West. These quotations
are, as we should expect to find, correctly given ; but when-
ever Alcuin attempts an independent display *of Greek learn-
ing he generally blunders egregious!^] It is not simply that he
gives specimens of his scholarship of no greater value than the
following: 'Hippocrita Graece, in Latino, simulator. Hippo
enim Graece falsuin, chrisis judiciuin interpretatur.' 2 False
etymologies are to be found in the writings of better
Greek scholars than Alcuin ; but the erroneous form of the
nominative is far more suspicious, especially when considered
in connexion with the fact that whenever he gives us Q
library lie reasonably thought (being thereto led by show of great antiquity]
that they sometime belonged.' Lambarde, Perambulation of Kent (1570)
233 (quoted in Edwards' Memoirs of Libraries, i 101).
i JEocles. Hist. bk. iv, c. 2. 2 Migne, ci 910.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. g}
Greek nominative, it appears, as often as not, with an in- CHAP.
correct termination. M. Haureau very pertinently asks how , ^
it is that Alcuin, if he really knew Greek, gives us the Greek
names for the Categories so incorrectly ; and, along with the
latest editors of his works, calls attention to the fact that the
few Hebrew words that occur in the commentaries on Genesis x/
and Ecclesiastes are also all to be found in Jerome.1
Of the uncritical facility with which even well-informed iiiustra-
writers have accredited the scholars of these times with ^JjJJ-JJ^
attainments not merely out of proportion to the learning of superficial
the age but in themselves in the highest degree improbable,
we have, in connexion with Alcuin, more than one notable *h*
example. The following may serve as an illustration, period.
JI. Ozanam, one of the most enthusiastic panegyrists of the
men and learning of these centuries, lays considerable stress
on the fact that Alcuin, in one of his letters, is to be found
advising Angilbert to correct a copy of the Psalter by the
aid of the text of the Greek Septuagint.2 On a prima facie
view of this assertion, and with every disposition to augur
favourably of the attainments of a son-in-law of Charles the
Great and the father of Nithard, the historian, we must con-
fess that a task of this description appears hardly consonant
with what we know of Angilbert's acquirements and cha-
racter. In his younger years he was distinguished by his
passion for what, in modern phrase, would be termed
f theatricals '—a feature which Alcuin (with whom he was a
special favourite) regarded with concern?/ When Charles'
son Pepin went to rule in Italy, Angilbert went with him as
his mayor of the palace. During his residence in Italy, the
latter was attacked by a serious illness, which he construed
into a mark of the divine displeasure 5 and shortly afterwards,
in the year 790, he retired to the venerable monastery of
St. Eiquier, c Centulla of the hundred towers.3 There, in his
capacity of abbat, he exchanged his passion for plays for an
equally fond devotion to music; and it became the boast of
St. Eiquier that the voice of sacred song was never silent
I DC laphilosophieschol-iftique (ed. 1872j, I 126,
II Ozariaiu, p. 521.
G
$2 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP, within her walls. A poern attributed to Angilbert by Pertz,
and written during this period of his life, evinces a like love
of ornament and splendour. It is scarcely therefore lit the
hands of Angilbert that we should be inclined to look for the
performance of a labour such as that to which Ozanam refers.
But the fact is that, on further enquiry, the statement
appears to be entirely without foundation* On turning to
the letter in question,1 we find that Angilbert had consulted
Alcuin with respect to the preferable mode of writing certain
Latin words ; as, for example, whether one ought to write
dispexeris or despexeris. Alcuin, in reply, falls back on
authority, and refers to Priscian, who says, rightly enough,
that such difficulties are often to be decided by reference to
the corresponding Greek word, and ascertaining whether the
preposition there used is that for which the Latin du- is the
accepted equivalent, or whether that rendered by de-. After
giving a series of examples, he goes on to say, ' as I have
before observed, we must see what preposition would be re-
quired in Greek, and from thence decide which is to be
used in Latin ; inasmuch as the doubt admits of being
solved by reference to the former language. Habet enim
in Graeco ille versus : " Exaudi, Deus, orationem meam et ne
despexeris precationem meam,'5 'EwwTicraj, 6 Ssbs, T^V Trpov-
£v%tfv /uov, teal i*,q VTreplSgf TTJV Sfyviv pov. (Psalm liv 2.) *
Other examples from the Septuagint, taken from Jerome,
follow ; and the Commentary on the Epistle to Titus by the
same Father is quoted (in itself a suspicious circumstance)
for an observation on the force of the prepositions Trspl and
/card. But as for a collation of the Latin Psalter with the
Septuagint, or advising Angilbert to undertake such a task,
not a word occurs either in this letter or in any one of the
three others, still extant, addressed by Alcuin to' Homer us.*
Alcnifl's The attempt to enliven the treatise on Grammar by a
attempts somewhat forced attempt at humour (an idea not improbably
to amuse r *
his gebo- derived from Martianus Capella) cannot p.e pronounced very
successful, but it is a significant sign of the intellectual level
of the students for whose benefit the work was designed,
1 Epist. 27. (Migne. c 180-184.)
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 83
The younger members of the Palace School seem to have re-
quired to be at once instructed and amused, much after the
way that would now seem well adapted to a night-school of
Somersetshire rustics; while<^Alcuin's knowledge of Greek
can scarcely be supposed to have exceeded that of an in-
telligent schoolboy well on in his First Delectus/
-^Our estimate of Alcuin's acquirements as a grammarian,
the branch of learning in which his superiority was most
unquestioned, differs, as will be seen, considerably from that
of Notkerus ; it will, however, compare favourably with that
which the facts compel us to form respecting his attainments
in some other branches of the trimum and quadrivium. In His Ehe-
the treatise on Khetoric,1 which stands next in his Opera t
didascalxa, and was composed on his return from England
in 793, he gives us what purports to be a dialogue between
the monarch and himself. It need scarcely be said that no '
attempt at drollery like that in the De Grammatica appears.
Charles seeks to be instructed in the art from the same
practical motives that guided all his conceptions ; it was the
art which was concerned with civil disputes (civiles quae-
ttiones) ; c and you well know,' he says, ' that the affairs of our
realm and of our court are constantly bringing such disputes
before us, and it would be ridiculous to remain in ignorance
of the precepts of an art of which one feels the want every
day of one's life.' The art. of rhetoric is defined by Alcuin His
as that of ' speaking well' (bene dicendi) — it is the art of
forensic combat. As it is natural to all, though unversed in
warfare, to defend themselves and attack their foes, so it is
almost equally an impulse of nature to accuse others and
vindicate oneself. But though nature herself dictates this
use of speech, those who speak according to the rules of art
(per grammaticam) greatly excel the rest, Aristotle and
Cicero, it need scarcely bo said, are the Alpha and Omega
of Alcuin's tractate.2 The prominence given to rhetoric in
the imperial schools had led to the transcription of the
L Migne, ci 919-948.
2 ' Alcuin voiilut computer Ciceron par 1'addition des preeeptes subtils
d'Aristote, snais i.l n'a reussi qu'a gater la c]art6 du maitre de
latine.' Leon Maitre. p. 223.
o 2
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP.
I.
Meagre
treatment
of the
subject.
He de-
scants
on the
moral
qualifica-
tions of the
orator.
great Eoman orator's minor rhetorical treatises to an extent
which rendered them, at this period, certainly the commonest
of all the productions of the classical era, and scarcely less
frequently to be met with than the Encyclopaediasts them-
selves. It is rarely that a catalogue of a library of the
eighth or ninth century fails to shew the existence of at
least one copy of the Topica. The De inventions rhetorica is
almost as common; and even the spurious treatise ad
Hereimium is of frequent occurrence. In Alcuin's meagre
compend, the graceful prose, the felicitous narrative, the
subtle analysis of Cicero's page find, of course, no place. No
highly wrought conception of the ideal orator, like that
which floated before the mind of the author of the Orator
and the De Oratore, disturbed the composure of the teacher
of the Palace School with a vision which language was in-
adequate fully to reproduce. The Ciceronian discussion of
details, such as the numerosa oratio and rhythmus, the different
styles of ora.tory, and the lumina verlorum, which add so much
to the interest of the treatment in the Orator, dwindles
to a meagre outline of two short pages under the head of
De Elocutions. For illustrations of bis subject Alcuin prefers
to go to Scripture. The divine acceptance of Abel's offering
and the rejection of Cain's is his example of the genus
demonstrativum ; the opposing counsels of Ahifchophel and
Hushai to Absalom, of the genus deliberalivum ; St. Paul, on
his defence before Felix and defending himself against the
charges of his accusers, of the genus judiciale.
Sk- is evidently on the moral aspects of the orator's train-
ing that he dwells with most satisfaction. In speaking of
memory in relation to oratory, he gives Cicero's definition,
thesaurus omnium rerum. Charles thereupon enquires if
Cicero suggests any means of acquiring and strengthening
the faculty ? To which Alcuin replies, none beyond regular
practice in speaking, practice in writing, and the habit of
reflecting ; together with the advice to avoid intemperance,
as the chief foe of all liberal studies, and the destroyer not
only of bodily health but also of mental soundness. He then
enlarges on the necessity that the orator's daily habits and
THE SCPIOOL OF THE PALACE. 85
practice should be in harmony with the aims and require- CHAP.
ments of the part which he aspires to play in public life! L _.
JEven in ordinary intercourse his expression should be cal-e-
fully chosen, should be chaste, clear, simple, distinctly
uttered/and accompanied by composed expression of coun-
tenance : there must be no immoderate laughter, no noisiness
of tone. In speaking, as in walking, there is a just medium ;
and temperance is the root of all those virtues which go to
make up nobility of soul, dignity of life, purit}' of morals,
and praiseworthy mental culture. Stoical discourse, and by
no means without its relevance to certain failings in the
Frankish character; perhaps, not altogether impertinent
to Charles himself, who, if we read Einhard rightly, some-
times appeared ' quasi dicaculus.' /Towards the close of
the treatise, as Alcuin proceeds to dilate on man's moral
nature and the cardinal virtues, it suddenly occurs to Charles the m.ora.1
to ask whether these are not the very virtues which Christi- g0ph°er
anity itself places in the foremost rank, and Alcuin frankly ™d.|;h.e
admits that such is the case. How then, asks Charles, did teacher,
the philosophers come to concern themselves about them ?
Alcuin replies that they perceived the elements of these
virtues in human nature and cultivated them with the greatest
ardour. What then, asks the monarch, constitutes the
difference between a philosopher like this and a Christian ?
Alcuin replies, ' faith and baptisin/J
/Passing on to the subject of Logic,1 we shall find that Logic.
Alcuin presents still less of originality, and it may be added,
of intelligence. But here, again, it must in justice be admit-
ted that the proscription of the Church had operated with
yet greater force than in the province of the grammarian.
If the calling of the grammaticus was regarded with contempt Tradi-
or suspicion, that of the dialecticus was looked upon with ^lonafof
absolute aversion^ It has been alleged, and probably with the Church
reason, that much of this feeling took its rise in the fact, that
the defenders of the orthodox faith too often found themselves to the
completely worsted by their antagonists when they endea- art/0
voured to conduct a controversy after the prescribed fashion
1 De Dialectic^ Migne, ci 951-979.
56 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP, of the schools. The epithet flung at Aristotle by Faustinus
__,L _^ the Luciferian, of * the bishop of the Arians,' and the sar-
castic saying of John of Damascus, that the Monophysites
had made the great Stagirite a thirteenth apostle, indicate
the prejudice that had been created against the art of logic l —
the only one, as we have already seen, in which, at this
period, the influence of Aristotle can be said to be distinctly
recognisable. Hence, from almost the earliest times of
Christianity, we are confronted by a formidable consensus of
authority against dialectical contests like those which had
once delighted the disciples of the Academy and the Stoa.
Even apostolic teaching, it was claimed, had clearly pro-
nounced such contests worse than useless ; and it is not a
little significant that a critic so eminent as Loiigimis? while
paying a high tribute to the oratorical genius of St. Paul,
declared that he had c asserted a doctrine indemonstrable by
proof.' 2 Nor can it be denied that more than one passage
in the Pauline Epistles may be cited, whicn seenis to glance
with little favour at the customa,ry weapons of Gentile
controversy, and not improbably gave tone to the language
of the Fathers.' 3 Irenaeus, in the second century, is loud in
his complaint of those 'who oppose the Faith with an
Aristotelian word-chopping (minutiloquinm] and excess of
refinement in argument.' 4 fc Unhappy Aristotle,' exclaims
Tertullian, ' the inventor of dialectic, artful in building up
and cunning to destroy, .... injurious even to its own
master, revoking everything lest it should seem to have
treated aught explicitly.' 5 ' Wanted we the syllogisms of
Aristotle or of Chrysippus,' cried St. Basil to his antagonist,
1 See on this subject Dr. J. H. Newman's comments, Essays, ii 42 ; also
Prantl, ii 1-10.
2 If we may accept the somewhat doubtful fragment where, after
enumerating, as oratorical models, Demosthenes, Lysias, Aeschines, Aristides,
Jsaeus, Isoerates, etc., he adds, Upbs TOVTOIS HavXos 6 Taparrus, ovnva KOI
Trpoorov (f)r)/ju Trpola-rdfjievov doypctTos dvaTrodeiKrov. Longinus (ed. \aucher),
pp. 310-1.
3 See 1 Cor. ii 17; 1 Thess. i 5; 1 Tim. TI 3-6.
4 Adv. Haeres. n xyiii 5 ; with allusion probably to the Basilidians
see ed. by W. W. Harvey, i 296.
5 De Prescript, c. 7 \ Migne, ii 20.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 87
'to teach us that the Unbegotteu could never have been CHAP.
born ? M ' We need not the nets of the dialecticians or the , ^_
thorn bushes of Aristotle/ says Jerome, * but the words of
the Scriptures themselves/ 2 * They know not Christ/ says
Eusebiua. of the pagan party, 'but seek with pains what
figure of the syllogism can be found to confirm their un-
belief; should one chance to bring forward the testimony of
Holy Writ, they reply by asking whether he can construct
the conjunctive or disjunctive figure of the syllogism.
Skilled in the cunning and subtlety of the ungodly, they
corrupt the simple and natural truth of Scripture/ 3 Socrates,
the historian, bears witness to the existence of the same feel-
ing in his own time, when he tells us that Aetius the Arian
amazed his hearers by the novelty of his teaching, ' relying
on the categories of Aristotle.' 4 In the seventh century we
find Theodorus Rhaituensis declaring that his opponent,
Severus of Antioch. estimated a theologian according to
his knowledge of the same treatise, and of * tke other refine-
ments of pagan philosophy.3 5
When such were the sentiments of many of the most These
distinguished teachers of the Church, it can be no matter for ™£**}y re.
surprise that a mind like Alcuhr s regarded with something fleeted^ in
more thai! distrust an art so emphatically decried. If treatise.
partly reconciled to its introduction into the schools by the
fact that it had been sanctioned, to some extent, by the
revered authority of Isidorus, he seems to have been resolved
to do nothing towards adding to that sanction by his own
example. JAs Isidorus, following Cassiodorus, treats of
dialectic and rhetoric under the general head of logic, Aleuiii
mechanically reproduces the same arbitrary classification.
1 Adv. Eunoni. bk, I ; Ibid. (S. G.) xxix 516.
? Adv. Hehid. ; ibid, xxiii 185. * Hist, E<'desiatt. v 27.
4 TOVTO cic ciroifi, rtits nartfyopuuf *Ap*oroTfXovj Triorevow Hist. Secies.
ii oo ; Migne (S. G.); Ixvii 297. Aristotle, in Socrates' opinion, only com-
posed hift logical treatises in order to place iiis disciploy on equal terms wiHr
the Sophists.
5 Ai'tev quoting St. Pan), 1 Cor. iv 20, Ovrwy 3e vrdp* avr
Kparnrrcy OeoX^yos yi-'ropi^rrat, <Wav ras /car/myopias * &pu?T[tf&u**Jt KOI ra \
rO>v t^a Q&oo&frvv KOfjujra tjtrxwlvos Tvy\nvr; DC 2ncarfuef.t Migno ''S.
xei 1504.
88
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP.
I.
His treat-
ment of
arithmetic
and
astronomy
His ex-
After quoting the old simile, handed down from Yarro,
whereby dialectic and rhetoric are compared to the clenched
and the open hand,1 he proceeds to tell us how dialectic is
subdivided, namely, into isagogae, categoriae, vyllogismorum
formulae, diffinitione*, topica, periermeniae, — *a monstrous
arrangement/ as Prantl not unreasonably observes. All that
follows in the chapter De Isayoyis is from Isidorus, excepting
that an example is supplied under each heading by way of
illustration. In the same manner the enumeration of the
Categories is taken from the Pseudo-August™, the Greek
words being given in barbarous Latin forms. Between these
two sources, together with a little from Boethius, Alcuin
ekes out his treatise on Dialectic—' ein abenteuerlicher
Compilation eines Compendium^/ to quote his eminent critic
once more, wherein ( not even the abstract logical necessity
of a certain coherence of succession is discernible.'2 Even
Fredegis' eccentric treatise, De Nihilo ct Tenebris, seems to
him an advance on such mechanical drudgery as this.
tnlike manner, Alcuin's treatment of the subjects of the
guawrwium 3 is a mere echo of the Encyclopaedists, with a
somewhat larger infusion of superstitious mysticism!] In
. ° . J
arithmetic we tind him attributing a mysterious power to
the numbers 3 and 6, which he speaks of as containing
' the keys of nature.' A treatise which he compiled on
music is no longer extant. In astronomy fancy, or arbitrary
hypothesis, supplied the place of observation ; while the ray
of light that flashed from the page of Capella upon the dark
system of Ptolemy 4 appears never even to have arrested his
attention. In the month of July, 797, the planet Mars dis-
appeared from the heavens, and was not again visible until
tte followin£ JuV- Chiles, whose interest in astronomical
questions was singularly active, enquired eagerly of Alcuin
1 ' Dialecticam et rlietoricam Yarro in novern disciplinarum libris tali
similitudine definivit : dialectica et rhetorica est quod in maim liominis
pugnus astrictus et palma distensa, ilia verba contrahens, ista distendens.'
Cassiodorus, Dial. 3, ed, Venet. 1739, p. 536. See also Isidorus, OHgines,
II 23.
2 Gesch. d. Loffik, ii 14-16. » Migne, ci 979-984, 1143-1159.
4 See supra, p. 66, note 1.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. g9
the cause of this portentous phenomenon ; and was met by
the facetious reply that the sun had detained the planet in
its course, but had at last again released it through fear of
the Neniean lion ! l
GlChe foregoing account may suffice to illustrate the
character of what may be termed Alcuin's technical instruc-
tion in the Palatine School; but it would be very imperfectly
to estimate his influence were we to omit to notice how it
operated in relation to that study in which, according to the
grand old mediaeval notion, not only the trivium and qua-
drivium, but^ali human knowledge culminated, — the study of
theolog^J \Q£ his acquaintance with the Scriptures them-
selvesThis controversial treatises, those against the Adoption- His con-
ist leaders Elipandus and Felix, would alone be sufficient ^^
proof, and may be held fairly to justify the assertion of the Adop-
inonk of St. Gall, that Alcuin was •' familiar with the whole *
of the sacred writings beyond all others of his age.' 2 His
reputation with his contemporaries stood not less high. At
the great Council of Frankfort in 794, though neither bishop
nor abbat, he was assigned a seat and permitted to share in
the deliberations, on the ground of x his attainments in
Church learning^3
Of his views as a churchman we have already spoken — His
he trod in the steps of Gregory and Bede ; and in the inter-
pretation of Scripture he yielded them the same obedience, traditions
To teach what the Fathers taught — to interpret every pas- Latin
sage by the light of preceding investigation — such were the Chxurca-
canons he laid down, and they were faithfully adhered to by
his disciples. M. Monnier observes4 that the theologians of
1 In allusion to the planet having again become -visible in the -sign of
Leo. Migne, c 275.
1 ' Qui erat in omni latitudine scrip turarum super caeteros modernorum
teniporum exereitatus.' Pertz, ii 731,
3 De Alcuino, quern rex synodo commendamt. l Commonuit etiam ut
Alcuinum ipsa sancta synodus in suo consortio sive in orationibus recipere
dignaretur, eo quod esset yir in ecclesiasticis doctrinis eruditus.' Baluze, i
270.
4 P. 204. ' Alcuin,' he says, ' eat le representant le plus complet de
cotte theologie orthodoxe mais craintive, plus abondante en livres qu'en
idees.'
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
Fuida, of St. Gall, and Corbey, all reproduce the same method
of theological teaching. Of Alcuin's tenets in general it
may be said, that nothing could be more unmistakeably op-
posed to that theory of cleveloperaent on which certain writers
have so strenuously insisted in vindicating the views put
forth by the mediaeval Church. In his commentary on the
penitential psalms, he gives us little more than the exposi-
tions of Augustine and Cassiodorus — in expounding the
Epistles to Titus and Philemon, he reproduces St. Jerome—
in treating the Epistle to the Hebrews, lie has recourse to
St. Chrysostoni, and prefers altogether to pass by the
question raised by Jerome regarding its authenticity. His
treatise De Fide Trinitatis aspires to nothing more than to
render somewhat more intelligible the doctrine of St. Augus-
tine. His commentary on St. John is compiled partly from
the same Father, partly from Ambrose, Gregory, and others.
His exposition of the Apocalypse is a mere echo of Bede.
,7 His , ; 2jn_ no respect indeed is Aicuin's influence on the Carolin-
speoiaUy g*an -schools more distinctly perceptible than in the niaimer
discernible jn wluch he thus perpetuated and enhanced the authority of
promotion the Fathers. In his mystic interpretation of Scripture the
of defer-111 in^uence °£ St. Ambrose, in his Hezaemeron, and perhaps also
ence for that of Cassian, is especially to be noted: Alcuin appears to
n y' have taught in Frankland the science for which Boniface was
vaguely renownej/ The semus litter alis of a passage having
been first unfolded — that is to say, a critical, historical, and
grammatical examination of its meaning having been given —
the commentator passes on to what m his view was by far
His the more important part — the svnsm all&jorialis. In this
|£n^ncy direction the most lively fancy and ingenuity could have
allegorical craved for no greater license than that which commentators
tfonof6 " like Bede and Alcuin assume in attributing a latent figura-
Scripturc. tive meaning to the most prosaic expressions. The marriage
at Cana is said by St. John to have taken place on the i'fi ird
day ; this, says Alcuin, is designed to imply that our Lord
came to elect his Church in the third age — the first having
been that of the patriarchs, the second of the prophets, the
third of the Evangelists. There were six waterpots, because si*
THE SCHOOL OF THE • PALACE. 91
centuries elapsed before prophecy became fulfilled in our Lord's CHAP,
actual appearance.1 The triclinium on winch the guests re- „ _ ^_ ___ .
posed at table denoted the three divisions of the faithful— the
married, those vowed to celibacy (continent et), and the tea-chers.2
The * four living creatures,' described by Ezekiel, typified the
four Evangelists. In the conversation with Sigulfus on the
Bock of Genesis the question is raised, why animals that live on
land are more accursed than those that live in the water ? The
reply is, because they consume more of the fruits of the earth,
which was cursed ; for the same reason Christ, after He had
risen from the dead, preferred to eat fish rather than flesh ! *
£TJiis morbid passion for analogy, almost as arbitrary and Influence
fantastic in its exercise as the fancy which thinks to discern example
strange shapes and fearful visages in the heave tily constellations,
assumes no ordinary importance when we recall how potent
was its influence on the whole current of mediaeval theology^?
./The vast tomes which, at the present day, occupy so large^a
space in our ancient libraries, the monuments of the labours
of Hugo of St. Victor, of Hugo of St. Cher, and Nicola s de
Lyra, reflect the teaching of Alcuin ; the lessons of the Pala-
tine School and the expositions at Tours were revived, long
after, by the great doctors who taught in the University of
t is impossible to deny, when comparing the mental Thepre-
characteristics of these distant times with those of our own mediaeva
day, that the comparative modesty of assumption which dis- and
tinguishes our ablest writers on science offers one of the teachers
most favourable points of contrast. The tone of scientific
investigators and discoverers may often be far from reverent,
yet we cannot but recognise in the habits of mind developed
by research of this cha-racter an influence eminently repressive
of vague assertion and unverified hypothesis. The necessity
for rigid accuracy in all processes that involve the employment
of numbers — the chastening discipline of oft-repeated failure
and of errors of conception, brought home to the enquirer by
1 Migne, c 770.
2 • Quia nlmirum tres sunt ordines fideliuni qiutms ecclesia coiiBtat :
coajugatorum videlicet, contiiiemium. el doctoruin.' Migne, c 771.
8 Ibid, c 518.
92 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
the very data lie lias himself assumed — the distrust that at last •
becomes habitual of all conclusions that do not admit of at
least approximate verification — are little favourable to a
dictatorial spirit in any province of knowledge. ^13ut at the
time that Alcum lived, anxL for centuries after, no such re-
straining influence .existed. Fancy and invention roved
through the whole domain of letters unchecked. Miracle, '
legend, and gross exaggeration passed alike unchallenged
and unsuspected. The popular mind, delighting in the
marvellous, was willing to be deceived, and was deceived
accordingly. In no respect are the effects of this tendency
more clearly discernible than in connexion with the history of •
individuals, especially of those who aspired to be the in-
structors of their age. Men hailed the appearance of some
great doctor who, like Alan of the Isles, knew or professed to
know the whole circle of the sciences — who, by virtue of tra-
ditional learning or original genius, had an answer ready for
every enquiry, a solution for every difficulty. An instructor
who had frankly confessed that he too was but an enquirer,
often baffled, often perplexed, would have found his reputa-
tion gone. It would require a long search through the pages
of the doctor subtilis, the doctor angelicus, or the doctor irre-
*L fragibilis to discover any such avowaLJ
Difficulties ^ is not difficult to perceive that the prevalence of ex-
°f stop™11'8 agger8Lted notions of this character proved a fatal snare to
Alcuin, Expectation at the court of Charles the Great had
been roused to the highest pitch by the fame of this great
doctor from beyond the seas. The circle that gathered in. the
Palatine School looked not merely for the grammarian and
the theologian, which Alcuin might fairly claim to be, but
also for the logician, the metaphysician., and the natural phi-
losopher, which he was not] Jjt would, of course, have been
perfectly in his power tooisavow his ability to satisfy these
exorbitant requirements, but it is certain that such a course
would have been attended with much humiliation. It was
not simply that the, marked distinction with which he had
been received, and the royal favours lavished upon him, musi
have incited him to his utmost efforts to approve himself 2
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 93
deserving recipient, but, as we shall hereafter see, there were
those at hand who were only too ready to profit by any back-
wardness on his part and at once to occupy the chair which
he would vacate. These were men whom he regarded as
enemies of the true faith, and he would naturally be led, not
less by a spirit of loyalty to the Church than by individual
interest, to seek to prevent their winning the royal ear, and
disseminating false doctrine throughout the courtj
The mechanical and defective character of Alcuin's treat- j£g conj
ment of logic will prepare us to moderate our expectations tradietkms
when he approaches the subject of metaphysics. The cele- tions of
brated passage in Porphyry, whence sprung the scholastic "jf g^
controversy concerning Universals, had not, as yet, become
the subject of debate, but enquiry already hovered not far off
from the great battle-field of mediaeval philosophy. The
theory of Aristotle respecting the relations of ( substance ' to
* entity ' is sufficiently intelligible. At the commencement
of the Categories,1 he defines ova-la, or substance, as essen-
tially the property of the individual ; so far from being, as
Plato held, a Universal, it was simply that which furnished
the primary notion of being, as the substratum of the indivi-
dual. This teaching is preserved with sufficient clearness in
Isidorus, who also preserves the well-known distinction by
which, according as it is regarded as denoting independent
existence or as a basis of attributes, it is derived, in the first
instance, from subsistendo, in the second, from substando.*
Whether, in agreement with Sir William Hamilton, we
consider that, whichever derivation we accept, the term has
reference to the same thing (viewed, however, under a different
aspect), or with M. Haureau, that a distinction is involved
between * being 5 and ' substance/ the neglect of which lands *Sub-
us in ' pure Spinozism/ 3 it is undeniable that tne distinction f^*'^ '
is one of primary importance, and is to be found even in and « be-
ing.'
* Oh. iii.
2 'Usiaa autem, id est substantiae, propriuin est, quod caeteris siibjacet
reliqua novera accidentia sunt. Substantia autem dicitur ab eo quod omuis
res ad seipsam subsistit. Corpus enim subsistit, et ideo substantia est.
Mymol ii 26 j Migne, Ixxxii 144-5.
3 Phifasophiv Sckolastique, i 72.
94 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP. Lsidorus. In Alcuin's exposition, however, it effectually
._ *' _. eludes comprehension. He tells us, indeed, quoting from
Isidorus, that ' substantia is so called because it is that which
subsists, i.e. imparts to every entity (natura) its distinctive
shape ; * but somewhat further on he proceeds to define ' sub-
stance,5 and informs us that ovtrla (substantia) is that which
is discerned by the bodily sense, while aceidens (<rt^9r^/coj),
he adds, is that which is apprehended only by the mind.
Then he adds, strangely enough, that ovcrla has also been
termed vTrotceipsvov, that is, he explains (the scholastic sub-
sir alum not having been yet invented), subjacens.1
It is not surprising that teaching which thus slurred over
an all-important distinction, and then proceeded to define
phaenomma as discernible only by the intellect, tended much
to mystify his disciples. Arao, his fellow-countryman, was
especially puzzled, and wrote to beg for a concise explanation
as to the real meaning of the different terms — substantia,
essentia, and mbsistentia. He wanted particularly to know
whether the supreme Being could be termed a ' substance.'
Alcuin, in his- reply, falls back upon the ordinary acceptation
of the first term, and explains that substantia. is a common
name for every existing thing' — sun, moony trees, animals,
man himself; * substance' is essential to existence, and hence
God Himself is a substance, the chief, the primary substance,2
and the cause of all substances. Such a conception, he
holds, is directly opposed to the *Arian poison/ and he
dilates on its theological value ; but he vouchsafes his cor-
respondent no aid, whatever in arriving at a philosophical
discrimination in the use of the foregoing terms, and Arno
must have felt as far from a satisfactory result as ever.
Diver- When the teacher laid down the canons in such dubious
theor °fn an<^ even contradictory terms, it is not surprising that he
1 * Nam id quod corporal! sensu discermtur, usian, id eat. substantiam
dici jusserunt. Illud autem, quod amini tractatu solum colligitur, aut saepe
mutatur, aymbeLicos, id est, nccidena noiuiuari maluerunt, Usian quoque
ypocimenon, id est, subjaciens appellare voluerimt.' I)e Dialectica, Migne,
ci 956.
8 ' Deus igitur substantia est, et; sumuia substantia, et prima substantia, et
omnium substantianim causa, quia omnium reruin creator est.' Mighe^ c 418.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 95
should have failed -to impress any distinct philosophic notions
on his disciples, and that while we afterwards find the
most distinguished inheritors of his traditions asserting the
doctrines of Nominalism, others, like Fredegis, are to be
seen espousing those of the extremest Realism, How singu-
larly the latter, though the recognised successor of Alcuin,
departed from his master's tenets may be gathered from the
following instance. In one of Aleuin's letters to Charles
there is an interesting passage, somewhat reminding us of
the first book of Cicero's Tuseulan Disputations, in which he
argues that death is no evil ; it is, in fact, not even a reality,
but simply the absence of a reality — that is, of the vital prin-
ciple : just, he goes on to add, as darkness is nothing but the
absence of light — sicut tenebrae nihil aliud sunt nisi absentia
lucis.1 It is impossible to say whether Fredegis ever saw Fredegis as
this letter —it appears to have been written at the time when a Keailst-
he was presiding over the Palace School after Alcimi's retire-
ment to Tours — but it is certainly somewhat remarkable that,
taking for his motto the passage in St. Matthew, c If there-
fore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that
darkness ! ' he should have composed a treatise to prove that
nothing and darkness are alike real entities ! M. Haureau, who
speaks of Fredegis as ' le premier-ne des re'alistes du raoy en-
age,' assumes that the treatise was written in reply to certain
* gens de peu de foi' at Charles' court. If so, it would appear
that among these sceptically inclined individuals we must
include Alcuin himself.8
>| ^et notwithstanding Alcuin's defects as a philosopher,
his strong practical sagacity stood him in good stead. If
his genius was little suited for speculative enquiry, it was
also equally opposed to extravagant and fantastic theorisa-
1 Migns, c 435. The Tusculans appear to have been well known to
scholars at this period : Lupus of Ferrieres, writing to Einhard, quotes from
the first book. See JSinhardi Opera (ed. Teulet), ii 157.
8 The dispute seems to date back as far as the time of Isidores :— ' Non
ex hoc substantiam habere credendae sunt tenebrae, quia dicit doiniuus per
prophetaai, " Ego dominua formam, lucera et creans tenebras/' sed quia
angelica mitara, quae noc ept praevaricata, lux diciiur, ilia autein quae
praovarieata, est, tenebiarum nomine nuucupatur/ Sent. I 2,
96
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUiN.
CHAP.
I.
Alcuin's
chief
friends :
Arno,
dulftis.
tionT] We find him accordingly maintaining his ground at
fne Palace School with apparently undiminished reputation,
while throughout the realm he could number among his
friends the foremost men in Church and State, Besides
those already enumerated as among his audience at court,
there were three of especial eminence. The first, the friend
to whom he seems to have been of all others most closely
attached, was his fellow-countryman Arno, bishop of Salz-
burg, to whom many of his letters are addressed, and who,
in his remote diocese, was energetically carrying on the
Benedictof noble work of St. Boniface. The second, Benedict of Aniane,
had formerly been a page in the court of Pepin-le-Bref, and
his chivalrous nature and prowess in the fight especially
endeared him to Charles; but on him, too, had fallen the
sorrow of his age, and he was now, in his cell on the Aniane,1
withdrawn from life and famed for the austerity with which
he there enforced the observance of the Benedictine rule.
and Theo- Equally eminent, though in different fashion, was Theodulfus,
bishop of Orleans, the founder of the great school of Fleury,
a Spaniard of Gothic descent who reflected the culture of
southern Gaul, and whose name is memorable as that of the
initiator of free education and an active guardian of letters,
JOn every side, indeed, Alcuin appears to have found
active sympathy and co-operation \ and if the task to which
he had been summoned was arduous, the resources 'at his
disposal were proportionably great. Two important monas-
teries— one that of St. Loup near Troyes, the other that of
Ferrieres in the Ga/fcinais — were placed under his control,
and supplied him with a sufficient revenue; while in the
work of educational reform^ he was supported by the whole
of the royal influence^ (During the first five yea,rs that
followed upon his arrival at Charles' court, it would appear,
however, that the Saxon war effectually distracted the
monarch's attention from efforts of a general and compre-
hensive character. But in the year 785 the hero Witikind
laid down his arms and embraced Christianity. His example
1 A river in Septimama (tlie modem Langtiedoo) remarkable for its wild
and rugged scenery,
Monas-
teries
placed
under bis
control.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 97
was followed by large numbers of his countrymen, tlie CHAP.
thunder-clouds of war rolled oif to more distant parts of the ^ *; ,
empire, and Neustria and Austrasia had rest.1 Suspension
Within two years from this time we accordingly find
Charles developing a more extended scheme of reformation,
and calling upon the monasteries and the Church to aid him,
in giving due effect to his designs^ ^n ^e ^amous Capitulary Charles'
of 787 we recognise both the practical spirit of the monarch
and the influence of his new adviser. The copy that has
reached us is that addressed to the abbat of Fulda. Far
away beyond the boundaries of modern France, a hundred
miles eastward of the Rhine, amid the solitudes and wooded
heights of Hesse Cassel, the monks of this now famous
foundation maintained, in envied independence of episcopal
control,2 the observance of the rule of St» Benedict. As the
site hallowed by the mortal remains of St. Boniface, Fulda
appealed with peculiar force to the characteristic superstition
of the age, scarce yielding to St. Martin itself in its claims
to especial reverence ; its abbat was one of the four abbates
imperil, while its material importance is sufficiently indicated
by supplies of men and money to the state in times of war,3
and its frequent selection as the place of confinement for
political prisoners. It was here that the abbat Baugulf us
received a copy of the .capitulary which Charles addressed to
the bishops and abbats throughout the realm : —
6 Charles, by the grace of God, King of the Franks and of
the Lombards and Patrician of the Romans, to Baugulfus,
abbat, and to bis whole congregation and the faithful com-
mitted to his charge :
QQ it known to your devotion, pleasing to God, that in
conjunction with our faithful we have judged it to be of
1 ' Quievitque ilia Saxonicae perfidiao peracacitas per annos aliquot, ob
hoc maxitne, quoniam occaeiones deficiendi ad rem pertinontes invenire uon
potuerunt.' Einhard, Annales (ed. Teulet), i 196.
2 This was i]i accordance with the original plan of St. Boniface; see
supra, p. 45, H. 2.
3 BaluzA, i 589. See also a letter from Einhard to Rabanus Maurua
begging on behalf of one of the monks, * ut sibi liceat iter exeraitale, quod
praeaenti tempore aprendum est, omittere.' Carolina, 4CO.
9S CHARLLS THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
CHAP, utility that, in the bishoprics and monasteries committed by
.._..*: „ Christ's favour to our charge, care shoulc] b<? ta.ypn iha.f th**™*
shall be not only a_regulny ™a"^pJLoXlife and one COD form-
• A ab]ft~to hQly_religionf but also the study of- letters, _each to
A ^ * tea.f»,h anc^arn them according to his ability and the divine
houieUmds to good morals, so zeal on the part of the teacher
and the taught imparts order and grace to sentences ; and
those who seek to please God by living aright should also
not neglect to please Him. by right speaking. It is written,
" by thine own words shalt thou be justified or condemned ; "
and alt-hough right doing be preferable to right speaking,
yet nmst the knowledge of what is right precede right action.
Everyone, therefore, should strive to understand what it is
that he would fain accomplish ; and this right understanding
will be the sooner gained according as the utterances of the
tongue are free from error. And if false speaking is to be
shunned by all men, especially should it be shunned by those
who have elected to be the servants of the truth. During
past years we have often received letters from different
monasteries informing us that at their sacred services the
brethren offered up prayers on our behalf; and we have ob-
served that the thoughts contained in these letters, though.
in themselves most just, were expressed in uncouth language,
and while pious devotion dictated the sentiments, the un-
lettered tongue was unable to express them aright, /lleiice
there has arisen in our mincUthe fear lest, if tbeJskUl to"
•write rightly were thus lacking, so too would the power__of
rightly comprehending the sacred SerTp hires be far less^than
was^fitjiiig ; and we all know tiiat though verbal errors be
dangerous, errors of the understanding are yet more so. I We
exhort you, therefore, not only not- to neglect the study of
letters, but to apply yourselves thereto with perseverance"
and with that humility which is well pleasing to God ; so
that you may be able to penetrate with greater ease and
certainty the mysteries of the Holy Scriptures, j^or as these
contain images, tropes, and similar figures, it is impossible
to doubt that the reader will arrive far more readily at the
THE SCPIOOL OF THE PALACE. 99
spiritual sense according as he is the better instructed in CHAP,
learning*. Let there, therefore,, be chosen for this work men. ,_ ^ _^
who are both able and willing to learn, and also desirous of.
instructing others; .and let them apply themselves to the work
with a zeal equalling the earnestness with which we recom-
mend it to them. 1H
^t is our wwir that you may be what it behoves the
soldiers of the Church to be, — religious in heart, learned in
discourse, pure in act, eloquent in speech ; so that all who
approach your house in order to invoke the Divine Master or
to behold the excellence of the religious life, may be edified in
beholding you and instructed in hearing you discourse or chant,
and may return home rendering thanks to God most High.
* Fail not, as thou regardest our favour, to send a copy of
this letter to ail thy suffragans and to all the monasteries ;
and let no monk go beyond his monastery to administer justice
or to enter the assemblies and the voting-places. Adieu/)1
/In this memorable capitulary, perbaps the ftiost import- AlcuSns
ant document of the Middle Ages—' the charter of modern
thought,' as one writer styles it 2 — it is not difficult to discern
the true authorship. Among all the scholars then living,
few, we apprehend, could have thus discoursed of the intimate
correspondence between correct language and just
(a foreshadowing, it would almost seem, of the scholastic
tiniate of the functions of logic), and of the importance of
the allegorical element in the Scriptures ; while the stipula-
tion with respect to what may be termed the volitional
element, as essential to success in teaching — in the require-
ment that the instructor shall be desirous of imparting
knowledge 3 — points to one of the best features in the monas-
tic theory of education^
This capitulary appears to have been issued on Charles'
return from Augsburg, where he had just received the sub-
mission of the rebellious Tassilo. During his residence at
1 Consfitutw de Scholis per zingula Epiwopia ei M&nasteria instituendi*.
Baluze, i 201-4 ; Pertz; Legg. i 52-3.
8 Ampere, iii 25.
8 ' Et desiderium habermt alios instruencU.'
100
CHAP,
I.
Charles
obtains
the ser-
vices of
teachers of
sinking,
grammar,
and arith-
metic frbia
Rome.
Council of
Aachen,
789.
The
Boraan
method of
chanting
enjoined.
Defective
state of
MSS. at
this
period.
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
Home, in the preceding months, he had secured the services
of teachers of singing, grammar, and arithmetic ; and these
were now sent to the principal different monasteries through-
out the kingdom to render practical aid in carrying out the
reforms indicated in the royal letter. Two years later, at
the great council held at Aachen in 789, finding, it would
seem, that his injunctions had not been sufficiently carried
out, he issued more precise instructions. * Let the monies/
said the new capitulary, 'make themselves thoroughly
masters of the Eoman method of chanting, and observe
this method in the services, according to the decree of
our father Pepin^ who abolished the Gallican method, in
order that he might place himself in agreement with the
Apostolic see and promote concord in God's Church.' l
/Among the most glaring results of the state of things
which the emperor sought to remedy was the number of in-
correctly transcribed copies of portions of the ' Scriptures, of
breviaries and honiilaries, scattered throughout the realm.
Along with the general decline of learning, the monastic
libraries had suffered greatly from neglect ; while the loss of
the papyrus, owing to the occupation of Egypt by the
Saracens, had largely increased the costliness of the necessary
materiaLjf
The sacred or patristic page, turned by rude unlettered
hands, became mutilated or defaced. Transcripts became
rarer ; and ignorance, in its efforts to restore the text, al-
ready obscured by numerous and arbitrary contractions,
doubtless often committed strange blunders; blunders such
as afterwards gave rise to scarcely lees ludicrous misappre-
hensions, on the part of half-informed modern writers, as to
the actual state of learning in these times — to stories like
those- of the i Benedie mulis et nmlabis tuis J of bishop
1 i Quod beatae memoriae genitor noster Pippinna rex decerta7it ut fieret,
quando gallicanum caatiun tiilit ob onammitatem Apostolicae vSeclis et
sanctae Dei Ecciesiae paeifieam concordiain/ Baluze, i 715. Li Ansegisus
this is addressed to monastic bodies ; Pertz (Legg, i 66") heads the article
* Ortmi Clero,' Baluro, ' Omnibus Clericis.' It was probably issued to boili
orders alike.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 101
Meinwerc, the * clam gram * of bishop Otto's clerk, and our CHAP,
own * inumpsimus.' ' . « — -^ — -
As a remedy for these evils Charles sent round to the Charles
churches a homilary, or collection of sermons, corrected by &„#.&&
the hand of Paulas Diaconus (at that time probably engaged Eomiia^y
in teaching at Hetz),2 accompanied by the following instruc- pared for
tions : 'Desirous as we are of improving the condition of the ^V1i°^he
churches, we impose upon ourselves the task of reviving, of the
with the utmost zeal, the study of letters, well-nigh extin-
guished through the neglect of our ancestors.3 We charge
all our subjects, as far as they may be able, to cultivate the
liberal a,rts, and we set them the example. . We have already,
God helping, carefully corrected the books of the Old and
New Testaments, corrupted through the ignorance of tran-
scribers. A nd inasmuch as the collection of homilies for the
service at nocturns was full of errors ... we have willed that
these same should be revised and corrected by Paul the deacon,
our well-beloved client ; and he has presented us with copies
of readings, adapted to eveiy feast day, carefully purged from
error and sufficing for an entire year.'
In the year 789,4 another capitulary was circulated en- £a?itur~e
forcing upon the clergy the necessity for raising their pro- spectiag
fession in public estimation by moral lives, and directing that **•
candidates for the priestly office should be sought for n-ot
only from among the servile class^but among the sons of free-
men.b Successive capitularies repeated and emphasised with
greater distinctness the same injunctions. At a council at
Aachen, in the same year, the standard for admission to
orders was authoritatively fixed. The Capitulary of Frank-
1 For a masterly exposure of these and similar exaggerations, see
Maitland, The Dark Ages, Essay No. 8.
3 EncycKca de Emendations Librorum et Qfficwrum Ecclesiasticorum
(Per^z, Legg. i 44 ; Baluze, i 204-5). If we accept the date assigned by
Pertz to this capitular, i.e. 782. it would appear to have been among
Charles' earliest measures of reform.
3 ' Obliteratam pene majomm nostroruni desidia reparare vigilante
studio litterarum satagimus officinarn.' Ib.
4 Capitular e Aquisyrancnse. Baluze, i 209-42.
5 ' Non solam servilis conditionis infantes sed etiam iiigenuoruin tilios
aggrogent sibique socient.'
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
fort in 794 is entirely taken up with regulations for the dis-
cipline of monastic bodies and the clergy. The latter are
forbidden to enter taverns, and it is also required that no one
shall be ordained a priest under thirty years of age.' In
the instructions given to the missi domwici in 802, it is
directed that their attention shall be given to canonical
societies, to see that the rules of the order are observed.2
In a capitulary of 804 many of these instructions are again
789. repeated. At the same time, the actual work of education
Every was strenuously pressed on. \ £~j&t> eveiT monastery/ says
to have its the capitulary of 780, ( and every abbey have its school,*
where boys may be taught the Psalms, the system of musical
notation, singing, arithmetic, and grammar; and let the
p books which are given them be free from faults, and let care
be taken that the boys do not spoil them either when read-
ing- or writinof/y
Of the manner in which the movement spread through
the different dioceses and was aided by the episcopal order,
we are presented with a notable example in Theodulfus, the
famous bishop of Orleans. In the year 797, ten years after
the appearance of the capitulary addressed by Charles to
I?**?" fiaagulfns, Theodulfus drew up a similar document addressed
dalfus: ....'/•.:. r
his capita- to the clergy of his diocese. Apart from his ecclesiastical
° ° authority, his sentiments, as those of one of the missi domi-
PB diocese. nici} would naturally carry great weight; we infer indeed
that when Alcuin retired to Tours, in 70G5 Theodulfas suc-
ceeded him as a kind of minister of education, for the latter
styles him 'the father of the vineyards,14 and the Orleans
capitulary appears to have been widely adopted in other dio-
ceses,5
Helm- This document is remarkable as a. combination oX lofty
nnfemof sentiment and practical endeavour. St. Benedict himself
freeediwa- could ii ot have impeached the argument in jiMiBcation of
tion,
1 Capitulare Franlefordiens*. Baluze, i 2G1 -270,
2 Capitula data ittims dgniinicis. Ibid, i 360,
3 ' Et ut scholae legeutium pueroi um iient.'
* 'Modo, miserante Deo, nieliori popalo sscandus prae^st David, et sub
eo nobilior Zabdias cellics praeeet Yir.earum.' Migne, c 394.
5 See Thevdidfe, Ewqup, d'OrUam, j>a-r M. TAbbe Banrard. Paris, 18(50..
J
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. f 03
study, as <a means whereby the life of the righteous is
nourished and ennobled, and the man himself fortified against
temptation.1 {J3ut the feature that has chiefly redeemed this
document from oblivion is the clause wherein provision is
made for' the gratuitous instruction of the cMldren of the laity.
Theodulfns required his clergy to open schools in every
town and village ia the diocese, and to receive * the children
of the faithful ' for instruction, demanding in return no pay-
ment, though permitted to accept a gift spontaneously
offered,1 Such is probably the earliest instance on record,
in the history of Western Christianity, that answers fco the
free parish school of modern times,.*]
//Wecan scarcely doubt, with the foregoing evidence before
us, that the work of reform, urged on by the strong will of
Charles and directed by the experience of Alcuin, progressed
with marvellous rapidity ; and the facts already cited will
enable us to form a fairly accurate estimate of the scope
and nature of the work. It has been extravagantly extolled
and it has also been unjustly depreciated. Gibbon, whose Criticisms
. , , -VI i - ,• i • of Gibbon
jealousy oi every measure assignable to ecclesiastical in- &,D<tLo-
fiuences led him to disparage the whole movement, has ob- renz cja*
trastod,
served, with exaggerated antithesis, that * the emperor strove
to acquire the practice of writing, which every peasant now
learns in his infancy.5 An enthusiastic biographer of Alcuin,
on the other hand, invites us to believe that * there was a
more universal education secured to the lower orders at the
conclusion of the eighth century than France can boast of in
the nineteenth.3 3 It is not difficult to see that the real truth
lies somewhere between the theory advanced by the par-
tiality of the professor and that implied by the prejudice of
the historian/if
Alcuin 's general success and satisfaction with the
results of his labours there can be no reasonable doubt -, and
though the interval that separated Charles intellectually from
1 ' Presby ten per villas et vicos schoks habeant, et si quilibet fidelium
suos parvuloa ad disceudas litteraa eis commendare vult. eos suscipere iioa
renuanfy sed cum suinntia charitate eos doceaztt, etc.* Cossart, xiii 993,
* Lorenz, Akuins Leben, p. 36 (written 1629),
104 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCtJIN.
the ablest of his courtiers was considerable, yet it is certain
that the circle of able men whom his discerning genius drew
round him far surpassed in brilliancy that which surrounded
OfFa or Alfred the Great. But however little cause the court
instructor might have to complain of apathy or insufficient
support, we gather from more than one circumstance that he
Circnm- was beginning to grow somewhat weary of his position and
jt |g not Difficult to see that the continual
induce questioning and cross-questioning which he underwent in the
to Palace School often overtaxed both his patience and his re-
retire from S0urce9. M. Monnier indeed inclines to the belief, that in
}ll3 pOSt. ,
the dialogue on grammar, of which an outline has been
given, it was the design of the much-harassed instructor
to exhibit, in the characters of the youthful Frank and the
youthful Saxon, the kind of ordeal to which he had been
subjected by his royal host.1 There are certainly some pas-
sages which almost suggest that nothing but a sense of self-
respect and of what was due to so august a presence, pre-
vented Alcuin from turning on his merciless interrogator much
in the fashion in which our great English lexicographer
more, than once resented the importunity which ultimately
immortalised him. In Charles, the ardour of the student
seems sometimes to have triumphed over the theory of
Bis ordeals noblesse oblige. He would suddenly bring forward, side by
s^e> ^wo explanations, wrung, at long intervals, from his
instructor, and ask how this could be, and also that — when it
needed no knowledge of art dialectical or any other art, an
fact nothing but the light of nature, to see tftat the two
statements were absolutely incompatible. The-- dignified
ecclesiastic, accustomed to deliver his decisions at -York un-
challenged, winced sadly under this treatment. Long after^
when he had effected his escape to Tours, antf another-
teacher was enlightening the Palace School, he candidly a-d-
3uitte<l certain blunders, but suggests that they are to be
condoned. 'The horse,' lie says, * which Jias four legs often
5 •' OK pent dire qu 'Alcuin a voulu leptBsenter ainsi et les ifuportumte*s de
POII principal e"leve, et Its services destruction qu'il lui a rend us lui-nierae.'
Mvmiier,. p. 00.
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE. 105
stumbles ; liow much more must man, who lias but one J CHAP.
tongue, often trip in speech.' l '*- — •
Other sources of disquiet were not wanting. The fre- Frequent
quent migrations of the Palace School, as it jnoved from
Aachen to Thionyiile, from Thionville to Worms, and thence
on to Mayence, Frankfort, or Ratisbon, were peculiarly irk-
some to one whose habits had been formed in the monotony
of canonical life. And if to these journeys are added those
to the abbeys committed to his charge (one in the Gatinais,
the other near Troyes),2 we can easily enter into his com-
plaint that his studies are sadly interrupted by secular
business, long journeys, and the impossibility of carrying any
large number of books with him on such occasions.3 Then
again there was the excitement that necessarily followed
upon, the setting forth of Charles and his generals to the
seat of war, and upon their return. Since 782, not a year Excite-
had elapsed that had not been marked by conflict within
some portion or other of the Frankish boundaries; while the
severity with which Charles treated the vanquished, especially
the Saxons, completely shocked the gentle Alcuin, who, when
safe at Tours, did not fail to plead for the extension of greater Lasit Qf
clemency. Even in the monarch's home life there must have the court
been much which he could not fail to observe with pain and e*
disapproval. For it was not a moral court, even when tried
only by the standard of that age. Charles himself must often
have scandalised the saintly ecclesiastic by those laxities
which tarnish an otherwise heroic character. Then too
there were the royal daughters, whom the foolish old father
would not suffer to marry,4 and who, breathing the atnio-
1 .Epist, 64 ; Migne, c 27.
8 ( . . . et sic ad St. Lupum.' Epist. 66. ' Et inde ad sanctum Lupum, et
ibi maxinie spero me manere Septembrium mensem totum ' . . ' et sic
Oetobrio mense a-d Ferrarias sanctum Petrnm visit/are, et ibi usque ad
medium ilium ineusein spero me ease.' E^nst. 67 j Migne, c 2oo, 206.
These letters belong to the year 798 ; but it is not probable that Alcuin
would ntigiset to vioit his abbeys during th.8 earlier, part of his residence in
Frankland,
3 Pt'&f. ad Gencsin. Migoe, c 517.
4 A policy %vhic-h'Duminier, however, defends on political grounds. See
Ouch. d. OsifrlinHschen Reiehs, p. 232.
106
He revisits
England.
Disagree-
ment lx--
tvreen tJje
Mei-cian
and
FranklsU
court1:;,,
CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
sphere of a luxurious palace and taking pattern by his own
sad example, might scarcely but go astray — the coronatae
columbae,1 as Alcuin terms them, when warning his country-
man and successor Fredegis against their charms, and whom
Lewis the Pious, on his accession, in his honest efforts to
reform the court, sent packing to a nunnery.
The attractions of a court rarely retain, their fascination.
with men past middle life, and that Alcuin, whose education
and former habits had been those of a recluse, should already
have longed for retirement and repose can be small matter
for surprise. A visit to England in the year 790 afforded the
first respite from his labours. He had left his native land
bound by solemn promise to return, and may even have con-
templated makiog his return permanent. A small monastery
on the banks of the Humber, founded by St. Willibrod, was
his by inheritance, and he was still its nominal abbat. There
were, however, circumstances which concurred to render his
sojourn in England a somewhat anxious time. Mercia, under
(Ma's rnJe, had now reached the culminating point of her
fortunes, and her relations with Frankland had. for some
years past, been becoming less friendly. The Carolingiau
court, was a harbour of refuge for her foes— for young Egbert,
driven from, his hereditary kingdom of Wessex by Offa's son-
in-law Brihtric ; and, at a later period, for Eadwulf, when
defeated in his contest for the crown of Northnmbiia by
another of Offu's soDS-in-law3 Ethelred. It was believed that
a plot had been detected for calling in Prankish aid to the
assistance of Kent in her struggle with her too powerful
neighbour. A refusal, on the part of Charles to permit his
daughter Bertha to marry Offa's son had completed the
rupture between the two courts.2 Merchants trading between
the two countries had already been warned that all inter-
course was suspended, when Alcuin crossed the Channel.8
* ' Nca veniai) t coronatae columbae ad fene tras tuas. quae volunt per
cameras palatii.' JZpist. 13G ; Migne, e 375.
2 Chron. Fandanett, c. 15 ; Bouquet, Scriplwes. v 315.
9 * Sed nescio quid nobis venturam sit. Aliquid eiuru dissensionis,
diabolico fomento inflainmaiite, nuper inter regeni Caroium et regeui Offam
}
THE SCHOOL OF THE PALACE, 107
It was at this juncture that he undertook to mediate between
the two monarchs. The details of the negotiations have not
reached us ; but there appears to be good reason for believing War
that his practical good sense, together with the respect in- Jy«ann'a ?
spired by his character, mainly averted the calamity of war ; efforts.
and when, after an absence of nearly two years, he returned
again to Frankland, he had added another claim to the
gratitude of that country and its ruler.
Events in England from this time offered small prospect Subse-
of tranquil repose. The murder of Ethelbert, the pious king *™£ in
of the East Anglians, by Offa, and that of Osred, the exiled England.
king of the Northumbrians, by Ethelred, indicate the dis-
turbed state of the political atmosphere. In the following
year, the year 798, to quote the language of the Chronicle,
' the ravaging of heathen men lamentably destroyed God's
church at Lindisfarne,' l and northern England became the
theatre of a continued series of rapine and slaughter. Bede's
early home, St. Aidaii's Holy Isle, were scenes of ruin and
desolation. The Northumbrian exile, in the anguish of his
heart, exclaimed that Si. Cuthbert had forsaken his own ;
in his dismay, he took ap the strain chanted two centuries
before in Italy by Gregory, and was fain to interpret the
appalling anarchy and misery that prevailed as the fulfil-
ment of Daniel's prophecy and ominous of the approaching
end of all things !
It was at Charles* earnest request that Alcuin returned The Car.
to Frankland — a request urged under circumstances that, to
the latter, probably seemed to render his acquiescence little
less than an imperative duty. Heresy was shewing a bold
front in the Frankish dominions. The Adoptionists, headed
by the Spanish bishops, Felix and Elipandns, were occasion-
ing grave anxiety to the orthodox party ; while the dispute
respecting the eastern practice of image worship represented
exortum est, Ita ut utrinque navigatio mterdieta r.egotiantibus cesset. Sunt
q,ui dicimt, nos pro pace in illas partes tnittendos.' Ad Cokum lectorem in
Scotia. Mig.ne, ci 142.
1 English Chronicle, sub anno. ' Locus cunctis in Brittannia venerabilior,
pagank geniibus datur ad depredandum,5 is Alciiixt's comment. Alcuin. f
p. 181.
108 CHARLES THE GREAT AND ALCUIN.
a yet more pressing difficulty. Of Aleuin's right to be re-
garded as the author of the Carolines — that memorable effort
of IcoBOclasm — there can be little doubt.1 Idolatry in its
grosser and tangible forms was always an object of his
severest denunciations j and if some difficulty is presented in
the fact that one possessed by such deep reverence for the
papal authority should have ventured to contravene the
decrees of Adrian and to assert with so much boldness the
theory of conciliar independence, an explanation may be found
in the supposition that the Carolines are the offspring not
only of Aleuin's learning and literary sHll, but also of Charles''
vigorous thought and policy. The signal honour conferred,
as we have already seen, on the former at the Council of
Frankfort, proves that throughout its proceedings he was the
ready and willing interpreter of the royal pleasure.
5fe year ^4 may ke looked upon as marking the time
w^en Alcuin's reputation was at its highest. His fame was
of St. < in all the Churches : ' and few could have been found to call
Martin of . • . ,. . , ,
Tours. in question his signal services to both religion and learning
or his just claim to distinguished reward. As yet, however,
no adequate recompense had been vouchsafed him. His own
avowal, indeed, is that no hope of worldly advantage, but a
simple sense of duty to the Church, had originally brought
him to EranklancL and detained him therp* On the other
hand, it is almost certain that, .in resigning his office as
scholastics at York, he had sacrificed his succession to the
archbishopric. It is not improbable, therefore, that Charles
had already intimated that on the next vacancy in the abbacy
of St. Martin of Tours the post would be offered to Alcuin.
The latter, writing to the brethren of that venerable society
in 795, openly confesses that he would gladly be of their
number ; 2 and the opportunity arrived sooner perhaps than
he anticipated, for in the following year the abbat Itherius
died, and Alcuin was forthwith nominated his successor.
1 Frobeinus considered that the style of the Carolines was that of
another pen than. Alcuin's ; but see Buramler's note, p. 220,
* f Op tans WDUS esse ex Tobis.* Epist. 23 ; Migue, c 170.
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY, 109
CHAPTER IL
ALCTTIN AT TOUfcS ; OB, THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY.
THE transfer of Aleuin from the Palace School to the abbacy CHAP.
at Tours was attended by results of no slight importance. ,
On the one hand, it enabled him to give full and practical
expression to his theory of monastic discipline and educa-
tion; on the other, it opened up the way for the introduction
of other teachers at the royal court, some of whom, as we
shall hereafter see, held doctrines little in harmony with
those of their predecessor.
Of his real sense of re'lief and satisfaction with his new The abbey
sphere of duty there can be no doubt. He had received what ^^ Mar"
was, perhaps, the most marked recognition of his services Tours,
that it was in Charles' power to bestow. Already the abbey
was the wealthiest in Frankland, and the adjacent cathedral
the most splendid of all her shrines. In days gone by, 1'ours
arid Poitiers had contended fiercely for the relics of St.
Martin ; l the coveted prize had fallen to the former city,
and its possession thenceforth appealed with singular force
to the superstition of the time. Neither St. Berny nor
Sfc. Denys, as yet, could vie in saintly fame with the vene-
rated founder of monasticism in Gaul. Tours rivalled Rome
itself as a centre of religious pilgrimage ; both monastery
and cathedral were lavishly enriched by the devout muni-
ficence of the Carolingian princes ; and long after, when
Hugh Capet sat on the throne of Charles the Great, he wore
the ecclesiastical cor^ which bespoke him the abbat of
St» Martin of Tours. The la,n«3ed possessions of the monastery
were immense, fully equalling in extent an average modern
1 Gregory of Tour?, Hist. Franc. TV xxxiv.
110 ALCUIN AT TOUB3.
CHAP. department : the archbishop of Toledo made it a reproach
> _ ^: _ . to Alcuin, that he was the master of 20,000 slaves.1
Alcuin's With resources like these, it might w ell seem, that the
Sments g^rdian of the interests and traditions of the faith might
as abbat. find full scope for every purpose. Here learn ing, treading
ever in the safe and narrow path marked out by Gregory and
Bede, might marshal illustrious recruits destined to bear her
banners throughout the length and breadth of Charles'" vast
domains. Here, on the banks of the rushing Loire, the life
of which St. Benedict drew the outlines might be lived again
in all its purity and power. Here, on the boundary line 'twixb
docile Neustria and half-tamed Aquitaine, religion might win.
new converts and achieve a conquest with which those of
Charles Martel or his greater grandson might not compare !
His in- Such, as there is sufficient evidence to shew, were the
ambition, as he looked forward to the crown-
in relation ing work of his career. His theory of education had not
to classical -11-111 j • •»*:•-• />
literature, expanded with enlarged experience. iSo visions of science,
spreading and developing in the coming- years, gilded the
sunset of his days. Something rather of self-reproach is
discernible in his correspondence for so much time and
labour already wasted on secular knowledge. Vergil, whom
he had studied with loving ardour as a boy, now seemed to
him only a collection of * lying fables ' unfit to be read by
those devoted to the religious life. * The sacred poets are
enough for you,' he said to the young monks at Tours ; 'you
have no need to sully your minds with the rank luxuriance
of Vergil's verse.' 2 He rebuked even his friend Eigbodus
for knowing the twelve books of the Aeneid better than the
four Evangelists.3 When Charles wrote to ply him with
questions upon some new difficulties, he could not forbear,
in his reply, from mildly expressing his surprise that c his
dearest David ' should wish to involve him again in c those
1 See Monnier's interesting .sketch, { Un abbe* seigneur au huitieine siecle/
in his Charlemagne et Alcuin, pt. iii, c. 4.
*m ' Sufliciunt divini poetac \obis, nee egetis luxuriosa sermoms Virgil ii
vos pollui iaeundia.' AUuini Vita, c. 19 ; JMigne, c 101.
s « Utinam evangelica quattuor non Aeneades duodecim pectus corupleant
*-, tuum.' Epist. 215, Afcwmnna, p. 714.
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY.
old questions of the Palace School and to summon back to
the contending camps, and to the task of quieting the minds
of the mutinous soldiery, the veteran who had served his
time ; ' ' especially,' he adds, * as you have by yoa the tomes
both of secular learning and of the Church's wisdom, wherein
the true answers may be found to all your queries.' :
Something of the enthusiasm of his early days came back Hi* mea-
to the weary old man as he welcomed at St. Martin the ^rmf
youthful neophytes who, attracted by his fame, came seek-
ing admission within the abbey walls, His first aim was to
provide them with a good library, such a library as he had
himself watched over at York ; and we accordingly find him
writing to Charles, soon- after his installation, to beg that ho
may be allowed to send some of the young monks to England,
who might * bring back to France the flowers of Britain,'
* so that these may diffuse their fragrance and display their
colours at Tours as well as at York.' 2 6 In the morning of His letter
my life,' he says, in the same letter, ' I solved in Britain ; t Charles*
and now, in the evening of that life, when my blood begins
to chill, 1 cease not to sow in France, earnestly praying that,
by God's grace, the seed may spring up in both lands.3 As
for my own frail frame, I solace myself with the thought to
which St. Jerome, when writing to Nepotianus, gives expres-
sion; arid reflect that all the powers might well decline with
old age, but that, although the rest wane, wisdom augments
in strength.' What books his deputies brought back from
York we have no evidence to shew, but we may safely assume
that the collection did not include a copy of Martianus Capella.
The reputation of the monastery of St. Martin in former
times harmonised well with Alcuin's design of making it a
model for the religious life and discipline throughout Frank-
land. It had once been famous for both its learning and its
austere rule. Sulpicius Severus, in his life of the founder,
tells us that even the greatest cities preferred that their
superior clergy should be recruited from those who had been
3 Epist. 82 ; Migne, c 266. 3 Epist. 43 ; Migne, c 298.
8 i Mane florentibus per aetatein studiis seminavi in Britannia. Nunc
voro frigesreute sanguine quasi vespere in Fraucia semiuare non cesso.
TJiraque anim, Dei gratia donante, oriri optans,' Ibid, c 209.
112
ALCUIN AT TOURS.
CHAP.
II.
His repre-
sentations
to Charles
fiomewhat
at variance
with his
actual
discipline.
Story
told of
Sigulfus.
educated at St. Martin ; ! and its aristocratic associations
are probably indicated by the fact that its members, in their
leisure hours, confined themselves entirely to the scholarly
labours of the scriptorium. Even this occupation, however,
was discarded by the older monks, who devoted themselves
solely to prayer.2
There is good reason for concluding that, in the inter-
pretation given by Alcuin to the Benedictine rule, the classic
authors — whose names occupy so prominent a place in his
description of the library at York — were almost entirely for-
bidden, at least to the younger monks. It is true that, in
the letter to Charles 3 above quoted, he says, that, * in com-
pliance with the royal instructions and good pleasure/ he
shall give to some ( the honey of the sacred writings,* tf shall
gladden others with the vintage of the ancient learning,' and
mete out to others < the apples of grammatical subtlety ; *
but it appears not improbable tha.t he concealed, to some
extent, from his royal patron those severer canons which
closed to the junior students at St. Martin the page of pagan
fancy and legend. It is certain, at any rate, that an incident
recorded by Alcuin's unknown biographer clashes somewhat
with the foregoing representations. Sigulfus, along with
two others of the younger raouks — Aldricus and Adalbert,
afterwards abbat of Ferrieres — endeavoured, notwithstand-
ing the formal prohibition, to carry on the study of Yergil
unknown to the abbat. They believed that they had effec-
tually guarded against detection ; but one day Sigulfus re-
ceived a summons to Aleuin's presence. ' How is this,
Yergilian/ said the abbat, £ that unknown to me, and con-
trary to my express command, thou hast begun to study
Yergil? * The astonished monk threw himself at his supe-
rior's feet, and promised from that day forth to study Yergil
no more.4 He was dismissed with a severe reprimand ; and
1 * Quae enim esset ci vitas aut ecclesia, quae non sibi de Martini xnonas-
terio cuperet sacerdotem ? ' Snip. Sev. Vita S. Martini, Mip-ne, xx TOO.
55 * Ars ibi, exeeptis Bcriptoribus, nulla habebatur ; cui tamen operi minor
aetas deputabatur ; majores oratioiii vaeabaiit.' Ibid.
5 Epist. 43; jVIigne. c 208.
4 Alciiim Vita. Miprne. c 101.
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY.
113
it may be inferred that all three laid the lesson well to heart, CHAP.
for two of the number lived to merit and receive Alcuin's II-
warmest approval and praise.1
Over the whole discipline of the monastery Alcuin watched Alcuin's
with untiring vigilance. The points on which he especially ^ne.rjj!
insisted were, a stricter observance j
andjfche^cultivation of sacred learning. He was unceasing
in his exhortations to nightly vigils, to humility, obedience,
and chastity. Verses full of wise precepts were suspended
in the refectory and the dormitories. He gave careful
supervision to the work of the transcribers,2 whose art would
appear to have sadly degenerated. Writing to Charles, in
the year 800, he complains that the use of full-points, and,
in fact, pu actuation generally, had become almost entirely
neglected. He hoped, however, to effect a reform in this as
in other matters : * licet parum proficiens,' he says, ' cum
Turonica quotidie pugno rusticitate.' 3
The fame of his teaching attracted disciples not only Numeroug
from all Frankland, but even from across the Channel. From students
England they came in such numbers as to excite the England.
jealousy of the Neustrians. One day an Anglo-Saxon pjnvy
priest 4 knocked at the gate of the monastery, and while he of the
waited without, his appearance and dress were eyed by four
of the monks who were standing by. They imagined, says
the narrator, that he would not understand their speech, and
he overheard one of them say, c Here is another Briton or
Irishman come to see the Briton inside. The Lord deliver
this monastery from these British, for they swarm hither like
bees to their hive ! '
1 Of Sigulfua Alcuin says that be was l saerae lectionis studiosissimus ; ' of
Adalbert, 'bonam habuit voluiitatem et hurailitatein, seu in servitio Dei,
sen etiam in lectionis studio.' Alcuini Vita ; Praef. m Genetin, Migne, c
516 ; see also letter to Amo, c 296.
2 ' Pour transerire les manuscrits, 1'abbe" de Tours rait en usage le petit
earactere remain, plus beau et plus lisible que la pesante O'criture des
M^rovingiene : c'est co qu'on appelle Yforiture Caroline.' Monnier, p. 213.
5 Migue, c 315.
4 ' Presbyter Engel-Sam' Ib. c J 02. An apparent exception to the rule
laid down by Mr. Freeman — that f the uame by which our for«fatbers really
knew themselves and by which they were known to other nations was
" English " and no other.' Norman Conquest, i 586 (2nd edit.).
I
114 ALCUIN AT TOURS.
It is not improbable that this jealousy was to some
extent stimulated by the preference which, either from
expediency or inclination, Alcuin evidently entertained for
k*8 own countrymen. It was Witzo, one of his companions
own coun- from York to Aachen, who taught for a time as his approved
successor in the Palace School. Fredegis, who had also
been educated at York, afterwards succeeded to the same
post and was abbat, after Alcuin, at Tours. Liudger, a
native indeed of Friesland, but one of Aicuin's scholars in
England, was raised by Charles, at his former instructor's
suggestion, to preside over the newly created see of Miinster.
Sigulfus, the disciple most honoured by Ale urn's confidence,
was his chosen successor at Ferrieres. The impression that
we thus derive, of a certain amount of national prejudice on
Alcuin's part, serves to illustrate the difference between his
^Difference character and that of Charles. The latter in no way shared
respect the feeling with which the young Neustrians at Tours re-
tet^esn garded the new-comers from beyond the seas. To quote the
Charles. expression of Einhard, * he loved the foreigner/ — exhibiting,
in a marked degree, a characteristic rarely absent from,
administrative genius of the highest order, the passion for
studying tke dissimilar.
But just as it was to this feature in Charles' character
that Alcuin, in common with many of his countrymen, was
indebted for his cordial reception at the Frankish court, so,
not long after his retirement to Tours, the same tendency, on
the part of his royal patron, began to manifest itself in a
manner that occasioned him no small anxiety. The sym-
pathy which welcomed the Anglo-Saxon could also extend
itself to the Scot; the enquiring intellect which listened with
so much eagerness to the teaching of the school at York,
was not content to ignore, as mysteriously heterodox, the
ancient doctrine of Lindisfarne ; and thus there now ensued
an episode in the history of the Palace School which requires
that we should turn aside for a moment from our main
narrative, to note some of the most remarkable features in the
history of a memorable though almost forgotten movement.
We have already adverted to the fact that *a very different
V
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY. H5
school of theology from that of Boniface and Alcuin had CHAP.
been represented in Frankland in the person of Colurnban.1 v ^ ,
So far as it is possible to discern the facts in a singularly The Irish
obscure period, it would appear probable that the better in- ^^-n
fluences of Cassian's teaching, as preserved and transmitted the sixth
by the Insulani, had found their way to the monasteries of seventh
Ireland. In striking contrast to the fate that overtook the wnturie*,
great foundations in Frankland, these monasteries were
equally distinguished by their material prosperity and their
devotion to letters ; and the writers of the age often allude
with enthusiasm to the one land where the Church achieved
a durable conquest unaided by the civil arm and unstained by
the effusion of blood. To their fancy it resembled the mythic
region of the Hesperides, a land shrouded in a halo of bliss-
ful repose, whence the baneful influences of the seasons and
all that could molest or harm were repelled by some guardian
power.2 The Irish monks themselves cherished this concep-
tion, and the rude stanzas chanted by the monks of Banchor
still ejrist, wherein they liken their monastery to a ship,
rudely tossed at times by the waves without, but peaceful
and secure within.3
To the Frank the traditions of this distant land could Colum-
appeal for an impartial audience with far better prospects of
success than to the leaders of religious policy in England,
and already in the person of Colvimban had gained a brilliant
though evanescent triumph. Long before St. Boniface set
foot in Thuringia, before even St. Augustine Ian Jed in Kent,
Columban had set forth from Ulster, to found on the frontier
of Austrasia, amid the mountains of the Yosges, the monas-
tery of Luxeuil — famous in the seventh century for its learn-
ing when learning in Frankland was dead. From thence he
had issued forth to rebake. the vices of the Burgundian court $
and from thence,, after a retirement of twelve years, had
1 See supra, p. 4~t. 2 Bede, £ccks. Hist, i i.
* Benehuir bona regula
Recta alque dinua . . .
Nayis nunquam turbata,
Quaiuvis iluetibus tonsa.
Mnratori Anecd. (quoted by Ozar.aia, p. 10.1).
i 2
116
ALCUIN AT TOURS.
CHAP.
II.
, — -
Contro-
versy
between
the Celtic
and Latin
Churches,
The light
in which
such con-
troversies
present
themselves
in history.
been summoned before a synod of Frankish bishops to answer
for his Celtic heresy with regard to the observance of
Easter. In the isolation of their island home, the Irish
theologians still maintained the more ancient method of ob-
serving Easter, according to a cycle of 84 years. They knew
nothing, or professed to know nothing, of the cycle of Vie-
torius, published in the year 457, and afterwards accepted,
through the labours of Dionysius Exiguus, by almost the
entire Latin Church. In the estimation of the English eccle-
siastic the question had in no way declined in importance,
since the time when it formed the foremost subject of dis-
oussion at Whitby. To Bede it appeared a cardinal article
of faith — a kind of thirteenth commandment. He tells us
of Theodorus, that he ( taught the right rule of life — and the
canonical method of celebrating Easter ; ' Eanfleda, feasting
and keeping Palm Sunday, while Os wy still fasted, seemed
to him a grievous scandal.1 In Alcuin's view the question
wore an equally grave aspect; neither the Adoptionist
theory on the one hand, nor the question of Image Worship
on the other, could divert his attention from this sad heresy.
It presented, in fact, an insuperable difficulty in every
attempt to reconcile the Celtic and the Latin Church.
The ordinary observer, on a superficial glance, is apt to
dismiss such controversies with an expression of pitying con-
tempt. He sees in them nothing more than another proof
of the puerility of the mediaeval mind and of the perverse
tendencies of theological thought. A wider acquaintance
with history and. a closer study of its phenomena can hardly,
however, fail to modify an estimate so flattering to modern
self-complacency. Without recalling the fact that even in
the present age, separated as it is from that of Alcuin by the
experiences and research of twelve centuries, disputes con-
cerning the lighting of candles and the colours of vestments
are still troubling alike the statesman, the churchman, and
the theologian — we may observe that a very cursory inves-
tigation will suffice to shew that the questions that have
divided Christendom from the second to the nineteenth cen-
1 Eccle*. Hist, iv ii ; and in xxv.
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY.
tury have rarely been of supreme doctrinal importance. The
contests between religious parties often indeed remind us of
what may be witnessed in military warfare. A small town,
an insignificant fort, owing to a series of strategic move-
ments, suddenly becomes a point of the highest value. It
represents the key to a position which the assailing party is
bound at any cost to carry, the defending party at any cost
to hold. Few, however, are so ignorant as to suppose that
either of the contending forces would be ready to expend so
large an amount of blood and treasure, were the loss or gain
of the position itself the sole result in prospect. It is the
same in theological controversy. A minor point of doctrine
has often been the ground whereon two great parties have
agreed to try their strength, but behind a comparatively un-
important tenet we may generally discern broad and essen-
tial principles contending for the mastery. It was so in
Aleuin's day. The Celtic and the Latin Church differed in Other
their hierarchical principles, in the cast of their whole theo- §vergence
logy, as well as concerning the fashion of the tonsure, the
lite of baptism, and the observance of Easter. The sub- and the
Latin
teachers at York to the authority of Borne was refused by
mission so readily yielded by the king of the Franks and the ^
the Irish theologian, St. Coluraban, when rebuking the pre- the former
tensions of Boniface vm, declared that he and his country-
men were the disciples of St. Peter and St. Paul, who had of Kome,
written under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and had ac-
knowledged only that primitive apostolic teaching of which
Eome from the earliest times had been divinely designed to
])e the conservator,1 It is well known how the learned
Ussher, under the combined influence of political and theo-
logical sympathies, was thus led to claim for the ancient
Irish Church a purely Protestant character — a theory main-
tained even by so recent and well-informed a writer as
Thierry.2
It was in keeping with this repudiation of the autocracy
1 See Ooluiutoan'fl Letter ad .fiomfa'tum Papam, MJ£»e, Ixxx 274.
9 Usslier, De Chriitumaruni .Ecclcsiurum iueccusion* d tlatu, pp. 13-21 j
Thierry, Hist, tie la Confute d'Anylet&re, i 324,
118
ALCUIN AT TOURS.
CHAP,
between
the Celtic
Eastern
of Rome, that the theologian of the Irish monasteries looked
with especial favour and admiration upon the waitings of the
Greek Fathers. Able writers on this period have discerned
much in common between the Hellenic and the Celtic minds, —
( a certain speculative uplooking quality,' 1 certainly not very
apparent in the writers of the school of York. A further
resemblance, and one of a less promising character, may be
traced in the predilection shewn by both for questions which
admitted a display of dialectical subtlety. It was this feature
which especially arrested the notice of Benedict of Auiane
and aroused his dislike for the Irish theologians. They were
distinguished, he tells us, by their fondness for syllogistic
mystification.2 They would often amuse themselves by in-
terrogating some stolid representative of orthodoxy, and
compel him, as the logical sequence of his own replies, to
admit the existence of three Gods or to disavow his belief in
the Trinity. The same tendency led them to admire in
Martianus Capella those speculations which rendered his
volume a sealed book to the scholars of York ; while in the
three great monasteries that marked the route of St. Colum-
ban's apostolate-~Luxeuil, St. Gall, and Bobbio — numerous
manuscripts, in the elegant Irish character (Scottice script a),
of Origen and other Greek fathers, long remained to attest
the more enquiring spirit in which the studies of their com-
munities were pursued.
Other differences, of a more specific character, excited the
jealousy and distrust of the Latin clergy. The Irish theolo-
gian did not concur in their condemnation and neglect of
classic literature; he was not unfrequently acquainted to
some extent with Greek ; he used a Latin version of the ISTew
Testament that was not the Vulgate and which claimed to
be anterior to Jerome ; his text-book of elementary instruc-
1 Maurice, Mediaeval Philosophy, p. 82. ' Le g&iie celtique, qui est celui
de Findrvidualite, sympathise pi'ofondeaient avec le genie jrrec.' Michelet,
Hist, de France, i 121. Compare Alcuin's observation on the Irish scholars
of his day : ' minus illis videtur, auctoritate et consuetudme sola esse
responsum, nisi et aliqua ratio addatur auctoritate.' Migne? c 260.
3 fApud moderuos scholasticos maxime apud Scotos isle syllogismus
delusionis.' Baluze, Miscellanea , v 54,
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY. 119
tion was more often than not the dangerously speculative CKAP.
treatise of Martianus Capella. v_^l_
It was from the pages of this writer that Virgilius, the
Irish bishop of Salzburg, drew his theory of the existence of
an Antipodes, — a doctrine which seems to have especially
alarmed the earnest but intolerant Boniface and evoked the Boniface
anathema of pope Zacharias.1 The eminent reformer, while
he saw still stretching before him almost limitless tracts clel<gy-
abandoned to pagan belief and superstition and appealing to
Christian philanthropy, had small patience for vague and
unsettling speculation. "When one of the Irish clergy, named
Clement, ventured to broach certain strange notions concern-
ing predestination, Carloman, the brother of Pepin le Bref,
at Boniface-s advice, sent the heretic to prison;2 and the
injunction which the reformer obtained from Gregory ill
against not only g&ni/ditatis ritum et doctrinam, but also those
venientmm Britonumf is additional evidence of his unmistake-
able hostility to the teaching of this school. That hostility,
it need scarcely be added, became a tradition from Boniface's
time with Ale-tun and nearly all the Latin clergy. One
alone, perhaps, ia the whole Frank! sh court, could survey
these differences with impartiality, and that one was the
monarch himself. There is good reason indeed for inferring
that he entertained a genuine and lively curiosity respecting
the Irish clergy. The necessity of defending their mode of
observing Easter from the objections of their antagonists,
had led them to devote particular attention to the subject, of
astronoiny, and the Irish theologian thus became the better }^-
astronomer as well as the better dialectician. It was Charles' -eessed by
the latter,
1 ' De per versa auteni et imqua doctriua, qua? contra Do urn et animaiu
suaru locutus est — si elariJkatuiij fuerit, ita eiun coufiteri ; quod aiius
mundus et alii horoiaes -sub terra sint-seu sol et luna — hiinc, habito coneilio,
ab eecfepia peile, mcerGotii Jionore piivatura.' " Jaife, Men. Moywrd., p. 191.
Zaeh; to Boniface.
* Milman, ii 802 ; Clement and another heretic are here styled ( duos
haereticos publicos vt pes-siinos et blasphemes contra Deum et contra
catholicam fidem.' The heresies of Olenieiit appear to have iacluded tho
rejection of the authority of J erome,- Aagustlue, and Gregory. Soe
Man. Moffvnt., p, 140.
5 Epist.. 4 ; Migne, xxxix 680.
120
ALCUIN AT TOURS.
Charles'
interest
in astro-
nomical
questions.
His rela-
tions with
Ireland,
special delight to study the movements of the heavenly bodies ;
and we learn from Einhard that he expended no small time
and labour in extracting from Alcuin all that the latter could
communicate.1 This, as we have already seen, could have
been but little, and Charles' sagacity could scarcely have
failed to suggest that it was but a mockery of science when
he was told, by way of explanation of the prolonged disap-
pearance of Mars from the heavens, that the planet had been
detained by the sun, which had again at last let it go through
fear of the Nemean lion ; or when he was assured that a
comet of singular brightness was probably the soul of Liudger,
just then recently deceased !
That the scholars of Ireland were well known to Charles
by report admits of little doubt. His relations with their
native country were eminently friendly, the Irish kings, ac-
cording to Einhard, styling themselves ' his subjects and
slaves ; J 2 while young Egbert, who was at this time his guest,
and the boundaries of whose hereditary kingdom extended
to that part of Cornwall known as West Wales, where a
Celtic population maintained its ground and preserved fre-
quent intercourse with the Hoty Island,* would hardly fail
to tell his royal host something concerning the famous Irish
monasteries.4
We can thus readily understand how it was that when
l. * Apud quern . . . praecipae astronemiae.ediseendae plurimum et temporis
et laboris impertivit.' CaroU Vita, c. 25. Echoed by the poet Saxo
* A quo precipue studuit totam rationeiu
Et legem cursus noscere vsiderei.'— -Pertz, i 271,
3 ' Scotorum quoque reges sic habuit ad suam voluntaten). per tnuniti-
centiam inclinatos, ut eum nunquam aliter nisi dominum, seque subditos et
servos ejus pronuntiarent/ Cftrolt Vita, c, 16 ; Caiwltna, 523.
a The close similarity of the stone crosses of Ireland ;to those of
Cornwall is an interesting illustration of this intercourse. See Kiinroer's
Ancient Stone Crosses of ~E?tgland, pp. 10, 11.
4 Considerations like these seem to justify our rejection of a -tlieory of
Clement and his followers * dropping as it were from the clouds upon the
benighted Continent* (Haddan, Remain*, p. 281), as derived from the im-
probable stoiy of the Mvnacku* Sant/aUentu (Pertz, ii 371), though the
otory has been accepted by such able enquirers as Mr. Haddan, M, Ozan&ni,
and Dr. Lanigan. Chateaubriand long ago justly observed that the Monk
of St. Gall is the father of the fabulous element .relating to Charles.
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY. 121
another Clement, known as Clement of Ireland, accompanied
by one or two companions, presented himself at the hospita- %
ble court, he was cordially welcomed ; that the monarch was He
delighted with the readiness and clearness with which the cement of
new-comers responded to his questions; and that, as the Ireland at
final result, the heterodox Clement was installed in the chair and
once filled by Alcuiri. This important change appears to
have taken place within two years after Alcuin's retirement of the
to Tours. The discipline of the monastery was already be-
ginning to assume a character more consonant with his views,
and the ' Turonese rusticity ' to disappear before his con-
tinuous efforts. We gather something of a feeling of chagrin
at the forgetfulness shewn by his court friends, but he consoled
himself with the thought that in the Palace School his teach-
ing was sustained by Witzo and Fredegis, and was thankful
to have gained the repose he sought. We can hardly be
surprised that the news of the installation of Clement proved
a severe shock to his mental tranquillity.
He appears first to have become apprised of the change
through a correspondence with Charles himself. The latter Allan's
had recently been writing to Alcuin for explanations respect-
ing certain celestial phenomena by which he was somewhat
perplexed, and had submitted the replies he had received to
the Irish scholars just recently arrived at Aachen. Their
criticisms only added still further to his perplexity, and in
the sequel, after a long silence, he wrote again to Alcuin,
restating his difficulties and soliciting further explanations.
So far as we can judge from the facts, it seems unquestionable
that Clement and his colleague! shewed a decided superiority
in scientific knowledge ; and Charles' letters, which unfor-
tunately have not come down to us, seem to have wounded
Alcuin'fl self- esteem very nearly. In a notable reply, more
pathetic than dignified, he betrays his sense of injured merit
and recalls his past services. He is like Entellus (the poor
old man could not forget his Yorgii) summoned again to put
on the caestus with a young and vigorous Dares. c Simpleton
that I was and ignorant,' he goes on to say, * little dreaming
122
ALCTJIN AT TOURS.
CHAP, that the school of the Egyptians1 had gained an entrance into
^ / ^ David's glorious palace. When I went away, I left the Latins
there ; I know not who introduced the Egyptians. It is not
so much that I have been ignorant of the Meinphian method
of calculation, as attached to the Roman custom ; for I long
ago entered the land of promise and left the Egyptian dark-
ness behind.'2 Charles, it would seein, was desirous of
seeing his former instructor confronted with his critics, and
perhaps promised himself no little entertainment from the
encounter. Though far away, engaged in punishing the
Saxons on the other side of the Elbe for the murder of some
of his ambassadors, he wanted Alcuinto come to him, Alcuin
is alarmed at the very notion. Quid valet infirmitas Flaeci
inter arma ? quid inter apros leputeulvu ? At the close of his
letter Charles had suggested, that should Alcuin discover
anything erroneous in his former expositions, he hoped he
would condescend to correct It. Alcuin discerns in this sug-
gestion an implied censure, and hastens to vindicate himself.
Never, he warmly asserts, has he been so tenacious of his
errors or confident of his powers, as to be unwilling to re-
tract his first opinion when better advised.
It is evident indeed that he was deeply pained, and,.in fact,
the intelligence must have been heard with something like
Alarm of consternation by every supporter of orthodoxy in Gaul, It
dox party. sen^ a shudder though Benedict in his cell on the distant
Aniane; it startled even the astute Tneodulfus in his epis-
copal palace at Orleans. The latter had long been dis-
tinguished as a strenuous opponent of the Irish school of
theology. There are still extant some verses addressed by
1 In allusion to a difference in the method of the Alexandrian astro-
nomers. So in Bede (in xxv) Anatolius is said l>y Wilfrid to liave com-
puted ' According to the custom of the Egyptians.5 •' Annum autem civilein
id est solareni . . . Aegyptii a'b auhunno, a brumi incipiunt Rcmam.'
Bede. De tzmporum ration? (quoted by Diiinmler, Alcwtnfatw, p. 408).
2 { Et ut ad rem veniain, ac igaorantiae foreemis capul percus.si medicari
incipiain : ego imperitus, ego ignarus, nesciens A .ogyptiacam scholam in
palatio Dcividicae versari gloiiae : ego abiens Latinos ibi dimisi. Ne»e.io
quis iiitroduxit Aegvptios. Nee tarn indoctns fui Meinphiiieae supputationis
quam beherolua Romanae consuetudinis.' Migne, c 266. The passage has
been ludicroasly misunderstood by Ampere, iii 27.
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY. 123
him to Charles in the year in which Alcuin retired to Tours,
and written not improbably with the design of averting the
very event above recorded. In these he inveighs with peculiar
bitterness against the Scottellus. The Irish theologian is
stigmatised as 'a lawless thing/ *a deadly foe/ 'a dull
horror/ £ a malignant pest/ e one who, though versed in many
subjects, knows nothing for certain or true, and even in subjects
of which he is ignorant fancies himself omniscient.' *
Charles, however, was not one to be diverted from his
designs by a mere outbreak of theological jealousy, and the
Irish school would appear to have made good their footing in
the palace for the greater part of the ninth century. The Alcuin's
more immediate result was, that Alcuin found himself in- corre-
volved in a heavy astronomical correspondence, in which he
labours painfully to explain more to the satisfaction of his Charles.
royal patron the various celestial phenomena, and especially
the changes of the moon.2 Charles, in return, shewed him-
self not indifferent to his old instructor's feelings, and, a few
months later, we find him. sending Fredegis to Tours with
presents, which Alcuin gratefully acknowledged. Perhaps
he began to think that it would not be a matter of regret if
Charles' thoughts could be diverted into another channel,
for in the same letter he takes occasion to urge the necessity
for the speedy suppression of the Adoptionists.3
The refutation of Felix, bishop of Urgel, the leading re-
preservative of this sect, was the concluding triumph in
Alcuin's career. In the year 800, Charles visited St. Adop-
Martin's shrine at Tours, and on his departure was accom-
panied by Alcuin.4 They proceeded by Orleans and Paris to
Aachen, where, in the king's presence, together with that of
numerous dignitaries of the Church, Alcuin held what he
1 Migue, cv 3*22.
2 See Ernst. 98 to 112 in Alcuiniana,; Diiinml.er's arrangement of tliia
portion of Alcuin's correspondence is a valuable correction of the confusion
introduced "by the old arrangement of Frobenins, and I have accordingly
here given the references to his volume.
* Aleuwiana, p. 420.
4 Pertz, i 117; free also Piiumilers notes i.n Akuiniana to Epist, 132,
133. 147.
124 ALCUIN AT TOURS.
himself styles * & great dispute ' (magnum contention-em) with
Felix.1 Here lie was far more in his element than he would
have been when arguing points of astronomical science with
Clement of Ireland, and Felix eventually confessed himself
completely vanquished. From this time we may date the
gradual disappearance of the Adbptionist party, at least so
far as known under their distinctive appellation.
Somewhat earlier in the same year, Liutgarda, Charles'
best-loved wife, in whose esteem Alcuin had always held a
foremost place, died while on a visit to Tours, and was in-
terred in the splendid cathedral. The letter which Aicuin.
addressed to the royal widower on the occasion is still
do- extant.9 Liutgarda's death in no way diminished Charles5
to regard for one whom she had so highly honoured, and when,
accompany J
Charles to towards the close of the year, he was preparing for his last
visit to Rome, he strongly urged that Alcuin should accom-
pany him. The latter, however, who had recently been
attacked by fever, shrank from the risks and toils of such a
journey ; he preferred, he said, the smoky roofs of Tours to
the gilded splendour of Rome, involved as the great city theu
was in domestic discord.3 Alcuin accordingly was not a
spectator of the famous event, when the imperial crown was
placed on the head of Charles, and the monarch rose up, no
Ho con- longer Patricius, but Imperator et Augustus.4 On Charles'
Mm^n^s retum *° Frankland, the abbat of Tours sent Candidas to
accession meet him, and penned a letter of congratulation ; 5 but there
iro-erial *8 no evidence that he at all adequately grasped the signi-
dignity, ficance of an event fraught with momentous consequences in
relation to European history,
In the following year we find him dedicating his Com-
mentary on the Gospel of St. John to Gisla and Roiruda,
Charles' sister and daughter.6 In the year ensuing, the
1 ' Cum Felice heretico magnam contentionem in praesentia donmi regis
et sanctorum patrum kabuimus.' Psrtz, i 187 : see also Diiinialer's notes in
Alcwtniana to £pi*t. 182, 133, 147.
3 Ejrist. 138 fed. Diinunler).
3 JEpt*t. 1.19.;il)id. p. 437.
* Pertz, i ISO.
15 Alcwnianff, .fyist. 159 and 170, 8 Ibid. Jfyitt. 16^
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY. 125
letters given by the emperor to his missi dominici shew that CHAP,
his efforts for the improvement of the people were not ^_^L_,
diminished,1 though Alcuin was no longer at his side.
Among the newly created missi was Theodulfus, hitherto Hisdis-
J pute with
Alcuin's cordial friend, but whom an unfortunate event soon Theo-
after alienated, while in Lorenz's opinion it hastened Alcuin's duifua-
end. A. monk, already condemned by justice, had escaped
from prison and taken refuge in the sanctuary of St. Martin
of Tours. Over this, as the church of the monastery, Alcuin
held jurisdiction. The monk was pursued by the soldiery of
Theodulfus, from whose custody he had effected his escape.
Their unceremonious entrance into the venerated edifice
aroused the susceptibilities of the citizens of Tours, and an
alarming collision ensued, which was only terminated by the
intervention of Alcuin. In some manner, which is not alto-
gether clear, the exercise of his authority excited not only
the anger of Theodulfus, but the displeasure of Charles him-
self. It was probably the old question between monastic
immunities and episcopal and civil rights. The letter
addressed by Charles to Alcuin, and the severity with which
those of the monks of St. Martin who had taken part in the
broil were treated, proved a cruel blow to the abbat's feelings.2
From this time his health rapidly declined, and repeated pis last
attacks of fever warned him of his approaching end. His death! 8
last acts were marked by the same dignified sense of re-
sponsibility and duty that characterised his whole career.
The vast revenues of the monastery were accurately ascer-
tained and recorded in a formal register. Fredegis was
appointed his successor at Tours; Sigulfus, at Ferrieres.
Then he wrote his farewell letters — to Cha-rles, soliciting the
imperial sanction of his plans relating to the monastic ap-
pointments and revenues, thanking him for all the favours
that 6 had cheered his earthly pilgrimage,' and bidding him
a final adieu 3 — to Leo in, beseeching plenary absolution —
and to Arno. He would fain have seen his best-loved friend
1 See Cnpiiula data missis dominici*, Baluze, i 360.
8 The story is told at length in Monnier, pp. 343-351.
3 Alcutniana. pp. 676-7.
126
ALCUIN AT TOURS.
once more, in order to consult him concerning his regulations
for the monasteries and to take a solemn parting.1 But this
was not to be ; and, conscious that his work on earth was
o'er, Alcuin new sought to concentrate his thoughts and feel-
ings on the contemplation of death. Something of the vague
trouble and dread too often discernible in the last hours of
the best men of niediaeTal times disturbed his feverish close.2
He was seized by a passionate longing to be conveyed to
Fulda, and to die and be laid by the tomb of that great
martyr whose memory he so deeply venerated ; but it was
evident that he would not survive the fatigues of such a
journey, In another respect, however, his wishes were sin-
gularly fulfilled. He hoped, he said, that he should live
to die on the day of Pentecost 5 and on that day he died,
just as the morning broke and the chant had begun in the
cathedral of St. Martin.8
A sense of the signal service rendered by Alcuin to his age,
in days when learning strove but feebly and ineffectually amid
estimated, the clang of arms and the rude instincts of a semi -barbarous
race, must not lead us to exaggerate his merits or his powers,
On a dispassionate and candid scrutiny, Lis views and aims
will scarcely appear loftier than his time. By the side of
the imperial conceptions — so bold, so original, so comprehen-
sive— bis tame adherence to tradition, his timid mistrust of
pagan learning, dwarf him almost to littleness. No noble
superiority to the superstition of his age stamps him, like
Agobard, a master spirit. No heroism of self-devotion, like
that" of a Columban or a Boniface, bears aloft his memory to
a region which detraction cannot reach. He reared no
classic monument of historic genius like that of Einhard's.4
His cha-
racter and
cervices
1 A2cv*ma*a, pp. 678-0,
* * Hujus vero judidi terrore totus contremesco.' Letter to Arso, Ibid,
p. 679. i 0 qiiam timendus est omni Iicmini dies ilia/ Letter TCO Charles,
Ibid. p. 677.
3 * Fentecostes iulucescente die.' Annaks Pettvo. ; Periz, i 18. * Eadem
hora qua iflgredi coasue v'erat ad missas, aurora patented MigTie, c 105.
4 Compare Ms very indifferent life of St. \Villibrod (on which see a
severe criticism by Diinnuler in Alcuinidiia, p. 30) with Einhard's admir-
able imitation of Suetonius.
THE SCHOOL OF THE MONASTERY. 127
He penned no stanzas, like those by Theodulfus, to waft
from century to century the burden of the Christian hope
until lost in the clamour of the Marseillaise.1 Yet let us not
withhold the tribute that is his due. He loved the temple of
the Muses, and was at once their high priest and their
apostle in days when the worshippers at their shrine were few.
He upheld the faith with vigour and ability against its foes ;
and amid the temptations of a licentious court bore witness
to its elevating power, with the eloquent though unuttered
testimony of an upright and blameless life. He mediated
between, the two greatest princes of the West, and the
blessing promised to the peacemakers was his. He watched
with a father's care over a band of illustrious disciples, who •
repaid him by a loving obedience while he lived, and by a
faithful adherence to his teaching when he was gone. And
when on this same morning of Pentecost his spirit passed
away, as the monks stood watching round his couch and the
voice of the chorister was hushed in weeping, great sorrow .
fell upon Tours- And wherever throughout Christendom
the tidings of the event was told — whether at York, at
Aachen, or at Borne — it was felt that a light had been with-
drawn from the Church and that a wise teacher of Israel was
dead.
1 The ayran ' Gloria, la its, et honor tibi/ composed by Theodulfns, was
sung in France, during the procession on Palm Sunday, until the outbreak
of the Revolution.
128 RAJBANUS MAURUS.
CHAPTER HI.
fcABANUS MAUETTS : OS, THE SCHOOL AT FULDA.
CHAP. * EUROPE'S lofty beacon ' (Europae celsa -pliaros), as Alcuin,
.L IIL^ on one occasion, styles Charles, continued to shine over
Charles' Frankland for ten years after Alcuin himself was no more.
" Neither family bereavement nor the declining' fortunes of the
empire appear to have diminished the ardour with which
the aged emperor still pressed on internal reform, discussed
knotty questions in theology, or pursued his literary re-
searches. He gave to the Western Church the grand
strains of the V&ni Creator; his autocratic decision (a trait
that reminds us somewhat uncomfortably of the Merovingian
Chilperic i) inserted in her Symbolum, in defiance of Leo in,
the fatal Filioque ; whiie, if we may credit Theganus, the last
days of his life found him correcting (probably by the aid
of Clement of Ireland's superior Greek scholarship) the
Yulgate translation of the Gospels.1
The father's love for learning reappeared with un-
dhninished force in his surviving son — the son whom Alcuin,
won, as we can well understand, by the young prince's
docility and moral virtues, is said to have .pronounced the
most worthy to wear the imperial crown. The impress of
Lewis the his teaching on Lewis' character is indeed distinctly to be
^seemed. Lewis was not only an excellent Latin scholar,
with some knowledge of Greek ; he was also well versed in
theology, capable too of discerning not merely the moral
and spiritual sense of Scripture, but the analogical as well.
On the lighter literature of paganism, especially its poetry,
1 c Et quattuor evangelia Obristi ... in ultimo ante oLitiis ,sui diein
cum Graecis et Syris optime correxerat.' Vita iriudoivici, c. 7 ; Pert 2, ii
592.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 129
he looked with an aversion which we can have no difficulty CHAP.
in referring to its true origin.1 But his chief superiority to v_ IIL ^
his father was in his blameless life. Free from reproach
like that which detracted so largely from Charles* moral His mea-
influence, he could demand, with all the authority derived ^form*
from, a high personal example, that neither in cloister nor
canonry should solemn vows and grave responsibilities be
permitted to remain a dead letter. He had no sooner as-
cended the throne than he began to give unmistakeable
proof of his determination to enforce and render more strin-
gent both the monastic and the Church discipline. The Benedict of
austere Benedict of Aniane, summoned from his distant cell Aniane-
to take up his abode near Aachen, was appointed chief of
the abbats of the empire,2 and in the capitulary De vita
et conversations monachorum, drawn up in the same year at
the Council of Aachen, his influence is distinctly to be dis-
cerned.
It is not without reason that the acts of this memorable Th«
council have been characterised as ' among the boldest and ^°™en °f
most comprehensive ever submitted to a great national A.D. 817.
assembly.' 3 The rule of the canonical life, so far back as
the time when Alcuin first visited Frankland, had been
rendered far more stringent than that in England by the
reforms introduced, in the time of Pepin-le-Bref, by Chrode-
gang, bishop of Metz. This rule, to quote a high authority,
* differed but little from the rule of St. Benedict, except The Bene-
in the article of poverty.' 4 In the monasteries, again, the
Benedictine rule had totally displaced that of Columban;
so that towards the close of the eighth century we find Charles
instituting enquiry to ascertain whether any monks, other
than Benedictines, still existed in his realm.5 At the Coun-
cil of Aachen, in 817, the rule of Chrodegang was made the
rule of the entire Church; while in the capitulary above
1 ' Poetica carmina gentilia quae in juventuto didicerat, respuit, nee legere
nee audire nee docere voluit.' Vita Illudowici, c. 7 ; Pertz, ii 954.
8 ' Propter faraam vitae ejus et sanctitatem.' Chr&n. MOMS. Pertz, i 811.
Chron. Farf. p. 671.
8 Milman, iii 116.
* Stublas, Pref. to De Inventione, p. xi. * Guizot, ii 82.
K
130
BABANUS MAURUSl
Scholars
not de-
signed for
the relir
gious life
to be sepa-
rated from
the oblati
in the
monastic
schools.
The
episcopal
schools. .
referred to, as reflecting Benedict's influence, the whole
discipline of the monastic life was defined with increased
stringency. For our special purpose, however, it is most
important to note the tendency exhibited to draw a more
definite line between the monastic and the lay communities*
Theprogres_s of the national dialects of Neustria and Aus-
trasia towards distinct languages not improbably furnished
an additional incentive to this policy. The discernment of
Lewis the Pious, in prescribing the translation of the Scrip-
tures into the Lingua Teudisca,1 had recognised an imperative
want^the vulgar and the learned speech could no longer be
assumed to be the same. "With a somewhat similar scope,
Benedict^ Capitulary of Aachen required that the school
within each monastery should include only those who had
actually taken the monastic vows ; 2 he even went so far as
to prohibit the introduction of the laity into the refectory.
From this time, we are accordingly able to distinguish »
with somewhat more precision, the differeniTtrainin^of the
monastic and the episcopal schools. Of the latter, indeed,
throughout the ninth century, it is impossible to give much
more than a conjectural account, as there existed no syste*-
matic organisation. Leon Maitre, in his endeavour to supply
the want, presents us with a series of confused gleanings, the
greater part of which apply evidently to the schools of the
monasteries. Close to the cathedral precincts, and under
the immediate supervision of the bishop, a school for boys,
all destined to become priests, was confided to, the care of
one of the canons, known from his office as the scholasticus*3
The institution represented a kind of monopoly of the eccle-
1 Dom Bouquet, vi 256.
2 ' Tit schola in monasterio non liabeatur nisi eonun qui oblati sunk*
Pertz, Legg. i 202. Before this time the bishop of the diocese seems to
have possessed the power of sending the sons oi' the clergy to be educated in
the monastic schools. See the Capitulary of Theodulfus of 797, ' si quis ex
presbyteris voluerit uepotem suum ant aliquem consanguineum ad scholani
mittere in eccl. sanctae Crucis aut in rnonasterio S. Aniani, aut S. Benedict!,
aut S. Lifardi, aut in caeteris de his coenobiis quae nobis ad regendum
concessa sunt, ei licentiam id faciendi concedimus.' Oossart, xiii 998.
3 He appears to have been known in the southern provinces under the
name of the capiscolus. See L3on Maitre, pp. 184-5,
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA.
eiastical, as opposed to the 6 religious/ education of the time, CHAP,
for the chancellor of the cathedral had jurisdiction over the ^_J^JL^
schools for the clergy throughout the diocese. At a later
period we find this latter functionary asserting claims over
abbey lands, claims not unchallenged by the abbat, and en-
deavouring to levy a tax on all who assumed the office of
teacher— but these encroachments belong to the tenth and
eleventh centuries.
The education provided in these schools may be described Character
as a kind of minor to the Benedictine major. In the range education
of subjects it probably went little beyond the teaching gf the there
schools of Cassian, but its .method was more careful and
efficient. We may picture to ourselves a group of lads
seated on the floor, which was strewn with clean straw, their
waxen tablets in their hands, and busily engaged in noting
down the words read by the scholasticus from his manuscript
volume. So rarely did the pupil, in those days, gain access
to a book, that to read (legere) became synonymous with to
teach. The scholars traced the words on their tablets, and
afterwards, when their notes had been corrected by the
master, transferred them to a little parchment volume, the
treasured depository, with many, of nearly all the learning
they managed to acquire in life.1 We have already investi-
gated the probable extent and character of that learning,
and it may safely be assumed that in the cathedral school
the customary limits were seldom passed. In the ninth
century, at least, only two centres of Church education in
Frankland stand forth as examples of a higher culture — €fre
one, that at Orleans, under Thfiodulf us ; tha other, that at
Kheims.
The lively interest taken, by Theodulfus in everything The
that related to the education of his day is attested by
numerous facts, though in his leaning to a policy of conser- and
vatism he strongly resembled Alcuiou He mistrusted the :Rheims*
1 So Kabanua Maurus, when petitioning the abbat of Fulda for th«
return of his books, sayfc, —
' Me quia quaecumque docuerunt ore magistri,
Ne vaga mens perdat, c^mcta dedi foliis.' Migne, cxii 1600-1.
K- 2
132 KABANUS MAURUS.
CKAP. tendencies exhibited in Martianus Capella, but lie could not
^ I*1' __^ fail to be aware how great an attraction that writer's alle-
gorical method of treatment possessed for the ordinary
learner. He accordingly himself composed a poem of about
a hundred lines containing a fanciful description of the sub-
jects of the trivium and quadrivium, wherein, however, all
sceptical or speculative discourse was carefully eschewed.1
We can hardly suppose, from the character of the composi-
tion, that it enjoyed much popularity beyond the range of the
bishop's own diocese. Ably seconded by the poet "vVulfin,
Theodulfus raised the school at Orleans to considerable
eminence. It became especially famous for the number,
beauty, and accuracy of its manuscripts. Leon Maitre, on
somewhat doubtful evidence, inclines to the belief that it
was also distinguished as a school of civil law.
Yet more renowned was the episcopal school at Rheims,
which, under the protection of Hincmar, the oracle and
arbiter of the state in the days of Charles the Bald, and
under the teaching of archbishop Fulk, of Remy of Auxerre,
and of Hucbald, claims the proud distinction of having
preserved, in this century, that tradition of learning which.
links the episcopal schools with the University of Paris.
But throughout the ninth century, and indeed for the
greater part of the period known as ' the Benedictine era/—-
the four centuries preceding the reign of Philip Augustus, —
the work of the episcopal schools was completely eclipsed by
that of the monasteries. At Corbey, near Amiens, under
Adelhard and Wala, who both retired thither, and under
Paschasius Radbertus, was gathered a society eminent for
The its learning and illustrious as a parent foundation. It dis-
monastic arrears beneath the waves of the Norman invasion ; but its
Rohoolrf at * * ^. i • -i • , i -i
Oorbey.st. namesake, New Corbey, in Saxony, sustained with equal
M^rdn'of1' reputation, and more auspicious fortunes, the scholarly trad i-
Mete, St. tions of the age,2 The great abbey of St. Riquier. under
.tm, &c. ^ ruje Of Angilbert, rivalled the school at Rheiins in lit-
1 See Dtf Septet* Liberatibus in quadam pictura dejnctis. Migne, cv
333-5.
2 ' Walae Vita. Ma billon, vol. v ; Pertz, ii 678-81.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 133
erary activity ; and an inventory of its possessions, made in CHAP,
the year 831 by the direction of Lewis the Pious, included _^j! ,
a library of no less than 231 volumes.1 The abbey of St.
Martin at Metz, under the rule of Aldricus, was scarcely less
celebrated ; 2 a Bible presented by its monks to Charles the
Bald and the missal of bishop Drogo are still preserved, and
rank among the most valued specimens of ninth-century art.
The society of St. Mihiel-sur-Meuse enjoyed the instruction
of Smaragdus, whose compend from Donatus frequently ap-»
pears in the catalogues of the libraries of the period. St.
Bertin, in the diocese of Cambrai, laid claim to the distin-
guished honour of having educated Grimbaid, king Alfred's
able seconder in his efforts towards a restoration of learn-
ing in England.3 At Ferrieres, in the G&tinais, the genius
of Lupus Servatus shone forth in the troublous and dis-
heartening period which immediately preceded and followed
upon the division of the empire.
The South and the South- West present fewer evidences of
culture ; and in the ninth century no foundation, either in
Normandy or Brittany, can be said to have reached cele-
brity ; while in Aquitaine, if we except the labours of Bene-
dict of Aniane in the diocese of Montpellier, the efforts of
Lewis the Pious on behalf of his patrimonial kingdom seem,
to have been bafited by the frequent recurrence of war,
Amid the evidence of these widespread results from the Decline of
movement with which Alcuin's name is identified^ it is melan- at^0^
choly to note how completely his own monastery failed to
maintain the reputation acquired under his sway. Learning
has rarely prospered in conjunction with inordinate wealth,
and Tours proved no exception to the rule. Fredegis, the Fmlegis.
new abbat, with his worldly tastes and fantastic notions in
philosophy, was not the man to enforce discipline or give
example to a learned community. He was, however, from
his influence at court, where he was in frequent attendance
on the emperor, and often employed on diplomatic missions,
weir able to watch over the material interests of the abbey,
1 L4on Maitre, p. 66. * Baluze, Miscett. i 19..
*• BolUndus, JuMet, n 651.
134 RABANUS MAURUS.
CHAP, and his appointment was consequently popular with the
. In>_^ monks. As for the monastery itself, Alcuin, long before his
Alcuin's death, seems to have clearly foreseen that its enormous
bodfnM revenues, the frequent visits of aristocratic guests with their
verified. retinues, and almost incessant commerce with the world
without, rendered it in. the highest degree improbable that
the Benedictine rule would long continue to be faithfully
observed. He had done what lay in his power to found a
house of stricter discipline, by sending twenty monks from
his own cell of St. Judoc l to form the nucleus of a new
society at Gormery. In relation to Tours, his forebodings
proved only too just ; within a few years, this richly-endowed
foundation acquired an unenviable notoriety from the fact that
it demanded the payment of fees from its scholars. The school
^or ^e &*^/m, by a kind of tacit agreement, seems to have
scholars, been -converted into an exclusive and aristocratic centre of
education for the sons of the wealthier laity. Amalaric,
the archbishop of the diocese — who claimed jurisdiction over
the school, as one partly designed for the education of his
own clergy — energetically denounced what he stigmatised as
an abominable practice, and ordered that no fees should be
taken except those that were spontaneously offered.2 We
may willingly conclude, indeed, that Tours was an exception
to the rule; it must certainly have appeared a singular
Contrast when the traveller saw inscribed over the portals of
the far less wealthy foundation of St. Peter at Salzburg,
the encouraging words,
JHscere s-l cupias, gratis, quod quaeiris, "habebie?
Towards the middle of the century, the position of the
monastery of Tours on the banks of the Loire exposed it to
the full brunt of the Norman invasion. It was mercilessly
plundered ; and when, two centuries later, it again became
famous, it was in connexion with the brilliant heterodoxy of
Berengar.
1 'Cellain sancti Judoci, quam magnus Oarolus quondam Alcuino ad
©leeniosynam exhiberidarn peregrinis commiserat.' Lupus Serv. Epist. 11.
Tt was given to Alcuin in 702. Gallia Christiana, x 1289.
2 Leon Maitre, pp. 49, 203.
8 Tb.e concluding line of some verses attributed to Alcuin. Migne, ci 757.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA, 135
It is not, however, only in separate dioceses and isolated CHAP.
monasteries that we have evidence of well-sustained efforts ._*^* .,
towards bripging about a more general diffusion of educa-
tion. To Lewis the Pious- the Church and the culture of
her ministers were objects of increasing care. c The state's
advancement in holy learning and holy life,' one admiring
biographer assures us,, absorbed alike his hours of business
and of recreation,1 And while his incapacity for military
and political affairs excited the contempt of count Wala
and the nobility, he had, in Benedict of Aniane, a friend
ever ready to advise and to strengthen his natural feebleness
of purpose. It is possible that Benedict's death/ in 821,
caused a temporary suspension of the emperor's efforts, for
in the following year, at the Council of Attigny, — on the same
occasion as that on which he did public penance for his
cruelty towards his nephew Bernard and his severity towards
Adelhard and Wala, — the language of a new decree concern-
ing the schools for the clergy implies a consciousness of
undue remissness in this respect. Learning and preaching, Lewis'
says this capitulary, are essential to the welfare of the reforms'
state; but the preacher's office can be rightly discharged
only by learned men; hence it is of primary importance
that such men should be found in every locality. It is ac-
cordingly decreed that every individual, whether a youth or
an adult, in course of training with the view of occupying
any position in the Church, shall have a fixed place of re-
sort and a suitable master. If the extent of a parish should
render it impracticable to assemble the scholars at any one
centre, other schools are to be opened, to meet the difficulty.
Parents and lords are required to provide for the main-
tenance of each scholar f in order that indigence may not
debar him from a course of study.3 2 In the following year,
1 ' Haec erat sancti Imperatoris cxercitatio, hie cotidianus Indus, haec
palaestrica agonia, spectante eo quo ci vitas in sancta doctrina et operatione
clarius eniteret.' Vit. Ludov. c. 28 ; Pertz, ii 022.
2 ' Q.uia vero liquido cunstat, quod salus populi maxiine in doctrina et
praedicatione cocsistat, et praedicatio eadein impleri ita ut oportet non
potest, nisi a doctis, neeesse est, ut ordo talis in singulis eedibus iiivematur,
per quain et praesens emeadatio et futura atilitas saiietae ecclosiae proparetur ;
136
RABANUS MAURUS.
Petition of
the bishops
for the
founding
of three
public
schools,
A.D. 829.
Outbreak
of civil
war.
we find the austere monarch recalling to the recollection
of the episcopal order their promises, already given, to found
schools wherever necessity demanded, ' for the benefit of the
faithful and the ministers of the Church.' l This reminder
was met in the ensuing year, by a decree of the episcopal
council convened at Paris, when it was resolved that it was
desirable that each bishop ' should henceforth exercise greater
diligence in instituting schools and in training and educating
soldiers for the service of Christ's Church • ' ' whenever,' it
was added, ( a provincial council of the order is convened,
let each bishop cause his scholastic! to attend the same, in
order that their efforts may be under due control.' 2
That these endeavours to bring about a great and general
reform were on the point of being crowned with considerable
success may be inferred from the fact that in the year 829,
on the eve of the rebellion of Lewis' sons, the bishops again
assembled at Paris and drew up a petition to the emperor,
in which they besought him to provide for the establishment
of three large public schools, in the three most suitable places
in the empire, ' in order that his father's efforts and his own
might not fall into decay.' 3 These schools were to be open
to the clergy and the monasteries alike ; and had the scheme
been carried into effect, it is not improbable that the his-
torian, in exploring the oriyines of our European universi-
ties, might have found it necessary to revert three centuries
further back for the purpose of tracing out their first com-
mencement. But in the following year the war broke out,
and from that time up to the death of Lewis the Pious and
. . , scliolas autem, de quibus hactenus minus studios! fuimus quam
debueraruus, omuino studiosissime emendare cupimua, qualiter onanis homo
sive majoris sive nnnoris aetatis, qui ad hoc nutritur ut in aliquo gradu in
ecclesia promoveatur, locum denominatuin et magistruin congruum habeat.
Parentes tamen vel domiui singulorum de victu vel substantia corporal! unde
subsistant providere studeant, qualiter sol aci urn habeant, at propter rerum
inopiam doctrinae studio ncn recedant. Si vero neceseitas fuerit propter
amplitudinem parroeeliiae, eo quod in uno loco colliiri non possunt propter
administrati.onein quam eis procuratores eorum providere debent, fiat locis
duobus aut tribus, vel etiam ut uecessitas et ratio dicta verit.' Pertz, Leyg.
1231.
1 Baluze, i 034. * Ibid, i 1137.
3 Quoted m Uon Maitre,p. 25.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 137
the division of the empire in 841, the arts of peace had
small scope for developement. The deacon Florus, in that
lugubrious chant wherein he compares the past and present
condition of the disunited and desolated realm, draws the
contrast in colours which seem respectively to belong to era.s
separated by centuries :
* Omne bonum pacis odiis laniatnr acerbis, Lament of
Omne decus regni furiis fuscatur iniquis : llorus.
Ecclesiae dejectus honos jacet ecce sepultus ;
Jura sacerdotum penitus eversa ruerant ;
Divinae jam. legis amor terrorque recessit ;
Et scita jam cauonum cunctorum oalce teruntar.*
Quis digne expediat inonackorum saepta revulsa
Sacratas Domini famulas laicale subisse
Infarni ditioiie jugnm, rectoribus ipsis
Ecclesiae armorum impositum caedisque periclum ?•'
Such is the picture he exhibits side by side with that
when,
4 Princeps unus erat, populus qnoque subditus nnus :
Lex simnl et judex totas ornaverat urbes :
Pax cives tenuit, virtus exterrnit hostes:
Alma sacerdotum certatim cura vigebat
Conciliis crebris, populus pia jura ministrans.
Hinc sacris cleris, hinc plebibus eximiisque
Principibus late resonabat sermo salutis.
Discebant juveties divina volumina passim :
Litlercas artes puerorum corda bibebani.' l
We have already adverted to the somewhat ascetic ten-
dencies of Lewis' character and his dislike, inherited from
Alcuin, of pagan literature ; some writers, indeed, while
admitting that education became more widely diffused under
his rule, have been disposed to look upon the period as one
of retrogression as regards the higher culture. It is certain
that during the last twelve years of his reign, the most con-
spicuous efforts of learning and philosophy are to be looked
for in regions comparatively remote from his influence and
far beyond the limits of modern France.
1 Fieri Diaconi Luirdunensis Quendft de Divmone Imperii post Mortem
£*ud&vici Pti. Dora Bouquet, vii 801-2,,
138
RABANUS MAURUa
CHAP.
d- 858.
^
centre of
education.
Alcuin at
Before Alcuin died, there had come to Tours a young
mock, a native of Majence, attracted by the great teacher's
fame and burning with the desire for knowledge. He came
from Fulda, where ever since the time of Sturm, its first
abbat and the disciple of St. Boniface, down to that of
Baugulfus, the Benedictine rule had. been maintained with
a fidelity which earned for the monastery the reverence of
all Frankland. Rabanus* — for it is of him we speak — at the
time that he entered the walls of St. Martin, in the year 802,
was probably about twenty -six years of age ; l the namea of
some of his fellow-students at Fulda shew that the school
, , „ ,
was already in repute as a centre of learning. Among the
number, about this time, was Bernard, the grandson of
Charles the Great, afterwards king of Italy, whose tragical
end leaves so dark a stain on the memory of Lewis the Pious.
There were also Baturicus, Treculfus, and Haymo, afterwards
respectively raised to the sees of Regensbarg, Lisieux, and
Halberstadt ; and Samuel, afterwards bishop of Worms, who
preceded Eabanus to Tours and returned with him from
thence to Fulda. Baugulfus, in the year 802, laid down
his office as abbat, and was succeeded by Eatgar, an energe-
tic, though, as we shall shortly see, a far from desirable
head. Ratgar seems to. have been really desirous, at this
time, of maintaining the reputation of Fulda, and with this
view he placed the most promising of the younger monks
tinder the instruction of the ablest scholars of the day.
Oandidus was sent to receive instruction from Einhard;
Modestus, from Clement of Ireland ; Rabanus, at his own
urg'en^ request, to Tours, to sit at the feet of Alcuin. About
the third year of the ninth century we accordingly find these
two meeting for the first time, their sentiments and aims
in singular contrast — the young monk, with desires that
stretched from Fulda to Tours in the quest of learning —
the aged abbat, with his thoughts turning from Toure to
Fulda in the expectation of death.
Eabanus remained at Tours for only one year, but the
1 See 'Leben ties heiligen Ithabanus Maurus, by Spongier : Kegensburgr,
1856 j a more critical production than the better known Life by J£un$tipann.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 139
time amply sufficed for him to win the abbat's marked fa- CHAP.
voar. His devotion and filial affection induced Alcuin to ^-^1' *
bestow upon him the name of Maurus. St. Maur was the
favourite disciple of St. Benedict, and in giving Kabaiius
this name, Alcuin intended to imply that the obedience and
piety of the young monk of Monte Cassino had found their
counter-part at Tours.1 Eabanus returned to Fulda, having II}g mtm
conceived a deep, perhaps an exaggerated, admiration for his
preceptor, and bent upon an exact reproduction of bis teach-
ing. He was accompanied by Samuel, in whom he after-
wards found a sympathising and able co-operator in his
plans. A letter from Alenin, written in the same year,
shews that the kindly thought of the infirm old man followed
his disciple across the Bhine, and conveys his greetings to
the whole community at Fulda. Babanus, it would seem,
had written to beg that Alcuin would favour him with a
narrative of his own life ; emulous of his revered teacher's
fame and virtues, he would fain take example thereby.
Alcuin, however, modestly expresses his surprise at the re-
quest, and intimates that a far better pattern of life is to
be found in the careers of the holy men of Scripture.
Soon after his return to Fulda, Eabanus was appointed is ap-
teacher of the monastery school. He was now in his twenty- {^"j^
seventh or twenty-eighth year, and we may well believe of the
that no better selection could possibly have been made.
It was not his good fortune to find, in the earlier part of ^
his experience, a sphere of labour as tranquil and dignified
as that which Alcuin enjoyed at Tours. With the com-
mencement of the century, the Saxons again rose in insur- OU8. ex"
rection, and Fulda was in the centre of the war. The sur- of the com-
rounding districts were visited by famine, and in the year
807 a malignant fever carried off the majority of the monks.
The numbers fell from 400 to 150; and among those who
died were many of the younger and most promising members.
The scholars rebelled and fled. The incidents of a subse-
1 In one of his pcema (Migne, ci 794) Alcuin addresses Rabanus as
sancti puer Benedict! ; ' see also the letter addressed ' Benedicto saneti
Benedict! puero.' Ibid, c 398.
140 KABANDS MAURUS.
CHAP, quent episode in the history of the society afford a curious
^ IIij , illustration of the conditions under which the monastic life
Misrule of was pursued in these times. The abbat, Batgar, had a
•Ratgar' passion for building, which seems to have amounted almost
to a monomania, and his sole idea was the completion and
adornment of a new church and other erections in connex-
ion with the monastery. The recent loss in numbers only
suggested to him the necessity of demanding more strenuous
exertion from the remaining hands ; and the severity with
which his exactions werenowenforcedalmostservedtoreca.il
Sufferings the condition of the Israelites under Pharaoh. All study
and discon- . . .
tent of the was at an end, the most promising students being deprived
monks. of ^heir books. The masses were reduced in number. Many
of the monks died, worn out by toil, and often, to the univer-
sal scandal, without having received the last sacraments.
In the libellus supplex, which they eventually presented to the
emperor, they describe the culpable neglect of the sick, the
cruelty with which the infirm were refused even a staff to sup-
port them in walking ; while at the same time lures were held
out to induce strangers to join the community, with the sole
view of gaining possession of their property. Of these many
were utterly unqualified for the monastic life, and their con-
duct brought the discipline of the house to a state of utter
demoralisation, Babanus was among those who were com*
pelled to surrender their books, and the verses are still extant
in which he pleads pathetically for their return. He implores
Batgar, whom he styles (we must suppose by poetic licence)
monachorum optims pastor, to restore tho cherishedvolum.es, in
order that the instruction, he has himself received from the
abbat and noted down may not fade from his memory. He
begs for them not as his own property, for he, a monk, has
nothing he can rightfully call his own, but as a gracious
favour, which, once conceded, he will never fail to offer up
prayers on his superior's behalf.1
Batgar, however, remained totally unmoved by these and
similar entreaties ; but at last some report of the state of
affairs reached the imperial ears, and Bicnlfus, archbishop
1 Migue, cxii 1600-1 5 see also supra, p. 131, a. 1*
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA- HI
o£Mayence (Aleiim's 'Damoetas'), was sent to institute an CHAP,
enquiry. The archbishop, himself an energetic builder,1 ^._ ' ^
seems to have been more pleased by Ratgar's architectural
designs tha,n concerned at the suspension of the work of
education ; he not merely uttered no protest, but even con-
sented to consecrate the new church, then just completed and
dedicated to the Yirgin. On his departure, Ratgar accord-
ingly pushed on the works with fresh vigour. He appropri-
ated a tenth of the monastic property to replenish the
building fund, and forthwith began to erect another church
at Johannisberg, ten stades distant. The toil of the monks
became yet more painful, and they now resolved on sending
a deputation to the emperor. Ratgar, when he heard of this
proceeding, started himself for court, and arrived before the Their
deputation, who found themselves completely forestalled. ®{^to
At length the state of the monastic discipline became too redress.
notorious to be any longer disregarded, and the emperor
vouchsafed to appoint a commission of enquiry. It con-
sisted of four bishops, who after hearing the complaints of
the monks, drew up a formal agreement, to be binding on
both sides. They then presided at the consecration of the
church at Johannisberg, and having thus given an indirect
sanction to the abbat's policy, departed. The warning ap-
pears to have been altogether lost on Rat-gar, who shortly
after attempted to erect at Tullifield a ' cell ' in connexion
with the monastery at Fulda. This time, however, the evi-
dence arising from the violated agreement was too indispu-
table to be gainsaid, and in the year 817 he was deposed
from his office. He was succeeded, after a long interval, by Ratgar is
a mart' of very different character, the gentle Eigil, the deposed
builder of the ' Michaelskapelle,' which, as recently restored, appointed
still attracts the curiosity of the traveller journeying from
Frankfort to Gotha. Eigil had been expelled from the
monastery by the unfeeling Ratgar on account of his feeble
health and inability to work ; he lived to take a noble
1 Kiculfus, who held the archbishopric twenty-six years, rebuilt the
church and "built the monastery (' perceiebre moDftsterium,' saya Einhard)
at Mayence. See Gallia Christiana, v 414 ; Einhard, De Translatione,
Opera (ed. Teulet), ii 372 j Mvnumcnta Moguntina (ed. Jaffe), p. 3.
142 RABANU3 MAUEUa
CHAP, revenge. Within a few months after his election to the
_J^L_^ abbatsMp, Ratgar appeared as a suppliant for re-admission.
It was not in Eigil's power to grant this request, but his
influence was used to gain for it a favourable response at
court, and Ratgar, for thirteen years longer, lived a submis-
sive and penitent member of the community which had
suffered so much at his bands.
The Between Eigil and Rabanns there appears to have existed
scboofreJ the mos^ complete sympathy ; the latter was reinstated in
opened, j^js post as toaoher of the monastery school, and his reputation
soon drew around him a body of scholars far exceeding the
former in number. To such a degree was this the case,
that the decree of the Council of Aachen, promulgated in
the preceding year, for separating the dblati from the ex-
terto&s, was felt as a sensible relief, and a second school was
erected outside the monastery walls. Eigil's tenure of his
office lasted only three .years and a half, after which the
vacancy occasioned by his death was forthwith filled by the
unanimous election of Kabanus. From this time we mar
look upon the influence of the new abbat not merely as
supreme at Fuida, but also as sensibly felt throughout the
empire. It becomes accordingly an enquiry of no little in-
terest and importance to endeavour to ascertain, with some
precision and certainty, the extent and nature of those ser-
vices which have won for him the title of primus Germaniae
praecsptor.
His J)e It was in the year that he was again installed as instructor
^ -^u^a? *ne vear 819? that Eabanus composed the treatise
by which he is probably best known, — the De Instiiutione
Clericorum. He had already, through the influence of Baii-
grdfus, been admitted a deacon of the Church, — a step pro-
bably designed to pave the way for that promotion to eccle-
siastical dignities for which his talents marked him out;
and his efforts from this time seem to have been directed
ra-ther to clerical than monastic education* If we imagine
atutor at Cambridge, one like Whichcote of Emmanuel in the
seventeenth century, or like Laughton of Clare Hall in the
eighteenth, actually engaged in the work of instruction,
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 143
compiling a Student's Guide for the use of his pupils, the
scope and character of such a work, making due allowa-nce
for widely different conditions, would fairly represent the
aim of Rabanus in the ninth century. On November 1,
819, Haistulfus, the archbishop of Maintz, came to consecrate
the new monastery church at Fulda, and was formally pre*
sented by Eabanus with a copy of his new treatise.
The De Institutions Cl&ricorum has more than once been
justly appealed to, as evidence that strongly contravenes the
exaggerated representations of certain writers with respect
to the ignorance of the clergy in these times. The mere
fact that it was compiled to meet a recognised want, and at
the request of ma^y ot t^e community at Fulda, is alone
sufficient proof that the prevailing tone was far from being
one of vulgar and illiterate contempt for learning. The Th« roles
precepts enjoined are founded upon acknowledged and well- iaiadowa
ascertained authority — on Cyprian, Hilary, Ambrose, Jerome, derived
Augustine, Cassiodorus, Gregory, and John of Damascus ; from the
but it is worthy of nt>te that while, in laying down the canon Fatliers*
of Scripture, Eabanus adverts to the doubt recorded by
Isidorus with respect to the authenticity of the Epistle to the
Hebrews,1 he gives no sanction to the spurious letter to the
Laodiceans, which Alcuin had transcribed in the famous
* Charlemagne's Bible.' 2
With respect to pagan literature and secular learning, the
tone of Eabanus resembles that of Alcuin, but he exhibits
far more liberality of sentiment,3 He deems it necessary, meat than
it is true, to vindicate the study of the laws of metre, on the
ground that they are applicable to the Hebrew psalter, and
that the metrical art has been cultivated by many Christian
poets ; but, so far from condemning the perusal of pagan
1 ' . . , eandemque alii Barnabam conscripsisee, alii a Olemente scriptam
fuisse suspicantur.' Opera, vi 3(X
* Still preserved in the British Museum.
* His definition of grammar— 'Oramniatica eat scientia interpretandi
poetas atque historicos et recte seribendi ioquendique ratio. Haec et origo et
fundamentum. est artium liberalium ' (vi 41) — would appear to imply that he
was endeavouring to revert to that more liberal conception of the study
which Gregory and Akuin bad sought to set aside ; see supra, p. 77.
141
RABANUS MAURU&
His esti-
mate of
pagan
literature,
rhetoric,
and dia-
lectic.
poetry, he implicitly recommends it, simply advising the
rejection of the dross and the appropriation of the gold. As
for rhetoric, he urges that though its especial province is
the arena of civil disputes, it has also its uses in the Church.
It renders the preacher better able to expound the word of
God. Who, he asks, will seriously maintain that truth, in
opposing error, is bound to enter upon the conflict unarmed,
so that while those who seek to persuade others to believe
what is false shall understand how to bespeak the attention
and goodwill of their audience, and to express their ideas
concisely, plainly, and plausibly, their opponents shall be
wholly destitute of such capacity ? l With respect to dia-
lectic (which, following Alcuin, he includes with rhetoric
under the head of logic) 2 his divergence from his master's
views is still more discernible. In fact, it would seem that
the decline of the orthodox mistrust of .the art may be held
to date from his teaching.3 He assigns to dialectic a real
and special value. ( Dialectica,' says Alcuin, * est disciplina
rationalis quaerendi, diffiniendi, et disserendi, etiam et vera a
falsis discernendi potens.' His disciple repeats this defini-
tion, but adds, 'haec ergo disciplina disciplinarum est, haee
docet docere, scit scire sola et scientes facere non solum vult sed
etiam potest.' * Wherefore,' he goes on to say, * it behoves
the clergy to become acquainted with this most nolle art,
that they may thereby be able accurately to discern the
craftiness of unbelievers, and to confute their assertions by
the magical conclusions of syllogisms.54
1 * Nam cum per artem rhetoricam et vera suadeantur et falsa, quis au-
deat dicere adversus meudacium in defensoribus suis inermem debere con-
sistere veritatem, nt videlicet illi qui res falsas suadere conantur, noverint
auditorem vel benivolem, vel intentum, yel facere docilem prooemio, isti autem
non novermt? Ille falsa breviter, aperte, verisimiliter, et isti vera sic
narrent ut audire taedeat, intelligere non pateat, credere postremo nou
libeat ? illi fallacibus argumentis veritatem oppugnent, asserant falsitatem,
isti nee vera defendere uec falsa valeant refutare ? ' vi 41.
2 ' Logica autem dividitur in duas species, hoc est dialecticain et rhetor-
learn.' De Universo xv i ; Mig-ne, cxi 444.
3 Prantl readily admits, while denying Rabanus' authorship of the gloss
on Boethius, that his teaching had ' aitf den Betrieb der Logik einen hochst
giinstigen Einfltiss.' Geseh. d. Loyik, ii 40.
4 * Quaproptcr oportet clericas hanc artem nobiltssimctm scire . . . ut
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA.
A similar breadth of judgement characterises his treat- CHAP.
ment of philosophy. He holds that if any of the schools, ^ m>^
and especially the Platonists, are to be found maintaining Philo-
doctrine that harmonises with the Christian faith, instead BO$1J'
of regarding their teaching with mistrust, we shall do well
to convert it to our own use. Just as the Israelites, when
•fiiey went forth from Egypt, while they looked with abhor-
rence on the idols of their masters, bore off their gold and
silver vessels. With how much silver and raiment, he
exclaims, did Cyprian, that most delightful teacher and
blessed martyr, Lactantius, Victorinus, Optafcus, and St.
Hilary, and * innumerabiles granimatici/ go forth from the
Egyptian land ! We can hardly doubt that Julian's decree
must have been present to his mind, when he observes that
paganism would never have permitted such men as these to
share in its culture, could it have foreseen how that culture
would be converted into a weapon for its own overthrow.1
The words with which, when discussing the preacher's art, he
enforces the necessity of reaching the comprehension of one's
audience, and of aiming accordingly at the many rather than
the few, might well have been inscribed in letters of gold on
every pulpit from his own to the present day.2
Trite and commonplace as these sentiments now appear,
they were no less novel and forcible at the time when they
were put forth; and the modern reader, who contrasts them,
with the vague generalities that make up so large a portion
of Alcuin's writings, can hardly fail to be struck with their
comparatively vigorous and practical character.
In the same year that he was elected abbat, Rabanus His corn-
completed his commentary on St. Matthew — the first of his mentaiT
voluminous labours in the field of Scriptural exposition. It Matthew.
subtiliter haereticorum verautiam liao possint dignoscere eorumque dicta
veneficatis syllogismorum conclusiouibua confatare.' JDe Inst, Clencorum
Opera, vi 42.
1 'Qoibus omnibus viris superstitiosa gentium" consuetude, et maxima
illia temporibus cum, Oliristi recutiens jugum, Ohristianos persequebatur,
disciplines quas utilos habebat mmquam comniodaret si eas in usum colendi
unias Dei, quo vanus idolorum cultus exsciudereturj conversas snspicar^tur '
vi 44.
8 Ibid, p, 46,
146 RABANUS MAURUS.
is no slight evidence, in contravention of the theory that the
Bible was a rare and neglected book in these times, to find
that the treatise had been prepared at the earnest request of
the brethren, who complained that they had not so full and
complete a commentary on this as on the other Evangelists.1
It probably indicates the bias of his theological training,
and possibly the feeling evoked by Charles' imperious
adoption of the Filioque, that while referring to the com-
mentaries by Origen and other Greek Fathers, he explains
that the expositions which he has actually used are those of
Cyprian, Eusebius, Hilary, Ambrose, Jerome, Augustine,
Fulgentius, Yictorinus, Fortunianus, Orosius, Leo, Gregory
of .Nazianzus, Gregory the Great, and John Chrysostom.
On the traditional theory of interpretation he insists with
special emphasis. The 'four senses,' he says, are the four
daughters of wisdom. Of these, the first, or historical sense,
is compared to ' milk for babes ; ' while, for those advancing
in knowledge, there is the allegorical ; those of approved
piety and abounding in good works are to be satisfied with
the strong meat of the tropological ; while for those whose
contempt of earthly pleasures is complete, and whose affec-
tions are fixed solely on heavenly joys, there is reserved the
wine of anagoge.2
Extra- -^ mus^ t>e confessed that the fantastic interpretation of
vagancies the simple narrative of Scripture which we find under the
gogical in- head of Anagogiae is such as no sober criticism can commend.
When we are told that, in the passage ' as many as touched
the fringe of His garment were made whole,' the fringe
denotes the incarnation of our Lord, — that the basket of
rushes in which Moses was placed symbolised the Virgin Mary,
— that the, kook spoken of in Job xli 1 is the type of Christ's
humanity, — thatr ihe 4 sea of glass ' described in the Apoca-
lypsejis the ordinance of baptism, — while the frogs mentioned
1 Yet^ aotwithstandiug, Rabanus was compelled to undergo the envy and
$^;p«eiati«ft Q| that numerous c%lasa to be found in centimes of learning in all
ages, ' quorum nemo potest calumniaai et invidos inorsus devitare, nisi qui
omnino nihil eoribit.' Opera, 7 1.
8 See ' Anagogiae/ Opera, v 749-823.
THE SCHOOL AT HILDA. 147
by the Psalmist are heretics (' quod conventicula caecorum et CHAP.
ignorantium loquaces proferunt haereticos'et irnmundos '), we . IIL ,.
feel that the most capricious exposition of the f conventicles '
of the seventeenth century was hardly surpassed by that of
the venerated abbat of Fulda in the ninth. The triumph of
a critic of the school of D'Aubigne would perhaps be com-
plete when he found that Babanus shared with Tertullian a
belief in the efficacy of prayers for the dead.1
But while not disguising the errors which Babanus held
in common with his age, it will be more material to our
purpose to note those points wherein he appears superior
not only to his master, but to most of his contemporaries.
Perhaps there is no respect in which he contrasts more
favourably with Alcuin than when he has occasion to deal
with natural phenomena. The tendency of Alcuin's mind Hissupe-
seems to have been to assign to every occult cause a super-
natural origin ; Babanus, on the contrary, sought to resolve
each phenomenon into facts in harmony with the ordinary
course of nature. Of this his treatise De Magicis Artibus, Pheno'
J » mena.
written in the year 842, affords remarkable evidence. He
seetos to have clearly comprehended the theory represented
by what in modern philosophy is known as a ' subjective Theory of
illusion,' whereby the appearance of ghosts, evil spirits, and '
similar manifestations, are referred to a deception of the
senses under the influence of overwrought mental faculties.
To this class of experiences he maintains, for instance, that
we must refer the appearance of Samuel to Saul, when the
latter had recourse to the witch of Endor ; looking upon it
* as true not in fact, but with respect to the perception and
mind of Saul/ a
If we remember how often the narrative in question has
been cited as incontestable proof of the reality of the powers
1 l Orationibus vero sanctae ecclesiae et sacrificio salutari et eleemosynis
quae pro illorum spiritibus erogantur, non est dubitandum movtuos-
adjuvari, £c.' Homilia de vigiliis defunct&rwn, v 624.
2 ' Sed si quis propter historiam ut ea quae verbis expressa stint putet nan
pTfteterraittenda, ne ratio bistoriae iimnia sit. recte faciet quidem si tainen
minime istud ad vm rapiat rationem sed ad irisum et intdlectum Saul.'
Opera, TI 170.
L 2
148 RABANUS MAURUS.
CHAP, assumed under the term witchcraft, and also recall to what
. IIL , an extent that belief, together with trial by ordeal, prevailed
in Rabanus' time, sanctioned as it was, moreover, by the
opinions of Fathers and the decrees of Councils, we shall
readily admit that the maintenance of a theory like the fore-
going attests a remarkable, though not a unique instance of
individual superiority to the popular delusions of the ninth
century.1
Herebuies It was in much the same light that Kabanus appears to
BtTtionPof" k'ave regarded the science of astrology. Whilst Alcuin
the na- taught that comets were the souls of recently departed saints,
his disciple endeavoured as much as possible to discourage a
superstitious interpretation of celestial phenomena. In one
of his homilies we have an interesting illustration of the
manner in which he sought to deal with this class of delu-
sions. The inhabitants of the district round Fulda were, in
many respects, scarcely less superstitious than in the days of
St. Boniface ; and one of Eabanus' homilies is a remon-
strance with those 'who would fain render help to the
waning moon.' ' Some days ago/ he says, * when I was
thinking over in the evening, within my house, something
that should be to your spiritual good, I heard outside an,
outcry that seemed as though it would reach the sky. On en-
quiring into the cause of this alarm, I was told that it was
intended to aid the moon, then on the wane. The following
morning, some who came to see me told me that they had
observed the same thing in their district; and that horns
had been blown as though to rouse the neighbourhood to
battle. Some imitated the grunting of swine ; others flung
darts or fire in the direction of the moon, for they said a
monster was tearing it in pieces, and would certainly devour
it did they not come to the rescue. With the same view
some even cut down the hedges of their gardens, and
smashed all the crockery in their houses, in order, forsooth,
to scare away the monster. My brethren, this story is all a
fable. God's hand is over all His works to protect them,
1 Agobard's noble protest against duelling, in his Liber contra judicium
Dei, is another eminent exception.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 149
and man is far too feeble to render Him aid. This appear- CHAP.
aiice of the moon has a simply natural cause. For it is
evident to reason that when the moon, whose orbit is the
less, comes between, the sun cannot pour its light upon our
eyes, and this happens during the time of his rising ; and in
like manner, the moon, which is lightened by the sun,
becomes obscured by the shadow of the earth at full moon
—that is, in the fifteenth day of its age, when the sun shines
in one quarter of the heavens, the moon in another.1 No
need is there, then, to seek to give her help. God has thus
ordered it, and He knows, right well, how to manage all
that He has created.5
It is in like manner that we find his voice uplifted, in
the succeeding homily, against the practice, far from un-
common in his time, of consulting astrologers and fortune-
tellers ; though here he can be regarded simply as echoing
the utterance of the Church, and his discourse is evidence
rather of the survival of pagan customs in the district than
of any special enlightenment on the part of the preacher.
In some respects, indeed, Rabanus fully shared the super-
stition of his age. Holding, probably, that the end justified His own
the means, and that the religious feelings of the laity were
largely stimulated by such objects of veneration, he was in- veneration
defatigable in his endeavours to obtain the relics of saints.
Those of St. Alexander, St. Quirinus, St. Caecilia, and many
others, were, with the imperial sanction, collected and de-
deposited in costly shrines at Fulda or some neighbouring
locality* The enthusiasm they excited was productive of no
1 l Nain manifesta ratio probat, solem iuterventu lunae, quae inferior
cursu, lumen ad nostros oculoa non posse perfundere, quod sit in teiupore
ascenaionis ej us ; lunam vero similiter, quae a sole illustratur, per umbrain,
terrae obscurari in pleni lunio, hoc eat ia quintadecima die aetatis ejus^
quando sol in alia parte coeli ex alia luna relucet.' Opera, v 606. It is
evident, from this passage, that Rabanus supposed the moon's changes
io be attributable to conditions identical with those of an eclipse ! There are-
two homilies (100 and 101) delivered by Maximus, bishop of Turin in the
fifth century, De Defectimie Lunae (Migne, Ivii 334), to which Rabanus'
discourse has a suspicious resemblance. The editors have there supposed
that Maximus is referring to an eclipse ; but the context shews that hs
uses defectio in the same sense as defectus is used by Cicero and by Vergil,
i.e. as equivalent to decrescentia,
150 RABANUS MAURUS.
CHAP, small increase in the ecclesiastical revenues, though the
s. ^ . wealth thus obtained appears to have been conscientiously
devoted to building new churches, or adorning and improving
those already existing.
Points of Enough has, however, been adduced to suggest that
contrast Rabanus, though firmly holding by the theological traditions
Alcuin. which he inherited from Alcuin, did so in a spirit and a
manner which were at once conservative and progressive.
Possessing a robuster intellect, and less trammelled by servile
habits of thought, he not only enlarged the whole conception
of monastic and ecclesiastical culture, but also brought to
bear upon each subject of instruction something of novelty
of treatment and independence of judgement. In one respect
— one in which Alcuin was certainly deficient — in the art,
namely, of exposition, he appears to have signally excelled.
His teaching was characterised by a quality that nearly
always accompanies true genius — that of great clearness.
Testimony On this point we can require no more competent or satis-
to the ^ factory testimony than Einhard's. That eminent states-
clearness man, soon after Charles' death, embraced the monastic
struction, profession ; and, though warmly attached to Lewis, withdrew,
as troubles multiplied, from state affairs into retirement at
Seligenstadt. Thither he had already transported the relics
of St. Peter and St. Marcellinus, and had changed the name
of the town (thus blessed in its new treasure) from Mulinheim
to that which it now bore. Seligenstadt was not far distant
from Fulda, and Einhard's only son, Vussin, was sent to be
educated under Rabanus. It was shortly after his admission
into the monastery that he received from his father a letter,
still extant, impressing upon him the advantages placed
within his reach. ' Wherefore, niy son/ writes Einhard,
* strive to follow the example of the good, and on no account
incur the displeasure of him whom I have exhorted you to
take for your model ; but, mindful of your vow, seek to
profit by his teaching with the utmost degree of application
that he may approve. For, thus instructed, and reducing
what you have learned to practice, you will be wanting in
nothing that relates to the knowledge of life. And, even as
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 15'J
I exhorted you by word of month, be zealous in study, and CHAP.
fail not to grasp at whatever of noble learning you may be „.,, t;^
able to gain from the most lurid and fertile genius of this great
orator? l
The Church and posterity have not been forgetful of the Testj-
claims of Kabanus to their grateful remembrance. Hudolf us, church
his able successor in the monastery school, styles him ( a
distinguished scholar, and second, as a poet, to n^ne of his
time.' 2 ' He was the first/ says Trithemius, ' who taught
Germans to speak the Latin and Greek tongues.3 To
Baronius he appears as fulgentissimum sidus ; to Bellarmine
as aeque doctus et pirn?
To signal ability as a teacher and merit as a writer, His ae-
Eabanus added no small achievements as a founder. At f^der!*
the time of his election as abbat, no less than sixteen mon-
asteries and nunneries, either founded by former abbats or
affiliated at their own desire, already looked up to Fuida as
their parent house. To these Eabanns added six more, —
those at Corvey, Solenhofen, Celle, Hersfeld, Petersberg,
and Hirschau; we may accordingly reckon twenty-two
societies wherein his authority would be regarded as law,
and his teaching be faithfully preserved. But even these
numerous foundations represent but a fraction of his real
influence. Eightly to estimate the range of that influence,
we must pass in review the men whom he educated, and
who, scattered over the different parts of the severed empire
as bishops or teachers, upheld long after his death the cause
of religion and of letters. The most eminent of their HispupiUr.
number was undoubtedly Lupus Servatus, whose character
and career will claim a separate chapter. Another, whose
name is frequently to be met with in the literature of these
1 Einhafil (ed. Teulet), ii 45-6.
**.... sophista et sui temporis poetarum nulli secundus.' Pertz, i 364.
1 ^Sopnistoe," iuquit sanctua Augustinus (lik 2), appellantur, " Latiiiarum
?5tteraruin ^loquentissinii ajictores.'" Ducange, s. v. So in the epitaph of
John Scotus, f Conditur hoc tumulo sanctus sophista Joannes.' Christlieb,
p. 47. Haureait (Phil. Scholast. p. 142) infers, somewhat strangely, from the
language of Rudolfus, that Rahanus was known as ' le Sophiste \ '
3 Prokg. Migne, cvii 106-26.
152 IUBANUS MATJRUS.
CHAF, times, was Walafrid Strabo. His earlier education was
>.., m' „. gained at the monastery of Eeichenau on the shores of lake
Walafrid Constance, where, as at the sister foundation of St. Gall, the
0 ; teaching of Columban and the Irish school was still handed
down with considerable success. From Eeichenau Walafrid
was sent to receive further instruction at Fulda — a fact that
•would lead us to infer, either that the rivalry between the
Celtic and the Latin theologians did not altogether prevent
friendly intercourse, or that the reputation of Eabanus'
teaching was sufficiently great to overcome such jealousies.
Walafrid returned after a time to Eeichenan, and in the
year 842 was elected abbat. But though he had learned
much at Fulda, he does not appear to have acquired Eabauus'
art as an administrator; and while learning flourished at
Eeichenau the affairs of the monastery were suffered to fall
into irremediable confusion. The verses are still extant in
which Walafrid bewails to his former teacher the state of
the society, and begs of him the gift of a pair of shoes.1
Walafrid, not improbably, inherited from Eabanus something
of the latter's taste and skill in versification, for he was dis-
tinguished as a poet in his day ; but his name was chiefly
known to the Middle Ages as that of the author of the
widely popular Glossa Ordinaria, a series of biblical ex-
positions founded upon the lessons of his instructor at
Fulda.
Otfried of To the influence of Eabanus may perhaps also be referred
, We'ssen- foe far better known efforts of the muse of Otfried, a mem-
ber of the monastery of Weissenberg in Elsass, and the
author of Der Krist. The pious monk had often listened to
the strains of the strolling singers of his native country, and
been scandalised at their coarseness ; he aspired accordingly
to direct the characteristic talent of his countrymen into
happier channels. Hence his well-known production — a
metrical harmony of the Gospels in the old High German
dialect, the prototype of the lyric in Teutonic literature.
Budoifus. More famous in his day than perhaps any of the fore-
going was Eabanus' jmpil and successor as instructor of
1 Opera, vi 231.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA,
the monastery school, the historian Rudolfus, the eontinu-
ator of the Annales Fuldenses from the point where Einhard
dropped the pen — a preacher whose oratory was the special de-
light of Lewis the Pious — a scholar notable for his knowledge
of Tacitus (probably from some manuscript that subsequently
disappeared) in an age when that writer was otherwise un-
known,
Names of minor note crowd on the attention of the stu-
dent, and almost justify the assertion of one of Rabanus'
biographers, that wherever, be it in peace or in war, in the
Church or in State, a prominent actor appears at this period,
we may almost predict beforehand that he will prove to have
been a scholar of this great teacher,1 Among them we
may note Liutpert, abbat of the newly founded society at Lmtpert,
Corvey, to whom that society was indebted for much of its
subsequent reputation— Hartmuat, who at St. Gall restored
and long maintained the discipline which had there fallen
into decay — Meginhard, who, with strong Teutonic sympa-
thies and a marked increase of historic power, earned on
the work of Einhard and Rudolf us — Probus, whose saintly
virtues made Fulda yet more illustrious,2 a gentle scholar
who pleaded the claims of Cicero and Yergil to rank among
the elect — Ermoldus, author of the lives of St. Sola and
St. Hariolf.
While the services of Rabanus to his generation were Difficulties
thus eminent and indisputable, it is to be regretted that Jhe°theom
anxiety to adorn a later movement with the sanction of a that R&-
great name should have led certain writers to claim for him WaTtiie
a distinction at variance with his entire reputation — the author of
f TJ 1 • ^6 glOSS
parentage of the nominal] stic controversy. It was in his discovered
researches among the MSS. of Abelard and his disciples, b? Cousin.
preserved in the Imperial Library in Paris, that the late
M. Cousin discovered a commentary on Boethius, which,
on the doubtful authority of a marginal gloss, he ventured
1 Speugler. p. iv.
8 ' . . . cujua casta convereatio et doctrinae sanctae studimn Mogofctinam
illustravit ecclesiam.' Annai. Fuld. ami. 859, Pertz, i 373,
154 RABANUS MAURUS.
to attribute to Rabanus.1 It is right to add that his conclu-
sion has received the support of M. Haureau. According to
this assumption, Rabanus, in addition to his other distin-
guished claims, appears as the author of a profound and
able refutation of the reality of Universals. Unfortunately,
however, two material facts, since pointed out by Kaulich
and Prantl, seem fatal to such an hypothesis. Eabanus
was already sixty- seven years of age when, in 844, he com-
posed his treatise De Universo, in which, as we have before
stated,2 he follows Alcuin in dividing logic into dialectic and
rhetoric; but in the manuscript in question logic is sub^
divided into grammar, rhetoric, and dialectic — a far from,
unimportant difference and one which Prantl does not hesi-
tate to refer to the influence of the views put forth by John
Scotus respecting the relation of grammar and rhetoric to
dialectic.3 Again, it is evident that the commentary is de-
signed as a reply to certain realistic doctrines, and, apart
from the controversy raised by John Scotus, we have no
evidence that this famous controversy was agitated in Frank-
land before the second half of the ninth century. But the
arrival of John in Frank1 and "belongs to the years 840-<>,
during which time Rabanus, as we shall shortly see, was
leading a life of religious seclusion, and tranquilly compos-
ing his De Universe, in perfect ignorance, it may be presumed,
of that new conception of logic which was being expounded
at the court of Charles the Bald. It seems accordingly in
the highest degree improbable that either at this period or
in the years of his extreme old age, when busied with the
duties of his episcopate and the refutation of Gotteschalk,
he should have permitted himself to become involved in a
sharp philosophical controversy, have reconsidered his classi-
fication of the arts and sciences, and composed a treatise
altogether dissimilar to anything to be found in his acknow-
ledged writings.4 The commentary in question was probably
1 An AooBctut of this gloss will be found in the author's ••f&tatoJry&f ''the
University of Cambridge, pp. 50-4.
* See supra, p. 87.
» Getch. d. Logik, 11 38.
4 ( Allerdings lasst sich nicbt direct beweisen, dass Hrabaous denselben
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 155
the work of a disciple or of some writer who had received CHAP.
his education at Fulda. .,in' ^
During the unhappy struggle which preceded the disso- His sym-
lution of the empire, Eabanus espoused the cause of the
emperor against the sons. In this policy he was opposed' to clan.
Otgar, the archbishop, a zealous and ambitious partisan,
with aims very different from those of the peace-loving
abbat, intent solely on the interests of religion and the
Church. While Otgar urged on the war, E-abanus quoted His loyalty
examples from Scripture calculated to recall the unfilial ^e^kSi
princes and disloyal nobility to their duty and allegiance ; and
and while the former, under the guise of zeal for the Church's
laws, took an active part in the cruel deposition of Lewis
at Soissons, the other openly maintained the invalidity of
the proceedings. After the emperor's death, Rabanus at-
tached himself to the party of Lothair, and his loyalty to
that monarch remained unshaken. The results that followed
upon the battle of Fontenay were, however, felt by him as a
severe blow ; and, having resigned his abbatship, he retired, He retires
as Baugulfus had done before him, into religious seclusion.1 ^erPefcers"
He chose for his retreat the cell at Petersberg, and there,
to quote the expression of Eudolfus, devoted himself to the
study of f heavenly philosophy,' 2 — that is, in more prosaic Ian- His
guage, there compiled his De Universe (a feeble though JJy^fJ
laborious reproduction, with some additions, of the Ency- retirement,
clopaedia of Isidorus) ; wrote also, at the request of the
emperor Lothair, his commentary on Ezekiel ; 8 and further,
at the request of Lewis the German, an exposition of the
* allegorical ' sense of the hymns used in the services of the
Church, The relations which he appears to have maintained,
unmoglich verfasst haben konne, aber als sehr unwahrscheinlich miissen wir
es immerhiu bezeichnen.' Ibid. ' Der Gegensatz von NominaUsten und
Eealisten beginut sich zwar im neunten Jahrbundert zu entwickeln, aber Urn
bis auf Rabarms auszudehneD erscheint uns unrechtfertigt/ Kaulich, Geic-h-
d. Schol. Phil, i 62-3.
1 See Diimmler, pp. 171,301,
3 Radolfus, De Eeliguiis^ p. 249 : ' . . . ibi manens ae deo serviens
caelesti pMlosophiae vacabat ' (quoted by Diimmler, p. 302).
5 Opera, iv 196. It is to be noted that Rabanus pays a liigh tribute to
the ' aviditas multa aciendi et copiose investigandi ' exhibited by Lothair.
156
fcABANUS MAURUS.
CHAP.
in.
His rela-
tions to
Lothair
and Lewis
the Ger-
man.
He is
elected
arch-
bishop of
Mainte.
Influence
of the epis-
copal order
at this
period.
at one and the same time, with Lothair and Lewis the
German suggest that his reputation was such as almost to
render him superior to mere political considerations. His
allegiance, as a subject, was given to the new emperor, for
whom, a few years later, we find him compiling a collection
of homilies ; but there can be little doubt that his respect
and regard for Lewis must have been of a far more genuine
character. During his retirement, his acquaintance with the
latter ripened into permanent friendship, and his testimony
to this prince's high character is perhaps the least open to
suspicion of all the tributes that have survived to the moral
virtues of the best of the sons of Lewis the Pious,
On the death of Otgar, the unanimous voice of the
Church, the nobility, and the people elected Rabanus to fill
the splendid see of Maintz. The sanction of Lewis the
German, in whose realm the city had been included in the
division agreed upon at Verdun, was gladly given ; Rabanus
alone hesitated. It was indeed no slight responsibility to
assume, at the age of seventy-one, an office which involved
the supervision of the spiritual interests of all Germany,
the diocese of Cologne alone excepted. Eventually, however,
he acceded to the wish of the electors, and for nine years,
until his death in 856, discharged the duties of this onerous
dignity. Of one of his earliest measures in this capacity — •
the part which he took in the condemnation of the ultra-
predestinarian views of his former disciple Gotteschalk —
we shall have occasion to speak in another chapter.
Amid the troubles and disorganisation of these times,
Eabanus, in common with the other members of the episco-
pate, appears as the upholder of law and order, when the
civil power was well-nigh helpless. Perhaps at no period
ia the annals of Western Europe are the bishops of
the Church to be found exercising a more remarkable or
more considerable influence.1 Interwoven with the three
great movements that characterise the age — the decay of
1 Observe the language of Charles the Bald's own minister of state : —
* Verumtaraen solito more ad episcopos sacerdotesque rem referunt, ut quo-
cumque divina auetoritas id vertere vellet nuttt4psitts, libenti animo praesto
adessent.' Nithardus, iv 3 ; Pertz, ii 669.
THE SCHOOL AT FULDA. 157
the royal power, the rise of feudalism, and the encroach- G4HAP.
nients of the papacy — their action is nearly always appre- ._ IIi1' . ^
ciable and often decisive of the immediate result. Theodul-
fus, Agobard, Hincniar, are men whose power in guiding
contemporary opinion and the events of their day can
scarcely be matched by that of any three laymen of the
time; while Eabanus, working through the hearts and .
minds of his long array of illustrious disciples, surpasses the
former two and yields to Hincmar alone*
158
LUPUS SERVATUS,
CHAPTER IV.
LUPUS SEEVATUS : OR, THE CLASSICS IS THE NINTH CENTURY.
Lupus and
A] eui u con-
trasted.
His early
education.
His re-
moval to
Fulda and
education
THE varied and distinguished activity of Rabanus' different
disciples in after life might alone serve to suggest that the
influences at Fulda were of a far more inspiring character
than those of Tours. To one whom he taught, we cannot
doubt that his tolerant views respecting classical literature
afforded the opportunity for cultivating a taste which deve-
loped into a lifelong passion. In Lupus Servatus — for it is of
him that we speak — we have the strongest contrast to Aleuin
— the one, lapt in wealth and security, intent mainly on en-
forcing monastic discipline, and narrowing the limits of
learning; the other, amid penury, privation and the oft-
recurring demands of military service, and the alarms of
invasion, attracted, as by a spell, to the literature which
4-lcuin shunned, and exhibiting an erudition and enthusiasm
not unworthy of the scholars of the Renaissance.
Lupus was born in the diocese of Sens, early in the ninth
century, of a noble family, eminent for its devotion both to
the cause of religion and to that of letters.1 He was first
sent to be educated at Ferrieres, where, since Alcuin's death,
the abbatship had passed from Sigulfus to Adelbert, and
from Adelbert to Aldricus. At Ferrieres he received the
usual instruction in the subjects of the triviutn and quadrir
vium, and from thence, in the year 830, was sent on by
Aldricus (who had, in the meantime, been raised to the
archbishopric of Sens) to study the^ogj. under Rabauus at
Fulda. We have already seen that, about this time, Ein-
hard's son, Vussin, was also receiving his education there.
1 Nicholas, Etude *ur let lettres de Servat-Loup. Clermont-Ferrand, 1861.
THE CLASSICS IN THE NINTH CENTUKY. 159
Einhard often came over from Seligenatadt to see Ms son, CHAP.
and his attention was attracted to Lupus as a student of . *y* -_^
more than ordinary promise. He became his literary adviser under
and instructor, and, during a six years' residence at Fulda,
the young monk enjoyed the twofold advantage of being hard.
taught by the ablest scholar and the most profound theo-
logian of the time. From Fulda he returned to Ferric" res,
where he was at once appointed to the office of instructor in
grammar and rhetoric,
For four years Lupus continued to discharge the duties H» re-
of his post with little interruption from events without, when j^ri^M8
the death of Lewis the Pious and the treaty of Verdun and promo-
brought about fresh changes. The double form of the cele-
brated oath of Strassburg, whereby Lewis and Charles, with
their armies, bound themselves to mutual fidelity, typifies
the influence at work in the dismembered empire. Modern
France appears, dimly emerging from the confusion, sepa-
rated for ever from the purely Teutonic races, while diverse
rule and opposed interests begin to call into existence new
national hostilities. Eabanus, as we have before noted,
deeply moved by the fate which transferred the temporal
allegiance of Fulda to one whom he could not regard as his
rightful lord, retired from his abbatsbip, and Ips friend
Hatto, who had been his fellow-student at Tours, was elected
his successor. A like change had already taken place at
Ferrieres. Odo, who had succeeded Aldricus on the latter's
promotion to the archbishopric of Sens, had shewn himself a
warm and apparently somewhat in discreet partisan of Lothair,
He was consequently deposed by Charles the Bald, who ap-
pointed Lupus in his place* Envy did not fail to attribute
to the new abbat a share in his predecessor's disgrace ; but
from this imputation he would seem to have satisfactorily
vindicated himself in a letter which we still possess.1 The
resignation of Babanus, it will thus be seen, coincided very
nearly with Lupus* election ; and we find the latter writing
on the occasion to his preceptor, and intimating that he
would gladly have profited by his advice with respect to his
1 Epist. 21 ; Migne, cxbt 470-2.
3GO LUPUS SERVATUS.
CHAP, new duties, but he hears that he is now devoted solely to
v __ ^! _ . religious avocations.1 It is accordingly evident that, though.
Inter- Rabanus and his disciple differed in their political sympathies,
tweenmon- ^h6"" friendship suffered no diminution; and it may be noted
one °^ ^e Brighter features of the monastic life of this
this period, period, that communities bound by widely different ties and
interests still often maintained their friendly intercourse
unbroken. It is but a few years later, at the very time that
national hostility towards Charles was finding such unmis-
takeable expression at Fulda at the hand of Rudolfus in the
Annaleay that Lupus, whose loyalty to his monarch admits of
no question, is to be found writing to Hatto, the abbat, in
terms which imply continued and habitual interchange of
good offices.2
Charles the With the accession of Charles the Bald, the influences
that affected learning had undergone a further modification.
In his sympathies towards men of letters, the new monarch
resembled his grandfather rather than his saintly sire. His
fine lofty forehead, destitute of the flowing locks which
usually adorned the Frankish noble, bespoke intellectual
powers of no common order. Himself an acute metaphysical
His lite- theologian, he delighted to pitt opponent against respondent
rary sym- over gome knotty quaestio. His metrical compositions ol>-
tained and deserved a place in the Gallican liturgies. He
fostered literature with a care to which we are indebted for
more than one important chronicle of contemporary history,
while his court was the resort of men of letters of every
school. His enemies, who could not deny his mental ability,
represented him as unfit for action and cowardly in war — a
description scarcely borne out by the facts of his career.
Difficulties Under happier circumstances, we can hardly doubt that
Charles would have rendered still more enduring services
reign. -fco letters, but his lot was cast in evil days. Aqoitaine rose
in insurrection, while on the coasts a yet more formidable
1 ' Caeterum audivi sarciriam administrationis vostrae TOS deposuisse et
rebus divinis solummodo mmc esse intentos, Hattoni vero noatro curam
sudoris plenam reliquisse.' Epist, 40.
2 Epist. 86.
THE CLASSICS IN THE NINTH CENTURY,
danger appeared. The sagacity of Charles the Great had CHAP,
discerned the gathering storm in the North, but so long as ._. t ' ^
he lived the black cloud was still in the remote horizon.
The Danish sails hovered off the Frankish coast, but the
pirate descended not, held back, as it would seem, by the
glamour of that mighty name. In the reign of Lewis, how- The inva-
ever, Friesland was more than once exposed to their ravages ; Northmen?
while the first year of the reign of Charles the Bald saw
Rouen plundered and burnt, and the monasteries along the
valley of the Seine deserted or rifled of their treasure.1
Barely from that time was the kingdom free from tL-Ir
actual presence or the anticipation of their approach. Over
the lands that lay between the Rhine and the Scheldt,
between the Scheldt and the Loire, between the Loire and
the Garonne, the tide of invasion poured in countless suc-
cessive waves. The monasteries, from sheer necessity, became
the centres of organised resistance. From peaceful mansions
surrounded by smiling gardens, they gradually assumed the
aspect of inhospitable fortresses begirt by moats and pali-
sades. The chronicles of all the foundations in the diocese
of Paris, those of the societies at Nantes and Fonteiielle (of
which a few fragments still exist), the entire collection at
Jumieges, irrevocably disappeared from the possession of the
historian, and their loss still baffles every attempt to con-
struct a continuous and connected narrative of this period.8
Such were the times that embrace the career of Lupus Lupus in
Servatus. He twice saw Paris besieged and taken — once *"* car?eir
within two years of his election to the abba ts hip, and a.gain diet.
a few years before his death. Ferrieres was among the
monasteries bound to furnish men and money to the state,3
and Lupus was himself compelled to bear arms under Charles.
It was in vain that he besought Hincrnar to obtain his
1 * ... omnia monasteria sou quaecumque loca flumini Sequanae
adhaerentia aut depopulate sunt, aut multis acceptis pecimiis tenita jrelin-
quunt.' Pertz. i 437.
8 Palgrave, i 421.
8 The monastery is included' among those < quae dona et militiam facere
flebent/ in the Conslitittw de S&^itio Monachorum of 817. Pert2 Leaa i
223.
M
163
LUPUS SERVATUS.
CHAP,
IV.
Confisca-
tions of
monastic
lands by
the no-
bility.
St. Judoe
taken from
Ferrteres.
exemption from services for which he was ia no way qual i
being, as he urged, ignorant of the art. of fence, and an u. n
skilful rider. In the year 844 he was forced to take part in
the expedition against the rebels of Aquitaine, and at the
buttle of Angouleme fell into the hands of the enemy. It
was only through the intervention of Turpio, count of An-
gouleme,, that, after a month's captivity, he was restored to
the society at Ferrieres. To that society his services as an
administrator were of incalculable benefit; nor shall we
easily find, in mediaeval times, a better example of the extent
to which the scholar's life might be made compatible with
diplomatic service to the state, and fidelity to monastic
interests be reconciled with a lively sympathy in the progress
of events without.
The troubles arising from invasion and civil war were not
the only sources of disquiet with the monasteries at this
time. The nobles, availing themselves of the weakness of
the supreme power, began to assert feudal claims, and the
confiscating policy of Charles Martel was revived. The
more powerful lords disdained all subterfuge, and seized the
monastic lands on no other plea than that of the stronger
arm. Others forged title-deeds in their own favour, or in-
trigued at court to gain the royal sanction for their pre-
tended rights. In the correspondence of Lupus we can
follow the details of the contest which he was thus compelled
to wage in defence of his own monastery. Foremost among
the grievances under which the community laboured was
the alienation of the revenues derived from the cell of St.
Judoc, nea.r Efaples.1 Alcuin's cell had been bestowed on the
monastery by Lewis the Pious, at the request of the empress
Judith ; it was now given by Charles, shortly after his .ac-
cession, to count Odulf, a favourite of queen Irmintrude.
The repeated representations of the monks of Ferri&res had
at last convinced the monarch of the injustice of his act, but
could gain from him only a conditional promise of restitution.
It is at this juncture that we find Lupus, emboldened by the
sufferings and destitution of his monastery, submitting to
1 See supra, p. 134.
THE CLASSICS IN THE NINTH CENTUBY. 163
the king the following statement of the condition of affairs
at Ferrieres :—
' For three years/ he says, f the servants of God, whose
prayers are ever offered up on your Majesty's behalf, have
ceased to receive the garments formerly distributed among Charles.
them, according to custom ; those which they are obliged to
wear being now worn out and tattered. They live on vege-
tables, which they are compelled to purchase, and it is rarely
that they eat fish or cheese. Their servants, also, fail to
receive the garments to which they are entitled, all these
things having been formerly supplied by the cell of St. Judoo.
There, too, the care formerly shewn for travellers from
beyond the seas, and for the poor, is at an end : the service
of God is neglected. I pray that He may not visit these
offences on you ! Besides the general distress and the
cares belonging to my office, I find myself overwhelmed
with shame; for in truth, whatever former abbats have
gained for the support of our community, that I find myself
losing, as though I were the most unworthy and useless of
all. I am supported solely by the hope of seeing that which
has been lost restored ; for God is lay witness, my conduct
towards your Majesty has not been such as to merit this loss;
and, moreover, you have made ine a promise which you
cannot fail to keep.' 1
At the Council of Thionville, in the year 844, the whole ^"^e
question with respect to such confiscations was strongly Councilor
pressed upon the attention of the three princes (Lothair,
Lewis, and Charles) by the assembled bishops, who pro-
tested against the spoliation of the monasteries as ' contrary
to all authority and reason and to the practice of preceding
kings,' and respectfully urged that ' the things which * were
1 ISpist. 71. Compare the language of tlie Council of Verneuil in ,the
same year, — 'in locLs sanctis, hoc est monasteriis, alios studio, nonnullos
desidia, mvltos necessitate victus et wttimenti, a sua professions deviare
coinperimus.* Pertz, Legg. i 384. The resolutions of this council were drawn
up by Lupus. See Ejnst. 42.
" * Sacrum quoque monaeticum ordinem . . . et quaedam etiam loea
fepecialiua venerabilia, contra oomem auctoritatem et rationeiu, ac patrum
vestrorum sen reguin praecedentiiuu consuetudinem, laicoruin curae et
M 2
LUPUS SERVATUS.
Caesar's should be given to Caesar,' — Caesar, of course, typi-
fying the monastic interest. Charles, indeed, if we may
credit the testimony of Prudentius of Troyes, at nearly the
same time, was really ecclesiae stremiissimus cultor ;l but he
shrank from a collision with the growing power of his no-
bility, and in the case of Ferrieres restitution was still de-
layed.
Services of During all this time, Lupus is frequently to be found in
Estate attendance at court. His skilful pen and rare attainments
enabled him to render important services when questions
of ecclesiastical or state policy were in course of agitation.
In 847 we find him accompanying Charles to Marsna, for
the purpose of assisting in the settlement of terms of peace
with Lothair and Lewis. In 849 he appears representing
Charles, in connexion with certain Church matters, at Borne $
and again, in the same year, at Bourges, as his deputy in
the conference held in connexion with the heresy of Gottes-
chalk. In the year 858 he is employed to negotiate terms
\rith Lewis the German.8
Tardiness That so influential an advocate should have been unable
iror^of ^° obtain simple justice for his own monastery, shews
restitution, the strength of the opposing element. The circumstances
remind us, by a singularly close resemblance, of bishop
Fisher, pleading at the court of Henry vm on behalf of the
despoiled college of St. John at Cambridge. Nearly six
years appear to have passed away before we find the abbat
of Ferrieres writing to archbishop Wigmund at York, and
announcing that the cell of St. Judoc had been restored to
its rightful owners.3
Hi* §8*. ^ne correspondence of Lupus with the leaders of the
vices to the Church in his day proves the esteem in which his attain-
ments were held. It is scarcely an exaggeration, when
Nicholas describes him as one who for two-and-twenty
•potestati in maximo ; vestro periculo et illorum perditions . . . vos coin-
misisse dolemus.' Pertz, Lcgg. i 381.
1 Annales, Pertz, i 443.
9 Nicholas, pp. 14-15.
8 4 Quae tandem aliquando nobis reddita eat* (Migne, cxix 526). This
was in ijie year 847.
THE CLASSICS IN THE NINTH CENTURY.
years was the 6 interprete oblige* de leurs decisions * in the CHAP.
synods and councils. His last appearance in this capacity ^ J^
belongs to the year 862, when he drew up the sentence pro-
nounced at the Synod of Pistes against Robert, archbishop Probable
of Mans, and his death probably took place about the same a^f hl
time.
The foregoing facts in his career have, it will be admitted,
no small relevancy to an enquiry into the conditions under
which education in Frankland was carried on at this period,
but their main value is in the strong relief in which they
bring out a devotion to letters, and more especially to
classical literature, as intense and as disinterested as that of
Petrarch, Casaubon, or Bentley.
In the midst of the cares and duties inseparable from a, —
faithful discharge of a laborious office — amid the unceasing
dread of barbaric invasion, and even ia the panic that at-
tended its actual occurrence — surrounded by a constant
scene of suffering and oppression — Lupus Servatus still
found the leisure to pore over the page of Cicero and Quinti-
lian, ef Terence and Vergil, with an ardour and concentra-*
tion worthy of the most unruffled seclusion . He loved let-
ters, by his own confession, not for the fame they might
bring, but for the tranquil pleasures they conferred and
the loftier moral tone they were calculated to awaken in the His devo-
individual.1 Kealismg more fully than any of his contein- ^^an
poraries the Aristotelian notion, that the end of all acquire- exalted
meiit is not so much a yv&<Ti,s as a Tr/oa^ts, he found in the
pursuit of knowledge the surest distraction from worldly
calamities and the best alleviation of trial.
His most frequent topic of complaint is not the troubles
of the times or even those of his own monastery, but the
paucity and costliness of books. And here, doubtless, he is
well entitled to the sympathy of every student, although, it
is difficult altogether to dismiss the impression that the poor
abbat of ITerrieres in his untiring and tantalising search
1 'Etenim plerique^XL-ea -titdtiuu sermonis quaarimuB-: etpaucosadmoduni
teperiaa qui ex ea moru'm proMtatem, quod longs conducibiliufi eat, proponaut
addiscere.' Epiat. 35, Migne, cxix 502.
166
LUPUS SERVATUS.
CHAP,
'
His liter-
«ry corre-
He de-
^iritiS
•which
by the
His p«r-
search for
after different authors, was often far happier than many a
modem scholar surrounded by ease and plenty and a surfeit
of vast libraries, and sadly conscious that * much learning
is a weariness of the flesh.5
^° °^er correspondence, for centuries, reveals such
pleasant glimpses of a scholar's life, or better illustrates the
difficulties which attended its pursuit. The death of his
friend and adviser, Einhard, which occurred in 839, before
Lupus was raised to the abbatship, must have been felt by
him as no ordinary loss. After his return to Ferrieree, we
find him thus writing to his revered Mentor : * I am coming
to see you/ he says, 'to bring you back your books and to
ascertain from you which I am likely to need. I should
have sent you Aulus Gellius, only the abbat' [Odo] 'has
kept it on the plea that he has not yet had it transcribed,
but he has promised to write to explain that he has forcibly
deprived me of the volume.' * It is to the same friendly
counsellor that he laments the small estimation in which
learning is again held. Under 'the most illustrious em-
peror, Charles,' he admits that a great revival had taken
place. The saying had been verified, Honos alii arte8 ei
GMWuhmtwr omnes ad studm gloria. 'But now,' he goes on
to say, 'those who seek to gain a little knowledge are
scarcely tolerated. The ignorant vulgar eye them as though
they occupied a pedestal 5 and if, by mischance, they lay
themselves open to criticism, their faults are attributed not
to human weakness but to some inherent defect in their
studies. And hence, either not caring to win the palm of
wisdom or fearing to compromise their reputations, they
abandon a really noble pursuit.' 2
It is suggestive of the caution requisite against inferring
^rom *ke evidence for a few isolated instances of scholarly
activity the existence of wide-spread culture, that the fore-
going passage belongs to the very correspondence in which
we find the most frequent proofs at this period of literary
taste and learned intercourse. Lupus himself appears as an
energetic borrower, though somewhat wary lender, of books.
1 Epist. 5. » JSpist. 1.
THE CLASSICS IN THE NINTH CENTURY. J67
When lie apprehended the refusal of & loan, he worked
through friends. Thus he begs his relative Marcward to
send to. Fulda a dexterous monk (solertem aliquem 'monachum)
who will ask the abbat, Hatto, for a copy of Suetonius to
transcribe.1 ( It is in two moderate-sized volumes,' he adds,
( which you can yourself bring, or should you be unabte to
come, can send by a trusty messenger,* With the archbishop
of Tours he makes interest for the commentaries of Boethiua
on the Topica of Cicero — a loan with respect to which he
promises to observe the utmost secrecy.2 When St. Judoe
had been restored to the monastery, he takes advantage of
the event to beg from the community at York, on behalf of
the foundation over which Alcuin had watched, copies of
Jerome's Questions on the Old and New Testaments, those
by Bede, and the Institutions of Quintilian.3 Similarly,
when two of the monks at Feriieres set out for Rome, he
sends with the letter of recommendation a petition to
Benedict in for copies of Jerome on Jeremiah (' from the
sixth book to the end 9), Cicero De Oratore, and Quintilian;
they already, he explains, possess certain portions of these
authors, but are anxious to have them complete. A copy of
Donatus on Terence would be an additional favour, and his
Holiness may rely on their prompt return.4 Sometimes ha
was much perplexed by requests for loans from quarters
which he could not trust ; and on one occasion he announces
his resolve, in order to evade a troublesome application, to
send a certain volume out of the way for safety (ablegandum
ilium aliquo, ne perire contingeret, pene statwi).6
The literary activity revealed is not less interesting,
accompanied, as it sometimes is, by a passing criticism.
Caesar, he takes occasion to inform one correspondent, is not
the author of the History of the Romans. * His only
extant work,' he says, ' is the Commentaries on the Gallic
War. 6 It was his secretary, Hirtius, who undertook to
1 JBput. 91. 8 Epht. 16. 3 Eptst.62.
4 Epist. 20. 5 Epist. 87.
* Commentarii belli Gallici, quorum ad TOB manavit opinio, tantum
exstant.' Migne, exit 505.
163
LUPUS SERVATUS.
CHAP.
IV.
Enumera-
tion of
classical
authors
that ap-
pear to
have been
known to
him.
add to the Commentaries the narrative of Caesar's other
wars, at a time when his master was absorbed in the affairs
of the world.' Sometimes he begs the loan of a manuscript
in order to correct another in his own possession. He
thanks Adelgard for correcting a Macrobius. He promises
another friend to collate a copy of the Letters of Cicero with
his own copy, and at the same time asks to borrow Cicero's
translation of Aratus, in order to fill up certain lacunae in a
manuscript of his own which his friend Egilius has pointed
out to him. From one incidental notice he would appear
to have interested himself in the restoration of the use of
the uncial character, which at this time had nearly dis-
appeared. The following list of authors, quoted or referred
to in his letters, includes nearly every classical writer known
or studied in his time. Among the historians we find
Livy,1 Sallust,2 Caesar,3 Suetonius,4 and Justin ; 6 in rhetoric,
Cicero 6 and Quintilian ; 7 the poets Vergil,8 Horace, 9-
Terence,10 and Martial; n the grammarians Aulus Gellius,18
Macrobius,13 Priscian,14 Donatus,15 Servius,16 and Caper : 17
I i Illud quod sequitur tangere nolui donee in livio vigilantius inda-
garem.' Epist. 34.
8 ' Catilinarium et Jugurthinum Sallustii nobis offerre dignemimV
Epist. 104.
8 ' Ejusdem Julii Gaesaris Commentaries ut primum nabere potuero yobia
dirigendos curabo.' Epist. 37.
* Epist. 91.
5 'Refert Poinpeius Trogus Mithridatis regis futuram excellentiam
cometa praemonstratam.' Epist. 20.
e Epist. 1, 8, 20, 34, 46, 62, 69, 103, 104.
7 < Petimus etiam Tullium de Oratore et duodecim libros Institutionum
Oratoriarum Quintiliani.' Epist. 103.
8 Epist. 4, 6, 20, 34, 37, 44.
e ' Horatianum illud doctiesimoriim ore tritum merito accipiam.' Epist.
1,64.
10 *Pari intentions Donati Oommentum in Terentiiim fiagitamus.'
103.
II 'Item apud Martialem: ^Quid tibi cum fiala ligidam committere
posses." ' Epist. 20.
18 ' A. Gellium misissem nisi rursus ilium abbas retinuisset.' Epist. 5.
13 ' Habeo vero tibi plurima* gi-atias quod in Macrobio corrigendo
fraternum adhibuisti laborem.' Epist. 8,
14 Epist. 8, 34. 15 Epist. 103.
16 ' Namque quod alia (verba) penultimam primae vel secundae persocae
producant, auctor est Servius.' Epist. 8, 5, 16.
17 Epist. 20,
THE CLASSICS IN THE NINTH CENTURY. 109
with the text-books to which we have already referred as CHAP.
the manuals of the period, it is scarcely necessary to say that ^_ r"_ *
he shews the usual familiarity.
Even in the midst of details like these, which seem to iUfficul-
transport us to another age, the troublous character of the dangers
times will now and then intrude. We find him refusing the tha* at
loan of a book to a monk of Sens, short as was the distance efforts.
from Ferrieres, on the ground that his messenger is travel-
ling on foot. He excuses himself to Hincmar from lending
a copy of the Colleetaneum of Bede, on the plea that ' the
volume is too large to be hidden in the vest or in the wallet,
and, even if that were possible, the bearer might possibly fall
in with a band of robbers who would certainly be tempted
hy the beauty of the manuscript.'1 At Ferrieres itself
there was little sense of security. * If you knew the situa-
tion of our monastery/ he writes to the abbat of St. Martin
of Tours, 'you would not have thought of entrusting your
treasures to our keeping, I will not say for long, but even
for three days. For though access hither may not appear
easjf for these pirates . « „ yet the monastery is so little
protected by its situation, and we have so few men ca.pable
of opposing them, that this itself is a temptation to their
greed.' 2
The beneficial influence of his favourite studies on his Influence
habits of thought may be discerned in his distaste for un- J^ica!
profitable speculation on theological questions that admitted studies dis-
of no solution. When Gotteschalk, as yet uncondemned for
heresy, consulted him on a difficulty of this character, he
replied by advising him not to fatigue his mind with such
questions, lest* in becoming over-absorbed in their investiga-
tion, he should thus expend the strength needed for more
useful enquiries.3 His intellect, disciplined by contact with
the robust sense Of the Roman writers, shrank with healthy
aversion from such sterile and interminable discussions;
and when in his Liber de Tribus Quaestionibus he strove to
set at rest the controversies then raging on the subjects of
predestination, freewill, and the atonement, it was siuiply to
1 Epist. 76. 2 JSpist. 110. 8 Epist. 30.
170 LUPUS SERVATUS.
CHAP, cite the Scriptural passages bearing on these questions and
^. ...t ' . to append to them the decisions of the Fathers.
Certainly the eye is gladdened as, in traversing a gloomy
century, it encounters this bright gleam of classic taste and
the antique spirit. At a time when the Northmen were
ravaging the western provinces and carrying fire and sword
along the fertile valleys of the Seine and the Loire, when
the wolves were prowling in countless numbers through half-
depopulated Aquitaine, when whatever intellectual vigour
that was apparent expended itself chiefly in a fantastic tam-
pering with Scripture or in fierce theological debate, we turn
with relief to one oasis in the desert, fragrant with the per-
fumes of Parnassus, verdant with the Castalian spring.
THE IRISH SCHOOL.
CHAPTER V.
JOHN SCOTUS ERIGHENA: OB, THE IEISH SCHOOL.
WE lose all sight of Clement of Ireland after the time 'of
Charles the Great, and it is probable that during the reign
of Lewis the Pious the Irish school of philosophy received
but little encouragement at court. But in the reign of
Charles the Bald a new impulse was given to learning by
the united influence of the royal example and the appearance
of a notable thinker in Frankland.
It was observed by an eminent scholar of the seventeenth Observa.
century that John Scotus Erigena appeared to have been !phomL
born subject to a strange fatality, whereby men's judgement <>al«*
on him was destined to be always changing.1 The numerous
attempts at elucidating his philosophy and his character
that have been made since the days of Thomas Gale do not
tend to impair the justice of this observation.. In the cri-
ticisms by Maurice, Milman, Staudenmaier, St, Eene* Tail-
landier, Christlieb, Kaulich, Haure*au, and Huber, the view
of each writer differs, in some important respect, from the
views of nearly all the rest.2 To essay the task of deciding j0|in
among these different authorities, would be to enter upon a Soot us the
very lengthened and minute enquiry quite beyond the ing link
province of these pages ; but, while omitting all discussion
1 < Eo fato mihi natus fuisse Joannes videtur, ut hoininum de se judicia
eemper alternaptia subiret.' Thomas Gale, Pref. to De Div. Not., 1681.
2 Maurice, Mediaeval Philosophy, pp. 45-79 ; Milman, iv 330-6 ; Stau- scholastic
denmaier, J. Scottcs Erigcnia und die Wissenschaft seiner Zeit, 1833 ; philo-
Taillandier, Scot Erigene et la philo&ophie scholastique, 1843 ; Ohristlieb, sophy.
Leben und Lekre des Johannes Scotus JSrigena, 1860 ; Kaulich, Geschichte
der schola&tischen PhMosophie, vol. i, 1803; Haure*au, Philosophic Scholastique,
c viii; Iluber (J. K), Joh. Scotus Erigena, 1861.
172
JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA.
CHAP,
His birth
of much that is ambiguous and obscure, it will at the same
time not be difficult to point out with reasonable certainty
the general character of John's influence as a thinker. Of
this the main importance and significance are to be found
in the fact, that that influence forms the connecting link
between the traditions which have occupied our attention in
the preceding pages and the great subsequent developeinent
known as the scholastic philosophy. By some, indeed, John
Scotus has been regarded as himself the inaugurator of that
O Q
philosophy,1 and it is. certainly no exaggeration to say that
the impetus he gave to speculation, and the manner in which,
with far greater boldness than Rabanus, he introduced the
employment of dialectic — so that, after having been long re-
garded as a dangerous and unlawful art, the logic of Aristotle
eventually became the recognised weapon for defending the
doctrines of the Church — were tantamount to a revolution in
the method of theological enquiry*
The career of this remarkable man commences and closes
*n obscurity. There can be little question that he was, as
his name implies, an Irishman— -e a native of the Holy Isle ; ' 2
but the year of his birth can be fixed with no greater cer-
tainty than between the years 800 and 815,. His education,
again, was doubtless received in one or other of those famous
Irish monasteries which have alread^y claimed our attention —
a fact of which his Greek learning and his sympathy with the
Celtic tendencies in philosophy and theology are unmistake-
able evidence; but the only part of his career respecting which
we have any trustworthy information is that of his life in
Frankland. It was when he was somewhat more than thirty
years of age, probably about the year 845, that John set foot
in the realm of Charles the Bald — a still young, enthusiastic,
and vigorous thinker, his favourite manual that same
treatise by Martianus Capella which the Church so much
1 e.g. Staudenmaier; Bulile. Gesch. der Kiinste und Wusin8ok<sfte»t i
823. Hegel, York*, iiber Gesch. d. Philosophic, iii 159-161. Ueberweg,
Gesch. d. Philosophic, i 108-111.
2 ' Jeragena aber sei erne Zusammensetzung aus iepoO seilic. vrja-ov und
gena, naclt dem Beispiel von Graij ugena, wi£ Johannes selbst den hl»
Maximus benenne.' Huber, p. 39.
THE IRISH SCHOOL.
mistrusted, lie himself well versed in the Greek Fathers, es-
pecially Origen, whose genius for philosophic speculation he
greatly admired,1 his whole mental vision, to use the expres-
sion of William of Malmesbury, ' concentrated on Greece.'
Had Lewis the Pious still sat on his father's throne, Hisrecep-
John's reception at the Frankish court would probably have ^^^e
been of no encouraging character. But the aged emperor, Charles
the careful guardian of the traditions of the Church, had been fc
succeeded by his youngest son (of whom John was nearly as
much the senior as Alcuin was the senior of Charles the
Great), and between the youthful monarch and the young
philosopher there at once sprung up an intimacy which
appears to have lasted until the former's death. John, when
he first attracts our notice in Frankland, had already been
appointed teacher of the Palace School.
In almost every respect, save in a, common love of Characfc*
learning, Charles was a complete contrast to his father, and of Charles'
even in this relation a difference is discernible 5 for while
Lewis' favourite study was the mysteries of Scriptural inter-
pretation, the son delighted in philosophic subtleties. It
must, however, be acknowledged that his patronage of
learning appears to have included all schools and all parties.
He was probably the most liberal benefactor of letters in his His liberal
time. If we may accept the testimony of Eric of Auxerre, Peonage
J , :,. of learning,
as given in a somewhat fulsome dedication written towards
the latter part of Charles' reign, he was * the stay of schools
and studies in well-nigh every land,' ' the cultivators of the
most excellent learning had flocked from all quarters to his
realm,' so that, as Eric goes on to say, < your school is rightly
styled the Palace School, where the chief daily devotes him*
jself to scholarly no less than to martial exercises.' 2
Charles' fondness for disputations and the discussion of
1 * . . . magnum Origenem, diligentisaimum rerum inquisitorem.' De
Dtv. Nat.
2 l . , . cunctaruni fere gentium scholas et studia sustulisti ... in earn
mundi partem, quam vestra potestas complectitur, universa optimaruin
artium studia confluxerant. , , . Ita ut merito vocitetur schola palatium :
cujus apex non minus scholaribus quam militaribus consuescit quotidie
disciplimV Epist. Dedidat. to Charles the Said, Higne, cxxiv 1134.
174 JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA.
CHAP, knotty quaestiones rendered the Irisli scholars, the professed
, ; , disciples of dialectic, especially welcome at his court. Nor
were they slow to a\ail themselves of his generous hospitality
and aid. Impelled partly by penury, partly by the national
love of change and adventure, they appear at this period as
influx of inundating Frankland. In aneli numbers did they present
themselves as applicants for the charity which it was then
fteueiars ri *
into Frank- held to be a religious duty to extend to the stranger, that
hospitals or bouses of temporary shelter were erected for
their exclusive benefit.1 The writer above quoted declares thai
' nearly all learned Ireland, disdaining the perils of the sea,
had sought in voluntary exile to subserve the wishes of one
who was a Solomon in wisdom.'2
Circnm- Such were the circumstances under which John Scotus
John** appears upon the scene. In strong contrast to Alcuin, he
Hcotus* came vacating no well-endowed scholastic chair, entrusted
contnuited with no dignified ecclesiastical functions, sorely missed from
with those jj|g native land and reluctantly suffered to depart, but rather,
erf Alcuin «. * r
to quotehis own metaphor, as a storm- tossed voyager anxiously
seeking1 a quiet haven.3 His attainments, however, were cer-
tainly in no respect inferior to Alcuiii's, and commanded Jiot
only the admiration of friendly critics, but also that of those
who had little sympathy with his genius or his opinions.
His exten- He was a master of clear and terse exposition. He pos-
sesse<^ a fairly correct and even elegant Latin style.4 His
knowledge of Greek, which has been variously estimated,
may be a matter of some doubt, for his acquaintance with
the Timaeus of Plato was probably gained through the Latin
version of Chalcidius, and he confesses, with the modesty of
true genius, that his knowledge of the language is that of a
tyro.8 But as counter-evidence there is the significant fact
1 ' Hospitalia Scotorum, quae sancti homines gentis illius in hac regno
construxerunt.' Capit. of Synod at Epernay, ann. 846. Pertz, Leyg. i 390.
3 * Quid Hiberniam memorem, conteinpto pelagi discriimne, pene totam
cnm grege philosophormn ad littora nostra migrantem ; quorum quisquis
peritior eat, ultro Bibi indicit exsilium, ut Salamoni papietitissirao fainuletur
ad YOtum.' Migne, cxxiv 1133.
3 Huber, p. 49. 4 Joid. p. 44.
5 ' . . . rudes admoduno tirones ad hue helladicorum studiorum fateniur,'
Pref. to Dionysit 7/tVr., Huber, p. 43.
THE IRISH SCHOOL, 175
that he was singled out by his royal pa-tron for a task which. CHAP.
it would seem, no one else had hitherto been able to perform „ Y'__^
— the translation of the Pseudo-Dionysius,1 Haureau calls His know-
attention to the Greek title of his most important work. He Qpf^1
was, beyond all question, well acquainted -with the original
of the New Testament,31 and among the Greek Fathers was
familiar with Gregory Nazianzen (whom, however, he appears
to have identified with Gregory of ISfyssa 3), with Origen, St.
Basil, and St. Chrysostoin. If we add to these acquirements
a natural subtlety of intellect and aptitude for controversy
which indicate a mind of altogether a different stamp from
Aicuin's,4 we shall be ready to admit that in characteristics
like these there was alone enough to excite the curiosity and
expectation of the learned in Frankland.
But to these gifts, inborn and acquired, John Scotns His Celtic
united other qualities still more likely to challenge observa-
tion. He exemplified, in a very marked degree, the tenden*
cies of his school — the Celtic proneness to speculation and
the Celtic impatience of dogmatic teaching. His high es-
timate of the value of Martianus Capella is attested by the
fact that he compiled a commentary on the treatise, which
has recently been brought to light by modern research;
from the pages of that author, indeed, he had, in the opinion
of Prudentius of Troyes, ' imbibed a deadly poison/ * — in
less rhetorical phrase, he dared to assert the claims of reason
1 I must confess my inability to discover the grounds on which one
writer rests his assertion, when comparing John's knowledge of Greek
literature and Greek philosophy with Aicuin's, that 'as far as mere acquaint-
ance with Greek letters goes there is no question about Alciun's supe-
riority ' (Maurice, Mediaeval Phil. p. 46). The facts appear to me to point
to exactly the opposite conclusion.
2 Huber (p. 44) considers that his knowledge of the Old Testament was
limited to the version of Jerome.
* * . . . venerabilis Gregorius Nazianzenus, qui et Nyssaeus dicitur/
JDe 2Xv. NaL TIT 40. Christlieb, p. 118..
* Floss confesses that on his first perusal of John's writings he was
struck by his wonderful and singular subtlety in argument, — haiid parum
me movisse speciosam ac paene singularem disputandi subtilitatem c&n/Uear.
Migue, exii, i.
* Migne, cxv 1294.
176 JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA.
CHAP, in opposition to mere authority ; while in maintaining the
v^-7' _^ value of dialectic as the special instrument for the investiga-
tion of all truth, he took up a position distinctly opposed to
the traditions of the Latin Church.
Influence To these more general grounds of variance must be added
onhUmind another element of difference, and one to which perhaps
by the n0ne of his numerous critics have assigned quite its fall
ami the weight — we allude to the marked influence exercised on his
Pseudo- min(j by fwo verv different treaties— the Timaeus of Plato
DionysiuB. J J
and the Hierarchies of Dionysius. In days when real inde-
pendence of thought was still undreamt of, and the utmost
ambition of the boldest thinker was to prove the superiority
of one school of ancient doctrine over another, it is scarcely
possible to over-estimate the importance of the direction of
a scholar's reading. It may, we think, be clearly shewn
that by far the greater part of what was most noteworthy
and novel in John's philosophy and theology was derived
from the above-named sources.
The latter ^ ^ne latter treatise it will be better to speak first. It is
treatise wen known that the patron saint of France, honoured under
the name of St. Denys, was alleged to be that same Diony-
sius the Areopagite who is mentioned in the Acts of the
Apostles l as among the converts gained by St, Paul after
his memorable discourse on Mar's Hill, and who, according
to tradition, was the first bishop of Athens. To this Diony-
sius was also assigned the authorship of a discourse concern-
ing the Celestial and Ecclesiastical Hierarchies, a work which
more modern criticism, however, inclines to attribute to the
Christian school at Edessa in the latter part of the fifth
century.2 Of this treatise a copy had been sent by pope
Paul to Pepin-le-Bref in 757, and a yet more splendid manu-
script by the eastern emperor, Michael Balbus, to Lewis the
1 xvn 34.
* The evidence for this conclusion will fo& found summed up in Mr. Jliiip-
ton's introduction to his edition of Colet's Two Treatises on the Hiernmhies
of Dionysius, pp. xxxii-xxxviii. See also Canon Weetcott's whnirable
article in Cont. Rev. (May, 1867), Durnysius the Areopagite. tHeseler (r ij
351, ed. 1845) says that the Dionysian writings ' ohne Zweifel in Aegypten
abgefasst waren/
THE IRISH SCHOOL, 177
Pious.1 Such a present could riot fail to appeal very forcibly CHAP.
to the superstitious reverence of Frankiand, and Hilduin, „ ....... ^1 __ ,
the abbat of St. Denys, was induced to attempt its transla- John iu-
tiou ; but his efforts, which probably much resembled those Q
of the earlier Humanists in the fifteenth century in relation Bald to
. .., , ., r.ndertake
to Homer, were not crowned with success, and the manu- jt6
script still reposed in the library of St. Denys, an object tion-
of deep though somewhat vague admiration, when John
Scotus arrived in Frankland.2 We can perhaps ask for no
better evidence of the superiority of his Greek learning to
that of his contemporaries, than the fact that he was forth-
with solicited to undertake the task of rendering this work
into Latin. The style of the original, which often veils the
meaning in language of mystic obscurity, rendered his under-
taking one of considerable difficulty. Notwithstanding his.
speculative and enquiring cast of vviind, lie possessed nothing
of the critical spirit, and the gross anachronisms involved
in the assumption of the Dionysian authorship do not appear
to have arrested his attention. His main anxiety was to
guard against rendering himself liable to the charge of hav-
ing tampered with the sense, and he accordingly produced
a version of almost painful literalness. To use the expres- Te?
sion of Anaatasius, the papal librarian, his interpretation of Ana"
gtasius to
still needed an interpreter.3 In other respects, however, his success.
the Italian critic is loud in his praise. < It is astonishing/
he says, 4 how this barbarian (vir ille "barbarus) living on the
confines of the world, who might reasonably have been
presumed to be as ignorant of Greek as he was remote from,
intercourse with civilised men, could have been able intellec-
tually to grusp such mysteries and to render them into
another language/ 4
1 Huber, p. 50; Ohristliel), p. 26.
2 Staudenmaier, p. 103.
* ' . . . et quern iaterpretaturum susceperat, adhuc xedderet intevpte-
tandiim ' (quoted by Chrisilieb, p. 63),
4 * Miraudum est quomodo vir ille barbarus, qui, in finibus mundipo?itue,
quanto ab hominibus conversatione tanto credi potuit altering- Jlnig-u;«j
dictione louirinquns- . . . laiia, intolleetu capere in aliamqpe Uitg-uaxD. trans-
ferre valiierit' (auctcd !>y Ilaiiieaij, p. 153).
j>
178
JOHN SCOTUS EIIIGENA.
CHAP.
V.
Influence
of the
treatise on
his philo-
sophy.
The
Timaeus.
The
Platonic
theory not
reconcile-
The contents and character of the Hierarchies of Dion r-
sius have so often been epitomised and described, as fairly
to exonerate ns from here attempting an outline of the work.
Briefly it may be said that they harmonised iu a twofold
manner with the spirit of western mediaevalism. They ex-
hibited the different orders of the hierarchy as symbolical of
a like order in heaven — a theory especially acceptable to the
aspiring spirit of the Latin Church ; and they offered to the
devotion of the monastic recluse an object of unwearying
contemplation, in the doctrine they unfolded of a future
union with the Supreme Being-, and a final reabsorption
into the Divine Nature. In the closing book of John
Scotus' De Divisions Naiurae this latter theory, of an Abso-
lute Existence in which the pure and perfected soul is finally
merged arid lost, is set forth at considerable length ; the
late professor Maurice has clearly proved that the writer's
inspiration was derived, not from any Nee-Platonic writings,
as Guizot supposes, but from the pages of the Pseudo-
Dionysius,1
The second treatise, the Timaeus of Plato, exercised over
the mind of John Scotus a less general but perhaps not less
potent influence, Ifc is well known to every scholar that
Plato's cosmogony, as unfolded in this dialogue, presents us
with a very peculiar view of the guiding power of the uni-
verse. 'Avdyirr}, Necessity, the 'erratic, irregular, random,
Causality/ is here not simply distinguished from, -but op-
posed to, the PemiurgUB, the intelligent formative power.
Fate and design, much like the Motpai and the gods of the
Greek mythology, are described as antagonistic forces. It is
cnly within certain limits that divine skill, divine design, and
divine order,, can find effect ; beyond those limits lie the opera-
tions of a superior force, but a force planless, undetermined,
and irregular in its wor^ing^ vis consiti expera. According
to this conception, aa an eminent critic has clearly pointed
out,2 Necessity, in the Platonic sense, nearly corresponded
to the modern theological conception of free will, and was
consequently altogether opposed to what Augustine denoted
1 Mediaeval Philosophy, pp. 50-55. * Grote, Ftato^ iii 248-51.
HIE IRISH SCHOOL. 179
by fche term predestination; while as thus understood and
accepted by John Scotus, it appeared to him to offer the
most philosophical solution of the great problem with re- able with
spect to which the utterance of Scripture is ambiguous and ^mn^m."
that of the Fathers at variance.
To his application and able assertion of this Platonic Hincmar
theory we may probably attribute the fact that John was ™0vh^0
selected by Hincmar to undertake the refutation of Gotte- reply to
schalk. He arrived in Frankland at a very favourable
juncture for securing- that prelate's favour and support ; the
able and ambitious churchman, far more politician than
divine, was sorely in need of an able pen to aid him in the
contest in which he was now involved with the other members
of the episcopate and a majority of the inferior clergy.
It had been looked upon as a grievous discredit to Fulda,
and had been no slight trial to JRabanus, when, in the year seha*k's
• previous
S29, one of their number, a young Saxon of noble family of career.
the name of Gotteschalk, had announced his weariness of
the monastic life, and obtained from the Synod at Maintz a
formal dispensation from his vows, He pleaded that it was
only under compulsion that he had ever become a Benedictine,
and his plea had been held valid by the Synod on the ground
that a Saxon could thus forfeit his freedom only when the
ceremony had been attested by a witness of the same nation-
ality. Kabanus, however, subsequently drew up a treatise
to prove that pious parents have a right to impose such a
sacrifice on their offspring ; and urged, with greater force,
that all that could be reasonably required in an attesting
witness was integrity and credibility without respect to
rank or race.1 His argument was recognised as valid by
Lewis the Pious, and the decision of the Synod of Maintz
was reversed. Gotteschalk was only permitted to transfer
himself from the monastery at Fulda to that of Orbais in the
diocese of Soissons. At Orbais he gave himself up to "the
study of Augustine, and of Augustine's follower, Fulgentius.2
1 Diimmler, i 311-12. To this able writer's clear and careful narrative
I am mainly indebted for the order of events in Gotteschalk's career.
8 Ibid,
N 2
ISO JOHN SCOTUS EKIOENA.
CHAP. Of the latter writer lie became so completely hho avowal and
< __ ^ _ . uncompromising disciple that, among Ms opponents he was
commonly known by the same Dame. He re-asserted, iu its
harshest and most repellant form, the doctrine of predes-
tination, and was indefatigable in bis efforts to bring over to
his views the foremost theologians of his day. Among those
with whom he corresponded on the subject, were Ratranmus,
a monk of Corbey ; Jonas, bishop of Orleans ; Marcward,
abbat of Pmm ; and, as we have already noticed, the
scholarly al bat of Ferrieres. The prudent advice given by
Lupus Servatus was, however, little to Gottesehalk's mind,
conscious as he was of powers which could only find full
scope in the field of argument and controversy. At once an
eloquent orator and a dexterous debater, with a retentive
memory which enabled him to impress an audience with the
belief that his knowledge of the Scriptures and the Fathers
was unparalleled, he longed for the battle. At length the
admission to priestly orders, conferred by Eigbold, the
ehorepiscopus of Rheims, gave him the opportunity he
sought ; the admission carried with it the license to preach,
and Gotteschalk's oratorical ability soon drew around him
numerous followers. His chief, almost his only theme, was
the Augustinian doctrine of predestination, upon which he
untiringly insisted as the great central truth of Christianity,
though obscured by the extent to which it had been suffered
to fall into the background in the theological teaching cf the
age. His opponents, who. while not denying the high
authority of Augustine, could accept but a modified form of
predestinarianism, were denounced as sectarians who had
lapsed from the true faith. In allusion to his former teacher,
now his most determined antagonist, he styled them the
Rhalanici,1
H-s theorv Gotteschalk's fundamental conception of the Supreme
of predea- Bein g was that of immw lability, — the Unchan geable iu na to re,
tiuatioo.
1 DiinmJer, i 31.4; * omnes qui insaniae sensuura tuorura zelo
resktunt haereticos appellare ?iori menus, eosque a hoao et erudite vtro atque
cs-tholieo episeopo Khabanicos nnucupare praesumis.' Aruolo Gcithcscalco,
,Sirniond, Ofip* Vart \\ 002.
THE IRISH SCHOOL.
and consequently the Unchangeable in purpose, With such a CHAP.
conception it appeared to him impossible to reconcile the > __ Z- _ '
notion that the fate of man depended on his own conduct,
and remained, as it were, iu suspense until his death, No
formal admission to the Church on earth, no sacramental
rite, could in the slightest degree avail to save the soul fore-
ordained to perdition. The theory of the freedom of the
human will was consequently altogether discarded by him.
in this theory of a divine government which thus reduced
all human action to insignificance, of an autocracy which re-
cognised no element of freedom in the moral world, it might
at first sight seeni not improbable that a Latin clergy would It divide*
be disposed to detect an analogy to their sacerdotal system, 5
involving, as that S3rst-em did, habitual and unquestioning
submission to authority. It is. however, a fact familiar to
the student, of Church history, that fatalism in theology has
generally been the creed of those who have rebelled most
stubbornly against ecclesiastical tyranny,1 and it is certain that
the clergy both in Franciaand Germany were divided by Gotte-
schalk's teaching. Rabanus, who, as we can well understand, Gotie-
had watched the career of his unworthy disciple with little *trcann_
disposition to jud^e 1dm favourably or leniently, took up his °wy
„..,.. * .. ,. .,, opposed by
pen to retute the doctrine of pi^edestmarianism with argu- 23»nui,
inents which derived their main force from the consequences
to which, as he pointed out, such a doctrine must inevitably
lead, This treatise appeared in the year 840, when Gotte~
schalk had already made numerous con verts, not only in West-
ern and Eastern Francia, but also in Italy. In the year 848 he
again visited the latter country, and found for a time kindly
shelter under the protection of Eberhard, the distinguished
count of Friuli, Even here, however, the enmity of his
former teacher followed him. Rabanus addressed a letter to
Count Eberhard, pointing out the perilous tendencies of the
doctrine taught by Gotteschalk ; many, he asserted, were,
under this influence, falling away from all endeavour to lead a
godly life, being persuaded that no efforts would avail to win
the divine favour, and that the actions of the individual were
: See, on thl& point, Milman'a observations, Lat, C&rutwnity, iv 529.
182 JOHNT SCOTtIS ERIGENA.
valueless. He concluded by tirging Eberhard not to suffer a
teacher of doctrine so injurious to the faith to remain under
his roof.1
His efforts The remonstrances of the powerful archbishop of Maintz
gadn^his were only too successful, and Gotteschalk was compelled to
doctrine. qujt the hospitable mansion of Eberhard in disgrace. But
his spirit was undaunted, and, taking his course through
Dalmatia and Pannonia into Bavaria, he assumed the tone
and the language of a reformer, exhorting the people as he
went to return to the true faith.2 Hincmar, when subse-
quently referring to his conduct on this journey, accused
him of having usurped the function of an apostle among a
pagan people, and of having thus sown the tares of false
His appeal doctrine in a virgin soil. From Bavaria Gotteschalk pro-
Synod of ceeded to Maintz, and of his own accord there presented him-
JViaiutz. ge]f before an assembled Council of the nobility and clergy,
and the teacher and his former disciple stood face to face.3
They maintained their respective grounds ; the latter citing
numerous passages from Augustine to establish the authority
of the tenet he taught, and declaring his readiness personally
to attest its truth by submitting to the terrors of a fiery
ordeal; the former insisting on the essential heterodoxy of
that tenet, and reiterating his objections to the consequences
to which such teaching must lead. Rabanus bore hardly on
the renegade monk, and pressed his conclusions with the
utmost rigour. In the eyes of the pious Lewis the German,
who presided at the council, Gotteschalk stood convicted of
promulgating doctrine subversive of all popular morality.
His con- He was declared a heretic, and, along with many of his ad-
and'dis-011 herents ^ho had accompanied him, was sentenced to be
&*"*• publicly scourged. After this order had been executed, he
was compelled to swear that he would never again set- foot
in East Francia, and was finally handed over to Hincmar, in
whose diocese the monastery of Orbais lay, for further
1 Dummler, i 316-17.
2 Prudentius, Annales, Pertz, i 443. Gotteschallc here Appears sketched
by his subsequent ally as * scientia tuDiidus, quibuedam supers titiombus
deditus.'
1 Gfrorer, i 21 4 ; Dummler, i 318.
THE IRISH SCHOOL. 183
punishment. Few will be disposed to call in question the CHAP,
comment of Diimmler, that it was a harsh and unrighteous v_ . T" _,
sentence l and leaves a stain on the reputation of Rabanus.
Even Staudemnaier admits that the archbishop's conduct
was neither merciful nor paternal.
The treatment which Gotteschalk received in the wes- His con-
tern kingdom, at the hands of Hincmar, was not less rig- ^tb!?tl0n
orous. In the following year, at the famous Council of Council of
Chiersy, summoned by Charles the Bald, his doctrine was ^/JSg.
again condemned, he himself degraded from his priest's
orders, and. after haying been cruelly scourged, compelled
to commit to the flames the confession of faith which he
had drawn up and persistently taught. He was then con-
signed to perpetual imprisonment in the monastery of
Hautviiliers. But even here his stern spirit showed itself
still unbroken. He declared himself confident that his
teaching would yet be vindicated by the divine interposition
on his behalf, and once more took up his pen to defend hia
interpretation of Augustine.2
His constancy and the excessive severity with which he Counter
had been treated roused the sympathy of many^on Gotte- ^°£fpment
schalk's behalf. Batrainnus, a monk of Corbey, the able favour,
opponent of Paschasius, espoused his side, and set forth
his own views in two books, De Pra^destinatione Dei,3
which he dedicated to Charles the Bald. Prudentius, bishop
of Troyes, together with Arnolo and Bemigius, successively
bishops of Lyons, and Florus, a presbyter *>f the same city,
all rallied to his defence. Even Lt^as Seiratus, much as
he deplored the controversy, laid aside his Cicero and his
Quintilian to sum up the evidence of the Fathers and ad-
vocate a conclusion that virtually exonerated the prisoner at
Hautviiliers from the charge of heresy.4 With such an array
1 Diimmler, i 319. 8 Ibid, i 319-20.
3 Migne, cxxi- 10-11. Ratramnus was not, as Hasher supposes, abbat of
Orbais j see Stauotfenmaier, p. 191.
4 Migne, CXY >;969, Florus, Amolo, and Remigius, maintained the
doctrine in a modified form, denying that men were fore-ordained to fiin.
This has led some writers to suppose that they sided with Hincmar. See
"Werner (K), Gesch. d, apdog. vndpolem. Literatur, ii (379-84.
184
JOHN SCOTUS EiUGENA.
CHAP.
V.
John
Scotus DP.
Praedtst i-
natwnc.
He em-
ploys the
aid of dia-
lectic.
of learning Ilincinar himself was but very imperfectly quali-
fied to cope. His long and busy public career left him no
leisure for theological speculations, and his own endeavour
to reply to the arguments of Gotteschalk must rank among
the least considerable of his claims to the remembrance of
posterity. Under these circumstances, it can be but small
matter for surprise that he eagerly availed himself of the aid
of the famous teacher recently installed at the Palace School ;
a,nd all learned Frankland now looked on with new interest
as it saw the hard-headed and resolute Saxon matched
against the keen intellect and logical adroitness of the bril-
liant Irishman.
The De Prctedextwatione of John Scofcus contains, it is
true, no direct allusion to the Timaeus, but it is easy to per-
ceive that the conception unfolded in that dialogue militates
strongly against the notion of a definite,, Irresistible, omni-
present purpose working from all eternity. We can under-
stand also how John's theological training would still more
directly incline him to that view of the question which was
espoused by the Greek Fathers ; while in the doctrine which
lie found set forth in the -fieleslial Hierarchy of the purely
negative character of evil,1 he had an argument which un-
doubtedly furnished a conclusive -reply to the theory of aiea
predestined to perdition.
The manner in which he addressed himself to the con-
troversy illustrates his native ingenuity and tact. Urgently
summoned, as he was, to take part in the conflict, he not
unreasonably claimed the right to choose his own weapons,
and the one on which he chiefly relied was that of dialectic.
Though, as yet, this was still a distrusted weapon with the
orthodox party, it had, as we have already seen,2 recently
been sanctioned by the high authority of Kabamis. The
De Institution* Clericorum was probably by this tiiae in the
hands of almost every better educated and more intelligent
1 Dionysius, 7> Divin. Norn, iv 23, a point witli respect to wliieli Mr.
Luptcm notes that John Ooiet ventured to differ ire in his author. See
Introd. p. xlvii.
*upni, p. 144-
TBE IRISH SCHOOL. ] 35
ecclesiastic throughout Frankland, and Jolin could point
triumphantly to the passage in which the most eminent,
teacher in East Francia had vindicated the dialectical art as
a satisfactory reply to all objectors. The * Babanici,' whom
Gottesehalk had so acrimoniously assailed, could not but be
conciliated by John's appeal to the dictum of their leader.
He commences accordingly with the broad assertion — Religion
au assertion in which we may discern the nascent theory g^ ,
which constitutes the key to the whole scholastic philoso- cannot be
phy — that philosophy and religion can never be really at
variance. What then, he asks, are philosophical discus-
sions but an attempt to enquire into the principles of true
religion, whereby the Divine Nature, the chief and primary
cause of all things, is humbly worshipped and investigated
in a mariner conformable to reason ? Hence it follows that
true philosophy is true religion, and conversely that true re-
ligion is true philosophy. But reason, he next goes on to
demonstrate, requires the employment of definite method.
In every quaestio four principal stages are necessary to be His
observed in its solution — those of division, definition, de-
nicnsti'iition, and analysis, which he designates under their
Greek names, as the Siaiperirciq, the GPHTTI/CIJ, the aTroSgi/m/^,
the dvaXvnic^. Then he reproduces almost verbatim the
weighty passage from the pen of Rabanus,1 wherein that
eminent authority had insisted upon the unwisdom of
depriving the defenders of the faith of all the legitimate
weapons of oratory and argument, while their opponents
are systematically trained in every art whereby the hearer
is conciliated, persuaded and convinced. And with this
1 Tho passage 'Ne igitur defensores . . . dormitent' in the Liber de
Prcudtttinatione (Migue, cxxii 353-9) will bo found to be nearly a transcript
of the passage in tlie De Instituti&ne Clencorum cited in note, p. 144. No
writer with whom I have met has noted this remarkable adoption from
liabanus. The custom of incorporating- passages from other writers without
acknowledgement was very common in the ninth century, but in the present
instance ii ;uay Lo reasonably inferred that John considered the passage in
question to be so farnilii».r to most readers as to render the mention of the
autlii.r's name unnecessary;
136 JOHN SCOTUS ERIGENA.
passage before him John does not hesitate to avow that the
ars disputatoria is his chosen weapon.1
Features in ^° **"s bold avowal we may fairly refer a large portion
his treatise of the opposition which the De Praedestinatwne of John
dally* SP Scotus evoked — an opposition undoubtedly augmented by the
*ositto 0?" UDP°Pu^ar^y °f Hincmar, whom it was designed to aid, and
by the sympathy which Gottesehalk's harsh treatment had
aroused. But the orthodox party were not only thus called
upon to recognise the employment of a new method in the
conduct of theological controversy, they were also constrained
to listen to appeals to other authorities than Kabauus and
the traditional teachers of the Latin Church. Where the
Latin Fathers failed him, John boldly appealed to the
Fathers of the eastern Church; and where these in turn
failed him, he appealed with equal confidence to the philo-
sophers. There was something too of haughty defiance in
the tone in which he spoke of the errors of his antagonists,
Their blunders, he compassionately observed, were owing to
their ignorance, especially their ignorance of Greek, for they
were unable ia their Latin tongue to understand or express
the necessary distinctions of meaning. To fill up the measure
of his offence, he referred with undisguised approval to the
pages of Martianus Capella*
It is certain that if John had calculated on his specific
agreement with Hincmar and the ' Babanici ' to enable
him to override the opposition to which indications like
these were certain to give rise, he was soon undeceived.
The Gallican clergy appear to have risen almost en masse
against the dictatorship of their metropolitan. The hos-
tility of the Church of Lyons, as exhibited in the treatises
of the writers already named, may probably be in some inea^-
sure referred to the rivalry between two great episcopal cen-
tres in two hostile kingdoms ; 2 but the vehemence of other
writers clearly proves that the contest was waged for onore
with reference to distinctive views than geographical or
1 Lib. de Praedestinatwne, Migce, cxxii #58.
* This certainly would seem a more oLvious explanation than* the so*»ie-
\vhat fanciful one supplied b}T M. Haureau (p. 178) derived from the dif-
ferent kinds of morality most needed in north and south.
THE IRISH SCHOOL.
ethnical affinities. The hostility of Fulda, in the kingdom CHA£.
of Louis the German, was rivalled by that of Lyons in the v _ ^ __
empire of Lothair, while both again were surpassed by that
exhibited in the realm of Charles the Bald. The manifesto
which most clearly illustrates the relative position of the
two parties is undoubtedly the vehement and laboured trea-
tise of the Spaniard, Prndentius, at this time bishop of
Troyes. When John first arrived in Frankland he had
numbered Prudentius among his friends, but their intimacy
had now given place to feelings of a very different character.
It is evident indeed that there could at no time have existed
much real intellectual sympathy between the two, — rarely
are the^dogmatist and the rationalist to be seen in stronger
contrast.
At the very commencement of his reply, Prudentius His reply
breaks forth into a sweeping denunciation not merely of the
dogma which John had defended, but of the whole scope and circ-
character of his treatise. He had found in itsjmges nearly
every thing he most abhorred and mistrusted, — * the poison of
the Pelagian treachery,' * the folly of Origen/ * the madness
of the Collyrian heresy.' J John reminds him, he says, very
forcibly of Pelagius. In the manner in which he had assailed
the orthodox faith and the Catholic fathers he seemed to
have been actuated by exactly the same spirit.2 Both of
them displayed a like foolish predilection for dialectical sub-
tleties j those very subtleties against which the leaders of the
Church in former times had, in successive Councils, so wisely
set their faces, requiring that the defenders of the truth
should have recourse not to ihe trickeries of sophistic but to
the obvious meaning -of Scripture.3 As for John's quadruple
method of investigation, he avers that neither that nor any
1 € . . . repperi in eis Pelagianae venena pedidiae, et ,aliquoties Origenis
amontiam, Collyrianorumque liaereticorum iktiossMiem.' — De Praed. contra
J. Scotwn, Migttft, cxv 1011.
2 ' . . . tanta impudectia orthodoxae fides Patrifossque catholicis obla-
trantera ac si umiB spiritus Juliauum Joa.BBemque dociier-it.' — Il)id.
3 ' . . . sancti procid dubio Spiritus incoTdatiooe a patribus caututn est
ut defensores propugnatoresque sirapiicis fidei, neqimcpam sophisticis illu-
sionibus sed Scripturarum sanctarura evidesrBti'asimis alle-s'ationibus utereatur/
Ibid. p. 1013.
183
JOHN SCOT fJS ERIGENA.
These
treatises
of little
value in
reiafiou to
thepredes-
tinarian
contro-
versy.
other kind of tin sanctified sophistry would avail where the
Divine blessing and a genuine knowledge of the Scriptures
were lacking.1 In reply to his antagonist's assumption of
superiority on the ground of his classic learning, he adduces
Jerome's notable abjuration of Cicero —Jerome, 'who de-
liberately preferred to understand the Scriptures in their
simplicity to becoming versed in the cunning of the rheto-
ricians,' 2 while John, on the contrary, had supplemented
whatever he was unable to find among the Latins by having
recourse to the Greeks.3 Then he falls with unsparing
severity upon that odions volume, ille tuus Capella, which
was generally believed to have been mainly instrumental in
leading John into this labyrinth of error. He charges him
with having adopted some of the falsities in Yarro, falsities
which had determined Augustine to cast that author alto-
gether aside, solely because they appeared to agree with
what he had found in Martianus.4
Of the value of the whole literature of this controversy it
is impossible to speak very highly. The main points at issue
were never really grasped, and the dispute degenerated into
one of words; while the abysmal question was left un-
sounded in those depths which other intellects, perhaps not
of greater natural power but of severer habits of thought,
have since more elaborately essayed. The decisions of the
Church itself, at this time, exhibit the same inability fully
1 'Nee illud quadrivium, nee ullus mundanae eapientiae specie?, ad
oninem quaestionem sohrendum sufficero absque gratia Dei et fide, quae per
dilectionera operatur, ac veraci studio et sanctaruiii scientia Scripturariun.*
Ibid. p. 1016.
2 ' Malle per se saiictarum Scriptural-urn dicta inielligi quarn rhetorum
controv ersiis iiiservire.' — Ibid. p. 1017.
s ' Qui, quod ia Latiuis defeoerit, ad Graeca nos retrahit.' — Ibid. p.
1305.
4 *Kam ille tuus Oapella, exceptis aiiis, vel maxime to in hnnc lal>vriD-
thum indiuisae creditur, cujus meditatione magis quam veritati evnngelicaQ
aiiiuiiini appulisti. Quin etiam cum kgwes beati Augustini Hbros, quos De
Civitatc Dei ^dversus paganoruin fallaciaaimae faidissimasque opinions
tnirabili affliientia digessit, invenisti euiii posoiase ac destruxisae quaedam «x
''.bris Varro«is, quibus, quoniam Capeiiae tuo conwna videl>ajtt;ir, poiius
as«e«tiri quam veridici Aufrustini allegaiioiiibus iidem adhibcre deiegi?ti,'
p. 121)4.
THE IRISH SCHOOL. Jg<)
to comprehend the bearings of the question. An able in-
vestigator of the course of the whole controversy has ob-
served that even in the language of the Council of Chiersy
there * is nothing to which the most rigid predestinarian
might not subscribe.' *
The sequel of these polemics, which shews us the decision «equel of
of the Council of Chiersy reversed in 855, at the Council of ^*™~ -m
Valence, when the ineptiae quaestiuncnlae, and the pultes Sco- the ninth
torwm, 2 of John and his supporters were condemned as inimical c
to the faith — a censure confirmed by the verbal adoption of
these decrees at the Council of Longres in 859 3 — proves that
Hincmar had scarcely exercised a sound discretipn in his
choice of a champion.4 Mere learning and skill in argument
could not atone for the evident laxity of doctrine of i.he
brilliant Irishman, The boldness with which he rejected
authority unless that authority appeared to him supported
by reason — his denial of the personality of the principle of
evil, and of the eternity of future punishment — his frequent
appeals to those philosophers whom the Church had ex-
pressly discarded — all marked him out as a teacher little
in unison with the doctrines and principles of the Latin
Church,
For our special purpose, however, the foregoing details Valneofits
of the controversy between John and his antagonists have ^m^tra-
the highest value. They belong to wha-t was really the tive of the
turning point in the history of mediaeval education and
learning. They exhibit, side by side with the too mechanical
and unintelligent traditions handed down by Bede and Aktrix*,
another element — the spirit of enquiry, reason, and discus-
c-ion. For the advance thus made we are probably indebted
quite as much to Rabanus a3 to John Scotus — the former
opened the gates through which the latter fought a passage,
to fall, if we may pursue the metaphor, undiscoverable among
the slain. Mystery, indeed, gathers round the whole career
1 Mozl&y, .Augutiinitm Doctrine of Predestvnittion, p. 411.
2 Cossar(, xv Vfi. s Ibid, xv 637-8.
4 A.mpere justly characterises John, in bis relation to Hincraar, as ' irn
allifi fort habile, mais assez daiigereux, et dent le secours Tavait coinpromis,'
iii 87.
190 JOHN SCOTUS EKIGENA.
of this very remarkable man. While some hold that he is
to be traced returning to England a fugitive from the
Frankish court, propter infamiam, and finally meeting at
Malmesbury with a sudden and tragical end, others, it
would seem with greater probability, are disposed to con-
clude that his career closed in Frankland,1 and that, long
after the controversy with Gotteschalk was over, he continued
to adorn the Palace School, protected and esteemed by his
royal patron so long as that patron lived.
Quid distat Of the relations between the two a story is told by
William of Malmesbury, which, containing as it does the best
Ion mot of the Middle Ages, and admirably illustrating the
peculiar bent of the intellectual activity of the time, we may
venture to tell once more. In John's mode of approaching
a question, the scholastic method is, for the first time,
clearly to be recognised — a method of which it may be said
that the endeavour to distinguish and define was at once its
weakness and its strength. Clearly perceiving, and few have
ever seen so well, how much all human knowledge depends
on classification, the schoolmen were untiring in their efforts
to elaborate distinctions, and to refer every imaginable object
to its class. Their first enquiries consequently nearly always
assumed this form— Quid est inter or quid distat inter, this
thing and that ? Tell me the differentia of each, and I shall
begin to understand its real nature, "its distinctive attributes.
We may be perfectly sure that in his intercourse with so en-
quiring an intellect as that of Charles the Bald, and in his
numerous controversies in Fraukland, John Scotus had heard
the enquiry, Quid distat inter — ? until even he was well-nigh
weaiy of the sound. But there were hours of respite, and at
the royal board monarch and philosopher alike would seek
rather for amusement than instruction. It was one day they
thus sat — John opposite the king. The meal was ended, and
1 Huber, pp. 108-115, sums up very clearly the evidence for Erigena's
later history. He points out (p. 12 J) that there is a good reason for believ-
ing that John was in frequent communication with Charles close upon the
time of the ktters death in 877. Chmtlieb concurs in this view, and thinks
it probable that John continued to reside at the Franld&h court even after
that eveut, p. 25.
THE IRISH SCHOOL. 191
the winecup was circling-, when John, less mindful perhaps
than usual of the necessary decorum, under the influence of
some generous vintage, appears to have transgressed by some
trivial act against the Frankish etiquette.1 Charles, who was
in a jocose vein, imagined he now had the "keen-witted Celt
at his mercy. Quid distat, he asked, inter sottiim * et ScottumV
' Nought, may it please your majesty,' replied John, * save
this table.'
%
Qu-idjlistat and the spirit it typified survived not only Thecon-
the monarch and the philosopher, but also the Carolingian nexion J>«-
1 L ' . & tween this
dynasty. The invasions of the Northmen, irreparable as era and
were the losses they inflicted on learning, were attended by
less fatal results in the land of the Frank than in our own of Paris,
country. The traditions which, after the time of Alfred the
Great, are no longer to be discerned in England, rnay plainly
be traced in France. The influence of John Scotus, indeed,
is of that vaguer and more general kind which is felt rather
than seen, but from Babanus we can perceive the handing
down of an unmistakeable and unbroken tradition. In Erie
of Auxerre, the pupil of both Babanus and Lupus Servatus,
the panegyiist of Charles the Bald and the tutor of his son
Lothair, the teaching of Fulda found an able supporter.
Auxerre became a chief centre of learning, and among
Eric's pupils was Bemy of Auxerre, "who taught both at
Bheims and at Paris. At Bheims, Bemy numbered among
his followers Hildebald and Blidulfus, the eminent founders
of the schools in Lotharingia, and Sigulfus and Frodoard,
who carried on the school at Bheims, and prepared the way
•for Gerbert. At Paris he had for his pupil the saintly and
austere Odo of Cluny , a monk from St. Martin of Tours, At
Cluny, Odo became in turn a teacher, and revived, with
1 ' Carolus fronte hilarior post quaedam alia, cum vidisset Johannem
quiddain fecisse quod Galilean um comitatem offenderet, &c.' — William of
Malmesbury, J)e Pontif. Lib. v ; Gale, Scripiwes, i 3(50.
8 SOTTTJS, stolidus, bardusj Gallis sot.1 Ducange, s. v. Charles, perhaps,
is hardly entitled to the credit of this witticism, for Thecdulfus had written
forty years before,
'Hie Scott us, -sottus, cottus trinoraen habebit/ MigTie, cv325.
192 JOHX SCOTUB ERIGENA.
CHAP, eminent success, the observance of the Benedictine rule and
v •
w,../ ~, the cultivation of letters. Under Iris teaching were trained
a numerous baud; Ayiner, Baldwin, Gottfried, Landrie,
Wulfad, Adhegrin, Hildebald, Eliziard, and John, Odo's
admiring biographer. These were the men who, in conjunc-
tion with the pupils of Gerbert, sustained the work of edu-
cation in the tenth century, while Hucbald of Liege, pro-
ceeding from St. Gall, instructed the canons of Ste, Genevieve
at Paris, and taught in the cathedral school. In the eleventh
century the pupils of Abbo of Fleury, among whom were
Haymothe historian. Bernard, Herveus, Odalric, G.irard, and
Thierry, were the most eminent scholars of their day ; while
Drogo taught with eminent success at Paris where the Cape-
tian dynasty had permanently taken up its residence. The
neighbouring schools, Chartres, Tours, and Le Bee, were
attracted to a common centre : numbers multiplied and the
ardour for learning visibly increased. Among Drogo's pupila
was John the Deaf, and John, in turn, was the teacher of
Rosceilinus. Roscellinns, trained also in the famous school
at Chartres, had for his pupils, Peter of Cluny, Odo of Cam-
brai, and William of Champeaux; and when, in the year
Concltt- 1109, William of Champeaux opened his school for the
sion. study of logic in Paris, the university era had already begun.
But even when regarded apart from that all-important
commencement, and merely as an isolated episode in the
history of European culture, the revival that has occupied
our attention is deserving of careful study. It exhi-
bits, as it were in miniature, the working of those three-
fold tendencies, to one or other of which well-nigh all
the chief moments in the progress of modern thought may
be referred : — the traditions, handed down from republican
and imperial Rome, of law and order, of reverence for
authority and the established order of things — the more
independent and vigorous intellectual characteristics of
Teutonisin,, submitting, but in no slavish fashion, to such of
those traditions as. after candid scrutiny and lengthened
trial, it finds itself increasingly unwilling to reject — the
THE IRISH SCHOOL. 193
inquiring, restless, and often unruly Celtic spirit, touched and CHAP.
quickened by Hellenic thought, delighting in the discovery y-
of new paths, impatient of every unproven formula, and
accepting half-mistrustfully, at best, even what comes to
it stamped with the highest sanction of wisdom and ex-
perience.
And when, after looking back over the thousand years
that have elapsed since the reign of Charles the Bald, the
student turns from the ninth to the nineteenth century, and
recognises these self-same tendencies in more extended
operation around him at the present day, and at the same
time recalls the advance that Christian Europe has made —
the purer faith, the fuller knowledge, the happier lot vouch-
safed to us — he cannot but gather something of hope and
confidence for the future. He may even venture to look
upon these diverse manifestations of the human intellect as
each an element of good, a divinely appointed factor in
human progress to aid us in attaining to a yet nobler and
more perfect existence.
LOXIJOX : PRINTRD BY
fil'OTTISWOOJJK ASU CO., MJCW-HTIIKKT SQtTAftfc
A.ND PARLIAMENT STH.MIK.T
RETURN TO the circulation desk of any
University of California Library
or to the
NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
Bldg. 400, Richmond Field Station
University of California
Richmond, CA 94804-4698
ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS
2-month loans may be renewed by calling
(415)642-6233
1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books
to NRLF
Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days
prior to due date
DUE AS STAMPED BELOW
NRLF DUE OCT241989
JUN z 4 ZOOb
LIBRARY USE
RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED
LOAN DEPT.
THIS BOOK IS DUE BEFORE CLOSING TIME
ON LAST DATE S'
'
fAMPED BELOW
_ •
_YCJ>32£>2___
UB&4
\f , —
°i*Ai
oct-r
rusr
T-
REC'D LD
OCT 7 '65 -4PM
LD 62A-50m-2,'64
(E3494slO)9412A
General Library
University of California
Berkeley
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11