But yes, as we shall see, the sun did shine in 800 A.D.
Looking further at the forces behind this unlikely intellectual center, we find that the men of Ireland - who called themselves 'Scots' - had maintained an unbroken link with the literary tradition of the Classical world. This tradition, which included both Greek and Latin sources, had been preserved mainly for the reason that Ireland had never been subjected to the ravages of Germanic invasion as had the rest of Western Europe. 2 Finally their religious organisation centered on the Abbot rather than a Bishop, which allowed for considerable independence of thought and action by the individual monasteries. 3
When England became thoroughly Christianised, as it had by Bede's lifetime in the early eighth century, and subject to its own intellectual revival, the Northumbrian Renaissance, then the destination for monks instilled with a love of travel increasingly became mainland Europe.
Pippin the Short was acclaimed king in 751 A.D., extinguishing the Merovingian dynasty that had began with Clovis and replacing it with a new line of strong Frankish rulers, the Carolingians. 6 His son, Charlemagne, carved out a vast empire that incorporated most of the territory now known as France and Germany and in the year 800 was made Emperor by Pope Leo III. 7
It may have been the lure of political stability that caused men of learning to gather at the royal court, but that is being ungrateful to the intense personal effort made by Charlemagne to foster learning in his domains. Quoting from his biographer, Einhard:
He paid the greatest attention to the liberal arts; and he had great respect for men who taught them, bestowing high honours upon them. 8
Charlemagne set about with great determination, setting up schools and standardising instruction. 9 His success can only be measured in relative terms. Certainly his policies of promoting education and supporting court scholars widened the intellectual base, ensuring that, for the next couple of generations at least, the Carolingian Renaissance flourished. 10 To put things in there proper perspective, however, we would do well to remember that Charlemagne (Charles the Great) couldn't read. 11
Charlemagne was succeeded by his son, Louis the Pious, whose death in 840 prompted the division of the lands between his three sons Charles the Bald, Lothar, and Louis the German. 12 Charles, and Louis before him continued to support the monastic and cathedral schools set up by Charlemagne, ensuring that a 'second generation' of scholars kept up the task of preserving what remnants of the Classical tradition left to them. 13 As the task was one of preservation rather than speculation, little original work was produced - except for one solitary scholar who stands out as being truly exceptional. It is here that we finally pick up the story of Johannes Scottus Erigena. John the Scot, 'Of Ireland'.
The details of his life are quickly told: He was born in Hibernia between 800 and 815 A.D. He was a Scot, that is to say, he came from Ireland. At some date prior to 847 he came to the court of Charles the Bald where he was royal tutor and head of the palace school. It is presumed that he travelled back to England in 878, the year of his patron's death. Legend has it that he died when his students conspired to murder him, stabbing him to death with their pens... 14
In terms of character, he is traditionally described as perexilis corporis and ira praeproperus. 15 I cannot read Latin, but presume it less than complimentary. But some measure of the man's spirit and wit can be found in the story, if true, of the exchange between himself and Charles at dinner:
Quid distat inter Scottum et sottum? Tabula tantum! 16
If nothing else this demonstrates just how much you could get away with when you were the pre-eminent scholar of the age.
Indeed, his rare exposure to public attention more often than not ended up in his condemnation by religious authorities. The first such occasion came out of a request he received from the Archbishop of Rheims to refute the writing of Gottschalk. This refutation, a tract called On Predestination, proved as problematical to church authorities as the heretical doctrine it effectively quashed. It was condemned a few years later, "unkindly described as 'Scots' Porridge,'" 19
Erigena's great work, The Division of Nature, which was written much later, about 865-870 A.D., is a masterful synthesis of his combined Greek and Latin heritage. 20 The justification of that last statement shall be examined properly in the next essay. The scheme laid out in its five books breaks down all reality into four sections. The first and fourth forms are the uncreated unity, of which the first creates and at the last is that to which all creation returns. The second and third are divided likewise, the second form being the realm of that which is created and creates also, in other words the world of ideas, and the third is that which is created but creates not, which is of course the material world. 21 While many ideas are borrowed from Maximus and the Pseudo-Dionysius, and Augustine, and behind it all Neoplatonism, the fourfold division on Nature is Scot's own unique contribution to medieval philosophy. It is found elsewhere "only in the Indian Doctrine of the Sankya" 22
The effect of John Scot's work on later generations is something that is not easily documented. Certainly his translations of the Pseudo-Dionysius were widely read and respected. 25 As for the Division of Nature, it seemed to have lain uncomfortably on the borders of heresy and obscurity for many years. Still, it was never completely forgotten, or irrevocably condemned, and no doubt made an important impression on those few who did read it. William of Malmesbury offered the following opinion:
[The Division of Nature is] very useful for solving the difficulty of certain questions, albeit he have to be pardoned for some matters wherein, holding his eyes fast upon the Greeks, he has deflected from the path of the Latins. 26
That then is something of the life, times, and legacy of Johannes Scottus Erigena. Too far into the realm of philosophy for a theological age, his writing was not appreciated by his contemporaries, and understood even less by his immediate successors. Nevertheless he enjoyed both the prestige of his position as royal tutor, and the reputation of being the foremost scholar of his day.