The Emperor’s solicitude in promoting learning has caused his reign to be spoken of as the Carolingian Renaissance. But Charles’ intellectual interests were not those of a fifteenth century humanist. He desired the revival of letters because he saw in learning a means by which the Church, which, to his mind, was the organization of the state Christianized, might overcome pagan survivals, and take the lead in civilizing the various nationalities in his realm. The clergy and the monks were ignorant—they could neither preach nor teach. The Emperor planned a kind of Christian Athens, a new community of scholars, in which learning was to be the handmaid of religion. After he had assumed the title of Emperor, he recalled how closely the glory of letters was associated with the renown of the Roman world, and he desired his own reign to be signalized by the same elements of culture.
The point of view of this intellectual revival is indicated in the following letter addressed by Charles to Baugulf, Abbot of Fulda. “Know,” he says, “that in recent years, since many monasteries were in the habit of writing us to let us know that their members were offering prayers for us, we noticed that in most of these writings the sentiments were good, and the composition bad. For what a pious devotion within was faithfully inspiring, an untrained tongue was incapable of explaining outwardly because of the inadequacy of scholarship. So we commenced to fear that, as the knowledge of style was weak, the understanding of the Holy Scriptures was less than it should be; we all know that if verbal errors are dangerous, mistakes in sense are much worse. For this reason we exhort you not only not to neglect the study of letters, but to cultivate them with a humility agreeable to God, in order that you may the more easily or the more justly fathom the mysteries of the divine writings. As there are in the sacred books figures, tropes, and other like things, there is no doubt that in reading them each one attains to the spiritual sense of them the more quickly, in proportion as he has received before a complete literary training.... Do not forget to send copies of this letter to all of those with you who are bishops, and to all the monasteries, if you wish to enjoy our favors.”
It was not enough to rely on those already set in authority—they had to be placed under supervision themselves. Charles saw, as he expressed it, that he had to find men who had the will and the ability to learn, and the desire to teach others. Such leaders were selected from all nationalities, Anglo-Saxons, Irishmen, Scots, Lombards, Goths, Bavarians. The first to be attracted by the King’s inducements of good pay and an honorable position were the grammarians, Peter of Pisa, and Paulinus, and Paul the Deacon, the poet and historian. But in influence all these were second to Alcuin, a native of England. Born in 735, he entered the School of York when Egbert, one of the disciples of Bede, was archbishop. Alcuin under his master Albert acquired the kind of encyclopedic knowledge that is handed down to us in the volumes of Isidore and Bede, the chief stress being laid on the Holy Scriptures, helped out by jejune rhetorical exercises, and scraps of physical science. He had read Latin literature, knew Greek, and was familiar with the great writers of Christian antiquity. The King was glad to secure such a prize, and the two became close friends. Alcuin acted as confidential adviser to the King, and was one of those who arranged for the coronation in 800.
There is a considerable body of literary work from Alcuin’s pen, but nothing he wrote shows any originality. He was little more than a faithful transmitter of the learning he received. He set the seal on the traditional division of knowledge in its seven stages, or, as it was technically known, the seven arts: grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. His literary interests may be judged from the following dialogue: “What is writing?” said Pippin, one of the Emperor’s sons. “The guardian of history,” replied Alcuin. “What is speech?” “The treason of thought.” “What engenders speech?” “The tongue.” “What is the tongue?” “The flail of the air.” “What is the air?” “The guardian of life.” “What is life?” “The joy of the happy, the pain of the wretched, the expectation of death.” “What is man?” “The slave of death, the guest of a place, a passing traveler.”
These preciosities give one a depressing idea of Alcuin’s ability. Yet it must be remembered that they were marvels to the obtuse and crudely trained minds of men whose chief occupation was war and the chase, and as an intellectual stimulus they were just as effective as are to-day the eagerly scanned columns of modern journalism.
Alcuin was made royal director of studies; he was schoolmaster of the palace, and from this circle of the King’s friends originated the Palatine Academy, the members of which, in order to mark their efforts at imitating classic culture, adopted fancifully the names of ancient worthies. So Charles was called David, Alcuin was called Horatius Flaccus, and Angilbert, Homer. In order to extend their influence Charles promoted several of the members of the Academy to important positions in the Church, making them bishops or abbots.
The royal plans for promoting learning are indicated in a capitulary of March 23, 789. “Let,” he says, “the ministers of God draw about them not only young people of servile condition, but the sons of freemen. Let there be reading schools for the children. Let the psalms, musical notation, singing, arithmetic, and grammar be taught in all the monasteries and all the bishoprics.” These directions led to the creation of numerous monastic and episcopal schools, all ordered “according to the customs of the palace.” Alcuin, in 796, withdrew to Tours, becoming the abbot of St. Martin’s there, and planned to found a replica of the Saxon school at York, where he had himself been trained.
The success of the new educational policy owed much to Theodulph, a Spaniard of Gothic birth, who, in becoming bishop of Orleans about 798, proceeded to see that his clergy were industrious in reading and preaching. Schools were opened in town and country where children were educated without payment, though the parents were expected, if they were able, to make some return proportionate to their means. From a document written by another Carolingian bishop, it appears that parents were urged to send their children and allow them to remain at school until they were really instructed. In such provisions, it is possible to find a sketch for primary instruction, though it is not known how successfully or how widely it was developed.
Supplementing these lower schools were others of a higher grade founded in the more populous centers. In the episcopal and monastic schools there were accessible collections of books. Charles himself had a library attached to the palace. The size of some of these collections may be estimated from the fact that one monastery, St. Riquier owned two hundred and fifty-six manuscripts. We know, too, that abbots were accustomed in their election to give presents of books to their monasteries. In the lists of these donations, which have been preserved, are to be found chiefly Christian writers, St. Augustine being an especial favorite; some of the poets of antiquity also find a place, generally Virgil. The atmosphere of this revival of letters was predominantly Christian. There are extant, for example, numerous commentaries on the Gospels of this age, but they are of slight value, being mere transcriptions of previous authorities.
More successful was the new régime in the mechanical work of preparing better texts. One of the capitularies directs special care to be given in selecting copyists equal to their task. Both Alcuin and Theodulph were engaged in preparing a revised version of the Latin Bible, the latter scholar, with more discretion, using as his model the text prepared by the famous prime minister of Theodoric, Cassiodorus, after he had returned to his monastery in Calabria.
The historical literature of the period also shows the influence of this religious “Renaissance.” Hagiographical works were popular, but in general critical ability was wanting in them. But some advance was made, for although the traditional lines of narrative are preserved, more biographical details are given and the style is improved. This type of Carolingian literature can best be studied in Eigil’s life of Sturm, in the biographies of Gregory of Utrecht, by Liudger, and in Alcuin’s “Life of Willibrord.” Some of the annals compiled at this time follow preëxisting models, while others show a distinct improvement, especially the “Royal Annals,” which were compiled under the influence of the royal “littérateurs.” The most noteworthy of this type are the annals of Lorsch, which follow the course of contemporary history down to the year 829; they have been assigned without sufficient reason to Einhard, since it is known that works of a similar character, the “Gesta,” of the bishops of Metz, were composed by Paul the Deacon.
The greatest monument of the literary revival is Einhard’s “Life of Charles.” Its author, who had studied at Fulda, and become a member of the court circle sometime between 791 and 796, was a favorite of the Emperor, and received as a gift several abbeys. Suetonius was taken as a model by Einhard, but was not slavishly followed. He oftentimes changes the phrases of his original, and, copyist as he is, he leaves on the reader the impression of freshness and vigor. Allowing himself to be guided by his original, he sets down much information which the ordinary medieval biographer leaves unmentioned.
Many letters of this time have been preserved, among the most interesting being the correspondence of Alcuin. Poetry was widely read, and all sorts of subjects were treated in verse. Especial attention was given to metrical inscriptions intended to be placed over the doors of churches or private houses, on walls, altars, tombs, and in books. The acrostic form was extremely popular and applied with great ingenuity. For the more serious poetic efforts, the most popular models were the Christian poets, Prudentius and Fortunatus. But pagan authors were by no means neglected, for Ovid, Virgil, Martial, Horace, Lucan, and Propertius all found imitators. Attempts were made to revive epic poetry, some of the writers, as in the case of Hugelbert, by no means doing discredit to their classical models.
While Latin was the official language, Charles did all he could to encourage his native Teutonic speech; he made collections of the folklore poetry of his own people, directed the preparation of a “Frank” grammar, and tried to introduce the custom of using the Teutonic names for the months of the year and winds. But throughout the greater part of Gaul the “Romance” tongue predominated, though educated people did not care to employ it. Charles’ biographer tells us that the Emperor spoke it along with Frankish and Latin. At the Council of Tours, in 813, the bishops decided that the homilies should be translated into Romance in order to be understood by the congregation.
Warlike songs in the vernacular, celebrating the exploits of the Franks, are mentioned. The great deeds of the Emperor himself had this popular recognition, especially the expedition into Spain and the wars of the Saxons, which excited the popular fancy. That the actual combatants were accustomed to recount, in verse, both Frankish and Romance, the events they themselves had witnessed, is known from the case of Adalbert, a veteran of the wars with the Avars and the Slavs, whose narrative was taken down by a monk of St. Gall, and transcribed into Latin.
Carolingian art, like Carolingian literature, was pre-eminently religious. The revival of art was to a great extent a restoration, i.e., an attempt to keep already existing church buildings from falling into ruin. This process of destruction was due to the avarice and carelessness of the generations immediately preceding the founding of the Empire. New churches were also constructed, the work of building being laid on the various communities and superintended by the bishops and the counts. The Emperor’s minister of public works was Einhard, to whom have been attributed, without sufficient ground, however, some of the greatest monuments of the period, the bridges at Mainz, the palace and church at Aix, and the palace at Ingelheim. Though the monuments of Carolingian architecture were scattered over a wide extent of territory, Germany, Gaul, and Lombardy, few have survived. Wood was used for both basilicas and country churches, especially in the Northern parts of the Empire, and such buildings were naturally not durable. Where stone was employed, restoration has so altered the original construction that few examples of the architecture of this period can be identified with certainty. The basilica type of church, usual in Merovingian France, was retained, but more attention was given to the technique of ancient art. Einhard, we know, read Vitruvius. An original feature of the Carolingian age was the lantern tower, square or cylindrical, erected at the transept crossing, and surmounted by a cupola containing the church bells.
Byzantine architecture was much admired in court circles, and the desire to imitate the earlier periods of Græco-Roman art led to a systematic plundering of the ancient buildings in the Italian peninsula, from which all sorts of architectural fragments, great and small, were carried across the Alps, to be incorporated, generally without much sense of proportion or fitness, in the newly constructed edifices. The most interesting example of this revived Byzantine architecture is the Emperor’s own chapel at Aix, which still serves as a nave in the existing church. Workmen from all quarters of the civilized world were sent for to engage in its construction; marbles, sculpture, and mosaics were brought from Italy, chiefly from Ravenna. Eighteen years elapsed before the church was completed, and it was consecrated with imposing ceremonial by Leo III, on January 1, 805. It is a copy of the well-known church of St. Vitalis in Ravenna. Around an octagonal center, which measures fourteen and a half meters, there are galleries in two stories, to which access is given by turrets containing winding staircases. The Emperor’s contemporaries were not conscious of the mistakes in the execution of this copy of a famous Byzantine model, and the chapel of Aix was spoken of by Einhard as admirable and of supreme beauty. It was followed by others in the same style, one of which, at Germain-des-Près, still preserves, despite restoration, distinct traces of the original design.
The age was remarkable, also, for the extension and building of monastic foundations. These buildings, as compared with the later monastic structures, followed a simple plan, with the church edifice forming the center of the complex. Around the square cloister were placed the common room, the school, the library, the refectory, and the dormitory. Near by were the abbot’s home, the guest chamber, and the infirmary. An idea of the extent of these buildings may be had from the dimensions of a well-known French abbey, St. Wandrile, where the refectory and the dormitory measure 208 feet long by 27 feet wide. As to secular architecture, it is represented solely by the imperial palaces at Nymwegen, Ingelheim, and Aix.
The palace at Aix, like the church, has for its model a building at Ravenna, the so-called palace of Theodoric. As all of the dependents of the court had to be accommodated, the ground floor covered a considerable space. In the center were the apartments of the imperial family, the audience chamber, the baths. In a large wing of the building, connecting it with the chapel, there was room for the school, the library, the archives. In interior decoration stucco, mosaic work, and mural painting were used rather than sculpture, in which art Carolingian workers showed little skill. The Emperor, though he prohibited the worship of images, expressly directed the use in church of mural paintings, with subjects taken from the Scriptures. In the palaces the same art was used to illustrate the secular history of the Empire.
The Emperor’s deeds were depicted on the walls and explained in poetical inscriptions. Mosaic was used for floors and wall spaces, and red and green porphyry were especially sought after for the decorative designs that often covered the interior of the cupola, as at Aix, where the Christ is represented on a gold background covered with red stars, blessing twelve aged men at his feet, and accompanied by two angels.
Work in the precious metals and in ivory was frequent in the churches, since each had a treasury, and a third of the income, saved from tithes, was assigned for religious ornaments. In these collections gold reliquaries with chased work and precious stones were specially valued; also portable altars and ciboria. The “ivories,” of which interesting specimens are still preserved, are remarkable for the care displayed in continuing the traditions of this branch of Christian art, as practised both in the Eastern Empire and in Italy during earlier centuries.
Books are recorded also in the inventories of the church treasuries, and the specimens that have survived attest the artistic value of Carolingian calligraphy. The style of writing, under the influence of English and Irish models, is clear and free from abbreviations. Besides the miniatures, these manuscripts exhibit artistically drawn letters, effectively combined, and characters done in gold and silver on a purple background. There were a number of schools where the art of copying was taught, the most celebrated being at Tours, under the supervision of Alcuin. The national library at Paris has a beautiful example of this work in a book of the Gospels prepared for Charles in 781, by the monk Godescalk. In Vienna, in the imperial treasury, there is another Gospel book in similar style, which, legend says, was found on the knees of the Emperor when his tomb was opened.
In church music, the Emperor continued his father’s policy of encouraging the Roman use of singing the psalter, as opposed to the Gallic custom. Masters were brought from Rome for this purpose and schools established at St. Gall and at Metz. There is still in the first-named place a Gregorian antiphonary, brought at this time from Italy, for the purpose of giving musical instruction after the Roman method.