An Enquiry into the Life and Legend of Michael Scot

by J. Wood Brown

We seem to see in him a Pascal of the thirteenth century; and this all the more that Michael Scot resembled that great genius not only in the mystical and superstitious side of his nature but in his devotion to mathematical science. How piquant is the contrast between this mighty and gifted child of the mist and the northern hills and those sunny southern lands of grape and fig, of white cliff, marble column and laughing summer sea, where most of his life was spent. No wonder that those among whom Michael Scot lived found him somewhat of a mystery at all times, and, especially in these later days of his burdened spirit, took him for a Mage, weaving his dark sayings into regular prophecies. The Latin races have never been famous for their power to comprehend the northern character. How much less was it likely they should in the case of one who seems to have presented every feature of that racial type in its extremest form? In our own day this incapacity takes the way of accusing as madness all that it cannot fathom of Celtic or Teutonic ways. In the times of Scot the same impatience found a more modest expression. He was incomprehensible, therefore he must be inspired; gifted with the prophet’s divine and incommunicable fire.

We may take it for granted that much of Michael Scot’s dissatisfaction and depression upon his disappointment in seeking ecclesiastical preferment arose from the feeling that he had made a great sacrifice in vain. The best years of his life, and the most strenuous labours of his mind, had been given to his version of Averroës not without the hope that he was here laying the foundation of a great literary and philosophic fame. Moved by a prudence, which was not altogether selfish since it concerned the Emperor’s reputation and policy quite as much as his own, he had submitted to necessity, and saw his translation suppressed for the sake of avoiding offence. The sacrifice was great and doubtless keenly felt, and when in spite of this policy he found himself still without the position he had confidently hoped for, with what bitterness must the reawakening of his literary ambition have been attended. Near ten years had been lost since his return from Spain, and still Scot’s Averroës slept, unknown to the schools, in the honourable but unprofitable seclusion of the Imperial closet. With the death of these hopes of preferment, however, all reason for this unfortunate reserve came to an end so far as Scot was concerned. As soon as he had once made up his mind to think no more of a great ecclesiastical career he was free to urge his master with all insistence to carry out their long-cherished plan, and secure undying fame for both by publishing the new Aristotle in the Universities of Europe.

Nor was there anything in the policy of the time which made Frederick unwilling to further a project which he had all along designed. From the moment of his elevation to the See of Rome Gregory IX. had displayed a firm and unbending temper towards the Emperor. Frederick felt the first instances of his harshness in 1227, when, returning sick and feeble from the baths of Pozzuoli, he found himself excommunicated because he had not sailed to Palestine with the Crusade. This severe sentence was renewed in 1228. Frederick reached the Holy Land that year, but only to meet a mutinous spirit, encouraged among the Crusaders there by the Pope’s orders. On his return in 1229 the sharp edge of discipline was again drawn against him, and we need not wonder if such repeated severity at last convinced the Emperor that there was no hope of living at peace with Rome, nor any reason to study further accommodations with one who seemed determined to be his enemy. The moment had now come when restraints, long submitted to for the sake of policy, being removed, Frederick might well bethink him of his former plans so long held in reserve, and take measures to carry out his purpose of enriching the learned world with the prohibited books of Averroës.

This plan not only promised to fulfil a long cherished desire and mortify an implacable foe, it must also have presented itself in the light of a welcome concession made to a deserving servant of the Crown. Michael Scot had laboured long to form the works in question. His interest, as well as every other reason, now demanded that they should lie no longer concealed. The fame he was certain to gain by this publication would be the best consolation, perhaps the only one now possible, for his disappointments in the ecclesiastical career. To employ him actively in the matter may well have appeared not only just, considering his previous interest in it, but the best cure for a spirit sadly disordered and depressed. We need not wonder that Frederick at last fully formed his resolution, or that he chose Michael Scot as the means of carrying out a publication that was now definitely determined on.

An imperial circular announced to the learned the nature and origin of these new versions.[249] This letter was designed to secure for them such general interest and attention as was due to works of the first importance. Opening with the avowal of his devotion to the cause of letters, a confession which he supported by quoting from the Metaphysica, Frederick touched upon the manifold cares of state which the conduct of his affairs in the Empire involved. He added that he had never allowed these to occupy his whole attention, but had still devoted part of his time to the pursuits of learning. His mind, he said, had been particularly attracted to the works of Aristotle with the commentaries of the Arabian philosophers, especially those concerning mathematics, and the books called Sermoniales. Finding that they were inaccessible to Latin scholars, owing to their obscurity and the foreign tongues in which they were written, he had commissioned learned men to translate these works, desiring them to preserve in their versions the exact style as well as sense of the original. The treasures thus procured he would not keep in obscurity, but designed to publish them for the general good. He addressed himself to the most famous schools of Christendom as the proper means of obtaining the diffusion of this wisdom among those who were able to profit by it.

Which then were the universities intended by the Emperor? That of Naples certainly in the first place, for it was his own creation.[250] Bologna, also, we may believe, judging by the estimation in which we know him to have held that still more ancient seat of learning.[251] Copies of Frederick’s letter are indeed extant, which actually bear the address, ‘To the Masters and Scholars of Bologna.’ Nor can we think that he forgot Paris, the great centre of European culture. At least one text has preserved this the most natural of all directions:—‘To the Doctors of the Quadrivium at Paris.’[252] Thus far then the course of Scot’s journey on this important business is plain. In it he but reversed the progress he had made in early years, revisiting in the contrary order the scenes of his former studies. His own remarkable fame, the widespread curiosity concerning the books he brought, and his official character as Frederick’s Ambassador of Letters, must have secured him everywhere a cordial and distinguished reception.

There is reason to think that his travels did not end when he had reached Paris. Tradition says he crossed the Channel and visited both England and Scotland, where his medical skill was highly appreciated. It is indeed to an English author that we owe the knowledge of this journey performed by Michael Scot. The words of Roger Bacon are of capital importance here, not only telling us of Scot’s travels, but showing the nature of the work he carried with him in that progress, and the enthusiasm with which these books were received. ‘In the days of Michael Scot,’ he says, ‘who, about the year 1230, made his appearance with certain books of Aristotle and commentaries of learned men concerning physics and mathematics, the Aristotelian philosophy became celebrated in the Latin Schools.’[253] At the time of which he speaks, Bacon, born in 1214, may probably have been at Oxford pursuing his studies. It is not necessary to dwell upon the support which this brings to the tradition of Scot’s visit to England. We may take it as almost certain that Oxford was one of the universities where he appeared and was made welcome.

The tradition that he thereafter pursued his journey to Scotland rests rather upon arguments derived from the probability of the case than from direct evidence. Scot had been a lifetime absent from his native land, and, finding himself so near it, a strong impulse must have urged him to revisit the scenes of his boyhood. Nor is it easy to account for the fact that his fame, though he spent so much of his time abroad, attained, and yet retains, such a currency in the North, except upon the supposition that he did actually yield to this attraction and thus once more made himself a familiar figure in the land of his birth.

One matter of great interest is at least certain. Scot’s death occurred just at this time, when he was in the very height of his fame and influence, and probably while he was still in the North. The account, so often repeated and reprinted, which makes him live almost to the close of the century need not occupy our attention more than a moment. Already incredible from the time when Jourdain discovered that Scot’s version of Alpetrongi had been produced in 1217, such a notion becomes more than ever impossible since we have been able to carry the time of his mature literary activity back to the year 1210. Vincent of Beauvais, writing about 1245, talks of ‘old Michael Scot’ in such a way as to suggest that he had by that time been long in his grave. But the convincing evidence, though hitherto little noticed, is to be found in the poem of Henry d’Avranches, from which we have already quoted some lines in another connection. This author remarks regarding Michael Scot: