Insula Sanctorum et Doctorum; Or, Ireland's Ancient Schools and Scholars

by John Healy

I.—Preliminary Sketch of Christian Schools.

We have said that as Aran was the novitiate, so Clonard was the great college of the Irish Saints of the Second Order. Before, however, we proceed to give an account of this great seminary and its founder, it will be useful to give a short sketch of the Christian Schools up to that period.

Of Christian Schools, in the modern sense of the word, there were none, and there could be none, during the first three centuries of the Church’s history. She had then to struggle for a bare existence against the most powerful enemies; neither her worship nor her schools would be sanctioned, or even tolerated by the Roman Empire. Yet it was even then essential to train the clergy in sacred learning, and to instruct the people in the saving truths of faith. But, as a rule, this was done privately and unostentatiously in the catacombs; in the houses of the bishops when they had any fixed residence; and very frequently in the private grounds or private houses of wealthy and influential Christians.

The first Christian School, really worthy of the name, so far as we can judge, was established at Alexandria about the year A.D. 180. It became famous as a catechetical school, or school of dogma, and was conducted by several illustrious men—Pantaenus, Origen, Dionysius, and others—whose learning was celebrated throughout the whole Church, and whose lectures and writings exercised a very wide and enduring influence on their own, as well as on later generations. But this was rather a school of theology than of general literature, and designed more for adult inquirers, both male and female, than for the systematic instruction of the young. Similar schools were afterwards founded at Antioch, at Caesarea, at Edessa, and subsequently at Nisibis in Armenia.

Even during the centuries when those schools of dogma were most flourishing, young Christians found it necessary to frequent the schools of the pagans for the purpose of obtaining a professional or general education. The masters were pagan; the books were the ancient classics of Greek and Rome; and the majority of the pupils in most cases belonged to the old pagan religion. But it was a case of absolute necessity, as St. Jerome says; and they should either forfeit the culture, or face the danger. The most celebrated of those schools was at Athens, and there we find together under a pagan professor of Rhetoric, St. Basil, St. Gregory of Nazianzen and Julian, afterwards the Apostate, on the same benches with sons of pagan senators and scoffing rhetors.

Christians might not be teachers in such schools, for they would have to explain the mythology, and observe the festivals, and in other respects honour the gods of Greece and Rome. But Christians were sometimes allowed to attend the lectures of distinguished teachers, guarding themselves against the dangers that might arise from the influence of the teachers, of their companions, and of the pagan authors. It is true, indeed, the more rigid Christians denounced the whole system as not only dangerous, but essentially wrong and immoral. They preferred to do without this mental culture, rather than obtain it at so much peril to their own souls. They censured even the study of the pagan authors under the guidance of Christian teachers. The false maxims of their philosophers would make some impression, they alleged, on the retentive and plastic minds of the young; the stories of the loves of their gods and goddesses would sully the purity of innocent hearts; and the coarseness of the thoughts could not be effectually screened by eloquence of language and mere beauty of literary form. The study of the Sacred Scriptures ought to be enough for all true Christians, whose sole aim should be to purify the heart and elevate their thoughts to God and heavenly things.

Fortunately these strict principles were not generally followed in practice. Most of the Greek and Latin Fathers not only studied the classics, but availed themselves of the lectures of the most celebrated professors of their own time, whether Christian or pagan; and so they were enabled to meet their opponents on equal terms—to refute the philosophers by philosophy, and the rhetoricians by rhetoric, to point out the turpitude of the gods of Greece and Rome, and to contrast in glowing language of the most fervid and lofty eloquence, the nobility of Christian doctrine, and the purity of Christian morals with the false ethics and unclean practices of the pagan religion.

In the fifth century, however, of the Christian era a change gradually took place. With the decline of paganism the great schools in the various cities of the empire began to decay, and were finally closed during the reign of Justinian. Meanwhile episcopal schools for the education of the clergy were further developed and enlarged. St. Augustine at Hippo, St. Ambrose at Milan, St. Eusebius at Arles, had founded establishments of this kind, and the fame of those great and learned prelates soon attracted large numbers of pupils to their episcopal seminaries. The Churches of Africa eagerly sought for pupils of St. Augustine’s school to fill the vacancies occurring in their sees, and many other pupils from the more celebrated of these seminaries were raised to the highest dignities in the Church.

But with the spread of monasteries in the West during the fourth and fifth centuries a new and vigorous impulse was given not only to all branches of sacred learning, but indirectly to profane literature also. Sacred reading and sacred study was deemed an essential portion of monastic work. Legere, orare, laborare—study, prayer, and labour—was the daily work of the monk; and if it was not always the task of the individual it certainly was of the community. Of course the sacred volume was the primary object of their study; but almost all branches of human learning are aids to the study and right understanding of Scripture, and were cultivated for that purpose.

Then again, monasticism was, as we have seen, intended to be self-sufficing. It was a world of its own, a city of God, producing for itself all that is needed in the physical and moral order. So the monks found it necessary to cultivate the ornamental as well as the useful arts of life. They delved and sowed and reaped; but they also built their churches, and decorated their altars, and wrote their books, and sang in choir, and computed their festivals, and healed the sick. There must be amongst them physicians, astronomers, geometers, and musicians, as well as moralists, preachers, scribes, and illuminators. Every branch of human knowledge was useful, if not necessary, for a great monastery, and they all came to be cultivated in the great monastic schools.