The History of Scottish Theology,

Volume I: Celtic Origins to Reformed

Orthodoxy David Fergusson
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THE HISTORY OF SCOTTISH THEOLOGY
The History of Scottish Theology, Volume I
Celtic Origins to Reformed Orthodoxy
The History of Scottish Theology, Volume II
The Early Enlightenment to the Late Victorian Era
The History of Scottish Theology, Volume III
The Long Twentieth Century
 EDITORIAL ADVISORY BOARD

PROFESSOR ALEXANDER BROADIE

(University of Glasgow)
PROFESSOR STEWART J. BROWN
(University of Edinburgh)
PROFESSOR SUSAN HARDMAN MOORE
(University of Edinburgh)
PROFESSOR COLIN KIDD
(University of St Andrews)
PROFESSOR DONALD MACLEOD
(Edinburgh Theological Seminary)
PROFESSOR CHARLOTTE METHUEN
(University of Glasgow)
PROFESSOR MARGO TODD
(University of Pennsylvania)
PROFESSOR IAIN TORRANCE
(University of Aberdeen)
The History of Scottish
Theology
Volume I

Celtic Origins to Reformed Orthodoxy

Edited by
DAVID FERGUSSON
and
MARK W. ELLIOTT

1
 3
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 Acknowledgements

We wish to record our thanks to several people who have assisted with the
production of this three-volume work. Dr Sandy Forsyth has provided valuable
support with contracts, organization of conferences, and regular communication
with authors. As associate editor, he has contributed much to this project and we
are greatly indebted to him for his labours. Initial copy editing was undertaken by
Dr Cory Brock, Revd Craig Meek, and Dr Laura Mair. Three conferences were
held which enabled contributors to present initial drafts of their work; these were
held in 2016–17 at Princeton Theological Seminary and New College, Edinburgh
with financial support from the UK Arts and Humanities Research Council. We
are also grateful to the members of the Editorial Advisory Board for their advice
and encouragement, particularly during the early stages of the project.
David Fergusson and Mark W. Elliott
 List of Contributors

Alexander Broadie is an honorary professorial research fellow at Glasgow University and

Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. He has been Henry Duncan prize lecturer in
Scottish studies at the Royal Society of Edinburgh, Gifford Lecturer in Natural Theology at
Aberdeen University, and Professor of Logic and Rhetoric at Glasgow University. He is the
author of some twenty books, most of them on the Scottish philosophical tradition.
Simon J. G. Burton is the John Laing Senior Lecturer in Reformation History at the
University of Edinburgh. His published work includes The Hallowing of Logic: The Trini-
tarian Method of Richard Baxter’s Methodus Theologiae (2012). He has also co-edited
Nicholas of Cusa and the Making of the Early Modern World (2019) and published articles
in journals such as Reformation and Renaissance Review, Ecclesiology, and History of
Universities, as well as a number of book chapters.
Euan Cameron is Henry Luce III Professor of Reformation Church History at Union
Theological Seminary in New York City, and Professor of Religion at Columbia University.
His books include The European Reformation (1991, 2nd edition 2012), Waldenses (2000),
Interpreting Christian History (2005), Enchanted Europe (2010), and the edited works Early
Modern Europe: An Oxford History (1999), The New Cambridge History of the Bible vol. III
(2016), and The Annotated Luther vol. 6: The Interpretation of Scripture (2017). He is a
priest in the Episcopal Church of the USA.
Richard Cross has been John A. O’Brien Professor of Philosophy at the University of Notre
Dame since 2007. Before that, he was Professor of Medieval Theology at the University of
Oxford, and a Fellow of Oriel College. He is the author of seven monographs on medieval
philosophy and on the history of theology, including The Metaphysics of the Incarnation:
Thomas Aquinas to Duns Scotus (2002) and Duns Scotus on God (2005). He has also written
over one hundred articles on subjects ranging from Patristic theology to Disability Studies.
Peter Damian-Grint is a member of the Adam of Dryburgh research group at the
University of Glasgow. He is also an honorary research fellow in history at the University
of St Andrews. His works include The New Historians of the Twelfth-Century Renaissance:
Inventing Vernacular Authority (1999).
Aaron Clay Denlinger is Department Chair in Latin at Arma Dei Academy, Colorado and
Adjunct Professor of Church History at Westminster Theological Seminary, Pennsylvania.
His publications include the edited volume Reformed Orthodoxy in Scotland: Essays on
Scottish Theology 1560–1775 (2015).
Martin Holt Dotterweich is Professor of History at King University in Bristol, Tennessee,
where he also serves as Director of the King Institute for Faith and Culture. Among his
publications on the early Scottish Reformation is the edited booklet George Wishart
Quincentennial Conference Proceedings (2014).
x   

James Eglinton is Meldrum Lecturer in Reformed Theology at New College, University of

Edinburgh. He holds degrees in law and theology, and a PhD in systematic theology. He is
the author of Trinity and Organism (2012) and works primarily on the Dutch neo-Calvinist
tradition.

Marie-Luise Ehrenschwendtner was educated at Munich and Tübingen Universities. At

Tübingen, she wrote her PhD thesis on The Education of Dominican Sisters in Southern
Germany from the Thirteenth to the Fifteenth Centuries (Die Bildung der Dominikanerinnen
in Süddeutschland vom 13. bis 15. Jahrhundert). She is Lecturer in Church History at the
University of Aberdeen. Her main research area is medieval female monastic piety and
practical devotion. In recent years, she has also explored the spirituality of theologians in
north-east Scotland, who were deeply influenced by medieval and early modern continental
mysticism.
Mark W. Elliott, formerly Professor of Historical and Biblical Theology at the University of
St Andrews at St Mary’s College, School of Divinity has been since February 2019 Professor
of Divinity at the University of Glasgow. Glaswegian by birth, he was further educated at
Oxford, Aberdeen, and Cambridge, where he wrote a PhD on The Song of Songs and
Christology in the Early Church. His main focus is the relationship between biblical
exegesis and Christian doctrine, both ancient and modern, but has a particular interest in
Scottish theology in its international context.

David Fergusson is Professor of Divinity at the University of Edinburgh. He is a Fellow of

the Royal Society of Edinburgh and a Fellow of the British Academy. His publications
include The Providence of God: A Polyphonic Approach (2018).

Whitney G. Gamble is Associate Professor of Biblical and Theological Studies at Provi-

dence Christian College in Pasadena, CA. She received her PhD in Historical and System-
atic Theology from the University of Edinburgh. Her published work includes Christ and
the Law: Antinomianism at the Westminster Assembly (2018).

Giovanni Gellera is a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Lausanne. He received his

PhD from the University of Glasgow in 2012, and was a Visiting Fellow at the University of
Fribourg and the University of Edinburgh. His research expertise is in the relations between
scholasticism and early modern philosophy, from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment.
His major work is the critical edition and translation of the manuscript Idea Philosophiae
Moralis (1679) by James Dundas (forthcoming, with Alexander Broadie).
Thomas M. Green is a former postgraduate and doctoral candidate at the School of
Divinity, University of Edinburgh, a former British Academy Postdoctoral Fellow at the School
of Law, University of Edinburgh, and a former Honorary Research Fellow at the School of Law,
University of Glasgow.
Ian Hazlett was educated in history and divinity at universities in Belfast, St Andrews,
Strasbourg, and Münster (Westphalia) where he did his doctorate in theology. After
research posts in Geneva and Paris, followed by a lectureship in church history at Aberdeen,
he moved to Glasgow where he later became Professor of Ecclesiastical History, and
Principal of Trinity College. Currently Honorary Professorial Research Fellow at Glasgow
    xi

University, his research interests and publications have been mostly in the area of
Reformation history and theology, especially text-critical editing of primary sources includ-
ing ones for the Opera Latina of Martin Bucer, Reformierte Bekenntisschriften, and the new
expanded edition of Conciliorum oecumenicorum generaliunque decreta. He is chief editor
of the international journal, Reformation & Renaissance Review.

Stephen Mark Holmes is Rector of Padstow, St Merryn and St Issey with St Petroc Minor in
Cornwall, an Honorary Fellow at Edinburgh University School of Divinity, and teaches at
the Scottish Episcopal Institute. He is a graduate of the universities of St Andrews,
Maynooth, and Edinburgh and has published books and articles on church history, liturgy,
and historical theology.
David G. Mullan retired at the end of 2016 as Professor of History and Religious Studies
from Cape Breton University in Sydney, Nova Scotia. He is the author or editor of eight
books, including Scottish Puritanism (2000) and Narratives of the Religious Self in Early-
Modern Scotland (2010). He has also prepared sixteen journal articles and book chapters
in multi-authored volumes. In retirement, he lives with his wife and near their family in
St Albert, Alberta.
Stephen G. Myers is Professor of Historical Theology at Puritan Reformed Theological
Seminary in Grand Rapids, Michigan, USA. Previously, he served as a pastor in the
Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church. His publications include Scottish Federalism
and Covenantalism in Transition: The Theology of Ebenezer Erskine (2015).
Thomas O’Loughlin is Professor of Historical Theology in the University of Nottingham
and a specialist in tracing how Latin theology developed in the aftermath of Augustine. In
this quest he has paid particular attention to the practice of theology in the British Isles and
how writers received theological questions and models from late antiquity, transformed
them, and then bequeathed them to the university theologians. He is the Director of Studia
Traditionis Theologiae.

Guy M. Richard is Executive Director and Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology at

Reformed Theological Seminary in Atlanta, GA. He holds a B.I.E. from Auburn University,
a M.Div. from RTS, and a PhD from the University of Edinburgh. Before moving into his
current position, he served as the Senior Minister of the First Presbyterian Church in
Gulfport, Mississippi (PCA), for almost twelve years. He is the author of three books,
including The Supremacy of God in the Theology of Samuel Rutherford (2008) and many
articles on Reformation and Post-Reformation theology.
Lydia Schumacher is Reader in Historical and Philosophical Theology in the Department
of Theology and Religious Studies at King’s College London. From 2017–2021 she holds a
major grant from the European Research Council for research on the early Franciscan
intellectual tradition. Previously, she held posts at the University of Edinburgh and
University of Oxford, where she was also a British Academy Postdoctoral Fellow. She has
written four monographs: Theological Philosophy (2015), Rationality as Virtue (2015),
Divine Illumination: The History and Future of Augustine’s Theory of Knowledge (2011),
and Authority and Innovation in Early Franciscan Thought (2019).
xii   

John T. Slotemaker is Associate Professor of Medieval Christianity at Fairfield University.

He has co-authored Robert Holcot (2016) and co-edited A Companion to the Theology of
John Mair (2015) and Augustine in Late Medieval Philosophy and Theology (2017) with
Jeffrey C. Witt. Professor Slotemaker recently completed Anselm of Canterbury and the
Search for God (2018). The focus of his research is the development of late medieval
Trinitarian theology and the influence of medieval thought on the sixteenth-century era
of Reform.
R. Scott Spurlock is Senior Lecturer in Scottish Religious Cultures at the University of
Glasgow, the only designated Scottish church history post in the world. He is editor of the
peer-reviewed journal Scottish Church History, co-editor of the book series Scottish Reli-
gious Cultures: Historical Perspectives (Edinburgh University Press) and Christianities in the
Trans-Atlantic World (2016), and author of Cromwell and Scotland: Conquest and Religion,
1650–1660 (2007).
Iain R. Torrance is honorary professor in Early Christian Doctrine and Ethics at the
University of Edinburgh. He is a professor emeritus of Princeton Theological Seminary, a
former moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and president
emeritus of Princeton Theological Seminary. He is the author of several books including
Christology after Chalcedon (1998). He was also the co-editor of the Scottish Journal of
Theology from 1982–2015.
 1
Scottish Theology
Contexts and Traditions
David Fergusson and Mark W. Elliott

This three-volume study of the history of Scottish theology begins with the
monastic period prior to the foundation of the universities and concludes around
the end of the twentieth century. In covering fifteen hundred years of theological
work, we have sought to combine breadth of coverage with selection of key themes
and writers. Inevitably, this has resulted in some difficult decisions about inclusion
and exclusion; but our central aim has been to provide a synoptic view of Scottish
theology that is more comprehensive and diverse than any previous scholarly
effort. We have resisted the temptation to work with a ‘great men’ approach to
the subject by concentrating on contexts, themes, and texts. Some of those
contexts are far from well known, for many major movements and trends in
Scottish church history and history remain under-researched. However, the
point of our project is not to foreground church history as res gestae but instead
to situate Scottish theology through the generations. While contextual work is
necessary to understand the meaning of the key concepts and themes in the text,
we have sought wherever possible to let the texts as theological works speak for
themselves.
Hitherto, we have lacked a useful textbook treatment of Scottish theology
that affords a clear and scholarly guide to the various movements, controversies,
figures, and outputs. Now a period piece, James Walker’s The Theology and
Theologians of Scotland, chiefly of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
(Cunningham Lectures; revised edition, Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1888) is almost
part of the history itself. Some of Walker’s insights one might characterize as
‘antinomian evangelical’, e.g. he criticizes James Fraser of Brea and the Marrow-
men for believing that God was ‘necessitated’ to atone for sin. Although there are
other important one-volume studies to which we remain indebted (Macleod 1943;
Drummond and Bulloch 1973, 1975, 1978), the history of Scottish theology has
not been properly narrated with sufficient attention to its diversity and breadth,
nor updated for at least a generation. And, given the progress that has been made
in the study of other areas of Scottish culture—history, literature, and
philosophy—the time is now overdue for a similarly concerted treatment of our
theological traditions.

David Fergusson and Mark W. Elliott, Scottish Theology: Contexts and Traditions. In: The History
of Scottish Theology Volume I: Celtic Origins to Reformed Orthodoxy. Edited by David Fergusson
and Mark W. Elliott, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198759331.003.0001
2     . 

Three recent models have also helped shape our thinking. First, T. F. Torrance’s
Scottish Theology (1996) offers a book-length treatment of the continuous stream
of Scottish theology over almost four centuries, while also bringing to light long-
buried treasures. At the heart of the Scottish Reformation, not least in the Scots
Confession of 1560, Torrance discerns a devout and pronounced Christocentrism.
Yet within a generation the truly evangelical stream (as Torrance would see it) had
gone largely underground, though it was still observable in John Davidson of
Saltoun’s Catechism, the Aberdeen Forbeses, in some of the works of Samuel
Rutherford and James Fraser of Brea (d. 1689)—a warrior in the lists against
‘limited atonement’—the Marrowmen, and those who might be called ‘Romantic
Presbyterians’ such as Thomas Erskine, Edward Irving, and John McLeod Camp-
bell. Torrance himself burrowed into the texts of this tradition and his method
displays a commendable critical empathy with his own Scottish theological heri-
tage. He found it regrettable that so often ‘the focus is not so much upon Christ
himself as upon (a) doctrines, with attention given to reasoning out their inner
connections with a view to deepening and clarifying believers’ grasp of their truth
on the solid ground of four “warrants to believe”, and (b) upon probing into the
ground and sincerity of personal convictions and testing whether they reveal
evidences of true faith in the soul and of their personal reconciliation with God’
(Torrance 1996: 121). This intense and pugnacious engagement of Scottish theo-
logical traditions is much indebted to biblical interpretation, spirituality, and a
strong missiological impulse. But it suffers arguably from a binary distinction
between a pure Reformed tradition and its later declension in Reformed ortho-
doxy. Since the appearance of Torrance’s work, there has been a re-evaluation not
only of ‘Puritan theology’ (by Richard Muller et al.), but also of Enlightenment
theology, in which reason and faith are viewed as having a more harmonious
relationship, together with a revisioning of the Romanticism (and Idealism) that
buoyed Scottish theology in its ‘silver age’ through the nineteenth and into the
twentieth century. In any case, while Torrance’s work begins in the early modern
era and concludes in the mid-Victorian age, this present work will cover a
significantly broader chronological span.
A second precursor was the production of the Dictionary of Scottish Church and
Theology (1993), largely through the leadership and scholarly acumen of David
F. Wright. Although its style was more akin to reportage, partly because of its
genre as a work of reference, it included longer and more evaluative essays
(e.g. Andrew Walls’ magisterial survey of ‘missions’). Yet its welcome exposure
of the breadth and richness of Scottish theology has set down a marker for further
scholarly activity, even if its slant was towards Presbyterianism, with only a few
worthwhile but hardly sufficient nods to Catholicism and Episcopalianism. Our
present project is more in-depth and selective, yet with greater ecumenical
breadth. Its multiple and diverse authorship has ensured the absence of a single
history of one grand narrative, whether of rise and fall, progressive maturation or
  :    3

prolonged struggle between orthodox and heterodox trends. The dictionary and
edited collection formats are complementary in many respects and our hope is
that the emergence of this present collection may eventually facilitate a new
edition of the Dictionary by T&T Clark.
Third, recent work on the history of Scottish philosophy, also published by
Oxford University Press (Garrett and Harris 2015; Graham 2015), has revealed the
extent of academic interest in thinkers many of whom had close links with the
Scottish church in one or other of its branches. This applies not only to Thomas
Reid and his associates, but also to other scholars, including David Hume whose
more sceptical work cannot be understood apart from the proximity of Scottish
philosophy to the Kirk. One might conclude that a revealed theology structured
around the Bible and the Westminster Confession was supplanted by a natural or
moral theology concentrated on practical matters. Instead of election, sin, atone-
ment, and effectual calling, the focus shifted to providence, ethics, and an afterlife
of reward and punishment. Yet the moderate theology that emerged in the
Enlightenment reflected distinctive Reformed elements, in particular its ethical
preoccupations and stress on our epistemological limitations. Though in some
ways distinct, the stories of theology and of philosophy have largely been inter-
twined for most of the period under review.
The construction of our three volumes has been governed by several editorial
decisions. First, we have resolved to interpret ‘Scottish’ with a degree of latitude.
As a result, we have sought to include all significant work that has been under-
taken within Scotland (i.e. anything undertaken north of the River Tweed to the
Orkney and Shetland Islands), the work of those who came from Scotland but
plied their theological trade elsewhere (e.g. Richard of St Victor, Duns Scotus,
P. T. Forsyth, and John Macquarrie), the extensive crossover with Ireland, and
also those who divided their careers between Scotland and other parts of the
world. In particular, we explore in later volumes the Scottish diaspora in other
English-speaking locations (Australasia and North America) and in missionary
activity in Asia, Latin America, and Africa. Second, we have sought to avoid an
exclusive concentration on the universities. Much important theological work has
taken place outside the state-funded institutions in colleges, churches, manses,
and by freelance writers. Less familiar voices need to be heard, including those of
women who were prevented from preaching and teaching but whose theological
convictions were expressed in poetry and hymnody. Third, we have become
increasingly mindful of the importance of looking back to the richness of the
medieval period and beyond the post-Reformation Presbyterian churches to
consider other traditions. Tom McInally has described the Scots Colleges in
Europe as Scotland’s sixth university, a reminder that Scottish Catholics found
their theological voice often outside Scotland but in ways that were significant for
the enrichment of church life on home soil (McInally 2011). Hence, other
traditions—independent, Episcopalian, and Congregational—are also considered.
4     . 

Fourth, we have sought to balance a stress on key theological figures with the study
of movements, themes, and challenges. So for example while we profile familiar
figures such as Scotus, Mair, Knox, Melville, Rutherford, McLeod Campbell,
Robertson Smith, and Torrance we also consider inter alia the sacraments,
spiritual practice, the atonement, biblical criticism, Darwinism, slavery, the
Gifford Lectures, and feminism. Finally, we have resolved to consider more
popular expressions of theology that had a wide impact upon church and society,
perhaps more so than some academic efforts. Several essays are devoted to
theological media—Bible translation, liturgy, art, reference works, popular writ-
ing, and some of the most important figures in the canon of Scottish literature—all
of which represent the expression and reception of theology.
One question that arises is whether there is a distinctively Scottish theology,
analogous to Scottish philosophy. Gordon Graham and Alexander Broadie have
pointed to ways in which there is a continuous Scottish philosophical tradition
from the time of Hume and Reid until at least the early twentieth century (Broadie
2009: 1–6; Graham 2015: 303–22). This can be defined narrowly or broadly.
On one reckoning, it can be considered in terms of allegiance to a single doctrine
regarding the so-called principles of common sense—‘a spiritualistic philosophy,
cautious and measured, designed to meet scepticism’ (Davidson 1925: 261)—or to
a shared set of convictions that exclude idealism and other speculative trends
(McCosh 1875: 2–6). More capaciously understood, Scottish philosophy repre-
sents a tradition spanning a time period from about the late seventeenth century
(when the first chair of philosophy was established in Glasgow) to about the
middle of the twentieth century. Within this more broadly conceived tradition,
philosophy is characterized by a common set of questions, an acknowledged set of
resources, and an institutional context in which its study was a required compo-
nent within a broad curriculum. As a moral project, moreover, philosophy was
tasked with equipping students with skills of knowledge and wisdom that would
serve them well in a variety of professions. Hence, there was a time when many
people entering the medical, legal, or teaching professions would have undergone
some instruction in philosophy. Much of this work was closely aligned both
institutionally and intellectually with the Scottish Kirk. Graham notes that in
T. E. Jessop’s review of seventy-nine distinctively Scottish philosophers, about half
were also clergy (Jessop 1938: 75–184; Graham 2015: 315). Not unexpectedly, this
fusion of religious and philosophical interests also generated a theological climate
that was marked by the constraints of philosophical work, a confidence in the
power of reason allied to an awareness of its limitations, a commitment to the
unity of church and society, and a pathway into ministry that often required a
prior training in classics and philosophy. Although this milieu allowed a good deal
of diversity in relation to method and content, the institutional setting of much
(though not all) theology with its proximity to other disciplines shaped much of
the output of the divinity professoriate. It is not surprising therefore to discover
  :    5

that McCosh, in his survey of Scottish philosophy, judges Thomas Chalmers not
only the greatest preacher of his age but also the foremost exponent of the unity of
philosophy and theology. For example, with his commitment to the design
argument, especially with reference to the human mind, Chalmers establishes a
theistic philosophy of conscience which is strikingly matched with the Christian
doctrine of the forgiveness of sins (McCosh 1875: 393).
Notwithstanding this context, as far as theology is concerned we see little
evidence of a single, distinctive tradition with leading authorities and methods
of study. In this respect, Scottish theology does not track Scottish philosophy.
While planning these volumes, therefore, we have not assumed that we are dealing
at any stage with a demarcated tradition in the sense of a body of thinkers whose
work acknowledges discrete authorities and magisterial texts as a point of refer-
ence, or one set of common problems, or a single universe of discourse or a social
purpose that sets Scottish theologians apart from other traditions. Although
Scottish theology has been marked by recurrent themes, influences, and orienta-
tion, it does not constitute a single tradition of enquiry in the MacIntyrean sense
(MacIntyre 1988). Obviously, the Reformed tradition has been the province of
many Scottish thinkers since the middle of the sixteenth century but not to the
exclusion of other trends. In any case, the Reformed tradition itself is very
capacious, to the point that some have accused it of bending in the direction of
every prevailing cultural breeze. Within Scotland, Reformed theology has com-
prehended Amyrauldian thinkers in the seventeenth century, the moderates of the
eighteenth century, the liberal evangelicals of the late Victorian period, as well as
those who might be characterized as neo-orthodox, existentialist, and liberationist
in the twentieth century. And, although the Westminster Confession of Faith
(1646) may have commanded widespread subscription amongst all the Presby-
terian churches, it hardly induced theological uniformity.
Another hallmark of Scottish theology is the strong continental influence
especially from Switzerland, the Netherlands, and Germany. Much has been
written on this and it characterizes Scottish theology throughout the entire period
under review. But these three volumes also display the very significant influence
of English influences upon much of what has been written. The Reformation
was supported by English allies and, as Jane Dawson’s recent biography shows,
Knox was both a Scottish and a British figure (Dawson 2016). The Westminster
Confession was produced in London, as was the Marrow of Modern Divinity.
Deism influenced the Moderates. Newtonian science, the Cambridge Platonists,
and the natural theologies of Butler and Paley left their mark on Scottish theolo-
gians including Chalmers and Flint. From the seventeenth century, Episcopalian
theology and spirituality made a distinctive contribution even when representing
only a small minority. More recently, John Baillie’s Diary of Private Prayer (1936),
probably the best-selling work by any Scottish theologian, reveals the steady
influence of the Book of Common Prayer. One can find many more examples of
6     . 

Anglican influences in Scotland and we should not disregard these by singular

concentration on the continental impact, important though this remains.
In terms of its orientation, Scottish theology has generally been directed
towards the ends of the Church and therefore the nation. Most theologians were
ordained and preached regularly. Some of them produced important devotional
books. Their work assumed an academic and public influence that can be difficult
to understand today. Writing for an informed and engaged public, their output
was not directed exclusively to a specialist audience. If we, for our part, might
wonder at how they would have fared in a research assessment exercise, they
would surely have been puzzled, even dismayed, by the extent to which contem-
porary academic writing is so inaccessible to a wider audience.
Largely for presentational reasons, the three volumes are divided chronologic-
ally—(i) from the middle ages to the early Enlightenment; (ii) from the Enlight-
enment to the mid-nineteenth century; and (iii) from the late nineteenth century
until the very early twenty-first century. But these boundaries are intended to be
porous and we fully recognize that they are somewhat arbitrary. In any case, some
essays intentionally offer broader perspectives that traverse two or more periods.
Fittingly, this has been an international effort in gathering scholars from several
continents to coordinate current expertise in the field. Conferences were held in
Princeton and Edinburgh to facilitate discussion of early drafts of papers. These
events in turn revealed significant gaps in the initial plan and enabled us to
commission additional essays and scholars.
Each essay must speak for itself, but several themes have come more clearly into
focus through this collective endeavour. Though less well known, the medieval
period has emerged as a rich era in terms of its theological artefacts, monastic
traditions, and the foundation of three universities. Much of this earlier period
reveals a theology that was presented less by text and more through architecture,
images, ritual practices, and liturgical forms. And even while written manuscripts
and printed books dominated later Scottish theology, other media remained
important, not least in the wider reception of theologies. Several influential figures
achieved prominence in medieval Europe including John Duns Scotus, Richard
of St Victor, and John Mair. Much of what was achieved in these centuries was
inflected rather than abolished in the Reformation, a process itself that was
gradual and shared a good deal with other reforming movements in the late
middle ages.
Given its indebtedness to the catholic traditions of the Church, we should not
be surprised that so much Scottish theology reflected a commitment to spiritual
practice; its image as relentlessly cerebral, hair-splitting, and arid now needs to be
debunked. From Henry Scougal’s Life of God in the Soul of Man, through the
poetry of Gaelic women and the hymns of the Borthwick sisters, to John Baillie’s
Diary, Scottish theologians proved capable of generating spiritual classics that
revealed a devotional intensity bordering on the erotic, as well as deep pastoral
  :    7

bonds with the people they served. And, although the relationship of the
Reformed churches to the arts could be fraught and complex, this was never
simply iconoclastic or repressive in the way that some critics of Calvinism have
suggested. One-sided fictional caricatures of the Scottish clergy now need to be
discarded in favour of more historically alert and nuanced portraits.
Produced in London, the Westminster Confession of Faith has shaped much of
Scottish Reformed theology whether through allegiance, contested interpretation,
or the outright opposition it has generated. From 1647, it became the subordinate
standard in the Presbyterian churches, though some dissent surrounding its
teaching on the role of the magistrate, the destiny of the ‘heathen’, and double
predestination emerged in succeeding centuries. The different ways in which it has
been read, defended, and accommodated have provided a point of reference for
several essays in these volumes. As the companion document to the Confession,
the Shorter Catechism, was arguably more influential in shaping the mind-set of
successive generations of Scots through recitation and testing, until the mid-
twentieth century. Its theology was thus internalized by much Scottish Protestant
culture. While more attention to its influence is now required in historical study,
what seems clear to us is that there has seldom been a time in when this theological
paradigm has commanded universal consent throughout the Scottish Presbyterian
churches. To this extent, its durability is itself quite remarkable and confirms the
absence of any other influential Reformed confession in Scotland after 1647.
As already noted, a prominent feature of Scottish theology throughout its
history has been its European dimension. This has played out in different ways.
The commerce of ideas is apparent from the early middle ages and continues into
the Reformation with important French, Swiss, and Dutch influences all apparent
into the seventeenth century. Scottish theologians themselves made their way to
the continent whether to take advantage of opportunities to study and teach or as
exiles. This is apparent not only during the political turbulence and religious
ferment of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries but also through the achieve-
ments of beleaguered Scottish Catholics who maintained colleges across Europe
for the training of priests. Given these contexts, it was inevitable that Scottish
theology would be European in character. This continued into the later nine-
teenth century and beyond with the ‘Scottish caravan’ that travelled to Germany
each summer, thus ensuring that the works of Schleiermacher, Hegel, Ritschl,
Herrmann, Barth, Brunner, Bultmann, and Bonhoeffer would become translated
and thereafter line the walls of manses throughout the country.
But the European dimension of Scottish theology should not obscure the links
with other parts of the UK and Ireland. The connections between Presbyterians in
Scotland and Ireland ensured a steady flow of students across the Irish Sea to
Glasgow and other centres of learning, while many of the theological disputes that
divided Scotland in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were played out,
albeit rather differently, in Ireland. The aforementioned influence of theologians
8     . 

in England is also apparent from the very beginning so that the more inclusive
term ‘insular’ may be preferred to ‘English’ or ‘Scottish’ in characterizing the
theology of the British Isles in the pre-scholastic era. These links continued
through the Reformation—Knox had ministered to English exiles in Frankfurt
and Geneva, and of course it was the English Bible that was adopted in Scotland.
Further influences can be discerned during the era of the Puritans, the Enlight-
enment, and the Oxford Movement which had a significant impact upon Scottish
Episcopalianism.
By the 1830s, a majority of Scots were already worshipping outside the
established church (Brown 1987: 61). Much of this plurality both reflected and
generated divisions not only within the Presbyterian church, but amongst
Episcopalians, Roman Catholics, and a variety of evangelical groups. Each of
these manifested different theological tendencies and social contexts which
require some consideration. Other voices on the margins of the Church and
in alternative spiritualities have not received adequate scholarly attention but we
seek to register their presence in some of these essays.
The extent to which theology has shaped Scottish society, contributing to its
ethos, mind-set, and overseas export, is considered by several contributors. Tom
Devine has written of the ‘parish state’ that emerged in the eighteenth century as
an enabling condition of the Scottish Enlightenment (Devine 1999: 84–102).
This may apply a fortiori to much of the nineteenth century in the work of
scientists, architects, politicians, diplomats, and scholars. Though understated
and unpretentious, a Presbyterian self-confidence seems to have manifested
itself in a commitment to education, industriousness, and social improvement.
Disseminated through para-church organizations such as the Boys’ Brigade, this
was a powerful force through Scottish society. Much of the architecture in our
towns and cities continues to attest this, albeit in markedly different social and
religious milieux. Even today, the obituary notices of those steeped in this
culture (until about the middle of the twentieth century) continue to reveal its
formative influence. The social theology of the Scottish churches reflects an
ethos largely shaped by the dominance of a Presbyterian culture, though admit-
tedly this could manifest itself in very different ways including political quietism,
a commitment to social justice, bouts of sectarianism, and a readiness, as in the
case of the wartime Baillie Commission, to commit to a programme of reform
for both church and society.
These three volumes tell the story until around 2000. As a historical project,
our work does not attempt to take the pulse of Scottish theology today or to offer
a prescription for its future. But a few comments may be in order here. Charted
by Callum Brown, the rapid dechristianization of British society since the 1960s,
puts the churches and their theologians in a different social space (Brown 2001).
With the shift from a culture of obligation to one of consumption (Davie 2015:
133–74), there is a much greater degree of plurality evident in the study of theology
  :    9

and religion. This has generated an ecumenical and multi-faith dimension in the
universities accompanied by the relative decline of the Church of Scotland as the
national church. One significant institutional indicator is the quiet disappearance
of the statutory committees comprising equal numbers of church and university
representatives to appoint professors in the Divinity Faculties. While several faith-
based theological colleges continue to survive and prosper, the universities have
increasingly combined their traditional theological pursuits with more compara-
tive and less confessional approaches to the study of religion. This has coincided
with the arrival of scholars representing other faith traditions—Mona Siddiqui is
one prominent example—whose work suggests that more comparative approaches
will prevail in the future. From this vantage point, it is surprising how little
attention was devoted to the study of other faiths by Scottish theologians, though
they were hardly egregious in this respect. Occasional attempts were made to show
that the practitioners of different faiths could be included in the economy of
salvation, but these were largely intra-Christian exercises intended to solve an
intellectual and moral puzzle. In part, this dearth of reflection may reflect the
relatively late appearance of other faith communities in Scotland—not until the
early nineteenth century is there evidence of a Jewish community in Edinburgh
(Daiches 1929). Contact with other faiths being more evident through missionary
activity, this resulted in attempts to present Christianity as the fulfilment, correc-
tion, or clarification of what could be discerned in other cultural contexts.
A fulfilment model enabled Scottish theologians to see different faiths on a similar
path, but with Christianity surpassing the others. In the process of encounter,
however, the Christian faith would develop through the enrichment offered by
other traditions ‘as a gradual process of absorption rather than an abrupt one of
confrontation’ (Stanley 2009: 246). This was the approach favoured in 1910 at the
World Missionary Conference in Edinburgh. Chaired by David S. Cairns of
Aberdeen, Commission IV attracted a good deal of attention in advocating this
model, though as Stanley notes the success of the approach was limited, particu-
larly in relation to Islam which did not seem to fit the model at all. While
missionary endeavour continued, it became more effective when Christianity
was presented as a novum rather than as the development of what was already
present (Stanley 2009: 247). Academic work that involved greater reference to the
empirical study of other religions similarly resulted in Christianity being presented
in Hegelian manner as the sublimation of other faiths or in treating the incarnation
as the high point of religious self-consciousness (Caird 1893). More focused
reflection has taken place on the empirical study of religion, partly through the
Gifford Lectureships (Hick 1989; Pannikar 2010), but this has largely been the
work of scholars from other contexts using paradigms less recognizably Hegelian.
The future is likely to involve more work in comparative mode, perhaps on a much
less ambitious scale, as theologians from different faith traditions identify prob-
lems, themes, and questions for common exploration.
10     . 

Despite the apparent secularization of Scotland where a significant majority

now self-identify as belonging to ‘no religion’, the Faculties (now Schools) of
Divinity in the ancient universities of Scotland appear to attract more students
than at any other time in their history. In part, this reflects a perennial fascination
with religion. But it is also indicative of the strength of faith communities in other
parts of the world. With staff and students increasingly recruited from other parts
of the world, Scottish theology is now much more of a net importer than an
exporter. For the future, this presents both an opportunity and a challenge. The
opportunity is in the excitement generated by a more diverse and international
body. Meanwhile, for faith communities in Scotland, the challenge is to nurture
scholars who, in altered circumstances, can continue the work of their predeces-
sors. But perhaps it was ever thus. If H. R. MacIntosh was even half-right when he
said (allegedly) that theology is created in Germany, corrupted in America, and
corrected in Scotland, then Scotland might see itself today not only as a bridge
between Europe and North America, but also to and from other global places, and
not all of these by former colonial churches and nations. Even if the status of
Scottish theology is no longer as internationally significant as it was for MacIntosh
in the early twentieth century, Scotland and its theologians can continue to play a
facilitating role. Moreover, both in its political and cross-cultural theological
endeavour and in its resolute attempt to keep biblical studies, church history,
and theology (whether historical, systematic, or practical) on the books of the
universities, Scotland is fairly unique. This may even ensure that theology will
continue to negotiate its place alongside other fields of knowledge and forms of
enquiry as a integrative project that has been consistently pursued in Scotland
since the middle ages.

Bibliography

Broadie, Alexander (2009). A History of Scottish Philosophy. Edinburgh: Edinburgh

University Press.
Brown, Callum (1987). The Social History of Religion in Scotland Since 1730. London:
Methuen.
Brown, Callum (2001). The Death of Christian Britain. London: Routledge.
Caird, Edward (1893). The Evolution of Religion, 2 vols. Glasgow: Maclehose.
Cameron, Nigel M. de S. (ed.) (1993). Dictionary of Scottish Church History and
Theology. Edinburgh: T&T Clark.
Daiches, Salis (1929). ‘The Jew in Scotland’, Records of the Scottish Church History
Society 3: 196–209.
Davidson, William L. (1925). ‘Scottish Philosophy’, in James Hastings (ed.), Encyclo-
paedia of Religion and Ethics, vol. XI. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 261–71.
  :    11

Davie, Grace (2015). Religion in Britain: A Persistent Paradox. Oxford: Wiley.

Dawson, Jane (2016). John Knox. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Devine, Tom (1999). The Scottish Nation 1700–2000. Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Drummond, Andrew L. and James Bulloch (1973). The Scottish Church 1688–1843:
The Age of the Moderates. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press.
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1843–1874. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press.
Drummond, Andrew L. and James Bulloch (1978). The Church in Late Victorian
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20th Centuries. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 303–22.
Hick, John (1989). An Interpretation of Religion. London: Macmillan.
Jessop, T. E. (1938). A Bibliography of David Hume and of Scottish Philosophy from
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McInally, Tom (2011). The Sixth Scottish University: The Scots Colleges Abroad,
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MacIntyre, Alasdair (1988). Whose Justice? Which Rationality? London: Duckworth.
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Reformation. Edinburgh: Free Church of Scotland.
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NY: Orbis.
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Torrance, Thomas F. (1996). Scottish Theology: From John Knox to John McLeod
Campbell. Edinburgh: T&T Clark.
 2
Theology in Scotland before
Scholasticism
Thomas O’Loughlin

The beginnings of most histories of theology are shrouded in fog. As a collection

of disciplines, theology’s modern practice is no more than a couple of centuries
old, though it is clearly recognizable from the twelfth century onwards: learned
works, displaying specific formats which investigate the content of Christian faith
and the problems thrown up by that faith. However, for the period before the
twelfth century, it is far more difficult to identify ‘theology’ and it is clear that one
does not encounter anything like the later formalized, academic endeavour.
Two other factors bring further confusion. Later theologians, almost down to
our own day, explicitly saw themselves as standing in the tradition of theologians
stretching back to early Christianity, most famously to Augustine of Hippo
(354–430), and so it was meaningful to use the word ‘theology’ to cover both
the modern academic practice and the very different styles of thinking and writing
found before the scholastics—and we should note that some expressions, most
notably the biblical commentary, remained remarkably similar both in form and
inspiration from the fourth to the eighteenth century. But on this criterion the
only insular writers who could be assured of the status of ‘theologian’ would be
Bede (c.673–735) and Eriugena (c.810–c.877) in that their works could be seen as
analogous to those of later academics. But to place Adomnán of Iona (c.624–704)
or the anonymous compiler of a systematic collection of canons on a par with
Jerome (c.345–420), Bede, Duns Scotus (c.1265–1308), or John Knox (c.1513–72)
seemed to be stretching that notion of ‘theologian’ as an authoritative author of
continuing significance to breaking point. For many, Adomnán might be a saint
and an ‘ecclesiastical author’ but he was not thought of as ‘a theologian’. On such a
reckoning, pre-scholastic Scotland would be a theology-free zone.
The other factor works in almost the opposite direction. Recent modern
theology has altered its self-perception of its presence both now and in the past
by seeing ‘theology’ as a way of doing: there are theologies ‘at work’ in many
writers and in practices. But that theology takes many shapes and is latent within
other artefacts; and it has to be uncovered by patient scholarship. On this
reckoning the Ruthwell Cross (probably eighth century) is not simply a significant
Christian artefact but an expression of the theological outlook of its creators—and

Thomas O’Loughlin, Theology in Scotland before Scholasticism. In: The History of Scottish
Theology Volume I: Celtic Origins to Reformed Orthodoxy. Edited by David Fergusson and
Mark W. Elliott, Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198759331.003.0002
      13

from it one can recover a theology of the Cross and a theology of redemption
(Herren and Brown 2002; Ó Carragáin 2005). Similarly, work like Adomnán’s
Vita sancti Columbae (Anderson and Anderson 1961) is not merely a record of
the founder of Iona (if it is that), nor an expression of a mythic view of holiness
divided into books of visions, wonders, and prophecies (second preface, 3b),
but manifests a theology of discipleship, an understanding of grace, and an
ecclesiology—and the modern exegete can extend that recovery by ingenuity
and diligence. If this assessment seems to ascribe too much to a work like the
Vita, one has but to think of the theological profundity of Adomnán’s other work:
the De locis sanctis. In that book, Adomnán combines a description of the Holy
Places of the biblical story which responds to our human curiosity, with an
exegetical manual that shows how geographical knowledge can be used to resolve
contradictions in the sacred texts, while also establishing that the domain of
the incarnate Logos is contiguous with the world of ordinary experience. It is little
wonder that this work was widely copied during the middle ages across Europe and
its author deemed to be an ‘illustrious’ (O’Loughlin 2007). On this reckoning
any artefact from a single inscribed grave slab to the ruins of a monastery, or from
a gloss of a few words in a biblical manuscript to lengthy martyrology can be
used as a witness to an earlier era’s theology which can then be sourced, compared
with other theologies, and tracked as to its influence. It is this perspective and
method that makes this chapter possible, but therein lies the difficulty. While this
approach’s origins can be traced to the nineteenth century in the work of William
Reeves (1815–92) on Columba (Reeves 1857; O’Loughlin 2017), he had few
successors until very recently; and it was only in the latter part of the twentieth
century that theologians began to accept that such historical investigations yielded
really significant contributions to our understanding of how Christian thought
evolved, sometimes expanding and sometimes contracting, in the past which was
owned by them as their memory. The result is that we are still in the exploratory
stage of a long, slow process. Moreover, while most investigators engage with these
religious artefacts and seek to contextualize them within the Christianity of their
place and time, it is a far smaller number that engage with them with the purpose of
seeing them as expressions of the theology of their makers or of those who
subsequently used or valued them. This chapter is, therefore, more a sketch map
for would-be explorers than a campaign map of achievements.
A second preliminary difficulty relates to what is meant by ‘Scotland’ in the
period before 1100. That there were ‘Scotti’ in the land area of present-day
Scotland for many centuries before that time is not in doubt, but when does Scottus
cease to refer to an inhabitant of Ireland and become a Scot? For our purposes it is
at some point between John Scottus Eriugena (literally: ‘born in Ériu’/Ireland)
and John Duns Scotus, the most eminent Scottish scholastic. Likewise, when does
it begin? We know that many inhabitants of the island of Britain whose self-
identification would have been as ciues Romani were Christians—Patrick (? fifth
14   ’ 

century) is the most famous example—and that there were Christians among
the Scotti for quite some time before 431 (Charles-Edwards 1993), and that neither
the sea nor the various walls were barriers for Christianity. The traditional answer,
founded in Bede (Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum 3, 4), is of St Ninian and
Whithorn (Candida casa) succeeded by a seventh-century missionary pincer
movement from Iona and Anglo-Saxon England which finally converted the
Picts (Colgrave and Mynors 1969: 220–5). But the reality is certainly more
complex and we get but tantalizing glimpses of what was happening. Take, for
example, the 2010 discovery of a Roman shrine for the worship of Mithras
(a Mithraeum) in East Lothian at Inveresk. The shrine had been dismantled in
antiquity, but ‘[t]he two altars had been carefully placed parallel on a west-east
alignment with their tops to the east’ lying face down (Hunter et al. 2016: 122).
Does this action of thoughtfully burying the altars—clearly the work of people who
had reverence for them—simply represent the departure of the Roman garrison
stationed there or the arrival of the new religion among them which rendered these
altars obsolete? If the latter is the case—and the care exhibited in the disposal
makes this seem probable—then we have a most interesting manifestation of a
theology. Altars dedicated to the Sun and Mithras were no longer to be tolerated
alongside their replacements: Christian altars—as Eucharistic tables were invari-
ably understood in the period. However, those who now had new altars for their
public worship still appreciated the sanctity—and probably the power (uirtus)—of
the older order and so rather than destroy them or recycle the stone, they laid them
down with respect. At the very least, it reminds us that Christianity never entered a
religious tabula rasa nor was it immune from religious insights of a community’s
memories. While an earlier generation of scholars would have viewed this as
‘syncretism’, indicative of a failure of conversion, or a ‘pagan survival’ showing
that Christianity was but veneer, the processes of Christianization were slow and
lacked the clear demarcations of later investigators trained systematically in
doctrine. Christianity embedded itself within a culture as rich in ideas as itself
and it involved reimagining that culture (and its past) as well as Christianity being
reimagined within that culture by that culture. Indeed, it is this local slant within
the larger pattern of theology in the Latin West, rather than some exotic and
unique ‘Celtic’ element, that makes the study of those theologies worthwhile, and a
contribution to the larger discipline.
Similarly where was Scotland for this chapter? We can think about this by
analogy: one problem that has dogged many of the debates about the great gospel
books relates to whether they are ‘Anglo-Saxon’ or ‘Irish’—or in the case of the
Book of Kells (Dublin, Trinity College, 58) whether it came from Iona and so from
‘Scotland’. The reality is that when definite localization is not present within an
artefact, then it is safest to describe it as ‘insular’. This is not simply a case of
academic indecision, but corresponds to the location which the creators of these
books gave to themselves as groups of people (defined by native language) situated
      15

on the islands ‘in the Ocean’ but with a common bond of faith and the use of Latin
as their common medium: ‘there are five languages in Britain . . . all devoted to
seeking out and setting forth one and the same kind of wisdom . . . namely English,
British [Welsh], Irish, Pictish, as well as the Latin languages; through the study
of the scriptures, Latin is in general use among them all’ (Bede, Historia 1, 1
(Colgrave and Mynors 1969: 17)). And in these islands people, books, skills, and
ideas moved freely from place to place: there were English monks off the coast
of Mayo and Irish monks off the coast of Northumbria. Books passed from
England to Ireland by way of Iona, and vice versa. So if we think of an insular
continuum with Kerry at its western pole and Kent as its eastern pole, then
‘Scotland’ is where the Irish blend into the Picts and the English, and where
English blend into the Picts and the Irish. It is an image of fuzzy borders that
seeks to recognize the then perceived differences while respecting both fluidity
and the sense of larger identity.

Landscape

The two most distinguishing features of Christianity in Scotland, in comparison

with Graeco-Roman or even the Frankish world, were its non-urban environment
and its reliance on a non-native language, Latin. Both were novelties for Western
Christians and were more significant than whether or not a particular place was
once on the Roman or non-Roman side of a wall. Christianity had emerged within
an urban society (Meeks 2003) and its memory was filled with references to cities:
the biblical Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Nineveh, and the sees of Alexandria and
Rome. Perhaps more significantly, it was at councils in the cities of southern Gaul
in the fifth century (Munier 1963) that a pastoral paradigm emerged that would
dominate Western practice until the Reformation (Klingshirn 1993). When these
decisions were being read in Scotland (as we know they were by Cú chuimne on
Iona in the early eighth century) they could only be given meaning by means of
drastic, if possibly unwitting, cultural translation. Conversely, they imagined the
structures specifically needed within their own societies through an imported
urban imagery. So, for example, the need for refuges (in all probability these
were monastic settlements) that could terminate feuds between families were
legislated for within their insular canonical practice as new ‘Cities of Refuge’
echoing those in Josh 20 (O’Loughlin 2005).
The focus of religion was not the town or village, but the farmstead
(Ó Carragáin and Turner 2016) and the services that the structures of the city
provided—a location for a bishop, a focus for clergy, and a place of learning and
books—had to find another expression. The place of the diocese seems to have
been replaced with the wider kinship group of the local kingdom, while the
physical centre became the monastery. In turn, the monastery was imagined as
16   ’ 

a city, not only a centre of monastic holiness but supplying the needs of the
Christians within that territory (Jenkins 2010). It is, therefore, more accurate to
see a monastery like Iona as functionally more akin to episcopal cities such Tours
or Marseilles than to a monastery which is withdrawn from the business of city
life such Monte Cassino (Benedict (c.480–c.550)) or Vivarium (Cassiodorus
(485–c.580)); while the specific features of island monasteries (such as we see in
Lérins) can be seen in the relationship of monastic settlements on the islands near
Iona to the main monastery on Iona (Mac Donald 2010).
The landscape also contained a theological value. With the apparent authority
of Matt. 13:38—‘The field is this world’—and a hermeneutic derived from
Eucherius of Lyons (d. c.450) their surroundings could be ‘decoded’ as a book of
nature revealing the work of the creator (O’Loughlin 1995a). While this practice
may have been attuned to an inherited sacral view of the landscape, it was not (as
has been suggested by some modern commentators on ‘Celtic Christianity’) an
inherent sacrality but rather a view of the creation as the parallel of the book: and
as the accounts of objects in Genesis was read physically, allegorically, and
teleologically, so could the objects themselves. The actual sacrality within the
landscape came from the fact of a well (wells, so valuable as a source of clean
water, were very frequently seen as the gift of a local holy man and under his
protection—sometimes the dedication is our only record of that saint; on other
occasions the well bears a known name and on such occasions we have evidence
of a cult’s diffusion) or a church—and the dispersed settlement pattern resulted
in very many small churches—being dedicated to a saint who, in turn, took
that church or well under his or her patronage and protection. This sense that
the saints care for the people can be seen in the responses of communities to
plagues through taking relics on circuit and using litanies to call for protection
(O’Loughlin 2000: 147–65). Bede supplies a missiological rationale for this Chris-
tening of the landscape and presented it as a novel idea (Historia ecclesiastica
1, 30), but the widespread onomastic (e.g. Kilbride = ‘St Bridget’s church’, or
Kilmarnock = ‘St Marnóg’s church’) and hagiographical evidence (e.g. Columba
being presented by Adomnán (Vita Columbae 2, 27) as offering protection at the
River Ness (Borsje 1996)) shows that it was deep rooted.
So where did they imagine themselves located within the world? Ironically,
while we have difficulty in knowing how they would have named the land around
them, we can be very precise regarding how they saw themselves globally. Based
on references reflecting their usage of maps in the works of Isidore of Seville, we
know that they saw themselves on a group of islands in the ocean off the north-
west extremity of Europe, and that one would head inland towards ‘the centre’ of
the inhabited world, past Rome, past Constantinople, until one reached Jerusalem
at ‘the centre of the nations’ (Ezek. 5:5) (Adomnán, De locis sanctis 1, 11 (Meehan
1958: 11)). While they were explicitly conscious of their own position on the fines
terrae, this was not equivalent to a sense of peripherality. Rather, they were just
      17

another Gentile land which happened to be farther from Jerusalem, and so they
could describe their own situation in exactly the same terms as those used to
describe the churches and monasteries of the Judean or Egyptian deserts
(O’Loughlin 2007: 143–76).

Books

The arrival of Christianity is, for the most part, the marker between prehistoric
and historical evidence: literacy comes with clergy—and that literacy is primarily
in Latin. This meant that all formal prayer, study, and teaching, in any context,
presented additional difficulties. Firstly, all had to be done in a second language
which had to be mastered in addition to learning the relatively rare skills of
reading and writing; secondly, they needed to compensate for that lack of imme-
diacy they found among continentals using a language that (however complex the
relationship of its sounds to its letters (litterae)) was still their mother tongue
(‘Latin’ as a language in sounds and writing distinct from the vernaculars only
began to emerge in the ninth century); and, thirdly, they faced the challenge to
translate preaching and paraliturgical materials in the local languages while
simultaneously having to create a Christian lexicon in that language. However,
this need to work in an acquired second language also resulted in their becoming
linguistically sensitive—and diligent students of grammar—and has given to us
the earliest corpus of vernacular Christian writings (paraliturgical material, hagi-
ography, and sermons) that is found in Western Europe. This vernacular material
is, for the purposes of critical investigation, still more in the domain of linguists
than historians of theology. Latin was both the medium and the message: anyone
who could communicate in Latin was, by that fact, part of the ecumenical
conversation reaching every land and back to the Fathers, and, indeed, the
Scriptures (recall Bede’s comment quoted above); the native languages were
marked by their restrictive locality: one could not expect anyone, at any distance,
to know one’s mother tongue.
The academic agenda—and the bibliography—for theology in Scotland was set
by Cassiodorus’ Institutiones (Mynors 1937). Having mastered the means of study
(language and grammar), the focus was upon the Bible. Cassiodorus (485–585)
did not teach a method or practice for its study, but he did guide its users to where
that skill was found. Then for every part of the Bible he provided a list of ‘the
Fathers’ (a concept he did much to propagate) who had supplied the best
commentaries. The Institutiones thus became the list of desiderata for every
monastic library. In addition, from the mid-seventh century, the works of Isidore
(560–636) provided the background tools (encyclopaedic works, summaries,
teaching manuals) which filled out the exegetical scenario sketched in Augustine
and Cassiodorus, while allowing insular teachers to begin to produce works of
18   ’ 

their own in the footsteps of ‘the illustrious’. Consequently, we possess a rich

selection of biblical exegesis in Latin; and, while for some of these texts we have
known authors (Adomnán being the insular author who is later named as ‘an
illustrious’ (O’Loughlin 1995c), most are anonymous: the theologians seeing them-
selves within the corporate personality of the Christian teacher (O’Loughlin 1997).
This exegesis is often decried as repetitive and concerned, staccato fashion, with
details, but this fails to recognize the twin tasks they set themselves: to filter the
volume of patristic exegesis into its salient core, while resolving conflicts (aenig-
mata) in their authorities. These aims explain their fondness for the gloss and the
question/answer dialogue as favourite formats for their work.
Turning to the Bible itself—note that they were using the long Western canon
as sectioned by Cassiodorus (O’Loughlin 2014a) and used the word ‘apocrypha’ in
a very restricted sense (O’Loughlin 2009)—much attention has been given to the
question of their use of the Vulgate or whether a particular strand of the Vulgate
can be identified. While this is valuable to modern scholars as a diagnostic for
tracing particular links between people and books, it has proved a distraction in
the study of their biblical endeavours. There was a clear preference for the Vulgate
as the text ‘corrected’ by Jerome—perceived as the master of the three languages
(O’Loughlin 2012), but they were aware of the older version (the Vetus Latina)
and, more importantly, knew that they had to continue to interact with its
traditions even though it had been superseded (O’Loughlin 1994, 1995b). This
results in their scholarship appearing quaint to us, but this is a false judgement.
Their works reflect a larger conviction of early medieval Latin culture that the
whole content of Christian revelation, and by implication all human knowledge,
was known, and, consequently, scholarship had to digest it, arrange it, and
provide short-cuts (compendia) so that each teacher and pupil could grasp it
in its totality. And in the quest for the totality of the truth, biblical exegesis held
the eminent place and its role was to locate other knowledge within the edifice
of the creation. That biblical exegesis also belongs within this world of compen-
dia seems strange to our ears, but one of the dominant motifs in Latin theology
in the period after Augustine was that understanding the Bible could transform
into a finite task through having suitable explanatory tools. In this endeavour,
Eucherius of Lyons supplied the model manual, while Cassiodorus supplied the
bibliography.
However, while we can state the fact of this centrality of the Bible within
learning, we are on less certain ground in trying to quantify it. What have survived
from early medieval Scotland are but fragments, and often we have to make our
judgements on a couple of connected but widely scattered pieces of evidence and
interpolate what must stand between them. Thus, for instance, we find an
expository division system for the book of Revelation in an early ninth-century
manuscript from Uí Neill territory (north-east Ireland and south-west Scotland)
      19

which is only otherwise attested in one continental codex: how many other books
contained this tool, how was it diffused, or was it an insular work that spread to
the continent or vice versa (both routes are equally probable) (O’Loughlin 2015)?
Likewise, we should be on our guard for medieval romanticism stressing ‘unique’
developments or that Iona ‘for two centuries kept civilization alive’ (Clark 1982: 25):
the evidence, albeit partial, shows wide variations in understanding and attention.
Take, for example, the standard Eusebian apparatus (this is more elaborate than
the frequently shown Canon Tables because there must be room made for the
marginal notes which allow the tables to function (O’Loughlin 2010)) found in
gospel books. In the case of the Book of Durrow (Dublin, Trinity College, 57),
almost certainly from Iona, we see this presented with the utmost care and under-
standing such that it marks a new level of ‘the grammar of legibility’ (O’Loughlin
1999); but the Book of Deer (Cambridge C.U.L.: Ii.6.32) shows but its mangled
remains and a complete lack of understanding (O’Loughlin 2008). Similarly, one can
compare the exegetical work of Adomnán with that of his exact contemporary, Julian
of Toledo (c.644–90) and observe similarities of sources and agenda (O’Loughlin
1993); while noting that the notion of Iona as the sole preserver of Christian
antiquity is wide of the mark.

Christian Practice

The Bible was, of course, not primarily a scholarly object but a liturgical com-
modity: it provided lections for most liturgies, its study was a part of the monastic
endeavour (lectio diuina), its prayers, primarily the Pss., marked each ‘hour’ of
the monastic day, and as a codex (almost invariably these individually contained
only portions of the Bible) it was a ritual object. But it was the liturgy, as such,
that was the central element in their understanding of what it meant to be a
Christian: the Christian worshipped—and other praxis flowed from or prevented
that worship.
We can see this directly in the way that the liturgy was perceived to cohere with
the basic cyclical structures of the creation: the Office sanctified the day, Sunday
and its Eucharist sanctified the week, the sequence of liturgical seasons—especially
those of penitential fasting—sanctified the year, and all the while the liturgy
was perceived as mirroring and marking the agricultural year (e.g. the St Mark’s
Day rituals on 25 April), just as its festivals supplied markers to the human year
(Hennig 1962; O’Loughlin 2003). We can observe liturgy’s centrality indirectly in
the penitentials, that characteristically insular contribution to the evolution
of Western pastoral theology (Kursawa 2017). A penitential is first and foremost
a prescribing-list to be used in a liturgical situation, most of its prescriptions
(whether that be fasting or prayer) are linked to liturgical time and practice, and
20   ’ 

it has as its object the removal of barriers to the penitent’s full participation in
the liturgy.
This liturgical centrality is for most modern theologians, for whom liturgy is a
peripheral or derivative study, one of the great difficulties in assessing the theo-
logical worth of artifacts from the pre-scholastic period. To scope this liturgical
dimension we could start with the great works of art that have survived on
parchment, in metal, or on stone. Very often these are either objects used in
worship or occasions of ritual: a cross in a landscape is not merely a memorial
marker but a site of cultus. There may be a pattern of devotion linked to it—as is
virtually certain for the Ruthwell Cross (Ó Carragáin 2005)—in the same way as
there was an annual round of cultus linked to a saint’s well. One can see the
connections also in this sequence: every monastery had a sundial (several survive)
for deciding on the ‘day hours’ of the liturgy and schemes for working out
particular times during the hours of darkness. This led to practical interest in
the measuring and understanding of time, this in turn (with encouragement from
Augustine of Hippo) linked up with the study of the dating of Easter which
became a distinct branch of learning (computistics)—and it is in this light that
the disputes between rival mathematical formulae between various factions should
be seen. But the movable feasts were only a small part of the calendar: mostly it was a
sequence of saints’ feasts, and hence the need for a martyrology (read each day in
common). This had to include all the early martyrs and saints, and all the saints of
the places through which that list had passed, and onto it had to be added the local
saints. The martyrology was a liturgical book, an historical resource, and the roll of
honour for each region and family of monasteries (Ó Riain 2002): whether a saint
was waiting for resurrection in the sands of Egypt or in the nearby graveyard
hardly mattered. This need to recall the saints within that annual cycle is also the
key to hagiography: these texts were written to be read in a liturgical setting, and
their miraculous accounts have to be understood to be in a continuity with the cycles
of wonders one finds in Sam./Kgs. and in Acts. They imagined themselves living
in the final age of the creation, but there was no chasm separating them and their
experience from an earlier ‘golden age’/‘age of the saints’/‘biblical times’.
One other aspect of their liturgical practice needs comment: its lack of uni-
formity. Much energy has been expended seeking out ‘a Celtic rite’ (Warren 1881;
Stevenson 1987) or to finding fixed families of liturgical-text types (somewhat
similar to textual families in biblical studies), without taking account of either the
sparseness of our evidence and that every liturgical manuscript reflects a tradition
of local adaptations. All we should say is that our evidence forms part of the
evidence base for the early medieval Latin liturgy; we get few contemporary
comments on liturgical variation (though it is clear it existed), and most of the
comments that do exist relate to the exotic (as in Adomnán’s De locis sanctis on
the ritual in Jerusalem (O’Loughlin 2014b)), and so we should conclude that the
quest for uniformity of practice still lay long in the future.
      21

An Agenda

One significant development in theology—and the study of its history—in recent

decades has been the attention to the variety of theological genres: theology is,
and has been, pursued in many different ways by Christians—and the university
paradigm (dominant in Western Europe since the thirteenth century) is but one
form among many. This should have led by now to a much more nuanced and
detailed appreciation of Scottish theology prior to the scholastics, and that it has
not done needs comment. The major difficulty lies outside the domain of the-
ology. The evidence is still in the discovery stage or not far beyond it; the material
is linguistically difficult, requiring languages not usually part of theologians’ skill-
set, and the editions are produced with linguists rather than theologians in mind.
Moreover, the level of the survival of the evidence is probably far lower (though we
cannot quantify this) than from regions on the European mainland—we get a
glimpse of this in that much of our most important manuscript evidence survives via
mainland monastic libraries (e.g. St Gallen) than in the insular lands themselves: so
we have to work with scatted fragments and have to build up larger pictures by
scholarly interpolation. From the theological side, the material falls within the gap in
interest covering the period between the fifth and thirteenth centuries, and has been
dogged by peripheral issues such as the quest for distinctiveness: for either ‘a Celtic
Church’ or an exotic spirituality (Meek 2000). The reality is more prosaic: another set
of local variations, given a certain unity by the underlying cultures of the insular
region, within the mosaic of Latin Christianity. However, the theology produced in
early medieval Scotland remains an area where there are discoveries to be made
through diligent research, and it retains an interest not simply because it can be seen
as the precursor of later Scottish theology, but because it is a tantalizing comparator:
it is the familiar questions that relate to the patristic period on one side and the
scholastic period on the other, but between these poles it is distinctive and challen-
ging of our assumptions about the past.

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Columba. Edinburgh: Thomas Nelson and Sons.
Borsje, Jacqueline (1996). From Chaos to Enemy: Encounters with Monsters in Early
Irish Texts—An Investigation Related to the Process of Christianization and the
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Charles-Edwards, Thomas (1993). ‘Palladius, Prosper, and Leo the Great: Mission and
Primatial Authority’, in David N. Dumville (ed.), Saint Patrick, A.D.493–1993.
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Clark, Kenneth (1982). Civilisation. London: Pelican.
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Hennig, John (1962). ‘Martyrologium and kalendarium’, Studia Patristica 5: 69–82.
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Networking of the Penitentials between the Sixth and the Eighth Centuries. Turnhout:
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Mac Donald, Aidan (2010). ‘Adomnán’s Vita Columbae and the Early Churches
of Tiree’, in Jonathan M. Wooding, with Rodney Aist, Thomas Clancy, and
T. O’Laughlin (eds.), Adomnán of Iona: Theologian, Lawmaker, Peacemaker. Dublin:
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Meehan, Denis (1958). Adamnan’s De Locis Sanctis. Dublin: Dublin Institute for
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Meek, Donald E. (2000). The Quest for Celtic Christianity. Haddington: Handsel Press.
Meeks, Wayne A. (2003). The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle
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Mynors, R. A. B. (1937). Cassiodori Senatoris Institutiones. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Munier, Charles (ed.) (1963). Concilia Galliae: A. 314–A. 506. Turnhout: Brepols.
Ó Carragáin, Éamonn (2005). Ritual and the Rood: Liturgical Images and the Old English
Poems of the Dream of the Rood Tradition. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Ó Carragáin, Tomás and Sam Turner (eds.) (2016). Making Christian Landscapes in
Atlantic Europe: Conversion and Consolidation in the Early Middle Ages. Cork: Cork
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O’Loughlin, Thomas (1993). ‘Julian of Toledo’s Antikeimenon and the Development of
Latin Exegesis’, Proceeding of the Irish Biblical Association 16: 80–98.
O’Loughlin, Thomas (1994). ‘The Latin Versions of the Scriptures in Use on Iona in
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O’Loughlin, Thomas (1995a). ‘The Symbol Gives Life: Eucherius of Lyons’ Formula for
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 3
Richard of St Victor
Lydia Schumacher

Richard of St Victor (d. 1173) was a master of biblical exegesis, contemplation, and
Christian doctrine who spent his entire career at the Augustinian abbey of
St Victor, which was founded in 1113 in Paris (Bonnard 1904–7; Chatillon
1952). In scholarly circles, he has garnered scant attention by comparison to his
earlier contemporary Hugh of St Victor (d. 1141), not to mention other leading
twelfth-century monastic thinkers, such as the Cistercian Bernard of Clairvaux
(1090–1153). Although Hugh likely died well before Richard’s arrival in Paris,
Richard has often been interpreted as an inferior to Hugh, who simply followed his
master in many respects (Kirchberger 1957: 15). In particular, Richard supposedly
mimicked Hugh’s attempt to synthesize the long-standing tradition of Augustine,
while mainstreaming the work of the sixth-century Greek thinker, Pseudo-
Dionysius, whom scholars at this time believed to be a convert of St Paul and to
whom they attributed nearly apostolic authority (Dumeige 1952: 24–32; Chenu
1976). Admittedly, Hugh played a key role in forming the intellectual identity and
project of the school of St Victor, which is known for subjecting the study of
Scripture, doctrine, and indeed all sciences to the goal of achieving contemplation.
In this chapter, however, I will demonstrate that Richard was an innovative scholar
with his own significant legacy.
Most of the little that is known about the life of Richard of St Victor can be
found in the Liber antiquitatum sancti Victoris of John of Toulouse, a Victorine,
who gathered information on the history of the order between 1605 and 1659
(PL 196: 9–14). In this work, Toulouse mentions two epitaphs on Richard, dating
to the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, which refer to his Scottish origins
(Walker 1958). These origins have been debated, however, on the grounds of a
letter written jointly in 1166 with Ernisius, abbot of St Victor, in which the authors
express a special affection for the English church, ‘nature prompting’ (natura
suadente) (Chatillon 1987: 594, 628).
From Toulouse’s records, in any event, it has been deduced, albeit not with
certainty, that Richard came from Scotland to St Victor before 1155, because of its
reputation for learning and piety, and died while still relatively young. At the time,
it was common for gifted young men to be sent in early adolescence to study in
Paris—the centre for theological enquiry at the time—and in some cases, never to
see home again. Most likely, Richard shared this experience, such that his thought,
Lydia Schumacher, Richard of St Victor. In: The History of Scottish Theology Volume I: Celtic
Origins to Reformed Orthodoxy. Edited by David Fergusson and Mark W. Elliott,
Oxford University Press (2019). © Oxford University Press.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780198759331.003.0003
26  

like that of other scholars in the period, was primarily formed by the ethos and
aims of the religious order to which he committed his life, rather than his national
identity.
By contrast to Hugh, Richard eventually took up positions of leadership in
St Victor, becoming sub-prior in 1159 and prior in 1162. His forty-two works,
most of which can be found in J. P. Migne’s Patrologia Latina, vol. 196, can be
classified either as exegetical, contemplative, or doctrinal (Haren 2004). While it is
extremely difficult to date Richard’s writings with any precision, works in the first
category were probably written before 1153 and exhibit most markedly the
influence of predecessors like Hugh (Kirchberger 1957: 20). Between 1153 and
1165, Richard entered into his greatest period of productivity, composing more
contemplative works, most famously, Benjamin Minor and Benjamin Major,
which will be discussed below. The final period of Richard’s output shows a
growing interest in dogmatic theology, as evidenced by his celebrated De Trinitate,
which will also be treated in more detail below (Kirchberger 1957: 23).
Whereas Hugh of St Victor followed earlier tradition in emphasizing the
importance of a literal interpretation of Scripture as the foundation for a spiritual
or mystical interpretation thereof (which included the allegorical, tropological/
moral and anagogical/eschatological), the second and third phases of Richard’s
thought bespeak an eventual departure from this tradition in favour of an exclu-
sive emphasis on the tropological and to some extent allegorical interpretations
(Kirchberger 1957: 24, 35; Smalley 1978: 106–11). As we will see, Richard ultim-
ately styled himself as a constructive thinker; indeed, he was the first to system-
atize a theology of contemplation. In this respect, Richard can be regarded as a
transitional figure who anticipated the early thirteenth-century rise of a theology
in many ways set apart from, albeit not unrelated to, scriptural interpretation. The
following analysis of his thought will focus on his three most well-known, lengthy,
and influential works, mentioned above.

Thought
Benjamin Minor (The Twelve Patriarchs)
In his edition, J. P. Migne aptly subtitles Benjamin Minor, ‘of the preparation of
the soul for contemplation’, anticipating Benjamin Major’s treatment ‘of the grace
of contemplation’. Following the long-standing tradition established by Gregory
the Great to associate Jacob’s wives Leah and Rachel with the active and
contemplative—affective and intellectual—lives, respectively, Richard tropologi-
cally interprets the twelve sons of Jacob in terms of the way they represent various
virtues to be cultivated and vices to be overcome in the process of achieving the
state of contemplation (Butler 1966: 157–88). Whereas Leah’s sons and those
of her handmaid facilitate love’s labour towards the knowledge of God, the
     27

sons of Rachel and her handmaid help in the attainment of the highest joy of
contemplating wisdom itself (III, 55). The handmaid of Leah, Zelpha, represents
sensation, which serves the purposes of the affections; whereas the handmaid of
Rachel, Bala, stands for the imagination, which enables reason’s reflection (V, 57).
By stating this, Richard notably affirms the place that ‘ordinary’ knowledge of
the visible world holds in making possible the knowledge of the invisible things of
God (Coulter 2006). In his account, the seven offspring of Leah represent seven
virtues or ordered affections of the soul, which can also be disordered in certain
cases. These include hope and fear, joy and grief, hatred, love, and shame (VII, 60).
Leah’s first son, Reuben, represents an appropriate fear of divine punishment for
sin (VIII, 60). Her second son, Simeon, signifies the grief over sin that follows
from that fear (IX, 61). In turn, Levi stands for the hope of forgiveness from sin,
whereas Judah indicates the love or intimacy between God and the soul that
begins to develop as a result of forgiveness (X, 62).
Out of jealousy over Leah’s success in childbearing and frustration at her own
barrenness, Rachel elicited children through her handmaid. These include Dan
who pertains to the consideration of future evils, and Naphtali, who stands for
future goods. Through Dan, Richard contends, we curb our own vices, and
through Naphtali, we kindle good longings (XXII, 74). In this regard, Richard
writes that Naphtali sometimes employs translation and at other times compari-
son. The latter infers on the basis of the physical delights that spiritual ones must
be far greater. The former transfers any description of visible things to the
signification of invisible things, i.e. as light illumines our eyes so God illumines
the eyes of the heart (XX1, 73).
Following Rachel’s success, Leah herself seeks offspring by her handmaid,
through whom Gad and Asher are born. These two respectively represent the
rigour of abstinence and the vigour of patience, which teach us to be temperate
towards goods and strong in enduring evils, thus assisting Dan and Naphtali in
their work (XXV, 77). If these four succeed, then Leah’s next son is born,
representing a true joy that fosters a peace, which passes all understanding. This
son is Issachar, who is the reward for so many prior labours (XXXVI, 89). After
Issachar, Zabulon is born; he pertains to a sound and ordered hatred of the vices.
His birth order is appropriate, in Richard’s view, ‘since after tasting the sweetness
of eternal reward, the soul is marvellously strengthened against the arguments of
temptations’ (XL, 96). Finally, Leah’s daughter Dina is born, to represent a good
and ordered shame over sin that results from its hatred (XLV, 101).
While this and the other virtues mentioned are indeed virtues when properly
ordered, Richard explains how they can become vices when they are not moder-
ated by discretion (LXVI, 123). This leads him to discuss the sons of Rachel, the
first of whom is Joseph, representing discretion (LXVII, 124). ‘To the function of
Joseph pertains the care and keeping of all his brothers; to it pertains the discipline
of each one; to it the arrangement of things to be done; to it, the foresight of future
28  

things’ (LXX, 128). As we understand the grace of discretion by Joseph, so Richard

goes on to say that Benjamin represents the grace of contemplation. Both are born
from the same mother because knowledge of God must be learned by reason,
which she represents. Nevertheless, Benjamin is born much later, because the soul
must practise long in order to obtain knowledge of God (LXX1, 129).
In this connection, Richard contends that self-knowledge is key. For ‘the
rational soul discovers without doubt that it is the foremost and principal mirror
for seeing God’ (LXXII, 129). In that sense, the mirror must be wiped clean and
gazed into for a long time before the splendour of divine light can begin to shine
into it. We must know ourselves—through Joseph—before we can know the
invisible God—through Benjamin—and indeed through all the visible things
that lead us to this point. ‘The mind of its own activity can never attain to such
grace. This gift is from God; it is not a reward to man. But without doubt no
person receives such and so much grace without a mighty effort and burning
longing’ (LXXIII, 130). Thus, ‘Benjamin is born and Rachel dies because when
the human mind is carried above itself, it passes beyond all narrowness of
human reasoning . . . What is the death of Rachel except the failure of reason’
(LXXIII, 130)?
To Richard’s mind, the height of knowledge this death involves is paradigmat-
ically instanced in the transfiguration of Christ on a mountain. The three disciples
he took with him on this occasion—Peter, James, and John—represent the effort
of work, meditation, and prayer that lead us to this mountain (LXXIX, 136). The
vision of Christ glorified through a divine ‘showing’ (revelatio) is in fact the
reward for all our striving. However, there are two kinds of contemplation that
pertain to Benjamin: ‘the first is above reason but not beyond reason; the second is
both above reason and beyond reason’ (LXXXVI, 145). In the first category are
those things that seem to contradict human reason, like the unity of the Trinity
and many things concerning the body of Christ. ‘For no human reason experi-
ences that three persons are in one simple essence, or that one and the same body
is able to be in various places at one time’ (LXXXVI, 145). In the first, Benjamin
causes his mother’s death and transcends reason. In the second, he goes even
beyond himself and supersedes all human understanding in that which he comes
to know from divine showing.

Benjamin Major (The Mystical Ark)

In Benjamin Major, Richard turns from his tropological study of the Twelve
Patriarchs, which concerned the necessary preparation for contemplation, to
consider the grace of contemplation itself, through a tropological interpretation
of the Ark of Moses, which he takes to signify the grace of contemplation by which
we become holy, as God is holy (I.I, 153). According to Richard, there are six
     29

kinds of contemplation. Each pair of two in Richard’s view represents a pair of

wings—like those of the cherubim mounted on the Ark, which stand for the fullness
of knowledge—that ultimately enables the flight of contemplation (I.X, 168).
The first four types emerge from our own activity; the latter two by divine grace
alone (I.XII, 172).
The first is in the imagination according to the imagination only. In this
instance, we simply know visible things and wonder at their creator. The second
is in the imagination according to reason and allows us to discern the rational
principles of visible things, that is, their order, cause, and benefit. On this matter,
Richard contends, nothing prevents us from ‘borrowing the gold of knowledge
from external knowledge and secular disciplines, provided that we know how to
cleanse ourselves from all the dross of falsity or vanity and to purify ourselves in
the innermost part to a full and perfect purity such as the dignity of these works
requires’ (II.X, 188).
The third is in reason according to the imagination and allows us to speculate
about invisible things on the basis of visible things. The fourth is in reason
according to reason. Here, we achieve self-knowledge that makes us fit for
knowledge of God (III.VII, 232). At the fifth level, we know things above but
not beyond reason, such as the unity of God, while in the sixth we know things
both above and beyond reason, like the Trinity (IV.XVII, 290: unity; IV.XIX,
296: Trinity). Such matters can only be understood through a divine showing,
experienced at the height of contemplation, after which we are impressed with a
memory of the showing that helps us bring this understanding to bear in the
world (IV.XII, 278). At such a showing, we experience ecstasy or the alienation
of the soul and enter into a cloud of ignorance—caused by the fire of illuminated
understanding—that causes us to forget things known and experienced in the
world and to understand things previously unknown and experienced. ‘For at
one and the same time human understanding is illumined with respect to divine
things and darkened with respect to human things’ (IV.XXII, 302).

De Trinitate

The narrative of De Trinitate picks up where The Mystical Ark leaves off, in an
attempt to demonstrate what is taken on faith concerning the Triune nature of
God. While Richard previously pronounced such a demonstration impossible, he
seems to have acquired a new confidence in the powers of reason by this point in
his career (Kirchberger 1957: 46). Thus, Richard argues that necessary things
which we believe concerning the nature of God cannot lack not only plausible but
also necessary reasons—a notion seemingly derived from Anselm—even though
faith is needed to understand those reasons—another idea stemming from Anselm
and Augustine before him (I.IV, 75).
30  

Although the Triune nature of God had long been affirmed on the basis of
authority, Richard argues that such reasons have not yet been given. Since there
are so few arguments in the writings of the Fathers from which conclusions on this
score can be deduced, consequently, Richard states that he will have to complete
his study not according to scriptural or historical texts but simply through his
own effort and passion (III.I, 115). While he certainly draws on authorities—
nonetheless virtually never cited—it is obvious from this statement that Richard
truly sees himself as building a rationale for orthodox belief from the ground up:
as a thinker working independently though not outside of tradition. Such an
attitude was still rather exceptional at the time—though it soon became the
norm in the universities that sprang up in the early thirteenth century.
Richard’s treatise consists of six books, the argument of which will be outlined
below. The focus of the first book is on providing evidence for faith’s assertion that
there is only one God (I.V, 76). To demonstrate this, Richard follows John Scotus
Eriugena—whose translations of certain Greek Fathers, particularly Dionysius,
Richard likely knew well—in postulating three possible modes of being, namely,
from eternity and deriving its existence from itself; neither from eternity nor from
itself; or from eternity but not from itself (Divisione I.1, 441b; cf. Spinelli 1990: 56).
Echoing Eriugena, he notes that a fourth possibility—the opposite of this last
one—is impossible, because there cannot be any being that is not from eternity but
is from itself, otherwise there would have been a time when nothing existed that
could have given rise to the existence of other things (I.VIII, 79).
On this basis, Richard concludes that a supreme being, both eternal and from
itself, necessarily exists. Seemingly invoking Anselm’s famous argument from the
Proslogion, he states that, ‘we define as supreme over all things that of which
nothing is greater, nothing is better. Without a doubt, the rational nature is better
than the reasonless nature. It is indispensable then that a rational substance be
supreme over everything’ (I.XI, 81). On Richard’s account, two such non-identical
beings cannot exist, otherwise one would have to be superior to the other and
could not be the most powerful (I.XIV, 83).
The second book focuses on the attributes of God. Here, Richard emphasizes the
infinity of God—the fact that he has no beginning or end, and is uncreated, as the
maximal being that gives rise to all other beings (II.II, 93: everlasting; II.I, 92:
uncreated). Since he is infinite in terms of his eternity, Richard argues that he is
also infinite in terms of his greatness (II.V, 95). That is to say, he is immense—
there is no measure to his goodness, which cannot be comprehended. As such a
being, God is immutable: he cannot deteriorate or improve, since his greatness is
unsurpassable (II.III, 93). Once again, there can only be one immense being,
otherwise there would be multiple beings that cannot be comprehended by
others, such that each would be superior to the others, which entails a contradic-
tion (II.VI, 95). Such a supreme being cannot lack any desirable attributes; his
definition is to be all that is good (II.XVI, 104). In that sense, Richard follows a
     31

long-standing tradition, upheld by Anselm, which posits a unity of God’s essence

and his attributes (II.XVIII, 105). According to this tradition, God is or is the
definition of the properties he has—he has them in their fullness—whereas crea-
tures simply have those properties in limited or qualified ways. God is whatever it is
best to be: the Supreme Being. As such, he is one thing, and simple, not subject to
the complex components or alterations that characterize his creatures (II.XX, 107).
After treating de deo uno, Richard moves on—seemingly after the pattern of
Augustine—to cover de deo trino in the third book of his treatise. On the basis of
the previous argument that God is the Supreme Being, Richard proceeds to argue
that he must be a God of Love. After all, a being that withheld the good it had from
another, or withheld love, could not be considered truly good. Since love is
necessarily aimed at another, there must be at least two persons in God (III.II,
116). In order to achieve perfection, however, the love of these divine persons
must be equal in terms of its quality, intensity, and direction. Thus, Richard
concludes that the first two persons must share a qualitatively and quantitatively
identical love for a third person, who is the full expression of their love.
This love is what Richard calls condilectio, or ‘co-love’, which arises ‘when a
third person is loved by the two in harmony’ (III.XIX, 132). On Richard’s
argument, such love cannot exist when two persons merely exhibit a reciprocal
desire for one another, represented by a third—as in the traditional Western
doctrine of the Trinity advocated by Augustine—because love in this case is
variously directed and requires a return for its fulfilment. Whereas Augustine
seemingly took the psychological or interpersonal model of self-love as the
foundation for his understanding of the Trinity, consequently, Richard proposes
a social model that seems analogous to the relationship of two parents to a child—
although he rightly forswears all attempts to compare the relations amongst the
members of the Trinity with human relations.
In book four, Richard proceeds to enquire into the nature of divine personhood
and how it can be reconciled with a single divine substance (IV.IV, 145). To
illustrate the relationship between substance and person, he asks his readers to
imagine they see something from afar. In this case, he argues, we would ask, ‘what
is that?’ On coming closer, however, and seeing that the something is a person, we
would then ask, ‘who is that?’ In other words, we would ask about an individual
rather than a common property. Thus, Richard concludes that a substance is a
property that is common to all things of a kind—a ‘something’ or a ‘what’, as it were.
However, a person in his view implies ‘someone’, a ‘who’, and thus an individual
who is unique from all others by an incommunicable property (IV.VII, 147).
Although Richard assents that all persons are substances of a rational nature,
and share rationality as a common property, he denies that this has any bearing
when it comes to determining a person’s proper nature or reality (IV.VIII, 148).
On his account, this nature is defined in terms of a person’s existence, which is
individual, rather than the essence or substance that is shared in common with
32  

other persons. By definition, then, multiple persons do not imply multiple

substances. Correspondingly, there is no contradiction between the single sub-
stance and three persons in God (IV.IX, 149). For just as the plurality of substances
in the human being—for example, body and soul, mortality and immortality,
visibility and invisibility—do not destroy the unity of the person, so the plurality
of persons does not destroy the unified substance of God (IV.X, 149–50).
To explain why this is so Richard elaborates on what he means by personal
existence. On his account, this is defined with reference to one’s nature and origin,
which can vary either individually or at the same time (IV.XII, 151). For instance,
human beings differ both in terms of their individual natures and their origins,
which consist in different reproductive acts. By contrast, there is no difference of
nature amongst the divine persons. ‘Since they possess an entirely single, identical
and supremely simple being, it is not possible for them to differ from one another
according to any qualitative distinction’ (IV.XV, 154). On this basis, Richard
contends that the difference between the divine persons is entirely a question of
their diverse origins.
Whereas their common substance upholds certain common properties—such
as wisdom, power, and love—their diverse origins underline what Richard calls
their respective incommunicable properties, which the Greeks described in terms
of ‘subsistence’ (hypostasis). For example, the Father is unoriginate, while the Son
originates or proceeds from him (IV.XVI, 156). On this basis, he concludes that ‘a
divine person is an incommunicable existence of the divine nature’ (IV.XXII, 163).
In book five, Richard turns to consider more carefully the properties of the
individual divine persons, in particular, their origins. On his account, the first
person is characterized primarily by the fact that he is the initial source of divine
love; the second proceeds immediately from the first. In turn, he passes on the love
he receives from the first to the third, who thus stands in a mediated relation to the
second and an immediate relation to the first.
In affirming this, Richard reinforces the Latin belief in the filioque, namely, that
the Spirit proceeds from both the Father and the Son. At the same time, however,
he departs from the Western tradition in favour of the Greek tendency to define
the divine persons in terms of their origins rather than relations. In closing his
discussion with a renewed emphasis on God as love, Richard posits that the first
person is marked by a purely gratuitous or self-giving love; the second both gives
and receives love; and the third is simply the object and reflection of divine love.

Innovations

In the discussion above, I have mentioned various points of connection between

Richard’s thought and that of Augustine (OGHRA), Anselm (Gilson 1952: 306),
Eriugena, and Dionysius (Kirchberger 1957: 47–56). While Richard is certainly
     33

indebted in different ways to a range of sources, my objective in this context will

be to highlight some key ways in which he worked in a highly innovative and
independent-minded fashion. In the two Benjamins, among other exegetical
works, for instance, Richard departs from Hugh and preceding tradition by largely
dispensing with the need to establish a literal, historical reading of Scripture as the
basis for the tropological interpretation. In this regard, he anticipated the theo-
logical method that eventually developed in the early thirteenth-century univer-
sities, which broke from the long-standing tradition of merely glossing Scripture
and the Fathers in favour of deploying them to creative and original ends.
Another remarkable feature of Richard’s Benjamins concerns his insistence that
the senses, imagination, and all forms of ordinary knowledge, including the
sciences and philosophy, can help achieve contemplation. Particularly noteworthy
is the fact that Richard makes this claim before the works of Aristotle had become
available in sound Latin translations and made it fashionable to speak of sense
knowledge. Admittedly, Hugh had advanced a similar view to Richard in his
Didascalicon, thus departing in a typically Victorine way from a long-standing
tradition according to which all forms of knowledge are inferior to that of God
(Kirchberger 1957: 38). Still, Richard was the first to illustrate extensively the role
each form of ordinary knowing plays in facilitating the contemplation of God
himself.
In doing so, Richard rather than any other Victorine merited the credit for
systematizing a theology of contemplation. Previously, the likes of Augustine and
Gregory the Great had described contemplation primarily in terms of individual
experience (Kirchberger 1957: 37). There was by and large no pedagogical text
available with instructions on how to achieve it. Richard offers the first such major
text, inaugurating a new strand of mystical theology that continued to develop in
the later middle ages, as we will see below. For this reason, Bonaventure described
him as a modern master of contemplation, equalling Dionysius (De reductio
atrium ad theologiam 5), while Dante hailed him, ‘in contemplation more than
human’ (Paradiso 11: 132).
Another remarkable feat is accomplished in Richard’s account of the Trinity.
As Théodore de Régnon has demonstrated in his landmark study of this doctrine,
Richard stands at the head of a new line of Latin Trinitarian thinking (de Régnon
1892–8). On the one hand, this tradition is distinctly Western insofar as it affirms
the filioque or the procession of the Spirit from the Son as well as the Father.
Nevertheless, it is clearly influenced by Greek thought when it comes to defining
persons in terms of origins and situating them within a social model. In these
respects, Richard clearly broke with the Western tradition which stemmed from
Augustine and was perpetuated over the course of the middle ages by the likes of
Anselm, Peter Lombard, and Thomas Aquinas.
Though he combined aspects of both the Latin and Greek traditions, Richard’s
doctrine is ultimately exactly what he originally proclaimed it to be, namely,
34  

an invention of his own that stands independently of any conclusions that can be
deduced from the Church Fathers or from Scripture. There is virtually no prece-
dent in the Christian tradition for his account, which remains one of the most
creative and sophisticated in the history of Trinitarian theology. As we will
discover below, Richard’s account had a profound influence on later medieval
Franciscans and has even been invoked more recently by Greek-leaning ‘social
Trinitarians’.
Yet there are other novelties to be found in Richard’s treatise on the Trinity.
One concerns his conception of a divine person as an ‘incommunicable existence
of a rational nature’. By defining personhood along these lines, Richard rejected a
long-standing definition delineated by Boethius, at least in its application to the
Trinity, which in his view obscured the irreducible individuality of persons by
casting them as mere instances of a universal substance. In placing a new emphasis
on the individual, to say nothing of personal experience, self-knowledge, and
interior awareness, Richard anticipated trends that would soon gain a great deal
of traction in later medieval and even modern thought.
In Richard’s work, however, this emphasis did not yet give rise to ‘individual-
ism’ strictly speaking. After all, Richard emphasized equally strongly not only the
‘communitarian’ nature of divine love but also the responsibility—stressed sig-
nificantly in the Victorine tradition—of human beings to care for and teach one
another as equals, rather than to relate to God in relative independence from one
another (Bynum 1973). Richard makes another significant departure from the
preceding Latin tradition—represented by the likes of Augustine, Anselm, Lom-
bard, and later Aquinas—in defining the general nature of God first and foremost
in terms of his infinity or immensity, rather than his simplicity. This represents a
radical shift in the history of the Western doctrine of God that would have
significant further ramifications. In the section below, Richard’s influence on
subsequent thinkers will be explored in greater detail.

Influence

The influence of Richard of St Victor upon later thinkers can be identified at a

number of levels. As already noted, his contemplative scheme exerted a significant
influence on subsequent contemplative literature. His six-level contemplative
scheme was appropriated by the early thirteenth-century Victorine, Thomas
Gallus, who in turn influenced Bonaventure and the author of an anonymous
fourteenth-century English text, The Cloud of Unknowing (Kirchberger 1957:
59–74; Coolman 2017). Although Richard had described contemplation as a
deeply intellectual affair, Gallus rendered affective union with God the height of
contemplation. Bonaventure followed suit in his Itinerarium mentis in Deum,
adding to Richard’s six levels a seventh entailing ecstatic union with divine love
     35

(Andres 1921). The influence of Richard’s scheme can also be detected on famous
late medieval mystics such as Meister Eckhart, Theresa of Avila, and John of the
Cross, among numerous others (Constable 1971).
As noted already, members of the Franciscan intellectual tradition that was
founded in the thirteenth century became some of the foremost advocates of
Richard’s thinking on key issues. The Franciscan school of the middle ages has
long been known for its theological and philosophical innovations and for its
influence not only on further medieval thought but also on the development of
the modern tradition. What is not often recognized is that some of the school’s
most significant innovations are derived precisely from Richard. The influence
of this Victorine is markedly detectable in at least three areas already mentioned:
the doctrine of God as Infinite Being, ideas of personhood, and Trinitarian
theology.
The Franciscan shift from an emphasis on God’s simplicity to his infinity
represents a profoundly significant historical-doctrinal development that
occurred largely at the impetus of Richard’s writings (Schumacher 2017).
There are those who argue that it had the effect in modernity of construing
God as an ‘ultimate being’ of the kind we can know, rather than a being that is
wholly other to our experience. In short, it domesticated God, who was after-
wards conceived as subject to human analysis and comprehension (Pickstock
2005). Such claims regarding the implications of the doctrine of divine infinity
are highly contentious, however. While this doctrine may have been adapted in
modernity in the ways described, it served in its own time to establish the
comprehensive scope of God’s reach into a world that was growing as a source
of fascination for late medieval thinkers, while maintaining the utter transcend-
ence of God.
A further result of adopting the doctrine of God as Infinite Being was a new
emphasis—latent in Richard but extrapolated by the Franciscans—on the indi-
viduality of finite beings. As Infinite Being, God contains the models for such
beings and knows them in terms of their uniqueness, not merely in terms of the
species to which they belong. The resources needed to develop this heightened
emphasis on individuality were found again in Richard’s work and specifically his
new understanding of personhood. Yet it is Richard’s work on the Trinity that
ultimately left the most pronounced mark on Franciscan thinkers, who adopted
his doctrine almost wholesale.
Although some modern social Trinitarians have picked up on the Franciscan
version of Richard’s doctrine, a number have turned directly to Richard himself,
including Hans Urs von Balthasar (1988: 274), Scottish theologian T. F. Torrance
(1966), and Colin Gunton (2003: 42–55), whose theory draws on the notion of
personhood in community developed by Scottish theologian John Macmurray
(1961). Rightly, such noteworthy theologians have found in Richard a ‘middle
way’ between Augustine’s emphasis on the unity of God, achieved through his
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C 24
16 July
4429 Hill D S, (negro)
C 31
15 Aug
7238 Heddington W
F 29
15 Aug
7405 Horsham J R
G 31
13 Sept
8004 Halley J
B 6
19 Sept
9104 Hook H
F 18
14 Sept
9155 Heir J
A 18
12 Sept
9665 Hildreth Jas
- 24
12 Sept
9918 Haney J
C 28
13 Sept
10054 Hasler C 64
M 30
Oct
10439 Hirchfield G Mar - -
7
15 Oct
10857 Harman J
E 14
2 Oct
11136 Hamilton S SS
D 19
12369 Hill M A 2 Jan 65
G 1
35 Feb
12601 Hoit E, (negro)
H 6
15 Oct
10322 Hamman W H 64
F 3
15 Aug
5532 Imhoff I
E 13
14 Sept
7647 Ireland Geo
E 3
4 Oct
10472 Ireson I Cav
A 11
2 Sept
8125 Johnson P Bat
- 8
1 Sept
8366 Jones W Art
K 10
1 Oct
10319 Jones C B Cav
H 3
18 Nov
11923 Jerald W H, S’t
F 8
1 Apr
495 Kingeny J
K 12
16 May
912 Kelly Jno
C 5
15 June
1662 Kain P F, S’t
A 6
2 July
3256 Kenley D
F 13
18 July
3341 Kerkney F
F 15
15 July
3685 Kilbride J
F 21
4245 Kane Wm 18 July
 H 29
July
4266 Kalkrath C 3 I
29
4 July
4271 Kelly D
H 29
15 Aug
4694 Kester J
F 4
4 Aug
5640 Kay Robert
F 14
Aug
5643 Kelly J Mar - -
14
19 Aug
6271 Kochel J, Cor
G 20
Aug
6577 Kelly Wm 9 I
23
7 Aug
6764 King I
K 25
1 Sept
7465 Kinney G W Bat
D 1
1 Sept
8261 Klinty H Art
K 9
14 Sept
8490 Kricks F
C 11
16 Sept
8527 Kripp J
D 12
11 Sept
9082 Knapp C
A 18
15 Oct
11268 Kain Pat
A 21
2 Nov
11767 Kelly J S
D 3
12 Nov
11949 Kennedy J
A 10
12205 Kahl Chas Art 2 Dec
M 1
2 Jan
12532 Kemp J W 65
K 27
6 Mar
55 Love Wm, S’t 64
F 17
16 June
2282 Larreby G
D 20
19 July
2774 Little J
E 21
16 July
3999 Lackey J
B 26
10 Aug
4453 Langstaff R
F 1
4 Aug
5711 Lake Horace Cav
K 15
18 Aug
5891 Lynch B
E 16
12 Aug
6116 Lattin E
A 19
11 Aug
6300 Lawrence C
E 20
Aug
6352 Lyons E Sig - -
21
19 Aug
6561 Little R
F 23
14 Sept
9732 Larqdell Wm, S’t
A 25
4 Oct
10317 Louby O Cav
H 3
Lockwood H, 8 Oct
10379
(neg) D 5
11038 Lyons R Cav 1 Oct
 E 17
18 Oct
11543 Lyman O S
A 27
8 Nov
11973 Lewis Wm P
B 12
6 Mar
180 McCoy Augustus
M 26
6 Mar
267 McClellan J Cav
D 31
12 May
828 Mason C H
I 1
12 May
948 Murphy D
B 8
13 May
1012 McEvers T L
C 10
3 May
1043 McGuire J
C 12
May
1332 Murray Thos Art 1 I
24
May
1471 Mulhall Peter, S’t Mar - -
30
12 June
1823 Marze Jas
D 10
2 June
1946 McLaughlin J
H 14
June
1965 McConaghy P Mar - -
14
6 June
2444 Meadow Jno Cav 64
E 25
June
3054 Muller J Mar - -
30
6 July
2920 Miller C H Cav
E 5
3054 McKinney J Mar - - July
9
19 July
3083 Maloney B
B 9
14 July
3950 Merkill Peter
H 25
11 Aug
4712 Murch Wm
C 4
18 Aug
4823 McClintock J S
H 5
Aug
4863 Martin M Mar - -
6
1 Aug
5303 Martin J Cav
K 11
12 Aug
5364 McCann B
B 11
1 Aug
5456 Michols R Cav
K 12
17 Aug
5581 McLean P
C 14
1 Aug
5769 McCoslin Robt Art
B 15
4 Aug
6073 McDonald Cav
E 18
11 Aug
6081 McClair R
G 18
12 Aug
6313 Munson C
D 20
4 Aug
6407 Mulhern C Cav
C 22
15 Aug
6515 Mantle J M, Cor
F 22
6851 Marston B SS 51 Aug
 G 25
Aug
6973 McKinley E W Mar - -
27
12 Aug
7341 McGuire J
D 30
18 Sept
8293 Munn W
H 9
4 Sept
8473 McGinnis A Art
E 11
13 Sept
9110 Montgomery C
G 18
Sept
9231 McCoy J M, S’t Mar - -
19
2 Sept
9368 Miller H Art
- 20
18 Sept
9472 Morris G J
I 21
18 Sept
9830 McDermott H
E 26
15 Oct
10135 Manning J
A 1
4 Oct
10321 McCoy J
F 3
15 Oct
10457 Mills A
G 7
14 Oct
10554 McCord G
E 9
2 Oct
10855 McGee P, Cor
- 13
17 Oct
11008 Murray Jas
G 16
Nov
12148 Mizner W Sig -K
24
12151 Moran J 4 Nov
F 24
12 Aug
7341 McGuire J
D 31
17 Dec
12364 McGorren J
C 31
4 July
2876 Northrup H E
H 3
18 Aug
6803 Newcombe Jno
G 20
12 Aug
6954 Nichols H, Cor
A 26
15 Oct
10240 North Jacob
A 3
6 Jan
12386 Neise J 65
F 2
1 Apr
12833 Naff ——, Bugler Art
B 16
18 Mch
12790 Newel L
G 17
O’Reilly 3 June
2368 64
Theodore, S’t K 23
10 Aug
7036 Ott Jno
A 27
Nov
11846 Osrans J Cav 4 I
5
Apr
492 Partridge J W Sig - -
12
18 June
1607 Pace J F
C 4
1 June
1893 Pulliam Wm Cav
- 13
3219 Pigot J Mar - - July
 12
July
3669 Ponter —— Art 1 I
18
40 Aug
4631 Pearson S C
C 3
1 Aug
5309 Pratt C E Art
M 11
5 Aug
5729 Pike Wm, Cor Cav
G 15
19 Aug
5731 Poulton Henry
A 15
18 Aug
6392 Page J E
B 21
14 Aug
7008 Phillips C
D 27
19 Aug
7267 Pruet Jas M
A 30
2 Aug
7311 Plummer G SS
D 30
June
2611 Preston Jno Mar - -
28
3 Sept
7752 Pratt J
B 3
1 Sept
9571 Post A Art
F 23
15 Oct
10951 Palmer Wm E
F 14
11 Oct
11170 Pattit J S
F 19
15 Nov
12142 Puck C 64
G 24
18 July
4022 Quinback J
G 26
 11 Ross —— 19 Mch
A 5
14 Mch
194 Rooney Mark
F 27
13 April
404 Reardon D
G 6
April
702 Reynolds Edwd Mar - -
23
18 July
3355 Roney F J
E 15
5 July
3820 Ritzer Geo A Cav
H 23
6 July
4276 Robison W R “
H 30
18 Aug
4957 Rhodes A
B 7
2 Aug
5210 Rinkle Geo Cav
G 10
10 Aug
5934 Ronke J
D 17
2 Aug
7151 Richards Theo Cav
D 29
18 Sept
8438 Rogers Wm
G 14
4 Sept
9268 Reynolds D Cav
C 19
3 Oct
10792 Reilly J
B 2
16 June
2701 Rawson J
K 30
2 April
363 Striff Jno
F 2
1236 Shelton C 8 May
 F 20
3 May
1253 Spaulding Wm Cav
B 21
5 May
1295 Scripter C E “
D 23
19 June
1647 Sweitzer M
H 5
15 June
1714 Smith H W
C 7
16 June
2073 Stoltz ——, S’t
C 17
16 June
2082 Smith Jas
D 17
13 June
2298 Styles J N
A 22
19 June
2550 Sumser J
G 27
13 July
3110 Spaulding Jas
B 10
13 July
3114 Skinner L
C 10
Smartkash C, 15 July
3838
Cor C 23
4 July
3978 Somers P Cav
C 26
1 July
4238 Seybert J S, Cor SS
H 29
4 July
4310 Smith Allen
H 30
18 Aug
4666 Striper M
D 4
16 Aug
5022 Sutgee F
C 8
5305 Sorg A Art 1 Aug
M 11
4 Aug
5393 Swagger H Cav
D 12
4 Aug
5801 Sisson J
D 15
15 Aug
6620 Slaughterback B
H 23
16 Aug
6833 Sutgen F
C 25
14 Aug
7377 Smith F
E 31
2 Sept
7606 Starr Darius, S’t SS
F 2
11 Sept
7874 Snider J
B 5
2 Sept
8839 Scott Jas H Cav
B 15
Sept
9215 Stansbury E Mar - -
19
15 Sept
9514 Souls J H
F 22
11 Oct
10214 Sullivan T
C 2
15 Oct
11144 Schroder F
C 19
8 Oct
11301 Smith J
D 22
14 Oct
11333 Stanton R
K 23
2 Oct
11664 Spencer J H
D 30
11690 Shortman J 14 Oct
 E 31
16 Nov
12186 Streeter J
B 28
Dec
12211 Stanton C 2 I
2
13 Mch
92 Tooley Michael
G 21
17 April
489 Taylor Amos
H 12
18 June
2603 Thompson Wm
G 28
5 June
2662 Truman J Cav
D 29
14 July
3466 Tyson E S
B 17
Tredridge A, 13 Aug
4716
Musician - 4
18 Aug
7366 Taylor M D
E 31
18 Sept
7801 Turk H
H 4
1 Sept
8258 Thomas J Cav
D 9
6 Sept
8259 Trainer M
F 9
8 Sept
8279 Thomas L, negro
D 9
18 Sept
9115 Taylor E, Cor
I 18
11 Oct
11393 Topper J
B 24
1 Sept
7829 Unmuch C Art 64
K 4
3657 Volmore J 3 July
K 18
16 Aug
7042 Vancotten Wm
D 27
1 Aug
7135 Vickery Wm
H 28
16 Nov
12041 Van Buren W H
B 16
6 May
1259 Walker Wm
D 21
5 May
1299 Worster Chas B C
- 23
1 July
2752 White Thos
D 1
18 July
4023 Williams D
D 26
16 July
4248 Warner S
E 20
4 July
4306 Williams Jno
D 30
10 Aug
5425 Walmor ——
D 12
16 Aug
6125 Wickham G H
B 19
15 Aug
6637 Wills S
E 23
12 Aug
7048 Wright C S
C 27
12 Aug
7109 Wadsworth B H
C 28
2 Aug
7254 Warner H
D 30
9105 Whitney J W, Cor Cav 4 Sept
 K 18
8 Sept
9131 White Samuel
F 18
Walker Jno, 8 Sept
9677
negro F 24
17 Sept
9854 Walter I
B 27
17 Oct
10355 Wigley E
C 5
8 Oct
10374 Waters ——, S’t
C 5
1 Oct
10756 Waldo J M Art
K 12
1 Oct
11137 Williams C Art
K 19
2 Oct
11395 Wizmaker G
M 24
15 Nov
12009 Wilson C W
A 14
6 Nov
12027 Wise G B
F 15
18 Aug
6496 Yarger A
- 22
1 Aug
7101 Young Robt Cav
K 28
2 Oct
10754 Young F B Art
M 12
19 Oct
11373 Young J C
A 23
17 Sept
7793 Zimmerman J
D 4
10 Oct
10423 Zing P, S’t
C 6
10450 Zimmerman M 14 Oct
I 7
Total 399.
 UNITED STATES NAVY.
June
2619 Atkinson A, Nepsia 64
27
4698 Anker Geo, Norman Aug 4
Anderson C, Southfield Sept
8071
7
2919 Bradley Jno, “ July 3
3475 Broderick W July 17
5072 Bowers W H, W Witch Aug 8
12047 Boucher W, Shawsheen Nov 16
June
1914 Carnes Wm
18
June
2149 Conant G S, Southfield
18
June
2580 Carter W J, Montg’y
27
6201 Collins Thos, Southfield Aug 10
7144 Corbet E Aug 29
Sept
7508 Connor J
1
Sept
9544 Culbert J
23
164 Dillingham J N, Housa’c Mar 26
6437 Duffney J Aug 22
3086 Ellis J H, Columbine July 9
4134 Evans Jno, Shawsheen July 28
4462 Earl J H, Paym’r Stew’d Aug 1
5419 Foley Dan’l, Southfield Aug 12
4605 Green G C, Southfield Aug 3
8871 Goundy Thos Sept
15
1087 Heald W, Canandaigua Apr 14
1469 Hunter Jno, Seaman May 30
June
2215 Hilton Jno, Johana
20
3448 Hodges L, Norman July 17
3793 Hughes Benj, Wabash July 22
5875 Heald H H, Merchantm’n Aug 16
Sept
9284 Holas Thos, W’r Witch 64
19
1432 Jones Wm, Underwriter May 28
June
2178 Jones Theo, “
19
June
2206 Journeay Jno, Fireman
19
6417 Jackson J, Shawsheen Aug 22
Sept
8291 Johnson G P
9
Sept
8858 James F A
15
Sept
9392 Johnson M
20
10218 Joseph F Oct 2
602 Keefe Jno, Housatonic Apr 18
698 Kultz A T, Ward Apr 23
June
1546 Kelley Jas, Underwriter
1
3850 Kinney J, Water Witch July 24
7375 Lodi Jno Aug 31
2813 Lindersmith E, Montg’y July 3
4201 Lawton Jas, Ladona July 30