Part 2

Such is the account given by the Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenetos, and confirmed by that of Theophanes, Zonaras, and others. As to the fable of the ancient Colossus between whose gigantic limbs ships in full sail were believed to have passed, we are disposed to think that it originated at the time of the Crusades, when the inhabitants of Rhodes must have amused themselves by relating to the new-comers all sorts of incredible stories of their past grandeur.

We can refer those who may still be anxious for further details on the Colossus of Rhodes, to a treatise on the subject by Carl Ferdinand Lüders, in which the fiction of the extended limbs is completely disposed of; but this treatise contains such an array of learned accessories, _more germanico_, that few will probably have the patience to read it through.

BELISARIUS.

A. D. 565.

The imagination of poets, painters, and sculptors, backed by one of _Marmontel’s_ novels, has helped to make of an apocryphal tradition a matter of history which has been believed in by the many, who are ever open-mouthed to receive the marvellous upon trust.

This tradition relates to the general Belisarius, the conqueror of the Vandals, who, after having been falsely accused of treason, is said to have been deprived of his sight by the Emperor Justinian, and to have been reduced to such a state of poverty that he was compelled to beg his bread in the streets of Constantinople.

No contemporary historian mentions these circumstances; but they have been repeated age after age without examination, and several learned men of repute, such as Volaterranus, Pontanus, &c., have helped to propagate the error in the literary world.

In the 16th century it was so unquestionably accepted by the Italians, that they gave the name of _Belisarius begging_ to a beautiful ancient statue then in the Borghese museum, which Winckelmann, in his _Histoire de l’Art_, has proved to be no other than a statue of Augustus propitiating Nemesis.

Between the years 1637 and 1681, this fable was made the subject of several tragedies. In the following century Marmontel composed and published his romance of Belisarius, the conception of which arose from an engraving that came into his possession. In his Memoirs he himself thus explains the circumstance:

“I had received a present of an engraving of Belisarius taken from the fine picture of him by Van Dyck. My eyes were continually attracted to the face, and I was seized with an irresistible desire to treat this interesting subject in prose; and as soon as the idea took possession of me, the pains in my chest and lungs seemed to leave me as if by magic. The pleasure of composing my story, the care I took in arranging and developing it, occupied my mind so entirely, that I was drawn away from all thoughts of self.”

The novel was so successful that it was translated into almost every language of Europe, and three successive editions appeared. But the really ludicrous part of the story is, that in the preface to the edition of 1787, the author declares that he has followed from first to last the account given by Procopius, while in fact the details presented by this contemporary of Belisarius in the five first chapters of his _Secret History_ are diametrically opposed to the picture drawn by Marmontel.

Thus then the fiction of blind Belisarius begging was quickly propagated, and was helped on by the artist David, who painted in 1781 his celebrated picture of the general. Again, in the reign of Napoleon I., M. Jouy wrote a tragedy on this subject, but he only obtained permission to bring it out in 1825, and thanks to the immense talent of Talma it was very well received. M. Jouy, in his preface, showed his ignorance as an historian by saying, “I have kept faithfully to the facts, details, and characters authorised by history.”

Lastly, this error appears in modern times in a Turkish tradition, and is noticed by Feller in his _Universal Biography_. “There is shown to this day,” says he, “a prison in Constantinople called the _Tower of Belisarius_. It stands on the borders of the sea, on the road from the castle of the seven towers to the seraglio. The common people say that the prisoners let down a small bag at the end of a string to solicit alms from the passers-by, saying: “_Date obolum Belisario quem Fortuna evexit, Invidia oculis privavit_.”

After having traced as briefly as possible the origin of this fable, we will dwell for a moment on the manner in which the best and most learned critics have treated it.

The hackneyed story of Belisarius, blind and begging, was unknown to all contemporary authors without exception. Not one can be quoted as having mentioned so remarkable a circumstance. From the 6th to the 12th century, no writer who speaks of this great general ever alludes to his blindness or to his poverty.

The French historian Le Beau, in his “_Histoire du bas Empire_,” says: “The fall of Belisarius gave rise to a ridiculous story which has been for 600 years repeated by poets and prose writers, but which all well-informed authors have agreed in refuting.”

The real fact, drawn from the best sources, and recorded by Gibbon, is this:

About two years after the last victory of Belisarius over the Bulgarians, the Emperor Justinian returned in bad health from a journey to Thracia. There being a rumour of his death, a conspiracy was formed in the palace, but the conspirators were detected, and on being seized were found to have daggers hidden under their garments. Two officers of the household of Belisarius were accused, and torture induced them to declare that they had acted under the secret instructions of their chief. Belisarius appeared before the council, indignant and undaunted. Nevertheless, his fidelity, which had remained unshaken for forty years, availed him nothing. The emperor condemned him without evidence; his life was spared, but his fortune was sequestrated, and from December 563 to July 564 he was guarded as a prisoner in his own palace. At length his innocence was acknowledged, and his freedom and honours were restored; but death, which might possibly have been hastened by grief and resentment, removed him from the world within a year of his liberation.

About 600 years after this event, John Tzetzes, poet and grammarian, born in Constantinople, attempted in ten bad Greek verses to draw a picture of Belisarius deprived of sight and penniless. The tale was imported into Italy with the manuscripts of Greece, and before the close of the 15th century it was taken up by more than one learned writer and universally believed.

The credulity of the multitude is such, that they still persist in ignoring the refutation of Samuel Schelling (_Dissertatio historica de Belisario_, Witteb. 1665, in 4ᵗᵒ), of Th. Fr. Zeller (_Belisarius_, Tubing. 1809, in 8ᵛᵒ), of Roth (_Ueber Belisar’s Ungnade_, Bâle 1846, in 8ᵛᵒ) and many others.

In a note to Gibbon’s _History_ edited by W. Smith LL.D., we see that two theories have been started in modern times to account for the fable of the beggary of Belisarius. The first is that of Le Beau, who supposes that the general was confounded with his contemporary John of Cappadocia. This prætorian prefect of the East, whose crimes deserved a thousand deaths, was ignominiously scourged like the vilest of malefactors, clothed in rags and transported in a bark (542) to the place of his banishment at _Antinopolis_ in Upper Egypt, and this ex-consul and patrician was doomed to beg his bread in the cities which had trembled at his name.

The second supposition is that of Mr. Finlay (_History of the Byzantine Empire_), who suggests that the story took its rise from the fate of Symbatius and Peganes, who, having formed a conspiracy against Michael III., in the 9th century, were deprived of their sight and exposed as common beggars in Constantinople.

It is not likely, however, that the fate of men in the ninth century should have been confused with that of individuals in the sixth.

It is right to add, that Lord Mahon, in his _Life of Belisarius_, argues in favour of the tragic fate of Justinian’s celebrated general. “But,” observes Dean Milman, “it is impossible to obtain any satisfactory result without contemporary evidence, which is entirely wanting in the present instance.” These words from the learned Milman lead us to suppose that he rejects the authority of Procopius, who accompanied Belisarius as counsellor and secretary in his Eastern wars, in Africa, and in Italy, as he himself informs us; and who, in his _Anecdota_,[12] devotes five chapters to the life and misfortunes of Belisarius, without saying one word either of his blindness or of his abject poverty.

Ernest Renan, in his _Essais de morale et de critique_, has also examined into the trustworthiness of the _Secret History_ of Procopius, and he arrives at the opinion, that this author had only exaggerated the crimes of the wicked century in which Justinian lived. He would then have been the last to soften the disgrace incurred by Belisarius.

At the time of the fall of Napoleon I., a popular song written by Népomucène Lemercier on Belisarius, became more than ever in vogue, as it contained allusions to the misfortunes of the companions in arms and soldiers, attached to the emperor. At all the Bonapartist reunions they sang:

“_Un jeune enfant, un casque en main, Allait quêtant pour l’indigence, D’un vieillard aveugle et sans pain, Fameux dans Rome et dans Byzance; Il disait à chaque passant Touché de sa noble misère, Donnez une obole à l’enfant Qui sert le pauvre Bélisaire!_”

In France this ballad contributed greatly to keep up a belief in the fabulous story which we have here examined.

THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY.

A. D. 640.

Ptolemy-Soter, chief of the dynasty of the Lagides, laid the foundation of the Alexandrian library. It was afterwards enlarged by his son Ptolemy Philadelphus and his successors; and from this celebrated repository the city of Alexandria derived the title of “_Mother of Books_.”

There is much difference of opinion as to the number of works contained in this library. Instead of 54,800 volumes as asserted by St. Epiphanes, or 200,000 according to Josephus, Eusebius tells us, that at the death of Ptolemy Philadelphus, 100,000 volumes were collected in it.

The building was situated to the east of the large sea-port, near the city of Canopus, and became a prey to the flames when Julius Cæsar, who was besieged in that part of the town in which the museum stood, ordered the fleet to be set on fire. The wind unfortunately carried the flames to the neighbouring houses and to the locality of the _Bruchion_, close to the site of the valuable library.

Lucan, in his _Pharsalia_, has described this conflagration with much spirit:[13]

“On one proud side the lofty fabric stood Projected bold into the adjoining flood; There, fill’d with armed bands, their barks draw near, But find the same defending Cæsar there: To every part the ready warrior flies, And with new rage the fainting fight supplies; Headlong he drives them with his deadly blade, Nor seems to be invaded, but to invade. Against the ships _Phalaric_ darts he aims, Each dart with pitch and livid sulphur flames. The spreading fire o’erruns their unctuous sides, And nimbly mounting, on the topmast rides: Planks, yards and cordage feed the dreadful blaze; The drowning vessel hisses in the seas; While floating arms and men promiscuous strew’d, Hide the whole surface of the azure flood. Nor dwells destruction on their fleet alone, But driven by winds, invades the neighbouring town: On rapid wings the sheety flames they bear, In wavy lengths, along the reddening air. Not much unlike the shooting meteors fly, In gleamy trails athwart the midnight sky. Soon as the crowd behold their city burn, Thither all headlong from the siege they turn; But Cæsar, prone to vigilance and haste, To snatch the just occasion ere it pass’d, Hid in the friendly night’s involving shade, A safe retreat to Pharos timely made.”

Orosius tells us that 400,000 volumes were destroyed by the fire: “So perished,” says he “this monument of the learning and labour of the ancients, who had amassed the works of so many illustrious men.” “_Monumentum studiique curæque majorum qui tot ac tanta illustrium ingeniorum opera congesserant._”[14]

Cleopatra was not insensible to the loss of so great a treasure, and Antony, to console her, presented her with the whole collection of books made by the king of Bithynia at Pergamus, to the number of 200,000 volumes. These books, with the few that had escaped the flames, formed the second library, and were placed in the _Serapeon_, or temple of Serapis, which from that time became the resort of all learned men. In A. D. 390, the fanatic Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, worthy of being the friend of the tyrant Theodosius, took advantage of the protection of that Emperor to disperse the library of the _Serapeon_, and to drive out the savans who assembled there. He overthrew the temple itself and built a church on its ruins which bore the name of the Emperor Arcadius. It would thus appear that the oldest and most extensive libraries of Alexandria ceased to exist before the 5th century of the Christian era. Nevertheless, there is still an opinion maintained among learned men that the immense collection made by the Ptolemies was destroyed by the Arabs in the 7th century.[15]

Several writers, with Gibbon at their head, have rejected this notion. Reinhart published at Göttingen in 1792 a special dissertation on the subject. It was Gregorius Bar-Hebræus, better known under the name of Abulpharadje, elected primate of the East in 1264, who gave the earliest account of the burning of the library at Alexandria, in a chronicle he published in Syriac, and afterwards translated into Arabic at the solicitation of his friends.

He says: “John the grammarian came to Amrou, who was in possession of Alexandria, and begged that he might be allowed to appropriate a part of the booty. ‘Which part do you wish for,’ asked Amrou. John replied, ‘The books of philosophy which are in the treasury (library) of kings.’ Amrou answered that he could not dispose of these without the permission of the Emir Al-Moumenin Omar. He wrote to the Emir, who replied in these terms: ‘As to the books you speak of, if their contents are in conformity with the Book of God (the Koran) we have no need of them; if, on the contrary, their contents are opposed to it, it is still less desirable to preserve them, so I desire that they may be destroyed.’ Amrou-Ben-Alas in consequence ordered them to be distributed in the various baths in Alexandria, to be burnt in the stoves; and after six months, not a vestige of them remained.”[16]

How open is this unlikely story to objection! In the first place, John of Alexandria was dead before the city was taken, on the 21st December 640.

D’Herbelot, in his _Bibliothèque Orientale_, tells us that at that period four thousand baths existed in Alexandria. What a multitude of volumes it must have required to supply fuel for them for the space of six months! And then the absurdity of attempting to heat baths with parchment!!!

Renaudot was the first in France who threw a doubt on this story in his _Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie_. “It merely reposes,” says he, “on Eastern tales, and these are never to be relied upon.”

Kotbeddin, in his _History of Mecca_, from which de Sacy quotes an extract in his _Notes des Manuscrits_, Vol. IV. p. 569, relates seriously, that at the taking of Bagdad by _Hulagou_ the destroyer, of the empire of the Caliphs, the Tartars threw the books belonging to the colleges of this city into the river Euphrates, and the number was so great, that they formed a bridge, over which foot-passengers and horsemen went across!

Besides Abulpharadi, two other eastern writers give an account of the destruction of the library: Abd-Allatif and Makrizi; but they only go over the same ground as their predecessors.

These three writers (of the 12th, the 13th, and the 15th centuries) are the less to be relied upon as no other eastern historians who speak of the conquest of Egypt by the Arabians, mention the loss of their great repository by fire.

Eutyches, the patriarch of Alexandria, who lived in the 10th century, and who enters into details of the taking of this city by the Arabians; Elmacin, who, in the 13th century, recounts the same fact; and Aboulfeda, who at about the same period gives a description of Egypt, completely ignore this remarkable and important event.

How is it that the Greek authors, who were so incensed against the Saracens, omit to speak of this conflagration authorised by Omar?--and that after centuries of silence Abulpharadi is the first who opens his lips on the subject? And it is still more surprising that this writer did not mention the anecdote in his _Chronicle_, published in Syriac, but that he only added it while translating his work into Arabic at the latter end of his life.

The Caliphs had forbidden under severe penalties the destruction of all Jewish and Christian volumes, and we nowhere hear of any such work of destruction during the first conquests of the Mahommedans.

Quite at the beginning of the 5th century, Paulus Orosius, a disciple of St. Jerome, mentions, on his return from Palestine, having seen at Alexandria the empty book-cases which the library had formerly contained.

All these arguments brought forward by Assemanni, by Gibbon, by Reinhard, and many others, do not appear to have convinced M. Matter, although he admits in his _Histoire de l’École d’Alexandrie_, that a certain amount of courage is necessary to maintain the opinion of the existence of an extensive collection of books at the commencement of the conquest.

“There are two points beyond dispute,” says he, “in this question. The first is, that Alexandria possessed during the 5th and 6th centuries, after the destruction of the _Serapeon_, a library of sufficient importance to contain many valuable literary works. The next is, that these works, far from being limited to religion and theology, as Gibbon supposes, included various branches of study; of this we cannot entertain a doubt when we reflect on the later productions of the school of Alexandria.”

In order to establish his argument, Matter enters into long details. “Gibbon himself,” he says, “would have admitted later that Amrou might have burned other works in Alexandria besides those on theology.”

Two orientalists, Langlès and de Sacy, have adopted a very similar opinion. “It is incontestable,” says the former, “that on the entrance of the Mahommedans, a library still existed at Alexandria, and that it fell a prey to the flames.”[17]

De Sacy allows that the story told by Abulpharadi is very probable, and proves that at that period the Mahommedans did demolish libraries and destroy books, in spite of the law against any such destruction.

At any rate this opinion has only been adopted by a small minority, and Amrou is generally exonerated from having been the destroyer of the Alexandrian Library.

POPE JOAN.

A. D. 855.

Is it true that a woman succeeded in deceiving her cotemporaries to the extent of elevating herself to the pontifical throne?

Did a catastrophe ensue which afforded a proof of her sex as unexpected as indisputable?

If there is no foundation for this tale, how comes it that it has been so long accepted as authentic by writers whose attachment to the Roman church is perfectly sincere?

Such are the questions that we here propose to ourselves, and which have been recently treated by two Dutch literati, Mr. N. C. Kist, professor at the university of Leyden, in a work published in 1845; and Mr. J. H. Wensing, professor at the seminary of Warmond, who has written a refutation of Mr. Kist’s work in a thick volume of more than 600 pages, printed at the Hague.

I will proceed to give a brief sketch of the circumstances as presented to us by reliable authors.

After the death of Leo IV., in the year 855, the Roman people proceeded, according to the custom of that period, to the nomination of a sovereign pontiff. The choice fell upon a foreigner who had for some years been resident in the eternal city. He was held in high repute, as well for his virtues as for his talents. This stranger was a woman of English origin, born in Germany, who had studied in France and Greece, and who in the disguise of a man had baffled all detection. Raised to the pontifical throne, she assumed the name of John VIII., and governed with exemplary wisdom, but in private life was guilty of irregularities which resulted in pregnancy. She endeavoured to conceal her situation, but on the occasion of a great religious festival she was seized with sudden pains in the midst of a procession, and, to the astonishment and consternation of the crowd, gave birth to a child who instantly expired. The mother herself died upon the spot, succumbing to the effects of pain, terror, and shame.

This is the most widely spread version; it has however been asserted that the female pope, “_la papesse_,” survived her mischance, and ended her days in a dungeon.

Anastatius, deacon and librarian of the Roman church, was living at this period, and collected numerous materials for a history of the sovereign pontiffs. He composed a series of their biographies under the title of “_Liber Pontificalis_,” and affirms that he was present at the election of the Popes from Sergius III. to John VIII., that is to say from 844 to 882. He must then have been a witness to the catastrophe of Joan. Now he makes no mention of it, but, in his work, Pope Benedictus III. follows immediately after Leo IV. An occurrence of so extraordinary a nature must necessarily have struck him. It has indeed been pretended that he did make mention of it, but that his account was suppressed by defenders of the church, and that in some manuscripts it is still to be found. Nevertheless these manuscripts, very scarce and incorrect, only contain one phrase to the purpose, which is met with for the first time in the writings of the 14th century. It is moreover accompanied by an expression of doubt (_ut dicitur_) and there is at the present time scarcely any enlightened critic but would regard it as an interpolation of the copyist.

The silence of Anastatius admits therefore of but one interpretation.

It is not until two hundred years after the alleged date of the event that the first mention of it is found in the _Chronicon_ of Marianus Scotus, who was born in Scotland in 1028, and died at Mayence in 1086. He says: “Joan, a female, succeeded Pope Leo IV. during two years, five months, and four days.” A contemporary of Marianus Scotus, Godfrey of Viterbo, made a list of the sovereign pontiffs, in which we read between Leo IV. and Benedict III., “_Papissa Joanna non numeratur_” (the female Pope does not count).

We must come to the 13th century to find in the _Chronicon_ of Martinus Polonus, Bishop of Cosenza in Calabria, some particulars respecting the female Pope Joan.[18] At this period a belief in the truth of her existence is spread abroad, and the evidences become more numerous, but they are little else but repetitions and hear-says; no details of any weight are given.