What Happened To The Ancient Library of Alexandria - Edited by Mostafa El-Abbadi
What Happened To The Ancient Library of Alexandria - Edited by Mostafa El-Abbadi
Library of Alexandria?
VOLUME 3
LEIDEN • BOSTON
2008
A C.I.P. record for this book is available from the Library of Congress
ISSN 1874-4834
ISBN 978 90 04 16545 8
Introduction ................................................................................ 1
Ismail Serageldin
Ismail Serageldin
Librarian of Alexandria
Director of the Bibliotheca Alexandrina
Alexandria, April 2007
The editors are indebted to the following institutions for their kind
permission to reproduce copyright material:
• Sohair Wastawy, Chief Librarian of the BA, for her invaluable coop-
eration in organizing the Seminar; for her help with the preparation
of this volume, and for her continuous support of the Alexandria
Project.
• Ismail Serageldin, Director of the BA, for his continued support and
patronage of the Alexandria Project.
Editors
Mostafa El-Abbadi
Omnia M. Fathallah
Authors
Editors
Mostafa El-Abbadi
Next in the same section, Professor Fayza Haikal discusses the phe-
nomenon of private collections and temple libraries in Ancient Egypt.
She distinguishes between archives and libraries in the light of the
different technical words used in hieratic: archives of documents, the house
of papyrus rolls and house of life.
Haikal discusses several points connected with the institution of librar-
ies: divinities, personnel, organization and role in society. She further
describes the differences between private, temple and royal libraries, by
giving examples of each type; and she finally concludes with an assess-
ment of the Alexandria Library in an Egyptian context.
In the second section, Dr. Cherf presents an original approach to
the consequence of Julius Caesar’s setting afire the Egyptian fleet in the
Eastern Harbour during the Bellum Alexandrinum in 48 B.C. Cherf ’s
main purpose is to prove whether, if given available conditions, the fire
of 48 B.C. could have reached fire-storm proportions? He therefore
calculated that the date of Caesar’s Alexandrian War must have taken
place towards the end of August of that year, when meteorological
conditions were warm and windy due to the Etesian northern winds.
Given the proximity of the granary warehouses to the shore within
the harbour area—if ignited by so much as a spark—they would
have exploded and escalated the massive harbour blaze to fire-storm
proportions. Following the famous passage of Lucan’s description of
Caesar’s fire, Cherf concludes that the Alexandria fire did take place
and did spread inland.
Finally, Cherf endorses Peter Fraser’s statement that “we are justi-
fied in supposing that the contents of the Royal Library, if not wholly
destroyed, were at least seriously diminished in the fire of 48 B.C.”
Professor J.-Y. Empereur next considers the evidence of archaeology.
He chiefly presents the evidence of two Roman villas recently uncov-
ered in Alexandria. One of them with the head of Medusa mosaic was
discovered by Empereur himself in the city centre and the other, known
as the Villa of the Birds, excavated by the Polish-Egyptian mission at
Kom el-Dikka. Their dates extend between A.D. 150 and the second
half of the third century A.D.
Empereur gives an account of the devastations suffered by the city
in the second half of the third century at the hands of Zenobia, Aure-
lian, Domitius Domitianus and Diocletian, as well as the earthquake
that destroyed the top of the Lighthouse and other monuments. In the
words of Ammianus Marcellinus (mid-fourth century), “the town lost
the greatest part of the quarter called Bruccheion.” It was in that district
that the Mouseion and the Library were situated, and they may very
easily have suffered the same fate as other monuments. Yet Empereur
rightly asserts that the destruction of the Library did not signify the
disappearance of books.
The Daughter Library within the Serapeum complex survived into
Roman times and became, as the present writer (M. El-Abbadi) asserts,
the hub of scholars after the destruction of the Royal Library in 48
B.C. The same fate that befell the Serapeum in A.D. 391, following
the decree of Emperor Theodosius to abolish all pagan cults in the
empire, also put an end to the Daughter Library.
Accounts of contemporary eye-witnesses (e.g. Theodoret, Eunapius,
Aphthonius, Rufinus) testify to the fact that the destruction of the
Serapeum was almost complete and that it had been transformed into
a church. A crucial argument is the testimony of Aphthonius who had
visited the temple before 391 and wrote a Description of it afterwards.
In his words, he claims to have seen “rooms, some . . . served as book-
stores . . ., some others were set up for the worship of the old gods.”
The use of the past tense indicates that those “rooms . . .” no longer
existed at the time of writing. It would also be unthinkable to mention
“the worship of the old gods” in the new church.
Mr. Lucien Polastron, who is interested in the History of vanished
libraries, compares the circumstances detrimental to books and to
libraries in both Alexandria and China. After briefly surveying the
events that threatened the Alexandria Library, he presents the case
of China that witnessed an early period of intellectual enlightenment
between the fifth and third centuries B.C., when a hundred philosophers or
rather a hundred schools flourished. This was the peak of Chinese Classics.
This development terminated in 213 B.C., when it was decreed that
the possession of books was an exclusive Royal prerogative. Gradually,
kings disposed of archives and instructed their subordinates to burn all
writings in order to rule free of risk or constraints.
However, the decree was subsequently abolished in 191 B.C. and the
following decades witnessed reconstruction campaigns of the collection
of books under the Han dynasty. Still, the cycles of destruction and
reconstruction recurred repeatedly with the change of dynasties.
The third section dealing with the intellectual milieu in Late Antiquity
Alexandria is of special interest. It was in Alexandria that we can dis-
tinctly feel the pulse of events in the whole then known world. Against
a background of intense activity, high feelings and dramatic transfor-
mations, international trade thrived and sciences flourished. We have
this charge which their admirers and later their detractors conspired
to bring against them.”
After the above survey of the contents of our volume, it is I feel,
justifiable to conclude that the various contributors have offered two
responses to the query raised by the title: What Happened to the Ancient
Library of Alexandria?
The first is the prevailing agreement among the participant schol-
ars, that the two principal components of the Alexandria Library, i.e.
the Royal Library within the Royal Palaces’ area (Bruccheion) and the
Daughter Library within the Serapeum, had practically met their end
more than two centuries before the Arabs came to Egypt.
The second response is of particular significance and great conse-
quence, as it asserts that in spite of the disappearance of the institutional
Library, Alexandria continued as one of the great centres of learning
in Late Antiquity, thanks to collections—in the individual schools—of
books that had been made of copies from originals that were in the
Great Library.
Mounir H. Megally
1
Nous sommes convaincus de l’intérêt, pour les études historiques, de la recherche
de schémas des processus d’actions élémentaires et directes qui sous-tendent les déci-
sions pragmatiques prises pour gérer l’activité économique et l’action politique d’un
peuple. Ces schémas rendent plus intelligibles bien de faits historiques et plus aisée la
possibilité de saisir les relations existantes entre eux; dans ce cas, ces faits se distinguent
plus facilement comme des éléments qui concourent à un même effet d’ensemble.
De ce point de vue, l’histoire de l’Égypte ancienne est un bon exemple du rôle de
l’interaction de facteurs socio-économiques dans son remarquable développement et
surtout en ce qui concerne le sujet qui nous préoccupe aujourd’hui, la systématisation du savoir et le
passage du concret vers l’abstrait.
2
Il n’est pas aisé en général, vue la formulation bien concise, de saisir certaines
structures conceptuelles dans les mathématiques égyptiennes, cf., par exemple, Toomer,
“Mathematics and Astronomy,” 44–45.
3
Cette réparation a été faite, selon un texte conservé dans la tombe de Khnoumho-
tep, gouverneur du XVIe nome de la Haute Egypte, ‘d’après ce qui était [noté] dans
les documents [anciens], et a été vérifié selon ce qui était [établi] par le passé’; voir
Newberry, Beni Hasan, vol. 1, pl. 22, 25–26 (lignes 40 sq.); Breasted, Ancient Records of
Egypt, 1:283 § 625; Gardiner, Egypt of the Pharaohs, 129.
4
Wb. I, 141, 2 sq.
5
Pour cette notion fondamentale de la pensée égyptienne voir Assmann, Maât.
6
L’Egyptien semble avoir réalisé de bonne heure l’impact, tant psychologique que
matériel, de ce principe dans l’action politique pour une bonne gestion du pays.
7
Le discours politique en Egypte donne de l’importance à de tels projets; voir l’image
du roi Scorpion prenant part à une cérémonie importante que nous croyons être celle
du brisement des digues pour que l’inondation submerge les champs; reproduction in
Emery, Archaic Egypt, pl. 2a. On connaît également les efforts des rois du Moyen Empire,
par exemple, pour des projets agricoles dans le Fayoum.
8
Cf. Lefebvre, Romans et contes égyptiens, 5 sq. Un des aspects importants de la litté-
rature égyptienne est qu’elle permet d’exprimer certains sentiments que l’on ne trouve
ni dans le discours politique de l’époque ni aussi clairement dans les biographies de
particuliers. On peut citer, par exemple, une certaine fierté de Sinouhé de se sentir
Egyptien ou sa profonde nostalgie pour son pays et ce qu’il représente ainsi que le
désir viscéral d’être enterré dans son pays.
9
Sentiment du Naufragé, même malgré l’enchantement de l’endroit où il a échoué
après le naufrage du bateau, île animée par un être quasi divin et où il n’y avait que
des merveilles, image égyptienne du paradis, voir Lefebvre, ibid., 32 sq.
10
Wb. II, 212, 8 sq.
11
Même dans les Textes des Pyramides, ex. Pyr. § 891, voir Faulkner, Ancient Egyptian
Pyramid Texts, 156.
12
Wb. I, 373; ibid. IV, 435, 15.
13
Ibid., 371, 8 sq.
14
Dans son approche foncièrement globalisante l’Egyptien était enclin à étayer
l’expression plastique d’un fait ou d’une chose par un apport linguistique complétif.
15
Chapitre 6, cf. Faulkner, Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, 36.
16
In s mw s m d, mrr s m pw ir dt ‘L’écouteur est celui qui écoute, celui qui aime
écouter est celui qui fait ce qui est dit’: Sagesse de Ptahotep, cf. Sethe, Ägyptische lesestücke,
41, 5–6; trad. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature, 1:47.
17
Wb. IV, 384 sq.
18
Wb. IV, 389, 12.
19
Ibid., 389, 13–16.
20
Ibid., 390, 1.
21
Ibid., 390, 2.
22
Ce principe d’avoir recours à des contingents de travailleurs issus de régions à
forte densité de population pour être affectés ailleurs selon la nécessité a dû faciliter
l’exécution de projets importants de construction comme par exemple les pyramides,
les fortifications militaires, etc. Il est intéressant de remarquer une certaine continuité
de ce procédé actuellement sous la forme de contingents d’‘ouvriers déplacés’ ﻋﻤﺎر اﻟﯩڗ اﺣﻴﻞ
recrutés à partir de régions peuplées, et affectés ici et là dans des projets importants.
23
Les difficultés matérielles de ce travail ainsi que le dépaysement qu’il implique de
se trouver affecté dans plusieurs régions loin de son village selon le plan des autorités
chaque année semblent expliquer cette nostalgie de sa ‘maison’, sentiment bien exprimée
dans des textes littéraires. Il est possible que l’impact de ce fait sous-tende un sentiment
semblable chez l’Egyptien encore maintenant.
24
Pour une traduction de ce document voir Breasted, Ancient Records of Egypt, 1:75 sq.
25
Dans ces conditions il n’est pas étonnant que le thème le plus important représenté
dans les scènes des tombes en Egypte à partir de l’Ancien Empire soit celui de la culture
du blé et de sa récolte miraculeuse. Ce thème va également être repris dans les vignettes
du Livre des Morts, voir ex. Faulkner, Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, 10.
26
Remarquer l’importance donnée à l’idéal de toujours faire mieux que par le
passé pour servir le roi dans tous les domaines, thème qui est mis en valeur dans les
biographies à partir de l’Ancien Empire; un bon exemple en est la biographie de Weni,
haut fonctionnaire qui a servi les rois de la VIe dynastie, où ce leitmotiv se répète
plusieurs fois, cf. Sethe, Urkunden des alten Reichs, 98 sq.; 125, 10–11.
27
Par exemple, l’octroi du blé égyptien aux gens de Canaan mentionnés dans la
Bible, voir Gen. 41:57, 42:1–3, 42:5–7, 43:1–3, 45:23.
28
Par exemple par rapport à un autre pays, la Mésopotamie.
29
Le grenier de Rome se trouva à un moment donné en Egypte. La collecte du
blé était effectuée sous le préfet de l’annone et ses services et transportée à partir
d’Alexandrie.
30
La répartition des mains d’œuvre obéissait à des critères stricts d’aptitude, répar-
tissant les personnes selon leurs potentialités physiques, voir par exemple Pap. Sallier I,
7,1 sq., cf. Gardiner, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies, 84–85 et Caminos, Late-Egyptian Miscel-
lanies, 317 sq.
31
La biographie de Weni précise que lorsqu’il avait été nommé ‘Gouverneur de la
Haute Egypte’ il avait veillé à ‘tout noter’; cf. ce texte en Sethe, Urkunden des alten Reichs,
106, 4 sq.
32
Il y a plusieurs exemples de dénombrement, ou de tentatives de dénombrement,
dans l’Antiquité, comme en Mésopotamie ainsi que dans les cités-Etats, en Grèce, à
Rome (le terme de ‘recensement’ dérive du terme latin censu), en Chine à l’époque
pré-impériale, au Japon, etc., mais sans une telle régularité à l’égyptienne.
33
Aucun élément précis ne permet de supposer que l’Etat ait dû recourir, en Egypte,
à une justification religieuse pour ‘légitimer’ directement le principe du dénombrement
aux yeux de la population comme ce fut probablement le cas, par exemple, en Israël
(ex. Num. 26:2, Yahvé ordonne à Moïse de faire le recensement de toute la com-
munauté des enfants d’Israël) et à Rome où on faisait des offrandes rituelles lors et à
l’occasion du dénombrement. La prise de conscience du défide l’inondation et de ses
conséquences pour chaque ville et village et la compétence du système politique fort
étaient probablement suffisantes, sans devoir avoir recours à une justification de valeur
religieuse. Il est vrai qu’à l’occasion de la récolte on faisait des offrandes à Ernoutet,
Déesse de la Récolte, mais on ne peut établir dans ce cas une relation de cause à effet.
Cette déesse n’était pas liée au dénombrement per se.
34
Voir le schéma de points arrangés en une formation conservée sur le verso du Pap.
Sallier IV, (Gardiner, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies, 95 et Caminos, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies,
358). Il est possible que l’origine de ce système de calcul, dont on ne comprend pas le
mécanisme, remonte aux périodes d’avant la découverte du système de l’écriture.
35
Il en est de même dans d’autres civilisations de l’Antiquité comme celle de la
Mésopotamie et de la Chine où la connaissance des chiffres et des notions mathématiques
coïncident avec la connaissance du principe de ‘statistique’ et du dénombrement.
36
Voir Megally, Notions de comptabilité.
37
Comme par exemple le manque de voyelles dans le système graphique arabe où
une graphie composée des trois consonnes ( ك ت بk, t, b) par exemple peut être
comprise et par conséquence lue, selon le contexte, comme signifiant: ‘il a écrit,’ ‘il a
été écrit,’ ‘il a fait écrire,’ ‘fais écrire’ mais aussi ‘écrire’ et ‘livres,’ etc. Dans d’autres
exemples il peut y avoir aussi d’autres dérivés tirés sur la même racine comme le
participe présent ou passé ainsi que d’autres formes grammaticales.
38
La Pierre de Palerme montre que cette mesure administrative du recensement
de la population existait dès le début de la 1ere dynastie.
39
Wb. V, 379, 5–16. Il est intéressant de se demander quelles sont les relations notion-
nelles entre cette acception et celle d’autres termes corrélés comme nô ‘distinguer,’
‘faire la différence,’ ibid., 374, 1 sq. et nt, ‘différence,’ ibid., 376, 1, etc., dont la
signification est en relation sémantique évidente avec l’essence d’un recensement.
40
C’est le cas en Mésopotamie, civilisation contemporaine et économiquement
similaire. Le même phénomène est également connu chez les Chinois, les Grecs, les
Romains, etc.
41
Les textes emploient pour ces opérations des termes idiomatiques comme ôp
‘compter,’ ibid. I, 66, 1 sq., ex. Sethe, Urkunden des alten Reichs, 106, 7, ainsi que
sp r ‘enregistrer,’ Wb. III, 106, 11 sq., ex. Pap. Anastasi V, 15,7 sq.; cf. Gardiner, Late-
Egyptian Miscellanies, 64 et Caminos, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies, 247.
42
Wb. II, 180, 13–181, 1 sq.
43
L’étymologie du mot ‘papier’ remonte en toute probabilité à un terme égyptien,
non attesté, comme * p¡ pr ¡, pour le papyrus voir Černy, Paper and Books.
44
Cf. Wb. II, 187, 5–6.
45
Voir Černy, Paper and Books, 218.
46
Cf. Wb. III, 222, 4.
47
Cf. ibid. II, 187, 8.
48
Voir Gardiner, The Inscription of Mes.
49
Malgré l’invasion de l’informatique le papier reste encore pour une large popula-
tion le support le plus pratique et le moins cher pour véhiculer la connaissance.
50
Voir Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar, “Sign-list” A 1.
51
Cf. Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar, § 23, OBS.
52
Voir Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica.
53
Voir Megally, Considérations sur les variations. Cf. aussi les tableaux de signes
hiératiques et leurs formes à travers l’histoire de cette écriture in Möller, Hieratische
Paläographie.
54
Ce soin donné à la distinction pragmatique de choses caractérise un ensemble
d’exercices pour jeunes scribes de l’époque du Nouvel Empire, voir l’ensemble de docu-
ments didactiques in Gardiner, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies. Ces papyrus ont été traduits
et commentés in Caminos, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies.
55
Ce genre de documents est comme le ‘thésaurus’ un répertoire de termes nor-
malisés selon le contenu dans des classements logiques; il sert de recueil ou lexique,
un livre de référence. Voir Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica.
56
Voir Janssen, Commodity Prices.
57
Ex. Pap. Anastasi IV, 7,2–3, voir Gardiner, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies, 41, 15–16;
Caminos, Late-Egyptian Miscellanies, 155. Nos dictionnaires, par exemple le Wb., don-
nent des traductions des termes égyptiens désignant des états successifs de l’âge d’un
homme. Mais en dehors de ces acceptions plus ou moins vagues nous ignorons les
conditions, sociales et autres, qu’elles impliquent. Malheureusement, les textes égyp-
tiens ne sont pas explicites sur les barèmes qui sous-tendent la vraie différenciation
entre ces expressions que les scribes prenaient soin d’employer non seulement dans les
rapports administratifs ou les pièces comptables mais également dans les documents
didactiques. C’est justement le cas des termes comme ‘vieil homme,’ ‘homme,’ ‘jeune
homme’ et ‘cadet’ employés dans l’exemple en question. Par conséquent, on ne connait
pas non plus les implications fiscales de cette catégorisation qui devait être définie, et
par la suite mise au jour lors du dénombrement annuel, ni les vraies conséquences en
matière de distribution de charges lors de l’exécution d’un plan organisationnel pour
les travaux récurrents comme ceux concernant la préparation des digues avant et
pendant l’inondation. Il en est de même pour leur responsabilité.
58
Voir par exemple les différents termes qualifiant les bœufs selon les étapes suc-
cessives de leur âge et de leur état dans le Wb. VI, 197.
59
Malgré les multiples recherches sur les rangs des différents échelons des fonction-
naires de l’Administration égyptienne, on n’est pas encore certain à l’état actuel de
nos connaissances de pouvoir dresser les riches ensembles de titres que portaient les
hauts fonctionnaires selon leur ordre hiérarchique exact.
60
Parmi les péchés dont le mort devait se laver devant les dieux selon le Chapitre
125 du Livre des Morts il y avait le fait ‘d’empiéter sur les champs [d’autrui]’ ainsi que
les querelles sauf ‘pour sa propriété,’ cf. Allen, Book of the Dead, 98 (S 18), Faulkner,
Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, 31–32.
61
Le fait de dévier l’eau ou de construire une digue illicitement était cité parmi
les péchés dont le mort devait se déclarer innocent d’après le Chapitre 125 du Livre
des Morts: ‘Je n’ai pas dévié l’eau pendant sa saison, je n’ai pas construit une digue
sur l’eau qui coulait [vers les autres]’, voir Allen, Book of the Dead, 97; Faulkner, Ancient
Egyptian Book of the Dead, 31.
62
Cf. Parker, “Calendars and Chronology,” 13 sq.
63
On le remarque par exemple dans les documents didactiques du Nouvel Empire.
Grâce à ces scribes nous pouvons nous faire une idée du dévelop-
pement des connaissances dans plusieurs domaines. En effet, certains
documents administratifs, économiques, judiciaires, etc.64 du pr
m ¡t, ‘les archives’65 ou du pr n , la ‘Maison de Vie,’66 où étaient
archivés et compilés les textes religieux,67 ont survécu. De plus, habitués
à élaborer des copies de documents officiels et administratifs, exercice
qui a développé la calligraphie, certains maîtres et scribes de l’admi-
nistration copiaient également pour le compte de particuliers, afin de
former des bibliothèques privées, textes littéraires, religieux, magiques
ou mythologiques, sapiences, manuels de mathématiques, traités de
médecine, etc. On répétait un vieil adage selon lequel les livres étaient
plus précieux que toute chose68 et même utiles dans l’au-delà, ce qui a
‘sauvé’ quelques collections comme celles d’un prêtre lecteur du Moyen
Empire trouvée dans le site du Ramesseum.
Mais beaucoup de textes ont disparu. Il y a plusieurs raisons à la
disparition de ces collections. Le papyrus est une matière organique,
exposée aux phénomènes de dégradation ou de décomposition par
de multiples causes comme l’humidité ou l’usage. Il y a également la
destruction délibérée lors des invasions successives de l’Egypte ou de
désordres politiques intérieurs69 quand on s’est attaqué aux symboles
de l’Etat et surtout aux archives. Enfin il ne faut pas oublier la fameuse
industrie qui, au Moyen Age, broyait des momies et des rouleaux de
70
Il est tentant de trouver des rapports entre le concept égyptien de l’Océan Primordial
exprimé dans certains textes religieux au moins depuis le Moyen Empire mais exposé
longuement dans un groupe de textes démotiques—cf. Smith, On the Primaeval Ocean—et
certaines idées bibliques sur la Création exprimées en Gen. 1.
71
Cf. Wb. II, 187, 6.
72
John 1:1–5.
Fayza M. Haikal
Introduction
1
Sauneron, Priests of Ancient Egypt, 114.
however, will not deal with this kind of information, but will rather
focus on institutions concerned with the management and preservation
of written documents for the purpose of their transmission.
2
Gaballa, Memphite Tomb-Chapel of Mose, 22–30.
3
E. Schott, “Bücher und bibliotheken im alten Ägypten,” 73ff.
4
See Černy, Paper and Books; S. Schott, E. Schott, and Grimm, Bücher und bibliotheken;
for examples, see Burkard, “Bibliotheken im alten Ägypten,” 79–115.
5
See Parkinson, “Two or Three Literary Artifacts,” 49–57 which mentions, among
other things, the labels coming from Amenhotep III private palace library in western
Thebes.
6
Wb. III, 222, 4.
7
Ibid. I, 515, 12.
8
Ibid., 515, 6, translated as ‘House of the literates’ (Haus der Schriftgelehrten).
9
Gardiner, “House of Life,” 157–179.
10
For later periods, see also Grimal, “Bibliothèques et propagande royale,” 37–48.
11
Kemp and Garfi, Survey of the Ancient City of El- Amarna, 61, sheet 5.
12
Harris, “Note on the Ramessid Text of ‘Sinuhe’,” 25–28.
54–59.
15
See Grimal, “Bibliothèques et propagande royale,” passim.
the sun shall look upon its mystery. The people who enter it are the staff
of Re and the scribes of the House of Life. The people who are in it, the fkty
priest is Shu, the slaughterer (hnty) is Horus who slays the enemies of his
father Osiris and the scribe of the sacred books is Thoth, and it is he who
will recite the ritual in the course of every day, unseen, unheard . . . No
Asiatic shall enter into it . . . The books that are in it are the emanations
b¡w of Re wherewith to keep alive this god and to overthrow his enemies.
As for the staff of the House of Life who is in it, they are the followers of
Re protecting his son Osiris every day.16
It is clear from the names of the gods mentioned, that we have here
a representation of cosmic elements and the cycle of life as well as an
evocation of the myth that dominated and explains ancient Egyptian
civilization, namely that of divine kingship and its legitimacy. Re
and Osiris are the two poles of existence, in this life and in life after
death and they encompass all that exists. The Books are the b¡w r (the
might and power of the god) by means of which Osiris is kept alive.
To protect them is indeed to protect life and its perpetration, and this
is the purpose of the ‘scribes of the House of Life’ and their ultimate
goal. The fact that the House of Life is described as having an ‘inner
body surrounded by four other ones’ reminds us of the four shrines
of Tutankhamon surrounding the anthropoid coffins which protect his
mummy, osirified and hence potentially alive n y like the god lying in
the House of Life.
II.3. The pr m ¡t
Scribes of the pr m ¡t (House of Papyrus Rolls) and scribes of the pr m ¡t
pr ¡ (House of Papyrus Rolls of the Great House/palace) were also known in
the Old Kingdom.17 Later, Papyrus Westcar, which dates to the Middle
Kingdom, mentions that when the magician Djedi was summoned to
Khufu’s court in the Old Kingdom’s fourth dynasty, he requested two
barges for his transportation.18 One of them was to transport himself,
his family and household, while the other was to transport his books,
thus already suggesting the existence of large private collections in the
Old Kingdom.
16
After Gardiner, “House of Life,” 168.
17
Jones, Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, 2:848ff.
18
See Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature, vol. 1, Old and Middle Kingdoms (1975), 218.
19
See Grimal, “Bibliothèques et propagande royale;” Burkard, “Bibliotheken im
alten Ägypten;” see also the extraordinary finds of Tebtunis now being studied by a
number of scholars; see S. Quirke, review of Hieratische papyri aus Tebtunis, by Jürgen
Osing, and, Papiri geroglifici e ieratici da Tebtynis, by Jürgen Osing and Gloria Rosati, JEA
89 (2003): 283–287.
20
Diod. Sic. 1.49.2–3.
21
Porter, and Moss, Topographical Bibliography of Ancient Egyptian Hieroglyphic Texts,
Reliefs, and Paintings, vol. 1, The Theban Necropolis, pt. 1, Private Tombs, representations of
scribes at work is common in private tombs from the Old Kingdom, but the actual
depiction of the location of their work is rare.
when she revived Osiris to conceive their child Horus who inherited
the knowledge of his mother and benefited from her infinite protection
(see late tales). As for Osiris himself, he is the one who taught mankind
civilization when he was ruling upon earth.22
22
See Plutarch’s de Iside et Osiride, ed. and trans. Griffiths.
23
Sauneron, Priests of Ancient Egypt, 61.
24
On this matter see Quack, “Buch vom tempel und verwandte texte,” 1–20 until
his forthcoming publication of the whole text. See also Osing, Hieratische papyri aus
Tebtunis, and Osing and Rosati, Papiri geroglifici e ieratici da Tebtynis, both reviewed by
Quirke (see n. 19).
25
The rolls could be up to 40 cm high and up to 30 m long or more. Literary texts
were usually only up to 20 cm high and much shorter. See Černy, Paper and Books.
zations. Other official public artifacts must have had different systems of
storage (probably similar to museum store rooms today). When temple
stelae and statuary crowded the place or lost their immediate purpose,
they would simply be dumped in a ‘cachette’ under the ground of the
temple or inside a tomb.
We have seen that texts of older periods were re-copied by the scribes
of the House of Life sometimes with annotations (glosses) or interpreta-
tions and we know that foreign as well as multilingual texts did exist
in Egypt,26 but we do not know how often foreign texts were actually
translated for their scientific or literary value before the Alexandria
Library was created and we definitely do not have any record of the
place of provenance of any text. According to Michel Chauveau,27
translation was into Greek rather than into Egyptian in the Graeco-
Roman period, while some Aramaic texts in the Acheminid period may
have influenced Demotic literature. However straightforward translation
is not attested so far, though it might have existed if we believe what
the Egyptian priest said to Solon.28
26
Foreign communities settled in Egypt quite early in its history. Foreign names are
found already in the First Intermediate Period, if not earlier. From the New Kingdom
on, foreign traders established in Egypt may have had correspondence with outposts
in their original homeland or elsewhere. The international diplomatic correspondence
kept in the Amarna archives was written in cuneiform and much later, in addition to
settlers’ documentation, tourists left inscriptions in their native language (graffiti) on
many of the monuments that they visited. Multilingual royal decrees emitted by foreign
rulers in the Late and Graeco-Roman periods are also common, see note 27.
27
Chauveau, “Bilinguisme et traduction.”
28
See note 1.
29
Parkinson, “Two New ‘Literary’ Texts,” 190–93.
30
Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature, vol. 3, The Late Period (1980), 35, 39.
31
For these stories, see Lichtheim, ibid.
32
See Posener, Papyrus Vandier. See also Lichtheim, “The Stories of Setne Khaem-
was,” in Ancient Egyptian Literature, 3:125–151.
33
Sauneron, Priests of Ancient Egypt, 63–64.
34
Freedy and Redford, “Dates in Ezekiel,” 462–485.
35
Morenz, Beiträge zur schriftlichkeitskultur im Mittleren Reich, 14.
36
For one of the best and most recent, see Parkinson, Poetry and Culture, 68–72.
37
See Parkinson’s article in note 5.
38
Valbelle, Ouvriers de la tombe; Černy, Community of Workmen at Thebes; Demarée and
Egberts, Village Voices.
39
Bickel and Mathieu, “Écrivain Amennakht et son enseignement,” 31–51; Derchain,
Tombeau d’Osymandyas, 165–171.
40
On Amennakht, his library and compositions, see Bickel and Mathieu, “Écrivain
Amennakht et son enseignement;” On Qenherchepeshef ’s library, see Hornung, “Wege
zum altägyptischen Menschen,” 139–140; for the Saqqara documents, see Quirke,
“Archive,” 391; for a compilation of literary texts of all periods, see Loprieno, Ancient
Egyptian Literature.
41
Quirke, “Archive,” 391. Other great collections coming from the Graeco-Roman
period seem rather related to temple libraries. See note 42 below.
42
For the Abusir and Gebelein archives, see Black and Tait, “Archives and Libraries,”
4:2204ff. For a full publication of the Abusir document, see Posener-Kieger, Archives du
temple funéraire de Néferirkarê-Kakaï. For mention of the great collections of the late and
Graeco-roman period, see Quirke in note 19.
Conclusion
43
See for example, Hornung, Ancient Egyptian Books of the Afterlife; Goyon, Rituels
funéraires de l’ancienne Égypte.
44
For a list of these texts, see Sauneron, Priests of Ancient Egypt, 138.
45
See Sauneron, ibid., 135–170; Quack, “Historische abschnitt des buches vom
tempel,” 267ff.
46
Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:313.
that the Mouseia develop into secular centers of learning, the ancient
equivalent of a University, a development due to the ecumenical prestige
of the Alexandrian Mouseion.
He also adds that according to Strabo:47
The Mouseion is part of the royal quarter and it has a cloister and an
arcade and a large house in which is provided the common meal of the
men of learning who share the Mouseion. And this community has com-
mon funds, and a priest in charge of the Mouseion who was appointed
previously by the kings, but now by Caesar.
These citations indicate that the members of the Mouseion were pre-
sided over by a priest and that they were first regarded as a group of
men of learning brought together for religious and scientific purposes
(in as much as all sciences were part of philosophy), essentially to serve
the Muses. Such was also the main purpose of the scribes of the House
of Life; to serve the Gods.
Although the Mouseion was funded by the crown, it seems that it
remained free to invest its funds as it pleased, in the same way as were
regular temples in Egypt and elsewhere in antiquity. In addition to its
priest as highest religious authority (equivalent to the ‘first prophet’ of
Egyptian traditional temples), it seems that an Epistates or administrative
director appointed by the crown was in charge of the administrative
aspects of the Mouseion and its finances (this administrator could also
be compared with the second prophet of Egyptian temples).
We do not know how the members of the institution were paid but
it is likely that they were exempted from taxes as teachers since it is
assumed that teaching was performed there through discussions and
conversations.48 This financial arrangement can also be compared to
the prevailing situation in Ancient Egypt where people were encour-
aged to learn to write and one of the incentives was to be exempted
from taxes.49
The Library on the other hand was presided over by a Librarian, a
royal appointment associated from its inception with a very influential
post, that of ‘tutor to the children of the royal house.’ Tzetzes says that
47
Ibid., 315.
48
Ibid., 316–18. On the duties of the first and second prophets of Egyptian temples,
see Sauneron, Priests of Ancient Egypt, 61.
49
Pap. Anastasi V, 15, 6–17, 3 ‘the scribe is not taxed like the peasant.’ Gardiner,
Late-Egyptian Miscellanies.
there were two libraries, ‘the library outside the palace’ and ‘the library
within the palace.’50 The Royal Library must have been the equivalent
of the pr m ¡t pr ¡ or ‘House of Books of the Royal Palace’ with its
scribes.51 As for the one outside the palace and related to the Mouseion,
that one too could be paralleled with the pr m ¡t of Egyptian temples,
particularly that there is no clear indication that the Library at its incep-
tion was a public building similar to the libraries of today.52
It is interesting to see that institutionalized research centers and librar-
ies were often associated with religious institutions and placed under the
protection of divinities or muses. This tradition continued in the east
even after the Hellenistic period when research was particularly active
in monasteries and later on in mosques. Even in medieval Europe, great
universities started with monks. Knowledge was somehow part of the
divine, of the mysteries of the world.
50
After Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 321ff.
51
Jones, Index of Ancient Egyptian Titles, 2:849.
52
Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 320. It is clear however that the conception of the
Alexandrian Mouseion and Library developed greatly during the Hellenistic period.
Particularly interesting in this respect are the acquisition methods, organization and
translations of the contents, etc., which really modernized the concepts of a library.
See Fraser, ibid., 320–35.
William J. Cherf
1
Dedel, Historia critica bibliothecae Alexandrinae (1823); Klippel, Ueber das Alexan-
drinische Museum (1838); Parthey, Alexandrinische Museum (1838); Ritschl, Alexandrinischen
Bibliotheken unter der ersten Ptolemaern (1838); Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, s.v.
“Alexandria,” 1:97; Göll, Alexandrinische Museum (1868); El-Falaki, Mémoire sur l’antique
Alexandrie (1872); Kiepert, “Zur Topographie des alten Alexandria,” (1872): 345;
Lefort, Bibliothèque d’Alexandrie et sa destruction (1875); Weniger, Alexandrinische Museum
(1875); Chastel, “Destinées de la bibliothèque d’Alexandrie,” (1876): 484–496; Schil-
ler, “Zur Topographie und Geschichte des alten Alexandria,” (1883): 330–334; Bati,
“Burning of the Alexandrian Library,” (1884): 103–107; Cumpfe, “Beiträge zur einige
das Museum und die Bibliotheken zu Alexandria betreffende Fragen,” (1885): 63–71;
Judeich, Caesar im Orient: Kritische Übersicht der Ereignisse vom 9. August 48 bis Oktober 47
(1885); Hirtius, Bellum Alexandrinum, erklärt von Rudolf Schneider (1888); Cornelissen,
“Ad librum de Bello Alexandrino,” (1889): 52–55; Nourrisson, Bibliothèque des Ptolémées
(1893); Puchstein, RE, s.v. “Alexandria,” (1), col. 1376–1388; K. Dziatzko, RE, s.v.
“Bibliotheken: v. Alexandrinische Bibliotheken,” (3), col. 409–414; Teggart, “Caesar
and the Alexandrian Library,” (1899): 472; Jung, Caesar in Aegypten, 48/47 v. Chr. (1900);
Blomfield, “Emplacement du musée et de la bibliothèque des Ptolémées,” (1904): 15–37;
Macaire, “Nouvelle étude sur la Serapeum d’Alexandrie,” (1910): 443–456; Magdi
Bey, “Résponse à S. B. Kyrillos Macaire à propos de l’incendie de la bibliothèque
d’Alexandrie,” (1910): 553–570; Ibid., “Observations on the Fate of the Alexandrian
Library,” (1911); Furlani, “Sull’incendio della biblioteca di Alessandria,” (1924): 205–
212; Ibid., “Giovanni il Filopono e l’incendio della biblioteca d’Alessandria,” (1925):
58–77; Bell, “Alexandria,” (1927): 171–184; Breccia, Porto d’Alessandria d’Egitto, (1927);
Bushnell, “Alexandrian Library,” (1928): 203; Staquet, “César à Alexandrie: L’incendrie
de la bibliothèque,” (1928): 169; Graindor, Guerre d’Alexandrie (1931); Calderini, Dizionario
de nomi geografici e topografici dell’ Egitto Greco-Romano (1935); Götze, “Antiken Bibliotheken,”
(1937): 225–247; Harvey, “Alexandrian Library,” (1940); Parsons, Alexandrian Library
(1952); Zeydan, “Burning of the Books at the Library of Alexandria and Elsewhere,”
(1952): 413–421; Westermann, Library of Ancient Alexandria (1954); De Vleeschauwer,
“Bibliothèque Ptolémées d’Alexandrie,” (1955): 1–39; Forster, Alexandria (1961); Adriani,
Topografia di Alessandria (1966); Moschonas, “Sur la fin probable de la bibliothèque
d’Alexandrie,” (1967): 37–40; Niazi, “Destruction of the Alexandrian Library,” (1968):
163–174; Mader, “Library of Alexandria,” (1976): 2–13; Hemmerdinger, “Que César
n’a pas brûlé la bibliothèque d’Alexandrie,” (1985): 76–77; Canfora, Vanished Library
(1990); Blum, Kallimachos: The Alexandrian Library and the Origins of Bibliography (1991);
At issue for these scholars are basically three questions that can be
summarized as follows. First of all, where was the Library located—near
the Eastern Harbour or safely beyond it? Second, do the ancient tes-
timonia that refer to the loss of stored books mean the Great Library
itself, or some other external collection? Third and finally, was the
Great Library indeed damaged or destroyed as a result of the Bellum
Alexandrinum, when Julius Caesar set afire the Egyptian fleet in the
Eastern Harbour?
To date, no scholar has focused upon one detail that all of the ancient
testimonia agree upon—the fire itself.2 So the present thesis argues
simply this: if the necessary conditions were available, could the
El-Abbadi, Life and Fate of the Ancient Library of Alexandria (1992); Ellens, Ancient Library
of Alexandria and Early Christian Theological Development (1993); Jochum, “Alexandrian
Library and its Aftermath,” (1999): 5–12; MacLeod, Library of Alexandria (2000); Cas-
son, Libraries in the Ancient World (2001).
2
Caesar Bellum Civile 3.111: Sed rem obtinuit Caesar omnesque eas naves et reli-
quas, quae erant in navalibus, incendit, quod tam late tueri parva manu non poterat,
confestimque ad Pharum navibus milites exposuit. Seneca De tranquillitate animi 9.5:
Quadraginta [codex Ambrosianus xl; Quadringenta Pincianus] milia librorum Alex-
andriae arserunt; pulcherrimum regiae, opulentiae monimentum alius laudaverit, sicut
T. Livius quie elegantiae regum curaeque egregium id opus ait fuisse. Lucan Pharsalia
10.488–505: Sed adest defensor ubique, Caesar et hos aditus fladiis, hos ignibus arcet,
Obsessusque gerit—tanta est constantia mentis—Expugnantis opus. Piceo iubet unguine
tinetas, Lampadas inmitti iunctis in vela carinis; Nec piger ignis erat per stuppea vincula
perque, Manates cera tabulas, et tempore eodem, Transtraque nautarum summique
arsere ceruehi. Iam prope semustae merguntur in aequora classes, Iamque hostes et
tela natant. Nec puppibus ignis, Incubuit solis; sed quae vicina fuere, Tecta mari, longis
rapuere vaporibus ignem, Et cladem fovere Noti, percussaque flamma, Turbine non
alio motu per tecta cucurrit . . . Quam solet aetherio lampas decurrere sulco, Materiaque
carens atque ardens aere solo. Illa lues paulum clausa revocavit ab aula, Urbis in aux-
ilium populos. Plutarch Caesar 49: δεύτερον δέ περικοπτόμενος τὸν στόλον ἠναγκάσθη
διὰ πυρὸς ἀπώσασθαι τὸν κίνδυνον, ὁ καὶ τὴν μεγάλην βιβλιοθήκην ἐκ τῶν νεωρίον
ἐπινεμόμενον διέφθειρε. Florus Epitoma de Tito Livio 2.13.59–60: Ac primum proximo-
rum aedificiorum atque navalium incendio infestorum hostium tela submovit, mox in
paeninsulam Pharon subitus evasit. Aulus Gellius Noctes Atticae 7.17.3: Ingens postea
numerus librorum in Aegypto ab Ptolemaeis regibus vel conquisitus vel confectus est
ad milia ferme voluminum septingenta; sed ea omnia bello priore Alexandrino, dum
diripitur ea civitas, non sponte neque opera consulta, sed a militibus forte auxiliaris
incensa sunt. Dio Cassius 42.38.2: κἀκ τούτον πολλαὶ μὲν μάχαι καὶ μεθ᾿ ἡμέραν καὶ
νύκτωρ αὐτοῖς ἐγίγνοντο, πολλὰ δὲ καὶ κατετίμπρατο, ὥστε ἄλλα τε καὶ τό νεώριον τάς
τε ἀποθῆκας καὶ τοῦ σίτου καὶ τῶν βίβλων, πλείστων δὴ ἀρίστων, ὥς φασι, γενομένων,
καυθῆναι. Ammianus Marcellinus 22.16.13: In quo bybliothecae fuerunt inaestima-
blies: et loquitur monumentorum veterum concinens fides, septingenta voluminum
milia, Ptolomaeis regibus vigiliis intentis composita, bello Alexandrino, dum diripitur
civitas, sub dictatore Caesare conflagrasse. Orosius Historiae adversus paganos 6.15.31: Ea
flamma cum partem quoque urbis invasisset quadraginta mila librorum proximis forte
aedibus condita exussit. Zonaras 10.10.3: ὅτε πῦρ ἐμβαλοντες Καίσαρος τῷ στόλω καὶ
ἡ μεγάλη βιβλιοθήκη ἑμπεπρηστο.
I. Definition
II. Chronology
pre-Julian calendrical dates into Julian dates, and then convert the Julian
dates into those of the Gregorian calendar.
The pre-Julian dates that we know of include Caesar’s arrival at
Alexandria on either the 1st or 2nd of October 48 B.C.,3 and that
the date for the surrender of the Egyptian army was on the 27th of
March 47 B.C.4 Therefore, the burning of the fleet must have occurred
sometime during that six month period. However, based upon internal
textual evidence, several valuable chronological benchmarks are avail-
able to assist us in narrowing down when the fire was started. They
include:
3
Velleius Paterculus 2.53.3 dates Pompey’s murder at Pelusium to 28 September
48 B.C. (pre-Julian). Livy (Periochae 112) reports that Caesar arrived at Alexandria
three days after that event, thus, on 2 October 48 B.C. (pre-Julian), Graindor, Guerre
d’Alexandrie, 18 n. 1. This date has been accepted by most scholars, however, Bengtson,
Römische Geschichte, 227 n. 1, quoting Heinen, Rom und Ägypten von 51 bis 47 v. Chr., 70f.,
has preferred 1 October 48 B.C. (pre-Julian) for the date of Caesar’s arrival.
4
For the date of the surrender of the Egyptian army to Caesar, see Lord, “Date
of Julius Caesar’s Departure from Alexandria,” 25.
5
Caes. B Civ. 3.106.1–5; Livy Per. 112; Dio Cass. 42.7; Luc. Phar. 10.11. Caesar’s
sojourn in Egypt was most probably for financial reasons—after Pharsalus his soldiers
and officers had to be paid. Thus, Caesar went to Alexandria to collect an old debt
of Ptolemy XII for his kingly confirmation by the Roman Senate. The attempted
collection of this debt may have caused the Alexandrian’s rioting (Caes. B Civ. 3.107;
Cicero Epistulae ad Atticum 2.16.2; Suetonius De vita Caesarum 54.3; Dio Cass. 39.12.1
and Pliny Naturalis historia 33.136).
6
Caes. B Civ. 3.107: Ipse enim necessario etesiis tenebatur, qui navigantibus ibus Alexandria
flant adversissimi. Hirtius Bellum Alexandrinum 3: Namque eum (Caesar) interclusum tempestatibus
propter anni tempus recipere transmarina auxilia non posse.
7
Caes. B Civ. 3.108.2 and Dio Cass. 42.36.2. That Ptolemy XIII’s reign occurred
during the Alexandrian War, see Samuel, Ptolemaic Chronology, 168; Skeat, Reigns of the
Ptolemies, 18, 41; Pestman, Chronologie Égyptienne d’après les textes demotiques, 82–83 and
Heinen, “Caesar und Kaisarion,” 182.
8
Caes. B Civ. 3.109. To cross the Delta from east to west, the Egyptian army had
to first march to the Delta’s apex and cross the Nile near Memphis before advancing
in a northwesterly direction towards Alexandria. Cf., Arrian 3.1 for Alexander’s similar
route from Pelusium to Alexandria.
9
Caes. B Civ. 3.110.
10
Supra note 2.
11
Judeich, Caesar im Orient; Jung, Caesar in Aegypten, 48/47 v. Chr.; Bouché-Leclercq,
Histoire des Lagides; Veith, Geschichte der Feldzüge C. Julius Caesars; Drumann, Geschichte
Roms in seinen Übergang, vol. 3; A. Klotz, RE, s.v. “C. Iulius C. f. C. Caesar,” (10, 1),
col. 186–275; Graindor, Guerre d’Alexandrie; Walter, Caesar: A Biography; Carcopino, César;
Adcock, Cambridge Ancient History, vol. 9; Dodge, Caesar; and Heinen, Rom und Ägypten
von 51 bis 47 v. Chr.
12
Judeich, Caesar im Orient, 83; Drumann, Geschichte Roms, 3:483–484; Carcopino,
César, 913.
13
Samuel, Greek and Roman Chronology, 163–164.
14
In 46 B.C. Julius Caesar, as pontifex maximus, reformed the Roman calendar by
adding an intercalary month of 23 days plus an additional 67 days which had not been
added to the preceding years of 51 through 47 B.C., Drumann, Geschichte Roms, 3:762;
Carcopino, César, 1030. This calendrical discrepancy arose because the pre-Julian year
contained 355 days and three biennial intercalations of 22, 23, and 22 days had not
occurred to maintain the pre-Julian calendar with the solar year, Samuel, Greek and
Roman Chronology, 155–159. Similarly, if intercalations are omitted, then the pre-Julian
year would advance in relation to the solar year at a rate of approximately 10 days per
year. Thus, if 46 B.C. was 67 days in advance of the solar year, then 47 B.C. would be
approximately 57 days in advance, and 48 B.C. approximately 47 days in advance.
15
Carcopino, César, 910.
Next, we are told that Caesar could not embark from Alexandria on
account of the Etesian winds. The Egyptian trade-winds, or Etesians,
typically blow out of the North to Northwest,16 and according to the
pre-Julian calendar did so from mid-September through mid-November.
When corrected into Julian dates, these winds blew from early August
through early October (table 1).
Alexandria
End July
(G)
Early Nov. (pJ)
First Battle.
Ignition of
Mid-Sept. ( J)
Egyptian
Fleet End
August (G)
16
Strabo 17.1.17 (C793) and H. Gärtner, Kleine Pauly, s.v. “Etesien,” (2), col. 381,
lines 34–36.
17
Judeich, Caesar im Orient, 71–72; Lamb, Climate, 1:456.
18
Carcopino, César, 1032.
19
Brooks, Climate Through the Ages, 333; Butzer, Environment and Archaeology, 236; ibid.,
Early Hydraulic Civilization in Egypt, 26.
20
Ramly, “Shoreline Changes during the Quaternary in the Western Desert Medi-
terranean Coastal Region (Alexandria-Sallum), U.A.R.,” 286.
With the burning of the fleet in the Eastern Harbour taking place
sometime near the end of August 48 B.C. (Gregorian), modern meteo-
rological data of the monthly temperatures, rainfall, wind directions,
and wind rose velocities, can now be consulted. These data indicate
that the air temperature in modern Alexandria during the months
of June through September would have averaged between 23ºC and
25ºC. (75ºF–78ºF.) and that rainfall during that same period was
practically non-existent.21 Such conditions create a warm and parched
environment.
Modern pilot chart data for the month of August reveals that the
prevailing winds for that month come predominantly from the North-
west and measure at Force 3, or about 13–19 kilometers per hour.
Most importantly, calm conditions occur only 1% of the time during
August.22 These data, therefore, describe the warm and parched condi-
tions that one would expect at ancient Alexandria at the end of August
(Gregorian) with the Etesian winds constantly blowing.
In addition, Alexandria and its Eastern Harbour were unprotected
from these off-shore winds. The surface contour of Alexandria, from
north to south, rises only seven meters for every linear kilometer. Flat
Pharos Island provided the city with no wind break whatsoever.23 In
fact, the artificial crescent which formed the Eastern Harbour was
constructed of several layers of man-made wave-breakers or moles.24
In short, the meteorological conditions at ancient Alexandria were
warm, rainless, windy, and without any wind protection. Given such
21
Air temperatures, see World Weather Reports, (= WWR) 1941–1950 (Washington
D.C., 1959) 142. Rainfall, see WWR, 1921–1930 (Washington D.C., 1944) 82, June to
September, 0.0 mm.; WWR, 1931–1940 (Washington D.C., 1947) 70, June to September,
0.0 mm.; WWR, 1941–1950 (Washington D.C., 1959) 142, June to September, 0.6 mm.;
WWR, 1951–1960 (Washington D.C., 1967) 466, June–September, 0.3 mm.
22
Northwesterlies average a 54% occurrence, westerlies at 31%, northerlies at 8%,
northeasterlies at only 2%. All other compass points observed fall below 2% in occur-
rence. U.S. Hydrographic Office, Pilot Chart of the North Atlantic, no.1400 (Washington
D.C., 1947–February 1971) and U.S. Naval Oceanographic Office, Pilot Chart of the
North Atlantic, no.16 (Washington D.C., March 1971–1980). A wind of Force 3 on the
Beaufort Scale can be described as a breeze of 7–10 knots (12.8–18.5 kph), strong
enough to extend light flags. Watts, Instant Wind Forecasting, 10–11.
23
Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:18.
24
These moles were extended to protect the Eastern Harbour from wave-action
and off-shore currents, ibid., 1:21. The natural moles of the Island of Antirrhodus
and the Poseidon Peninsula offered further internal protection for any ships at anchor
in the harbour.
IV. Fuel
25
Hirtius B Alex. 12: Ac tam etsi amplius CX navibus longis in portu navalibusque amiserant,
non tamen reparandae classis cognationem deposuerunt.
26
Caes. B Civ. 3.111: Quarum erant L . . . quadriremes omnes et quinqueremes aptae instructaeque
omnibus rebus ad navigandum.
27
Caes. B Civ. 3.111: XXII (naves longas), quae praesidii causa Alexandriae esse consuerant,
constratae omnes. L. Casson discusses the necessity to seasonally dry-dock warships in
order to prevent them from becoming water-logged. Casson, Ships and Seamanship in
the Ancient World, 90.
28
The size and displacement of these warships are unknown. However, late-Hel-
lenistic warships tended to sit low in the water, had a displacement in excess of 40
metric tons, and were usually designed on a ratio of 1:10, beam width to hull length.
The rigging of at least a main sail completed its upper, wooden cataphract structure.
In comparison to a quadrireme or quinquereme, a trireme in 48 B.C. would have been
considered a light unit. See ibid., 100, 116–117, 123; and Foley and Soedel, “Ancient
Oared Warships,” 149, 155–156.
29
The average beam of a quinquereme or quadrireme was about 5 to 6 meters
wide. With a conservative 2 meter gap between each ships’ gunnels, fifty warships ×
5 meters = 250 meters plus 2 × 49 (docking gap) = 98 m. The sum would have been
approximately 350 meters in length at a minimum.
full rigging in place and hulls coated with pitch and wax, these warships
represented an accident truly waiting to happen.30
30
If one does not think that an ancient ship was highly flammable, then consider the
following telling, if irreverent tongue in cheek, passages from Aristophanes’ Acharnians
190: ὄζουσι πίττης καὶ παρασκευῆς νεῶν; and 918–924: αὕτη γὰρ ἐμπρήσειεν ἄν τὸ
νεώριον. νεώριον θρυαλλίς; οἴμοι, τίνι τρόπῳ; ἐνθεὶς ἂν ἐς τίθην ἀνὴρ Βοιώτιος, ἅψας
ἂν εἰσπέμψειεν ἐς τὸ νεώριον δἰ ὑδρορρόας, Βορέαν ἐπιτηρήσας μέγαν. κεἴπερ λάβοιτο
τῶν τὸ πῦρ ἅπαξ, σελαγοῖτ᾿ ἄν αἴφνης.
31
Strabo 17.1.9 (C794). Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 2:76 n. 175; and Casson, Ships
and Seamanship in the Ancient World, 366.
32
Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 2:75 n. 174, 2:76 nn. 175, 176.
33
Fraser further emphasizes that the terms ἀποστάσεις and ἀποθῆκαι describe
similar structures, with the qualification that the latter is a more generalized term for
storage houses, while the former is a more specific term for dock-side warehouses,
ibid., 2:76 n. 176.
34
Supra note 2.
35
The Nile inundation began at Aswan in late May or early June, while in Cairo,
the high Nile occurred in early September through early October, see Kees, Ancient
Egypt, 54. Consequently, the Egyptian harvest was staggered as well beginning in April
and lasting until the end of May or later. Shipment to Alexandria usually took place
from May through June, see Rickman, Roman Granaries and Store Buildings, 303 citing
P. Oxy. 2182. Upon arrival the grain was immediately exported before the arrival of the
Etesian winds. But how much grain was exported from Alexandria during the years
49/48 and 48/47 B.C., while the civil war between Cleopatra VII and Ptolemy XIII
raged? Furthermore, Alexandria’s granaries were probably empty since 50/49 B.C.,
a year when Egypt suffered a low Nile and poor harvest, see Rostovtzeff, Social and
Economic History of the Hellenistic World, 2:909.
36
Strabo 17.1.9 (C794).
37
Casson, Ships and Seamanship in the Ancient World, 363.
38
The assumption that the naval dockyard or νέωρια of Alexandria were ramped
and covered by a roofed colonnade can be argued by comparison with other Hel-
lenistic harbours, such as Piraeus, Sunium, Apollonia in Cyrenaica, and Oeniadae in
Acarnania, ibid., 363–366.
39
A fine example of a Hellenistic naval arsenal was that at Piraeus. Built around 350
B.C. and destroyed by Sulla in 86 B.C., this arsenal had wooden doors, a continuous
two-story wooden gallery, beamed frame supports for roofing, wooden architraves, and
wooden blocks to support the central ridge beam, see IG II2 1668 and Syll 3 969. Its
outer construction was principally limestone measuring 400 × 55 ft. with 2.5 ft. thick
walls 27 ft. high, Marstrand, Arsenalet i Piraeus.
palace complex, the many temples, municipal buildings and the hous-
ing of the wealthy. Such architecture surely was built with more care,
with better materials, all to be more lasting. It is in this context that we
should perhaps apply Aulus Hirtius’ description of Alexandrian build-
ing construction as being almost fire-proof: “For Alexandria is almost
safe from fire, because the buildings are without wooden floors and
the construction is held together by arch-roofs which are of rubble or
a plaster/cement mixture.”40
Still and all, this statement remains nothing more than a sweeping
generalization, for note the amount of wood that Hirtius tells us was
still available in supposedly fire-safe Alexandria:
While this author would be the first to admit that much, if not all, of
the above recycled wood came from non-royal architecture, the point
still must be made that there seemed to be no end to the wood supply
in Alexandria.
40
Hirtius B Alex. 1: Nam incendio fere tuta est Alexandrea, quod sine contignatione ac materia
sunt aedificia et structuris ac fornicibus continentur tectaque sunt rudere aut pavimentis.
41
Hirtius B Alex. 1: operibus vineisque agendis.
42
Hirtius B Alex. 2: Praeterea alias ambulatorias totidem tabulatorum confixerant subiectisque
eas rotis funibus iumentisque obiectis derectis plateis in quamcumque erat visum partem movebant.
43
Hirtius B Alex. 12: et materiam cunctam obicerent.
44
Hirtius B Alex. 12: Ac tam etsi amplius CX navibus longis in portu navalibusque amise-
rant, non tamen reparandae classis cognationem deposuerunt. B.A. 13: Naves veteres erant in occultis
regiae navalibus, quibus multis annis ad navigandum non erant usi: has reficiebant, illas Alexandream
revocabant. Deerant remi: porticus, gymnasia, publica aedificia detegebant, asseres remorum usum
obtinebant . . . Itaque paucis diebus contra omnium opinionem quadriremis XXII, quinqueremis V
confecerunt; ad has minores apertasque compluris adiecerunt.
V. Ignition
45
See note 29 above.
46
Eyewitness reports during the Chicago Fire of 1871 attest to the explosive reaction
of superheated stone, see Lakeside Monthly 7 (Chicago 1872) 35; Moses and Kirkland,
History of Chicago Illinois, 1:207; Sheahan and Upton, Great Conflagration, 228.
47
Strabo 17.1.13 (C798): μέγιστον ἐμπόριον τῆς ὀικουμένης.
48
Puchstein, RE, s.v. “Alexandria,” (1), col. 1381, lines 25–26 quoting Strabo 17.1.8
(C793). Fraser tentatively agrees. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:13, 2:26–27 n. 64.
49
Of these, only two are known as to what they contained: Alpha (the courts of
justice); and Delta (the Jewish quarter). Beta is known only from Augustan and later
documents to have contained the Square Stoa and its own granaries. Gamma and Eta
have no references. Only the location of Delta has been located in the northeastern
corner of the city near the palace complex, Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:34–35.
50
Caes. B Civ. 3.111.3, 3.111.8–10; Hirtius B. Alex. 13.1; Diodorus Siculus 1.50.8,
17.52.4 and Strabo 17.1.8–9 (C793–794). Calderini, Dizionario, 1:97–100; Fraser, Ptol-
emaic Alexandria, 1:14–15.
51
Diod. Sic. 17.52.6 followed by Calderini, Dizionario, 1:200; Rostovtzeff, Social and
Economic History of the Hellenistic World, 2:1138 n. 74; Fraser considers 300,000 too low
and estimates a population just “short of one million” inhabitants in 60 B.C. Fraser,
Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:91, 2:171–172 n. 358.
52
For the effect of urban fires on late Republican Rome, see for example, Yavetz,
“Living Conditions of the Urban Plebs in Republican Rome,” 500–517.
53
Luc. Phar. 10.488–505. Harper’s Weekly, October 21, 1871, 984–985; ibid., October
28, 1871, 1010–1013; ibid., November 4, 1871, 1028–1029; and Lakeside Monthly 7
(1872) 22–39.
54
The firestorms of World War II, specifically those at Dresden, Hamburg, Tokyo,
and Nagasaki can be removed from consideration, since they were the artificial creations
of saturation incendiary or nuclear bombardment. None of these firestorms could have
As a native of Chicago, Illinois, the story of that city’s fire, the Great
Chicago Fire of 1871, made an indelible impression. With every stroll
through the streets of its downtown area one is faced with two remind-
ers, the only two structures that survived that awful conflagration: the
Chicago Water Tower and its adjacent Pumping Station. These two lone
islands of massive stone construction were all that were left standing in
their neighborhood. In fact the phrase “Second City,” when applied to
Chicago does not refer to its importance in comparison with that of
New York, but rather to the new city that arose phoenix-like from its
own ashes. “Second City”—Nea Polis. Do not the meanings of these
two phrases sound vaguely similar and appropriate? Old Chicago of
1871 sprawled over some 932 hectares of flat, lake-side plain that pos-
sessed no topographical wind barriers. While that city’s area was three
and a half times that of ancient Alexandria, it contained practically
the same free population, reckoned at 334,000. Domestic architecture
was predominantly wooden structures, whereas some of the urban
landscape was punctuated with more ambitious structures of brick,
marble, and stone. The Fall of 1871 had been particularly hot and dry
with a meager summer’s rainfall.55 On the early evening of October
8th, 1871, the entire city was as dry as kindling wood.
We are told that many eyewitnesses were rendered numb or hysterical.
Gale-like heat convections, described as “hurricanes” or “tornadoes,”
were recorded as high as 100 kilometers per hour. Burning embers were
lofted over 300 meters into the air creating virtually an illuminated snow
storm of fallout. Drafts that funneled through the city streets formed
eddies of swirling smoke and leaping tongues of fire. The collective heat
was so intense that stone structures failed and exploded, brick structures
collapsed, glass flowed like water, and structural metal groaned—then
failed. The superheated air alone, which preceded this fury, ignited
wooden objects and reportedly made glass glow a ruddy red. Before the
ordeal was over 810 hectares or 86% of Old Chicago, since called the
“Burnt District,” and nearly 18,000 structures were consumed in only
two days time. Despite the Chicago fire-brigades’ valiant and ceaseless
toil, this holocaust spread at will, ran its course, and was only brought
under control by the gentle rain of 10 October 1871.56
occurred naturally. They occurred only because of the massive introduction of foreign,
flammable, and explosive materials into a confined area.
55
Musham, “Great Chicago Fire, October 8–10, 1871,” 87.
56
Harper’s Weekly, October 28, 1871, 1010; Lakeside Monthly 7 (1872) 33; Musham,
In light of the Old Chicago Fire, we now turn to Lucan and his
famous passage from the Pharsalia. Note the similarity of imagery in
the description of the Alexandrian fire’s spread that originated from
the burning pitch and running wax of the warships.57 He writes:
Nor did the fire fall upon the vessels only: the houses near the sea caught
fire from the spreading heat, and the winds fanned the conflagration, till
the flames, smitten by the eddying gale, rushed over the roofs as fast as
the meteors that often trace a furrow though the sky, though they have
nothing solid to feed on and burn by means of air alone. This calamity
for a time called off the crowd from the close-barred palace to rescue
the city.58
Admittedly, Lucan’s source for this memorable passage was his own
probable eyewitness account of the Roman fire of A.D. 64. Nonethe-
less, the Alexandrian fire did take place, and did spread inland. We
know this, because the papyri of the first through fourth centuries A.D.
attest to the Alexandrian granaries as being located in a new quarter of
the city significantly called the Neapolis.59 On the basis of this evidence,
Ausfeld rightly concluded that the Neapolis was none other than the
name given to that part of Alexandria around the Eastern Harbour,
which had to be rebuilt subsequent to the fire of 48 B.C.60
Strabo’s post-fire account of Alexandria,61 by far our best topographi-
cal description of the city and its surroundings, nevertheless, is based
upon his autopsy dated to between 24 and 20 B.C.62—almost a full
generation after the fire. Thus, some features and buildings visible from
the Eastern Harbour were recent additions that had replaced the fire-
gutted waterfront. Typical of the massive construction effort to hide the
scares of the Bellum Alexandrinum were: the entire Emporium complex
“Great Chicago Fire, October 8–10, 1871,” 130, 135; Moses and Kirkland, History of
Chicago Illinois, 1:205–206.
57
Luc. Phar. 10.680–688: Nulla tamen plures hoc edidit aequore clades, Quam pelago diversa
lues. Nam pinguibus ignis, Adfixus taedis et tecto sulpure vivax, Spargiture; at faciles praebere alimenta
carinae, Nunc pice, nunc liquida rapuere incendia cera. Nec flammas superant undae, sparsisque per
aequor, Iam ratibus fragmenta ferus sibi vindicat ignis. Hic recipit fluctus, extinguat ut aequore flam-
mas, Hi, ne mergantur, tabulis ardentibus haerent.
58
Supra note 2.
59
The Neapolis, located northeast of Rhakotis, included the granaries and other new
construction, Calderini, Dizionario, 1:131–132.
60
Ausfeld, “Neapolis und Brucheion in Alexandria,” 481–497.
61
Strabo 17.1.9 (C794).
62
Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:7, 2:12–13 n. 29.
63
Strabo 17.1.9 (C794). Calderini, Dizionario, 1:110–111, 118–119; Fraser, Ptolemaic
Alexandria, 1:24, 2:66–69, nn. 153–156, 2:70 n. 161. The Emporium was the main
market area that extended to the seafront, comprising more than one structure and
including the Caesareion. Its general location is known, for the extant ruins of the
Caesareion stand near the city’s central shoreline.
64
Strabo 17.1.9 (C794); Plutarch Antonius 69. Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:24,
2:66–67 n. 153.
65
Strabo 17.1.9 (C794); Dio Cass. 42.38.2. Calderini, Dizionario, 1:93, 135; Fraser,
Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:25, 2:76 nn. 175–176.
66
Ibid., Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:25. This structure, never fully completed and prob-
ably damaged during the Alexandrian War, was neglected to be later outdone by the
Caesareion adjacent to it.
67
Supra note 2. Of these sources, Caesar and Aulus Hirtius mention only the burn-
ing of moored and dry-docked vessels. Lucan provides a vivid account for the inland
course of the fire, which was first fanned by the coastal breezes and then worsened
by the fire’s own draft. Florus has Caesar igniting the docks and neighboring build-
ings. Dio Cassius also has Caesar starting the fire in the dock area, but then adds the
destruction of the neighboring granaries and the ἀποθῆκαι τῶν βίβλων. Plutarch is the
first, followed by Orosius, to connect the burning of the fleet and the inland spread of
the fire to the destruction of the Great Library. Zonaras simply records that Caesar
torched the Alexandria’s warehouses and Great Library. Plutarch, unlike the rest, seems
to have followed an Alexandrian Greek source other than Livy, Teggart, “Caesar and
the Alexandrian Library,” 471–474. Unfortunately, Livy’s Book 112, a critical source
for the Bellum Alexandrinum, exists only as an epitome—Periocha 112.
This is not to say that the extraordinary archaeological efforts by the French and
Polish missions in Alexandria have not been in vain. Professor Dr. Jean-Yves Empereur
placed the library’s destruction within second and third century A.D. contexts on the
basis of numismatic evidence. In addition, Professor Dr. Empereur had kindly informed
this author that core borings had also been undertaken throughout the city’s confines.
The results of these data, however, I have yet to examine regarding their number,
location, depth and stratification. Therefore, I heartily encourage the reader to consult
Prof. Dr. Empereur’s data contained in this volume.
state that: “All considered then, we are justified in supposing that the
contents of the Royal Library, if not wholly destroyed, were at least
seriously diminished in the fire of 48 B.C.”68 Given the potential fire-
storm conditions that may have occurred in 48 B.C., this author finds
Fraser’s assessment difficult to refute.
The literary sources that chronicle the fiery events surrounding 48
B.C., however, are at times so contradictory that one must rely upon
inference and comparative analysis in dealing with them.69 Moreover,
any archaeological approach to the question is hampered by the paucity
of evidence, and of course, by the unknown location of the Mouseion
and its Library collection.70
In the end, whether or not the Great Library survived the fiery tem-
pest of the Bellum Alexandrinum of 48 B.C. cannot be proven.71 However,
68
Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:335.
69
Ibid., 1:334.
70
The remains of the Mouseion and its library have yet to be found. The systematic
archaeological investigation of Alexandria is hindered by coastal subsidence, building
activity of the past century which created a new coastline, the mixing of stratigra-
phy during this and on-going construction, and ancient construction and demolition
from Ptolemaic through Roman times, ibid., 1:9–10. Nonetheless, these structures are
thought to have been located together or in close proximity in the southwest corner
of the Ptolemaic palace complex, about 400 meters from the north-central shoreline
of the Ptolemaic Eastern Harbour, southwest from the Heptastadion, behind the naval
dockyard (νεώρια). K. Dziatzko, RE, s.v. “Bibliotheken: v. Alexandrinische Bibliotheken,”
(3), col. 412, lines 6–10; W. Helck, Kleine Pauly, s.v. “Alexandria,” (1), col. 244, lines
30–32; and Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:15, 2:30–31 n. 77.
71
The ancients were divided as to the extent of the fire’s damage. Seneca (Tranq.
9.5), Dio Cassius (42.38), and Orosius (6.15.31–34) record the loss of either 40,000
or 400,000 books, depending upon the mss. reading, Reynolds, L. Annaei Senecae, 224
n. 6; White, Scholia on the Aves of Aristophanes, xxxii–xxxiii; Orosius. Historiarum Adversum
Paganos Libri VII, ed. Zangemeister, 402 n. 1. Westermann outright questioned Seneca’s
lost Livian source for the number of volumes supposedly lost (40,000 or 400,000);
Westermann, Library of Ancient Alexandria, 13. Dio Cassius (42.38) merely states that
“the storehouses of grain and books of the greatest number and excellence were
burned” and what he meant by these “storehouses of books” is not clear. The phrase,
however, has been interpreted variously as either “a warehouse of books,” a “storage
area within the library,” or even as “the Great Library” itself, see Fraser, Ptolemaic
Alexandria, 1:335, 2:494 n. 226. If they can be trusted, Aulus Gellius (NA 7.17.3) and
Ammianus Marcellinus (22.16.13)—both following a non-Livian source—report the
loss of 70,000 and 700,000 books, respectively.
R. S. Bagnall, in his critical paper entitled, “The Library of Alexandria: Desires
and Realities,” rightly questions the great numbers of books supposedly lost, in some
respects harkening back to the many known exaggerations of Herodotus. However,
Bagnall based his low estimates only upon the known Classical corpus, which in this
scholar’s view excludes all the non-Classical sources that could well have been present
within that universal collection—Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Persian and East Indian.
Also modern opinion is divided so as to the extent of the Great Library’s damage
in 48 B.C. On the one hand, there are those who contend that the library was either
destroyed or damaged during the Alexandrian War. These scholars cite the testimonia
of Seneca, Plutarch, Aulus Gellius, and Ammianus Marcellinus. On the other hand,
however, there are those who argue that it was only stored books or papyrus rolls, either
located dockside or transferred to the quays, which were destroyed, K. Dziatzko, RE, s.v.
“Bibliotheken: v. Alexandrinische Bibliotheken,” (3), col. 412; Mahaffy, History of Egypt
Under the Ptolemaic Dynasty, 242–243; Sandys, History of Classical Scholarship, 1:112–113;
Holmes, Roman Republic and the Founder of the Empire, 3:489; Bevan, History of Egypt Under
the Ptolemaic Dynasty, 365; Irwin, English Library, 36; Tarn, Hellenistic Civilization, 270;
Adcock, “Civil War: Part IV, Caesar at Alexandria,” 671; Canfora, Vanished Library,
136; Jochum, “Alexandrian Library and its Aftermath,” 9–10. It is also argued that
the burning of these papyrus rolls led to the “legend” of the Great Library’s demise
and that Plutarch is guilty of Alexandrian propaganda, Teggart, “Caesar and the
Alexandrian Library,” 474.
Jean-Yves Empereur
1
Seneca De tranquillitate animi 9.5; Plutarch Caesar 49.
2
Lucan Pharsalia 10.486–505; Dio Cassius 62.32.8; Caesar Bellum Civile 3.111.
3
Strabo 17.1.8; cf. also references to the Library from the time of Claudius and
Domitian in Canfora, Véritable histoire de la bibliothèque d’Alexandrie, 210.
“Dioscourides, 3 volumes” (fig. 2),4 and given the incertitude of the era
concerning the topography of the ancient town, one could believe that
this was one of the storage units of the Library that held the works of
the botanist Dioscorides of Anazarbus. But from the beginning of the
twentieth century this hypothesis was rejected and in 1908 A. Reinach
underlined just how difficult it would have been to store the hundreds
of thousands of papyri of the Library in this fashion.
In actual fact, the only papyri that archaeology has found for us in
Alexandria are those of stone! Here, we are talking about the statues
of philosophers or orators from the second century A.D. dressed in a
toga and represented with a bundle of papyri at their sides lying upon
a capsa; a metal box with a lock that was used for carrying their works
(figs. 3, 4).
Not one of the excavations undertaken over more than a century
has uncovered any papyri. There is one mention of the discovery of
carbonized papyri that were found and then dumped by an engineer
at Kom el-Dikka in the nineteenth century. Now that we know how to
restore them,5 it is a shame that they were not saved and we can but
hope to find others in a similar condition during digs in town. However
the climate is too humid for there ever to be finds of papyri in good
condition, whilst our colleagues discover hundreds every year in the
sands of Egypt’s deserts.
Thus, the only hope is to find the remains of the Library itself. But
what can we expect from such a discovery? What will there be to find
but an empty stoa? Will we be able to recognise it for what it is when
the city must have held multiple stoas; the four interminable stadia-long
porticos of the gymnasium, the long stoas that ran along the Canopic
4
Now held in the Kunsthistorisches Museum of Vienna (inv. III 86 L): cf. É. Bernand,
Inscriptions grecques d’Alexandrie ptolémaïque, 167–169. Before the object was rediscovered
in Vienna by Tkaczow, numerous studies of this box were undertaken from the draw-
ings of Harris, circa 1840 (his archives are held in the Graeco-Roman Museum of
Alexandria); Tkaczow, Topography of Ancient Alexandria, 201. This object was found to
the south of the junction of Fouad and Sherif Streets, and the first publishers believed
that from this they could deduce the location of the Library. This hypothesis was
quickly abandoned: cf. the arguments contra in Reinach, “∆ΙΟΣΚΟΥΡΙ∆ΗΣ Γ ΤΟΜΟΙ,”
350–370. Alone and in an inexplicable way, there is A. Bernand, Alexandrie la grande,
132 “H. Brugsch savant de notoriété mondiale (!), ayant affirmé, selon Botti, que ce
coffre de pierre avait bien été trouvé là, il semble qu’il n’y ait guère de doute sur
l’emplacement présumé du Musée, d’autant que cette localisation s’accorde avec les
indications de Strabon.”
5
As has been demonstrated by the example of the Villa dei Papiri at Herculanum.
1/25/2008 8:48:08 PM
el-abbadi_f6_75-88.indd 79
the destruction of the library of alexandria
White marble. Second century A.D. Graeco-Roman Figure 4. The orator’s papyrus box. Detailed view of
Museum, Alexandria. Archives CEAlex/CNRS. figure 3. Archives CEAlex/CNRS.
1/25/2008 8:48:09 PM
80 jean-yves empereur
Way. . . . How could we recognise the stoa of the Library, unless of course
it had an inscription that identified it as such, the word ΒΙΒΛΙΟΘΗΚΗ
carved on an architrave much as the actual Graeco-Roman Museum
bears the word ΜΟΥΣΕΙΟΝ (fig. 5). Otherwise, we might well have one
more portico at Alexandria without being able to attribute it to any
particular monument.
It should be emphasised that excavations at Alexandria are under-
taken without directly being attached to the search for any specific
monument. Aside from the research so well executed by the Polish
mission within the archaeological park of Kom el-Dikka, there are no
systematic excavations here in Alexandria. We are involved solely in
urban salvage digs following the activities of construction companies.
When a developer decides to demolish an old building to replace it
with a modern tower, a brief period of time is allowed to the archae-
ologist to undertake a salvage dig and examine as fast as possible the
underground strata before returning the parcel to its owner so that the
construction project can be realised. Thus, one can never establish a
true archaeological policy with predefined scientific aims. In reality, we
are obliged to follow the developers’ programme of building sites and
it is not easy, given the increase in their projects these past few years.
The salvage excavations of the Centre d’Études Alexandrines
(CEAlex)6 are all so many parts of a giant puzzle on the scale of the
ancient city. Alongside the underwater digs7 and explorations in the
necropolis8 the CEAlex has concentrated its efforts in the district of
Bruccheion, the royal palaces and environs. There the deepest layers have
revealed signs of the first generations of Alexandrians, the settlers who
accompanied the founder in 331 B.C. Such is the case of the house
found in the garden of the former British Consulate with its little dining
room decorated with a pebble mosaic that resembles those of Pella, the
town in Macedonia where Alexander the Great was born (fig. 6). In a
neighbouring parcel a grand house was uncovered. The style of mosaics
that adorned the floors is quite different from our first example. Here
we have floral and vegetal patterns, and in the dining room between the
6
A team of the French Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (UMS 1812),
based in Alexandria. Cf. the web site www.cea.com.eg.
7
Cf. Empereur, Phare d’Alexandrie.
8
Salvage excavations to the west, in the district of Gabbari (cf. Empereur and Nenna,
Nécropolis 1) and to the east in the Latin cemeteries, around the Alabaster Tomb (digs
began in September 2002).
1/25/2008 8:48:10 PM
82 jean-yves empereur
9
In the years 1865–1866, Mahmoud el-Falaki dug a series of trenches on the orders
of the Khedive Ismail in order to draw up a map of ancient Alexandria. This map
with an explanatory text was published in Copenhagen in 1872. All the plotted streets
carry a name composed of a letter and a number (L for streets running east-west and
R for those running north-south). Cf. Rodziewicz, “Débat sur la topographie de la
ville antique,” 38–48; esp. 40–42.
10
Cf. ibid., “Quartier d’habitation gréco-romain à Kôm el-Dikka,” 169–216. The
Villa of the Birds (sounding R) is published in pages 175–192. One should note in
particular the conclusion: “Toutes les mosaïques du sondage R furent détruites vers la
fin du IIIe siècle par un incendie d’envergure notable qui embrasa toutes les maisons
étudiées par nous. La période de destruction des maisons coïncide avec la période de
guerre avec Palmyre, quand le quartier alexandrin du Bruchium fut brûlé. Ce peut
être un détail important permettant de ranger cette partie ou la totalité du terrain de
Kôm el-Dikka justement dans ce quartier.” (ibid., 192)
Figure 7. Drawing of the mosaic from the Roman House of Figure 8. The mosaic of Medusa, Alexandria; details of
83
Medusa, Alexandria. c. 150 A.D. Archives CEAlex/CNRS. the central medallion. Archives CEAlex/CNRS.
1/25/2008 8:48:11 PM
84 jean-yves empereur
1/25/2008 8:48:11 PM
86 jean-yves empereur
the same fate as the House of Medusa, being in use for little more
than one century and then destroyed by an action—violent in this
case—that happened during the second half of the third century A.D.
According to the study of ceramics, it seems that the abandonment
should be dated rather to the middle than to the end of this second
half of the third century.
Now that we have examined the data from the terrain, should we
see these acts of abandonment as individual fates or, given that we
are dealing with not simply an isolated case but with two houses from
the same district, could they be linked to an event within the history
of the city?
11
Cf. Kayser, Recueil des inscriptions grecques et latines (non funéraires) d’Alexandrie impériale
(I er–III e s. apr. J.-C.), 52–57.
part of the quarter called Bruccheion, which for a long time had been the
residence of people of distinction.12
It is also worth noting that at the end of this very same fourth century,
St. John Chrysostom, Bishop of Constantinople, evokes the futility of
glory on Earth by taking as an example the tomb of Alexander the
Great, the very location of which has been lost to the memory of the
Alexandrians. “Tell me, where therefore lies the tomb of Alexander?
Show it to me and tell me the date of his death.”13 This district of
Bruccheion is that of the royal palace and environs without our being able
to give it any definite limits such is our overall ignorance of the topog-
raphy of the ancient city. It would seem that the House of Medusa was
situated within this district, in which stood the Museum, the Library as
well as the tomb of Alexander. Does this mean to say that the palaces
were also destroyed at this period? Such is not altogether impossible,
since when ‘Amr conquered the town in 642, the administrative centre
was to the west of the city, and not to the east, and it would remain
there until the arrival of the Ottomans in 1517, a period when it would
move to the new city that was growing on the silted up tongue of land
that had once been the Heptastadion.14
12
Ammianus Marcellinus 22.15.
13
John Chrysostom Homily 26.5 (Migne, PG 61, Joh. Chrys. 10, C581). On the Sôma,
see most recently, Adriani, Tomba di Alessandro: Realtà, Ipotesi e Fantasie.
14
Cf. Behrens-Abouseif, “Topographie d’Alexandrie médiévale,” 113–125; esp.
118–121.
15
Cf. Tremblements de terre: Histoire et archéologie: 4es rencontres internationales d’archéologie
et d’histoire d’Antibes, 2–4 novembre 1983.
the public the gravity of an event. Certainly, one would not wish to
minimise the extent of the damage inflicted at Lyon (and there was
no need of Caesar, a simple electric malfunction was sufficient), with
a fire that burned for six days and consumed 280000 volumes (out of
a total of 460000), however, in April 2001 the Library was restored,
opened once again to the public and through great acts of solidarity
some 100000 volumes, donations from individuals and institutions, were
reintroduced to the Library.16 There is no longer any outward sign of
damage and one has to read the newspapers to find any mention of
that which happened. I would like to stress this point regarding con-
tinuance and reconstruction, because the philosophers, who continued
their teaching in the Greek tradition up until the middle of the sixth
century, if not until the Arab conquest the following century,17 must
have had the works of Plato and Aristotle to hand. These Fathers of
the Church must have had access to the papyri of their predecessors.
Books will have continued at Alexandria and the destruction of the
Library did not mean the disappearance of books.
Clearly, should the activities of the developers lead us one day to
excavate in the area of the Library (and we know roughly where it
stood), we will perhaps have the chance to better date the destruc-
tion of the building. Of course, we would not let such an opportunity
slip by, however, salvage archaeology at Alexandria is a difficult, if
not dangerous, sport. The archaeologist’s desire to preserve the city’s
heritage does not count for much when faced with the power of the
construction companies and it is possible that the Library will one day
be destroyed (or has already?) by a bulldozer. When confronted by the
derisory means of the archaeologists, the motto of the modern builders
would seem to be Alexandrea delenda est . . .
16
Cf. the web site: Bibliothèque Interuniversitaire de Lettres et Sciences Humaines,
“L’incendie du 12 juin 1999,” BIU LSH Lyon, http://osiris.ens-lsh.fr/reconstitution/
incendie.htm (accessed July 2007).
17
Cf. Sirinelli, Enfants d’Alexandre, 554.
Mostafa A. El-Abbadi
1
Socrates Historia ecclesiastica. 5.16.
2
Polybius Historiae 5.39; Aphthonius Progymnasmata apud G. Botti, Acropole d’Alexandrie
et le Serapeum d’apres Aphtonius et les fouilles, 23–6; Clement of Alexandria Protrepticus 4.42
‘ἄκρα’; cf. McKenzie, Gibson, and Reyes, “Reconstructing the Serapeum in Alexan-
dria,” JRS 94 (2004): 86.
3
Full descriptions are found in Rufinus Historia ecclesiastica 2.23–30; Socr. Hist. eccl.
5.16; Sozomen Historia ecclesiastica 7.15; Theodoret Historia ecclesiastica 5.22; Eunapius
Vita Aedesii 77–8; John of Nikiu 78.45; 83.38.
4
Theod. Hist. eccl. 5.22.
5
Eunap. V. Aedesii 77–8.
6
Parsons, Alexandrian Library, 359–361.
7
Aphth. Prog. 40.
8
Butler, Arab Conquest of Egypt, ed. Fraser, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1978), 382, 415.
9
Matter, Histoire de l’école d’Alexandrie, 319ff.
10
Ruf. Hist. eccl. 2.23 (Emphasis mine).
Perhaps it is not out of place here to say a word about the general
atmosphere within the church itself. The division into conservative and
moderate parties was always present within the church—as within any
group of any faith—but during the troubled times of the fourth and
fifth centuries the division was bitter in the extreme.
One of the issues that divided opinion within the church was the
attitude that should be taken towards pagan learning of the past. The
rigid school of thought almost categorically prohibited that kind of
education. Their attitude is best summed up in the famous dictum, “One
mouth cannot couple the praise of Christ with the praise of Jupiter.”11
They argued that Christians should adopt a purely Christian course
of education uncontaminated by pagan philosophy and literature. The
Apostolic Constitution, a document of great popularity in the fourth and
fifth centuries, especially in the East, stated their argument as follows:
“Do you want history? There is the Book of Kings; and if you want
eloquence? The Book of Prophets. Lyrics? The Psalms. Cosmology,
law and ethics? The glorious law of God.”12
That rigid attitude left the moderate and more tolerant party in
an extremely uneasy position. They were fully aware that the whole
education system up until that time was based on principles of Greek
philosophy, rhetoric and logic. They even saw that such an education,
far from being dangerous, was in fact essential for the cultivation of
the minds of the Christians themselves. This school of thought was
best represented by the historian Socrates ‘Scholasticus’ of Constanti-
nople, who lived at the end of the fourth and the first half of the fifth
centuries. Socrates, very wisely, sets out by stating the arguments of his
opponents who claimed that:
the education of the Christians in the philosophy of the heathens, in
which there is constant assertion of polytheism, instead of being con-
ducive to the promotion of true religion, is rather to be deprecated as
subversive to it.
He then proceeds to refute this argument by appealing to Christian
religious feelings:
First, he says, Greek learning was never recognized by either Christ or
his Apostles as divinely inspired nor, on the other hand, was it wholly
rejected as pernicious. Second, there are many philosophers among the
Greeks who were not far from the knowledge of God. Third, the divinely
11
Gregory I, the Great Epistle 13.34.
12
Apostolic Constitution 1.6.
13
Socr. Hist. eccl. 3.16.
14
St. Jerome Epistle 22.3.
15
See the Suda: Adler, Suidae Lexicon, s.v. “Jovian,” I 401.
16
Ammianus Marcellinus 28.4.14; 14.6.18.
17
Orosius Historiae adversus paganos 6.15.32.
Lucien X. Polastron
1
BBC News, March 2, 2003.
2
Le Monde, April 10, 2004.
3
C’est d’ailleurs à la suite de cet incident de 1999 que fut soudainement décidé de
hisser une partie des magasins dans les huit derniers étages des quatre tours.
4
Polastron, Livres en feu.
5
“Babylone, Londres et New York ont accablé d’une splendeur féroce l’imagination
des hommes.” Borges, “Funes ou la mémoire.”
Une bibliothéké est le dépôt des textes inscrits sur un support dont le
nom vient du cœur du papyrus, celui-ci étant une spécialité alexandrine
bien connue. On peut donc dire que la dénomination primitive du lieu
de la connaissance a son ombilic végétal sous nos pieds ici même et
que, chaque fois que “nous autres, au bout de l’Occident” (Voltaire)
prononçons le mot ‘bibliothèque,’ nous nous référons inconsciemment
non seulement à Aristote mais surtout à Ptolémée Soter.
On n’a pas assez dit le génie du fils de Lagos. Voilà un parvenu qui,
tout en guerroyant au loin contre ses anciens collègues devenus ses plus
dangereux rivaux, réussit à ne prendre de décisions que grandioses sur
le plan symbolique. Ainsi:
6
Sur un îlot que le petit peuple de la ville a peut-être, dès lors, renommé Phallos.
Mais cette pléthore d’études, vue de près, n’est qu’une forêt de points
d’interrogation:
7
Digha Nikaya, I, 19–22, cité par Eliade, Aspects du mythe, 147.
8
Parada, Alejandro E. “The Library of Alexandria: Time Retrieved,” Greek Mythol-
ogy Link, http://www.maicar.com/GML/003Signed/AEPAlejandria.html (accessed
July 2007).
9
Voltaire, Questions sur l’Encyclopédie, s.v. “Alexandrie,” 22–25. Par ailleurs la citation
que nous avons choisie pour épigraphe est tirée de la rubrique ‘Bibliothèque’ de ce
même ouvrage.
10
El-Abbadi, Vie et destin de l’ancienne bibliothèque d’Alexandrie, 94.
11
Détails (Gibbon, Marlowe, et El-Abbadi):
– 213, Caracalla condamne à mort tous les Alexandrins et supprime les subsides du
Musée,
– 272, Aurélien envahit la ville, occupée par Zénobie, le quartier royal est ravagé, les
savants courent au Serapeum, fuient le pays,
– 296, Dioclétien met Alexandrie à feu et à sang après un siège de huit mois,
– 297 ou 298, il fait détruire tous les livres anciens des Egyptiens susceptibles de les
aider à fabriquer de l’or,
– 303, Galère, l’inspirateur de Dioclétien, fait brûler les écrits des prophètes chrétiens,
– 362, la Bibliothèque Fille est saisie par Constantinople, peut-être brûlée par Jovien
(Botti),
– 391 (389?) Théophile rase le Serapeum et, si elle subsiste, la Bibliothèque Fille,
– à partir de 412, l’archevêque Cyrille lance une campagne meurtrière contre les
tenants d’idées concurrentes du christianisme, que ce soient les juifs ou les derniers
représentants de l’hellénisme.
12
Et finir peut-être à Moscou chez les tsars? Cf. Arans, “Note on the Lost Library
of the Moscow Tsars,” 304.
13
John Moschus Pratum Spirituale, ed. J. P. Migne (after Fronto Ducaeus and J.-B. Cote-
lier), with the Latin translation of Ambrose Traversari (“Fra Ambrogio”), 1346–1439,
the Florentine humanist; French translation by M.-J. Rouët de Journel: Moschus, Pré
spirituel, [1946]; Italian Translation by Riccardo Maisano: Mosco, Prato, 1982; English
translation by John Wortley: Moschos, Spiritual Meadow, 1992.
14
Le libraire du Quartier latin à Bagdad à qui l’on doit le Fihrist, répertoire de tous
les livres disponibles en 988 pour le lecteur arabisant, tient pour sûr qu’Alexandre
“envoya en Egypte les ouvrages de science, les bibliothèques et les savants qu’il
trouva au cours de ses campagnes.” Et encore que “Ptolémée Philadelphe, empereur
d’Alexandrie, rechercha les livres scientifiques et désigna Zamîrah pour ce soin. Celui-
ci réunit 54,120 livres.”
Ibn al-Nadīm Fihrist cité par Eche, Bibliothèques arabes publiques et semi-publiques en
Mésopotamie, en Syrie et en Egypte au Moyen-Age, 239–240.
15
L’humaniste néo-stoïcien d’origine flamande Justus Lipsius (Overijse, près de
Bruxelles, 1547–Louvain, 1606) a basé son enseignement sur le constat que la sagesse
est fille de l’érudition ; son approche de la bibliothèque indispensable à cet effet émane
des réflexions que lui a fournies l’exemple d’Alexandrie et la destruction de celle-ci par
l’intolérance religieuse. Paul Nelles montre que le De Bibliothecis va à contre-courant du
modèle dominant de la collection ecclésiastique et préconise “un lieu de recherches
sans orientation confessionnelle,” On note que l’archive parfaite contient “des livres de
toutes sortes, même des livres sacrés.” Cette première étude des bibliothèques antiques
coïncide avec la première formulation d’un “idéal de la bibliothèque publique.” Nelles,
“Juste Lipse et Alexandrie: Les origines antiquaires de l’histoire des bibliothèques.”
16
“Les sciences intellectuelles acquirent une grande importance chez les Perses,
et leur culture fut très-répandue; ce qui tenait à la grandeur de leur empire et à
sa grande étendue. On rapporte que les Grecs les apprirent des Perses à l’époque
où Alexandre tua Darius et se rendit maître du royaume des Caïaniens. Alexandre
s’empara alors de leurs livres et (s’appropria la connaissance) de leurs sciences. Nous
savons cependant que les musulmans, lors de la conquête de la Perse, trouvèrent dans
ce pays une quantité innombrable de livres et de recueils scientifiques, et que (leur
général) Saad Ibn Abī Oueccas demanda par écrit au khalife Umar ibn al-Khattāb
s’il lui serait permis de les distribuer aux vrais croyants avec le reste du butin. Umar
lui répondit dans ces termes: “Jette-les à l’eau; s’ils renferment ce qui peut guider vers
la vérité, nous tenons de Dieu ce qui nous y guide encore mieux; s’ils renferment des
tromperies, nous en serons débarrassés, grâce à Dieu!” En conséquence de cet ordre,
on jeta les livres à l’eau ou dans le feu, et dès lors les sciences des Perses disparurent
au point qu’il ne nous en est rien parvenu.” Ibn Khaldūn, Prolégomènes d’Ibn Khaldoun,
ed. de Slane, 3:125.
Ibn Khaldūn a donc trouvé à son goût et adopté l’image lue chez al-Qiftī, ou qui
flottait peut-être dans l’air du temps, mais ne l’applique point à Alexandrie, dont
il n’évoque d’aillleurs pas la bibliothèque. Par ailleurs, il rappelle dans kitab al-{ibar
(Beyrouth: Dar al-Kotob al- Ilmiyya, 1992), 1:225, 5:642 les destructions mongoles des
dizaines de bibliothèques bagdadies en 1258: là encore, c’est l’image des collections
jetées à l’eau, plutôt que dans le feu, qui semble parler davantage à l’imagination de
l’auteur.
17
«Avant de rejoindre Dioclétien dans la Haute-Egypte, je passai quelques jours à
Alexandrie pour en visiter les merveilles. La bibliothèque excita mon admiration. Elle
était gouvernée par le savant Didyme [Il y a deux Didyme, tous deux savants: le second,
qui vivait dans le IV e siècle, était chrétien et versé également dans l’antiquité profane
et sacrée. On peut supposer sans inconvénient que le second Didyme est l’auteur du
Commentaire sur Homère. Il occupa la chaire de l’école d’Alexandrie: c’est pourquoi
je l’appelle successeur d’Aristarque, qui corrigea Homère, et qui fut gouverneur du
fils de Ptolémée Lagus. J’ai voulu seulement rappeler deux noms chers aux lettres.
(N.d.A.)], digne successeur d’Aristarque. Là, je rencontrai des philosophes de tous
les pays, et les hommes les plus illustres des Eglises de l’Afrique et de l’Asie: Arnobe
[ L’apologiste, dont nous avons les ouvrages. (N.d.A.)] de Carthage [Continuation du
tableau des grands hommes de l’Eglise à l’époque de l’action: ce sont à présent ceux
de l’Eglise d’Orient. Il y a ici de légers anachronismes: encore pourrais-je les détendre
et chicaner sur les temps, mais ce n’est point de cela qu’il est question. (N.d.A.)], Atha-
nase [ Le patriarche. (N.d.A.)] d’Alexandrie, Eusèbe [L’historien. (N.d.A.)] de Césarée,
Timothée, Pamphile [Le martyr, maître d’Eusèbe. (N.d.A.)], tous apologistes, docteurs
ou confesseurs de Jésus-Christ. Le faible séducteur de Velléda osait à peine lever les
yeux dans la société de ces hommes forts qui avaient vaincu et détrôné les passions,
comme ces conquérants envoyés du ciel pour frapper les princes de la verge et mettre
le pied sur le cou des rois.
“Un soir, j’étais resté presque seul dans le dépôt des remèdes et des poisons de l’âme
[note 54: On connaît la fameuse inscription de la bibliothèque de Thèbes en Egypte:
yuchz iatreion. N’est-il pas plus juste pour nous avec le mot que j’y ai ajouté? (N.d.A.)].
Du haut d’une galerie de marbre, je regardais Alexandrie [ J’ai souvent aussi contem-
plé Alexandrie du haut de la terrasse qui règne sur la maison du consul de France; je
n’apercevais qu’une mer nue qui se brisait sur des côtes basses encore plus nues, des
ports vides, et le désert libyque s’enfonçant à l’horizon du midi. Ce désert semblait,
pour ainsi dire, accroître et prolonger la surface jaune et aplanie dos flots; on aurait
cru voir une seule mer, dont une moitié était agitée et bruyante, et dont l’autre moitié
était immobile et silencieuse. Partout la nouvelle Alexandrie mêlant ses ruines aux
ruines de l’ancienne cité; un Arabe galopant au loin sur un âne, au milieu des débris;
quelques chiens maigres dévorant des carcasses de chameaux sur une grève désolée; les
pavillons des divers consuls européens flottant au-dessus de leurs demeures et déployant
au milieu des tombeaux des couleurs ennemies: tel était le spectacle. (N.d.A.)], éclairée
des derniers rayons du jour. Je contemplais cette ville habitée par un million d’hommes
et située entre trois déserts: la mer, les sables de la Libye et Nécropolis, cité des morts
aussi grande que celle des vivants. Mes yeux erraient sur tant de monuments, le Phare,
le Timonium, l’Hippodrome, le palais des Ptolémées, les aiguilles de Cléopâtre; je
considérais ces deux ports couverts de navires, ces flots témoins de la magnanimité du
premier des Césars et de la douleur de Cornélie. La forme même de la cité frappait
mes regards: elle se dessine comme une cuirasse macédonienne [Comment ai-je pu
traduire le mot chlamydes de l’original par cuirasse? Voilà bien ce qui prouve que mes
descriptions ne sont bonnes que pour ceux qui n’ont rien lu sur l’Egypte. Aurais-je
par hasard quelque autorité que je me plaise à cacher, ou n’ai-je eu l’intention que
d’arriver à l’image tirée des armes d’Alexandre? C’est ce que la critique nous dira.
(N.d.A.)] sur les sables de la Libye, soit pour rappeler le souvenir de son fondateur,
soit pour dire aux voyageurs que les armes du héros grec étaient fécondes, et que la
pique d’Alexandre faisait éclore des cités au désert, comme la lance de Minerve fit
sortir l’olivier fleuri du sein de la terre.
“Pardonnez, seigneurs, à cette image empruntée d’une source impure. Plein
d’admiration pour Alexandre, je rentrai dans l’intérieur de la bibliothèque; je découvris
une salle que je n’avais point encore parcouru. À l’extrémité de cette salle, je vis un
petit monument de verre qui réfléchissait les feux du soleil couchant. Je m’en approchai;
c’était un cercueil: le cristal transparent me laissa voir au fond du cercueil un roi mort à
la fleur de l’âge, le front ceint d’une couronne d’or, et environné de toutes les marques
de la puissance. Ses traits immobiles conservaient encore des traces de la grandeur de
l’âme qui les anima; il semblait dormir du sommeil de ces vaillants qui sont tombés
morts [ “Et non dormient cum fortibus cadentibus . . . qui posuerunt gladios suos sub capitibus suis.”
(Ezechiel, cap. XXXII, v. 27). (N.d.A.)] Et qui ont mis leur épée sous leur tête.
“Un homme était assis près du cercueil: il paraissait profondément occupé d’une
lecture. Je jetai les yeux sur son livre: je reconnus la Bible des Septante qu’on m’avait
déjà montrée. Il la tenait déroulée à ce verset des Machabées:
Lorsque Alexandre eut vaincu Darius, il passa jusqu’à l’extrémité du monde, et la terre se tut
devant lui. Après cela il connut qu’il devait bientôt mourir. Les grands de sa cour prirent tous
le diadème après sa mort, et les maux se multiplièrent sur la terre.
Plus près de nous, l’inspiration débride aussi les poètes, voire les
brigands.
Un bibliothécaire de l’université de Toronto s’amuse à imaginer que
le bibliophylax chargé par Cléopâtre de préparer les 40,000 rouleaux
pour leur expédition à Rome les a remplacés par de la paille et que,
pendant que celle-ci flambait dans les docks, il a caché les livres dans
un endroit secret où ils dorment encore, à l’instar des manuscrits de
la Mer morte ou d’Oxyrhynchos.18 L’idée de la résurrection des textes
chatouille les angoisses secrètes de l’humanité et il est facile d’en tirer
de grands profits. Plusieurs écrits à coloration maçonnique du XVIIIe
siècle évoquent la perte des livres et la fondatrice de la Société théo-
sophique au XIXe siècle, Helena Blavatsky, en promet le retour pour
nous sauver.19
Mais l’univers ne pouvant être entièrement compris par l’hellénisme
seul, l’histoire de la Grande Bibliothèque occidentale doit s’éclairer des
événements qui se produisent simultanément dans l’Est lointain chez
sa grande concurrente en paradigme.
Si le savant alexandrin a une opportunité de prendre conscience de
la multiplicité des civilisations grâce à ses incursions en Inde, le contact
ne se fera pas encore avec la Chine. Que se passe-t-il alors, bibliothé-
cairement parlant, dans cette autre moitié du monde?
Au moment où Ptolémée s’active en son palais du Bruccheion, la
période dite des royaumes combattants (Ve–IIIe s.) touche à sa fin, cent
philosophes et ‘cent écoles’ se sont déjà succédé: Confucius (551–479),
Laozi, Mozi, Xunzi, Mencius et Zhuangzi sont les noms des maîtres
à penser qui nous sont conservés. La nouveauté est que, grâce à l’ar-
deur des disciples, leurs œuvres sont en train de se matérialiser sous
la forme de boisseaux de réglettes en bambou ligaturées ou parfois de
rouleaux de soie. Sur les rayonnages, elles viennent côtoyer ce qui sera
“Dans ce moment je reportai mes regards sur le cercueil: le fantôme qu’il renfermait
me parut avoir quelque ressemblance avec les bustes d’Alexandre . . . Celui devant qui
la terre se taisait, réduit à un éternel silence! Un obscur chrétien assis près du cercueil
du plus fameux des conquérants, et lisant dans la Bible l’histoire et les destinées de ce
conquérant! Quel vaste sujet de réflexions! Ah! si l’homme, quelque grand qu’il soit,
est si peu de choses, qu’est-ce donc que ses oeuvres? disais-je en moi-même. Cette
superbe Alexandrie périra à son tour comme son fondateur. Un jour, dévorée par les
trois déserts qui la pressent, la mer, les sables et la mort la reprendront comme un
bien envahi sur eux, et l’Arabe reviendra planter sa tente sur ses ruines ensevelies!»
Chateaubriand, Les Martyrs, Oeuvres complètes de Chateaubriand, vol. 11.
18
Blackburn, “Ancient Alexandrian Library: Part of It May Survive!” 23–34.
19
Blavatsky, Secret Doctrine, 1:xxiii–ix, 2:692, 763.
20
Classiques des Mutations (Yijing), des Poèmes (Shijing), de la Musique (Yuejing), ainsi
que les Livres des Rites et des Documents (Liji, Shangshu).
21
Comme le Chunqiu, “Printemps et Automne,” chronique du royaume de Lu entre
722 et 481 peut-être rédigée par Confucius.
22
Cf. Edgren, “Cangshu: The Tradition of Collecting Books in China.” En revanche, la
bibliothèque publique est aujourd’hui toujours nommée tushuguan, “salle des cartes et
des textes,” expression qui reste en vigueur également au Japon: toshokan.
23
Leys, L’Humeur, l’honneur, l’horreur: Essais sur la culture et la politique chinoises.
24
Dictionnaire de la Civilisation chinoise, s.v. “Bibliothèques.”
25
Sima Qian, Mémoires historiques de Se-ma Ts’ien, trans. Chavannes, vol. 3.
26
Comme le cite Sima Qian dans le Shiji, achevé vers 90.
27
Formulé dans le Shangjun shu, un écrit attribué à Shang Yang (390?–338) mais sans
doute rédigé près d’un siècle plus tard.
28
Hanfeizi, cité par Tsien, Written on Bamboo and Silk: The Beginnings of Chinese Books
and Inscriptions.
29
“I therefore request that all records of the historians other than those of the state
of Qin be burned. With the exception of the academicians whose duty it is to possess
them, if there are persons anywhere in the empire who have in their possessions copies
of the Odes, the Documents, or the writing of the hundred schools of philosophy, they
shall in all cases deliver them to the governor or his commandant for burning. Anyone
who ventures to discuss the Odes or Documents shall be executed in the marketplace.
Anyone who uses antiquity to criticize the present shall be executed along with his
family. Any official who observes or knows of violations and falls to report them shall
be equally guilty. Anyone who has failed to burn such books within thirty days of the
promulgation of this order shall be subjected to tattoo and condemned to ‘wall-dawn’
labour [chengdan: build the Great Wall during the day and stand guard until dawn]. The
books that are exempted are those on medicine, divination, agriculture, and forestry.
Anyone wishing to study the laws and ordinances should have a law official for his
teacher.” Sima Qian, Records of the Grand Historian: Qin Dynasty, 55.
30
Ces chiffres passeront à 6,500 titres et 57,000 rouleaux à la fin du VIe siècle, cf.
Dictionnaire de la Civilisation chinoise, s.v. “Bibliothèques.”
31
“In 191 B.C. the criminal law against possession of books, which had been
initiated by the first emperor of Ch’in (Qin) was abrogated [ Ban, History of the Former
Han Dynasty, trans. Dubs, 1:182]. The next few decades brought the beginning of the
restoration of the Confucian classics destroyed by the Ch’in.
Systematic, large-scale recovery of ancient works was not begun, however, until the
reign of emperor Wu (r. 140–87 B.C.), who “set plans for restoring books and appointed
officers for transcribing them, including even works of various philosophers and the
commentaries, all to be stored in the imperial library” [Han Shu, 30/1b]. It is said that
after the strenuous efforts made by his minister Kung-sun Hung (Gongsun Hong), books
were piled up like hills [T’ai-p’ing yü-lan, 619/1a]. Official agents were sent to search out
all the surviving books, giving rewards, so they could borrow the books from private
collections for transcribing. In ancient times, books were preserved in archives which
were usually attached to the government offices where the documents were produced.
Now, for the first time in Chinese history, a centralized imperial library was established,
where a wide range of materials was systematically collected and administered.
The search for books throughout the country continued while they were being collated
and arranged in systematic order. (. . .) Liu Hsiang’s (Liu Xiang, ca. 80–8 B.C.) work
is the earliest known bibliography in China and Liu Hsin’s (Liu Xin, his son), the first
system of subject classification and descriptive cataloguing of Chinese books.” Tsien,
Written on Bamboo and Silk: The Beginnings of Chinese Books and Inscriptions, 13–14.
32
Sur le poids de l’histoire, de l’écrit et, en particulier, du manuscrit dans la civili-
sation chinoise, lire Chavannes, Leys, L’Humeur, l’honneur, l’horreur: Essais sur la culture et la
politique chinoises; ainsi que Kraus, Brushes with Power: Modern Politics and the Chinese Art of
Calligraphy. Et encore Lewis, Writing and Authority in early China.
33
Drège, Bibliothèques en Chine au temps des manuscrits: Jusqu’au X e siècle.
34
Edgren, “Cangshu: The Tradition of Collecting Books in China.”
35
“Les Infidèles affirment que, si elle brûlait,
brûlerait l’histoire. Ils se trompent.
Les veillées humaines engendrèrent
les livres infinis. Si, d’eux tous, il
n’en demeurait aucun, les hommes recommenceraient
à engendrer chaque page et chaque ligne,
chacun des travaux et des amours d’Hercule,
chaque variante de chaque manuscrit.”
Aussi le chef des vandales peut-il proclamer sans risque:
“j’ordonne à mes soldats de détruire
par le feu la vaste Bibliothèque,
qui ne périra pas.” Borges, “Alexandrie, 641 a.d.”
Birger A. Pearson
One day in December 1945, eight fellahin rode out on camel-back from
their village in the Nag Hammadi region of Upper Egypt, el-Kasr, and
stopped at the base of the Gebel et-Tarif some four kilometers away.
Their purpose was to dig for fertilizing nitrates (sebakh) for their fields.
One of them, Abu el-Magd, dug up a large earthenware jar sealed at
the top with a bowl. He left it up to his older brother, Muhammad Ali,
to decide what to do with it, and the latter finally broke the jar in the
hope of finding treasure. Much to his disappointment, out came thirteen
leather-bound papyrus books and a lot of papyrus dust. Muhammad
Ali divided the papyri into eight portions, but the other men declined
their shares, and Muhammad Ali brought them home to el-Kasr. There
he dumped them on the kitchen floor, and his mother, Umm Ahmad,
used some of the papyrus leaves as fuel for her bread oven.
The story of the find and the subsequent fate of the papyrus books
(codices, not scrolls) has been pieced together by James M. Robinson
of the Claremont Graduate University in California.1 They have come
to be known as the “Nag Hammadi Codices” or “Nag Hammadi
Library,” after the main town in the region some nine kilometers
from the find-site. They are now housed in the library of the Coptic
Museum in Old Cairo.
One interesting problem associated with the story of the discov-
ery of the codices is the question of precisely how many there were.
Muhammad Ali consistently maintained that thirteen bound books
were found in the jar. But what is now referred to as Nag Hammadi
Codex (NHC) XIII consists of eight leaves of papyrus that had been
1
Robinson et al., Facsimile Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices, vol. 12, Introduction,
3–31; Robinson, “From the Cliff to Cairo,” 21–58; cf. Birger A. Pearson, Anchor Bible
Dictionary, s.v. “Nag Hammadi Codices,” 4:984–93.
ripped out of a codex in antiquity and stuffed into the cover of Codex
VI. Our Codex XIII, therefore, cannot count as one of the thirteen
separate books found in 1945, for it was then part of Codex VI. Was a
complete codex destroyed in Umm Ahmad’s oven, together with leaves
of papyrus from other codices now incomplete? Or will it, or parts of
it, eventually turn up on the antiquities market?2
The Nag Hammadi manuscripts date from the fourth century and are
inscribed in Coptic.3 Several dialects of Coptic are reflected in them.
Several of the manuscripts have suffered severe damage and only exist
in fragments. All of the texts in the manuscripts are Coptic translations
of writings originally written in Greek. A few of them could have been
composed as early as the first century, but most date to the second or
third centuries. Many of the texts (perhaps most) were composed in
Greek in Egypt; the others would have been brought to Egypt from
Syria or elsewhere in the Eastern Mediterranean region.
The manuscripts remained inaccessible to scholars until the 1950s
when the first publications appeared.4 In 1961 UNESCO became
involved in plans for publishing a complete facsimile edition, and several
hundred photographs were taken and sent to Paris. In 1970 an interna-
tional committee of scholars was appointed, with a subcommittee work-
ing on the technical problems of identifying and assembling papyrus
fragments for definitive photography. The first volumes of the facsimile
edition appeared in 1972, and the last of the codices were published
in 1977.5 The project was completed in 1984 with the publication of
addenda et corrigenda as part of the introductory volume.6
2
Robinson, “From the Cliff to Cairo,” 38–40.
3
The Coptic language is the latest manifestation of the ancient language of the
Pharaohs written in a modified Greek alphabet and incorporates numerous Greek
words into its vocabulary.
4
The most important of these is the Gospel of Thomas (NHC II,2); Guillaumont
et al., Gospel according to Thomas (in English, German, and French versions), all versions
were published in 1959 by Brill (Leiden), Collins (London), Harper & Brothers (New
York), Presses Universitaires de France (Paris). For a summary of the early publication
activity see Birger A. Pearson, Anchor Bible Dictionary, s.v. “Nag Hammadi Codices,”
4:985–986.
5
Robinson et al., Facsimile Edition of the Nag Hammadi Codices, vol. 1, Codex VI (1972);
vol. 2, Codex VII (1972); vol. 3, Codices XI, XII, and XIII (1973); vol. 4, Codex II (1974);
vol. 5, Codex V (1974); vol. 6, Codex IV (1975); vol. 7, Codex III (1976); vol. 8, Codex
VIII (1976); vol. 9, Codices IX and X (1977); vol. 10, Codex I (1977); vol. 11, Cartonnage
(1979); vol. 12, Introduction (1984).
6
Ibid., vol. 12, Introduction.
7
I joined the project in 1968, and was assigned to work on the highly fragmentary
codices IX and X. The edition was published in 1981; Pearson, Nag Hammadi Codices
IX and X. I was also editor of the last volume published in the series (see n. 8).
8
Pearson, Nag Hammadi Codex VII (1996) [published November 1995]. The series
(Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies) includes the four tractates contained in the
closely related Berlin Gnostic Codex (BG), purchased in an antiquities shop in Akhmim
in the nineteenth century and acquired by the Berlin Museum. It was finally published
in a first critical edition in 1955; Till, Gnostische Schriften des koptischen Papyrus Berolinensis
8502 (1955). “The Coptic Gnostic Library” series came to include two other volumes
of Coptic texts which were not part of the Nag Hammadi find, the Askew and Bruce
Codices first published in the nineteenth century; Schmidt, Pistis Sophia (1978); and
ibid., Books of Jeu and the Untitled Text in the Bruce Codex (1978).
9
Robinson, Nag Hammadi Library in English (1988).
10
Schenke et al., Nag Hammadi Deutsch (2001, 2003).
published in 1977, and the series now numbers some 30 volumes, with
additional ones projected.
Thus, over the years since the first publication efforts of the 1950s,
a growing number of texts, translations, and studies have accumulated,
numbering now in the thousands.11
11
See Scholer, Nag Hammadi Bibliography 1948–69 (1971); ibid., Nag Hammadi
Bibliography 1970–1994 (1997). Annual supplements are provided in the journal Novum
Testamentum.
12
One of the best full-length treatments of Gnosticism is Rudolph, Gnosis: The
Nature and History of Gnosticism. On the scholarly issues involved in defining Gnosticism
see Pearson, “Gnosticism as a Religion,” chap. 7 in Gnosticism and Christianity in Roman
and Coptic Egypt, 201–23.
13
See esp. Turner, Sethian Gnosticism and the Platonic Tradition.
14
See esp. Layton, Gnostic Scriptures, 5–214.
15
Pearson, “The Problem of ‘Jewish Gnostic’ Literature,” chap. 7 in Emergence of
the Christian Religion, 122–46, esp. 126–34.
of Norea (NHC IX,2), Marsanes (NHC X,1), Allogenes (NHC XI,3), and
the Trimorphic Protennoia (NHC XIII,1). In addition, several other Nag
Hammadi tractates, more difficult to classify, reflect the use of Sethian
Gnostic sources and/or traditions.
16
Layton includes this text among the “Classic” (Sethian) Gnostic writings; Layton,
Gnostic Scriptures, 77–85.
the Testimony of Truth (NHC IX,3), Hypsiphrone (NHC XI,4), and the
Gospel of Mary (BG,1).
17
Only fragments remain of the Coptic version of Sentences of Sextus, but the origi-
nal Greek version is extant, and versions in several other languages also exist. There
are also two fragments of the highly damaged Codex XII which are incapable of
identification.
The first Western scholar to study the Nag Hammadi manuscripts was a
Frenchman, Jean Doresse, and his impression was that they constituted
“nothing less than the sacred library of an ancient sect, to all appear-
ances complete.”19 He remarked on the ‘homogeneity’ of the writings,
“their undoubted unity,” indicating that most of the texts “belong to
the same religious body.” Noting the prominence of the name Seth
in a number of writings, he concluded that the sect was that of the
‘Sethians’ described by several church fathers.20
We now know that the supposed ‘unity’ of the writings was illusory, for
there is a great deal of diversity among them, as we have already noted.
That the manuscripts were part of a ‘library’ is certainly apparent, but
to whose library did they belong? There is considerable circumstantial
evidence that points to an answer to that question: The books belonged
to a Christian monastery near the site of their discovery, very probably
the one at Chenoboskion21 (modern el-Kasr) 4 kilometers away. That
monastery was one of a network of monasteries founded or organized
by Pachomius (ca. 290–346)22 in the early fourth century. Three major
factors point to this monastic connection.
18
The text warns against being “defiled by strange kinds of knowledge” (gnosis, 94,
29–33), and contains a polemic against those who regard the creator of the world as
an ignorant deity (116, 5–9).
19
Doresse, Secret Books of the Egyptian Gnostics, 120.
20
Ibid., 249–51. Doresse’s use of the term ‘library’ for the collection as a whole has
certainly impacted subsequent scholarship, as can be seen in the terminology used in
various editions and translations: ‘The Coptic Gnostic Library;’ ‘The Nag Hammadi
Library in English;’ ‘Bibliothèque copte de Nag Hammadi.’
21
‘Goose-pasture’ in Greek, also called Chenoboskia (pl.); its Egyptian (Coptic) name
is Sheneset, ‘Trees of Set.’ St. Pachomius was born in that village, and was baptized
a Christian there.
22
On Pachomius, founder of “Coenobitic” monasticism, see esp. Rousseau, Pachomius.
Pachomius’ headquarters was eventually located at Phbow (or Pabau, modern Faw
Qibli), up the river from Chenoboskion.
First, there is the site of the discovery. The jar containing the codi-
ces had been buried midway up the talus of broken rock at the foot
of the Gebel et-Tarif. There is evidence that this area was used for
burials in the early Byzantine period. In addition, over 150 caves are
located in the cliff; the one nearest the site of the discovery has on one
of its walls a Coptic inscription, in red paint, of the opening lines of
several biblical Psalms.23 The caves in question were presumably used
by monks from the nearby monastery for retreat and meditation. The
burials were also probably those of monks. So it is highly likely that
Christian monks used a monastic burial site as a place in which to
deposit a cache of books. One can also posit that those monks buried
their books because their contents had come under suspicion in the
monastic community.24
Second, the cartonnage25 found in some of the book covers points to
a monastic context for the manufacture of the codices. This is at least
true in the case of the cartonnage found in Codex VII, which contains
fragments of a biblical codex and a homily, as well as private letters
indicating a monastic provenience, including one from a ‘Paphnoute’
to a ‘Pachomius’ (no. 6).26 There is a strong likelihood that the codi-
ces were manufactured by monks in one or more of the Pachomian
monasteries. It is equally likely that the blank codices were inscribed
by monks as well.
Third, the colophons and scribal notes in some of the manuscripts
contain pious Christian prayers and other expressions of Christian piety.
Such colophons and notes are indications of a monastic provenience
for the writings in the books. The scribes who copied from other books
the various texts now found in the Nag Hammadi Codices evidently
treated those texts as edifying religious literature.
So why did those monks bury their books? That story begins in
Alexandria in the year 367, when Archbishop Athanasius sent out
his annual encyclical letter to all the churches and monasteries in his
jurisdiction, setting the date for the up-coming Easter observance. He
included in that letter a vigorous condemnation of the use of ‘heretical’
23
Robinson, “Discovery of the Nag Hammadi Codices,” 206–24, esp. 213.
24
Wisse, “Gnosticism and Early Monasticism in Egypt,” 431–40, esp. 436–37.
25
Cartonnage consists of scraps of discarded papyrus glued into the leather covers
to stiffen them. Cartonnage was found in Codices I, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, and XI.
See Barns, Browne, and Shelton, Nag Hammadi Codices.
26
For a balanced discussion see Veilleux, “Monasticism and Gnosis in Egypt,”
271–306, esp. 278–83.
27
The bowl used as a lid for the jar is still extant; it is red slipware of the fourth or
fifth century; Robinson, “Discovery of the Nag Hammadi Codice,” 213.
28
The standard work on Coptic colophons in the Sahidic dialect is Lantschoot,
Recueil des colophons des manuscrits chrétiens d’Égypte.
29
Codices III, V, VI, and VIII have no concluding colophons. The end pages of
Codices IX, XI, XII, and XIII are missing; so we don’t know if they had colophons.
The accompanying plates are taken from, Robinson et al., Facsimile Edition of the Nag
Hammadi Codices.
30
The translation is that of A. Böhlig and F. Wisse in The Nag Hammadi Library in
English, but modified.
31
Böhlig and Wisse translate, “The Gospel of <the> Egyptians,” “correcting” the
received text with a Coptic morpheme meaning “the.” This is the source of the (incor-
rect) title of the tractate now conventionally used.
32
Greek for “fish.” The initial letters are those of “Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior,”
a widely used early Christian acrostic.
33
The translation is that of J. Brashler, P. Dirkse, and D. Parrott in The Nag Hammadi
Library in English, modified.
34
The reference is to Hermes Trismegistus, who is also referred to as “that one”
in line 14.
35
The translation is that of James M. Robinson and James E. Goehring in Pearson,
ed., Nag Hammadi Codex VII, 421.
36
For an attempt to decipher these symbols see Williams, “Interpreting the Nag
Hammadi Library as ‘Collections’ in the History of ‘Gnosticism(s)’,” 3–50, esp.
18–19.
37
See n. 32, above.
38
Schenke et al., Nag Hammadi Deutsch, 2:604.
39
Till, Gnostischen Schriften des koptischen Papyrus Berolinensis 8502, 2nd ed. by Schenke,
320–21. I do not have a photograph of this colophon.
40
Some of the individual codices were copied by more than a single scribe. For
the estimate of fourteen see Emmel, “Nag Hammadi Codices Editing Project,” 10–32,
esp. 27–28.
41
Williams, “Interpreting the Nag Hammadi Library as ‘Collections’ in the History
of ‘Gnosticism(s)’.”
As noted above, it was first thought that the Nag Hammadi Codices
constituted a ‘library’ of sectarian books. It is now evident that the
books constituted part of a larger library in a monastery not far from
the find site. The evidence of the colophons surveyed above tells us
more. It would appear that several of the monasteries in the Pachomian
network each had its own library, and probably its own scriptorium,
where books were copied and then circulated. The monastic leadership
commissioned monks who had been trained as scribes to copy selected
writings into newly manufactured books, and these were then circulated
from one monastery library to another.
Unfortunately, those monastic libraries are irretrievably lost. The Nag
Hammadi ‘Library,’ important as it is, constitutes but a small part of that
larger whole. We also have that little bit thanks to a chance discovery
made by an Egyptian peasant digging for sebakh in the desert soil.
Figure 12. Nag Hammadi Codices: Prayer of the Apostle Paul (NHC I,1)
Figure 14. Nag Hammadi Codices: Gospel of the Egyptians (NHC III,2).
Figure 16. Nag Hammadi Codices: Three Steles of Seth (NHC VII,5).
Maria Dzielska
In our seminar we ask a question about the fate of the Ancient Library
of Alexandria and search for answers. Yet we should not forget that
mysterious signs of powerful fates marked the fortunes not only of
the city’s grand institutions but of distinguished Alexandrians as well.
Among the latter, divine power bestowed its unfathomable gifts on
certain Alexandrian women. It exercised its whimsical rule over the
energetic and ambitious queens who played a decisive historical role
under the Ptolemies, and under the Romans as well as over a new type
of heroines—women who shaped the intellectual milieu of Alexandria
in the fourth and fifth centuries A.D.
We know barely a few of them, some by name only, and others
in greater detail—such as in the case of Hypatia,1 whose tragic fate
continues to this day to inspire literary creation. Ever since the
Enlightenment of the eighteenth century, Hypatia has been quoted
by men like Voltaire and Edward Gibbon, as the symbol of a bygone
civilization, a pagan martyr, victim of the last struggle to save the
perfect world of Greek harmony and religion from the onslaught of
the new Christian faith. Nineteenth-century intellectuals followed her
dramatic biography in Charles Kingsley’s novel Hypatia or New Foes with
an Old Face; lovers of poetry read of her in the poems of the French
poet C. Leconte de Lisle, to whom she appeared as the embodiment
of the Hellenic ideal: beauty and wisdom combined. It was from his poem
titled Hypatie that a phrase was borrowed and used repeatedly with
reference to her: “The spirit of Plato and the body of Aphrodite.” It
is such a portrait of Hypatia that still lingers in contemporary litera-
ture, one of them being the Italian dramatist Mario Luzi’s play titled
Libro di Ipazia.2 In it, Hypatia falls dead in a church, in a house of the
Lord, torn limb from limb by a mob. But her death is justified by the
1
Cf. DPA, s.v. “Hypatia,” H 175, 3:814–817; Dzielska, Hypatia of Alexandria.
2
Luzi, Libro di Ipazia.
3
Cf. Cameron, Long, and Sherry, Barbarians and Politics at the Court of Arcadius, 58,
62.
4
Haas, Alexandria in Late Antiquity, 138–152.
5
Adler, Suidae Lexicon, 4:644, 1–2, Υ 166.
6
Socrates Historia ecclesiastica 7.15.
7
We read of this in the entry on Theon in the Suda; Adler, Suidae Lexicon, s.v.
“Theon,” Θ 205, 2:702.
8
See for example, Wilson, Scholars of Byzantium, 42.
9
Damascius, Philosophical History, trans. Athanassiadi, frag. 43A, p. 129.
10
Dzielska, Hypatia of Alexandria, 67–68.
11
See G. J. Toomer, OCD3, s.v. “Diophantus of Alexandria,” 483.
12
Cf. Sesiano, Books IV to VII of Diophantus’ Arithmetica, 68–75; Knorr, Textual Studies
in Ancient and Medieval Geometry, 765ff.; Cameron, Long, and Sherry, Barbarians and Politics
at the Court of Arcadius, 47–49; Deakin, “Hypatia and Her Mathematics,” 234–243.
13
Rome, Commentaires de Pappus et de Théon d’Alexandrie sur l’Almageste, vol. 3, Théon
d’Alexandrie: Commentaire sur les livres 3 et 4 de l’Almageste, Studi e testi 106 (1943), 807.
14
Cameron, Alan, “Isidore of Miletus and Hypatia,” 103–127; Knorr, Textual Studies
in Ancient and Medieval Geometry, 755–803.
15
Cameron, Long, and Sherry, Barbarians and Politics at the Court of Arcadius, 48. Newest
edition of the Almagest: Toomer, Ptolemy’s Almagest (Princeton, 1998).
16
G. J. Toomer, review of Hypatia of Alexandria, by Maria Dzielska, Journal for the
History of Astronomy 27, no. 2 (1996): 174.
17
E.g. Richeson, “Hypatia of Alexandria,” 82.
18
Socr. Hist. eccl. 7.15.
19
Socr. Hist. eccl. 7.15.
20
PH frag. 43A, 43E, pp. 128, 130.
21
PH frag. 43A.
22
Cf. Cameron, Long, and Sherry, Barbarians and Politics at the Court of Arcadius, 43.
23
E. Rodziewicz, “Late Roman Auditoria in Alexandria in the Light of Ivory
Carvings,” 269–279; Kiss, “Auditoria romains tardifs de Kôm El-Dikka (Alexandrie),”
331–338; Ibid., “Les auditoria romains tardifs?” In Alexandrie VII: Fouilles polonaises à
Kôm el-Dikka (1986–1987), ed. Kiss et al., 9–33.
24
PH frag. 43E, p. 130.
25
PH frag. 43E, p. 130.
26
PH frag. 34A, p. 128.
27
PH frag. 43E, p. 130.
28
Plotinus Enneads 1.2, 7.19–28; Cf. O’Meara, Platonopolis, 40–60.
29
See Dzielska, Hypatia of Alexandria, 114–115.
30
PH frag. 106A, p. 254.
31
PH, Section II (Isidore: frag. 5–38), pp. 83–121.
32
Synesius Ep. 143; Garzya, Opere di Sinesio di Cirene, 348.
33
PH frag. 43A, 43C, p. 128.
never understand the secret of god and cosmos. As Synesius puts it: “To
explain philosophy to the mob is only to awaken among men a great
contempt for things divine” (Ep. 143). It meant replacing divine truth
with popular story. Synesius persevered in his belief in the secretiveness
of god and philosophy also when he became a priest. It was then that
he said: “What can there be in common between the ordinary man
and philosophy? Divine truth should remain hidden, but the vulgar
need a different system” (Ep. 105). Nor did any member of that rabble
Hypatia and her disciples so despised hasten to her aid when she was
attacked and slain.
Enjoying such a great prestige in the city, noted for her “majestic
outspokenness” (παρρησία) and independent opinion, Hypatia took
part in a conflict of power over the city that broke out in the years
from 412 to 415 A.D. between bishop Cyril (elected patriarch of
Alexandria in 412) and the imperial prefect of Egypt Orestes. It led
to unrest among the Alexandrian plebs, series of murders, vandalism,
strife between Jews and Christians, monks and the prefect’s guard. In
the clash, Hypatia sided with the lay authority. The support of such a
popular and respected person in the city now having former disciples
in positions of power in the imperial services, exerting much influence
on pagans and Christians alike, provoked panic in church circles on
the other side. As we read in Socrates, a slander, calumny (διαβολή)
arose (and was helped to spread among the Christian populace) “that it
was she who prevented Orestes from being reconciled to the bishop.”34
Socrates reveals that Hypatia’s fame and success gave rise to envy ( phtho-
nos), while Damascius adds that Bishop Cyril envied her the respect and
influence she enjoyed especially among the Alexandrian intelligentsia
who flocked to her home.35 Damascius goes on to indicate that it was
the bishop who planned for her to be killed. But since Damascius is our
only source directly accusing Cyril, and a source emphatically hostile
to Christianity, we must refrain from fully trusting him. We can take
it as read, however, that the appearance of a faction centered around
the imperial prefect in which Hypatia played a large part caused Cyril
to feel threatened and people of various groups connected with the
church made efforts to help him.
34
Socr. Hist. eccl. 7.15.
35
PH frag. 43E, p. 130.
36
John of Nikiu, Chronicle, trans. Charles, 84.87–88, pp. 101–102.
37
PH frag. 43A.
38
Joh. Nikiu Chronicle 84.100, p. 102.
39
Joh. Nikiu Chronicle 84.101–102, p. 102.
40
Joh. Nikiu Chronicle 84.102, p. 102.
41
Joh. Nikiu Chronicle 84.103, p. 102.
42
Cf. Haas, Alexandria in Late Antiquity, 86–88; 313.
executed on pagan idols, (e.g. the majestic figure of the god Serapis
following the destruction of the Serapeum in 391/2).
It was thus a common criminal’s summary justice that was meted out
on her disciples’ beloved “divine guide” who had conducted them to
a contemplation of ultimate Good and Beauty. This heinous crime was
committed on one who, according to Neoplatonic political theory, had
been as though a Platonic philosopher-queen shared her participation
in supreme Good also in her political involvement, playing an active and
providential role in the city. But her renunciation of living the life of
the higher levels of virtue in favor of sharing with others the knowledge
of the transcendent Good, her descent from the divine to the human,
to the earthly world of ignorance and opinion, ended in a tragic fail-
ure. The rabble to which she refused to speak of virtue, for she knew
that nothing was more senseless than that, showed her its primitive,
mindless facet, having been persuaded by its leaders, manipulating this
dark fearful force that it was acting “pro publico bono.” All our source
records, except John of Nikiu, refer with indignation to the murder of
an elderly, about-60-year-old woman, a widely respected mathemati-
cian and philosopher, and paint a resentful picture of a depraved
Alexandrian people. Damascius writes that those who perpetrated the
act “thus inflicted the greatest pollution and disgrace on the city,”43
while Socrates concludes: “This deed brought no small blame to Cyril
and to the Alexandrian church. For murder and fighting and other such
things are completely alien to those who profess Christianity.”44
I said above that Theon annotated his commentary to book III of
the Almagest with an inscription devoted to Hypatia. Earlier still, Theon’s
elder colleague, the noted mathematician Pappus of Alexandria, liv-
ing at the beginning of the fourth century, like Theon a commentator
of Euclid and Ptolemy, addressed book III of his Collectio mathematica
(Συναγωγή) to a certain “most illustrious Pandrosion”45 (Kratiste Pandrosion).
Apart from this brief mention, we know nothing of her identity. We
can only conclude that some two generations before Hypatia, there had
also been a woman mathematician active in Alexandria.
43
PH frag. 43E, p. 130.
44
Socr. Hist. eccl. 7.15. The impunity of Hypatia’s murderers, through bribery of an
imperial official named Aedesius, a question impossible to reconstruct due to fragmen-
tary text of Damascius (PH frag. 43E) was recently treated by Zuckerman, “Comtes
et ducs en Égypte autour de l’an 400,” 142–143.
45
K. Ziegler, RE, s.v. “Pandrosion,” (18, 3), col. 553; PLRE, s.v. “Pandrosion,”
1:664.
46
PLRE, s.v. “Olympiodorus 2,” 2:799.
47
PLRE, s.v. “Heron 1,” 2:552.
48
Cf. Marinus Vita Procli 9; Ibid., Vita di Proclo, trans. Masullo, 66.
49
PLRE, s.v. “Aedesia,” 2:10–11; DPA, s.v. “Aidésia d’Alexandrie,” A 55, 1:74–75.
50
About Aedesia: PH frag. 56, pp. 156–159.
for her reverence towards the gods, her piety (εὐσέβεια) and holiness
the gods loved her so much that they often revealed themselves to her,
“that she was blessed with many divine epiphanies.” Such grace the
gods bestowed—we know—only on those Neoplatonic philosophers (or
admirers of this philosophy) divine men and women, who following the
theosophy of Iamblichus, performed religious rites and practices and
used theurgic methods to make contact with the gods.
After all, Aedesia, like Hypatia and Proclus, belonged to the circle of
the last of the Hellenes, as they called themselves, philosopher-priests,
uncompromisingly devoted to the pagan past and entrusted with the
task of saving the traditional religion and Platonic philosophy.51 After
she quickly became widowed, she did not renounce this holy obliga-
tion. To perpetuate a succession of the “holy, sacred race” of the first
rank of humans, the philosophers of the greatest Platonic tradition, she
extended loving care onto her orphaned sons Ammonius and Heliodorus
“wishing to hand down to them their father’s professional skills as if it
were an ancestral inheritance.” Lavished with exceptional respect and
honour in Alexandria, “she managed to retain for her children the
public maintenance given to their father” and then she brought them
to Athens where none other than the “Great” Proclus, from 435 the
Scholarch of the Platonic School, took care of them. In Athens, as in
Alexandria, “her virtue was admired by an entire chorus of philoso-
phers,” and so by disciples of Proclus and their leader, Proclus himself.
Later she returned with them to Alexandria, where Ammonius assumed
the chair of philosophy previously held by his father, and Heliodorus
also taught philosophy.
Aedesia and Hermeias had one more son who died as a little child.
To an extraordinary extent, he inherited his parents’ divine qualities.
Damascius tells us elsewhere52 that when he was seven months old,
Aedesia once called him tenderly “babion” or even “little child.” As
soon as he heard it, he “became angry and castigated these childish
diminutives, pronouncing his criticism in a clear and articulate voice.”
By the age of seven years old, he had grown so weary of bodily exis-
tence that he decided to leave this pitiable world as, Damascius adds,
“his soul could not be contained in this earthly region.”
51
Athanassiadi, “Persecution and Response in Late Paganism,” 1–29.
52
PH frag. 57A, p. 159.
53
PLRE, s.v. “Theodora 6,” 2:1085.
Philosophical History, better known under its alternative title of the Life
of Isidorus.54 For it was Theodora, his disciple and the daughter of
Kyrina and Diogenes, descended like the ‘divine’ Iamblichus from the
royal house of Emesa, who, together with other students of Damascius,
turned to him to describe the life and views of the extraordinary phi-
losopher and theurgist that Isidore had been.55 Damascius probably
needed little encouragement, as Isidore had been his beloved teacher
who had made Damascius abandon rhetoric for philosophy, and thanks
to whom he had undergone a philosophical conversion.56 Theodora,
too, knew Isidore well, as she along with her younger sisters had studied
philosophy at his school in Alexandria at different times. We do not
know exactly when that took place. Perhaps she was his pupil in the
480’s, when Isidore was already an influential person in the Alexandrian
intellectual milieu, which Aedesia covered under in her protective care
as an honorary leader, or in the late 490’s when Isidore had returned
to his school in Alexandria from Athens, where he had briefly served
as a diadochus in the Platonic School.57
54
PH, pp. 39–42.
55
Ibid. Testimonia 3:334–336; Photius Bibliotheca Codex 181.1–18; Ibid., Bibliothèque,
trans. Henry.
56
DPA, s.v. “Damascius,” D 3, 2:545; PH, pp. 35–36, 39.
57
DPA, s.v. “Isidore,” I 31, 3:870–276.
58
Since Photius describes her as a “Hellen by religious persuasion,” and her ances-
tors as “all of them first prize winners in idolatrous impiety,” See PH, p. 335.
59
See PH, Introduction, pp. 19–70.
Dimitar Y. Dimitrov
I. The question of the three objections in Letter 105 and the religious and
philosophical views of Synesius
1
Crawford, Synesius the Hellene, 122ff. The work on Neoplatonism and Christianity,
used by him, was of De Pressensé, Histoire des trois premiers siècles de l’Église Chretiénne.
2
Here I allude mostly to the British translator of the letters of Synesius, A. Fitzgerald—
Synesius of Cyrene, Letters of Synesius of Cyrene—as well as to the French scholar
Lacombrade, Synésios de Cyrène. I have used predominantly the edition of the whole
literary inheritance of Synesius, done by Garzya, Opere di Sinesio di Cirene: Epistole, operette,
inni. Some references were made to the new edition of the letters by A. Garzya and
D. Roques; Synesius, of Cyrene. Synésios de Cyréne: Correspondance: Lettres I–CLVI.
was the first to divide the problem into two different levels of reason-
ing.3 The posed questions are quite difficult to solve, they were the
key-problems dividing pagans and Christians, but they were far from
being settled even in the Church at the time when Synesius lived. The
charge of paganism seems to be unjustifiable. The discussion continued
in R. T. Wallis, Barbanti and Vollenweider, but without any explicit
conclusion.4
I would like to add something which could change the angle of
treatment and evaluation of these three objections and for a better
understanding of Letter 105 in general. Synesius undoubtedly raised
questions to Patriarch Theophilus, but did he set forth positions as well?
And if there were such positions, how to define them? Not to prolong
too much my presentation, I will pass to the concrete parameters of
the problem.
After explaining why he accepted the bishopric with fear and reluc-
tance, but also with a notion of duty and dignity, Synesius moved on
to difficillimae quaestiones, very important and crucial. “It is difficult, if
not quite impossible, that views should be shaken, which have entered
the soul through knowledge to the point of demonstration.”5 After
such a definite position, concerning the importance of the rational
and scientific methods, the future bishop of Ptolemais stated something
no less important, although generally neglected: “You know that phi-
losophy rejects many of these convictions which are cherished by the
common people.”6 Could it be Christianity that he meant, especially
if we consider the fact that Synesius was writing, though in an oblique
way, to the rigorous patriarch of Alexandria? It could hardly be so.
The man from Cyrene was an elitarian by all means, but I think that
such a statement is to be a key to important conclusions.
Concerning the objections, here is the first of them: “For my part I
can never persuade myself that the soul is of more recent origin than
the body.”7 Plato already had defended the immortality of the soul and
3
Marrou, “Synesius of Cyrene and Alexandrian Neoplatonism,” 126–50.
4
Wallis, Neoplatonism, 101–5; Di Pasquale Barbanti, Filosofia e cultura in Sinesio di Cirene,
114–148; Vollenweider, Neuplatonische und christlische Theologie bei Synesios von Kyrene.
5
Χαλεπόν ἐστιν, εἰ μὴ καὶ λίαν ἀδύνατον, εἰς ψυχὴν τὰ δι’ἐπιστήμης εἰς ἀπόδειξιν
ἐλθόντα δόγματα σαλευθῆναι. I used the English translation of Fitzgerald as well, but
very often with disagreement and serious changes from my side.
6
Οἶσθα δ’ὅτι πολλὰ φιλισοφία τοῖς θυλλομένοις τούτοις ἀντιδιατάττεται δόγμα-
σιν.
7
Ἀμέλει τὴν ψυχὴν οὐκ ἀζιώσω ποτὲ σώματος ὑστερογενῆ νομίζειν.
8
See Origen Contra Celsum 5.14; Porphyry Contra Christianos frag. 94; Augustine De
Civitate Dei 10.31. See also Gen. 2:7.
9
Synesius De providentia 1.2.
10
Syn. De insomniis 6–7. See also the Sententiae of Porphyry.
11
Syn. De ins. 9.
12
For the descent of Christ as a philosophized and positive image of Incarnation (posi-
tiven Abstiegs), see Vollenweider, Neuplatonische und christlische Theologie, 155–60, 173–6.
13
Volkmann, Synesius von Cyrene, 208–17.
14
Kuraev, Rannee khristianstvo i pereselenie dush [The early Christianity and the migra-
tion of souls], 209–20; in Russian. The author has even supported the idea that at least
part of Origen’s writings had been forged. We could find a certain kind of ‘defense’
of Origen from the point of orthodoxy in Crouzel, Origen. See also Dillon, “Origen
and Plotinus,” 7–26. According to Dillon, Origen has been influenced by Platonism,
but, however, he has subdued all these influences and borrowings to his specific vision
of God and the world.
15
Origen De principiis 2.3.6.
16
Nemesius De natura hominis 2.46: εἰ δή ἐκ τοῦ μετὰ τὴν διάπλασιν τοῦ σώματος
ἐμβεβλῆσθαι τήν ψυχήν ἡγοῖτο μετὰ τὸ σῶμα γεγενῆσθαι αὐτήν διαμαρτάνει τῆς
ἀληθείας. See also the old, but not obsolete translation into Russian of T. Vladimirsky
(Pochaevsko-Uspenskaja Lavra, 1904).
17
Nemesius De natura hominis 2.47–54; 3.57. Gregory of Nyssa has detached in his
De opificio hominis an intermediate level between the body and the reasonable soul—this
is αἰσθανομένη, the sensible force.
18
Nemesius De natura hominis 3.58.
19
Augustine Retractationes 1.1.3 (difficillima quaestio), see Marrou, “Synesius of Cyrene
and Alexandrian Neoplatonism,” 146; Crouzel, Origen, 169ff.
20
Gregory of Nyssa Dialogus de anima et resurrectione 125a–c. Gregory has disputed
obliquely with a passage from Origen C. Cels. 3.75.
Thus, Gregory defended through words which he put into the mouth
of his sister Macrina, the simultaneous creation of body and soul. His
criticism alluded to the supporters of the pre-existence of the soul and
also to the creationists (in that case, the Eunomeans), as well as to the
teaching of Methodius of Olympus, who went so far in his refutation
of Origen’s doctrines as to start defending the post-existence of the
soul. Gregory of Nyssa expressly criticized such a view in De opificio
hominis (229b–233b).
Synesius, too, refused to accept the post-existence of the soul compared
with the body. This was his main objection. Based on scientific methods,
the future bishop of Ptolemais maintained the Neoplatonic conception
of the soul’s descent into bodies, without, however, explicitly supporting
the pre-existence theory, thus contradicting orthodox Christianity of
the day. The theories, which he supported, were criticized by Gregory
of Nyssa yet on another occasion, both Gregory and Synesius fought
together in a battle against the simplistic and heretic views, “cherished
by the common people.”
Let us return to Letter 105. After the body-soul problem, Synesius
passed on to another definite statement: “Never will I admit that the
world and the parts (τἄλλα μέρη), which make it, must perish at a
certain moment.”21 Was the man from Cyrene ready to defend in front
of Theophilus the pagan concept of the world’s eternity?
The Neoplatonic philosophers have always defended such a thesis
energetically, rejecting the Christian notion of a single and unique act
of God’s Will. For the pagan followers of ancient cosmogony and Plato,
the creation proceeds from itself in eternity, as an out of time act of
descent from the higher to the lower levels of existence according to the
well known scheme μονή, πρόοδος, ἐπιστροφή. Christians held quite a
different view: according to them the world has its beginning and end
in God, to be in the likeness of Him is only possible for man through
His blessing. As Basil the Great and Gregory of Nyssa stated, as the
world has its beginning, it will be necessary to conclude that it also has
an end.22 This problem started to be an important dividing line between
pagan philosophers and Christian theologians, although they usually
had received a similar educational and world-view background.
21
Τὸν κόσμον οὐ φήσω καὶ τἄλλα μέρη συνδιαφθείρεσθαι.
Basil the Great Homiliae in Hexaemeron 1.4; Gregory of Nyssa De opificio hominis
22
229b.
23
Origen Princ. 1.6.2–3, 2.3.1, 3.5, based on Isaia 66.22 and Ecclesiast I.9–10.
24
Origen Princ. 2.3.6.
25
Ivanka, Platonismo cristiano, 110–3. Dillon has found out some parallels between
the subordinationist doctrine of Origen, concerning the levels of penetration and influ-
ence in the framework of the Trinitarian model, and the respective interpretations of
Proclus two centuries later in the Elements of Theology (Institutio Theologica). The great
scholar of Neoplatonism has concluded that both Origen and Proclus had followed
conceptions, laid down already in the tradition of the Middle Platonism, especially in
Numenius. It is not impossible that Origen would have been influenced by the spiritual
atmosphere of his own time, in particular by the popular Gnostic ideas, which he has
otherwise refuted in De principiis. See Dillon, “Origen’s Doctrine of the Trinity and
Some Later Neoplatonic Theories,” in Golden Chain, XXI. For more detailed exposé
of the Neoplatonic motifs in Origen, see also Weber, Origenes der Neuplatoniker, who has
held the view, that it should be some other Origen, a Neoplatonic philosopher and
pupil of Plotinus, different from the Christian Origen. Crouzel has ‘defended’ the
Christian theologian Origen against all accusations, from crypto-paganism to heresy
or the spurious existence of two Origens.
26
Marrou, “Synesius of Cyrene and Alexandrian Neoplatonism,” 147.
27
The word used is ὄντων (gen. pl.) ‘Beings,’ that have existence as opposed to
non-beings.
28
Translation is mine from the edition of Garzya.
the realm about us, the cause of generation is in the realm above us.
It is from this source that the seeds of events arrive here.”29 Moreover,
events recur periodically, which gives the wise man opportunity to
realize the truth. Thus, the author from Cyrene developed an idea
of cyclical movement, which reminds us of the Stoic teaching of the
seminal logoi, and also of the apokathastaseis of Origen. At the end of
this part of On providence, Synesius was wise enough, nevertheless, to
call these teachings myths and allegories, just to ensure himself against
possible accusations of the non-Christian or at least heretical theory
of the eternal reversal.
As I have already mentioned, the dispute on eternity or the neces-
sary destruction of the world was quite a current and pressing issue
in the fifth and sixth centuries, provoking many polemical works.
Proclus defined 18 arguments in favor of the world’s eternity and John
Philoponus later did his best to refute them.30 Zacharias Scholasticus,
already referred to, was the author of a polemical dispute, probably ficti-
tious, with his pagan teacher, the Alexandrian philosopher Ammonius,
and with another opponent hidden under the name of Iatrosophistus.
Defending the Christian idea of Creation and the end with different
arguments, Zacharias made this statement: “God is good even when
destroying the visible world, so far as He does not intend to remove
the cosmos away, nor to will its full destruction, but to transform it
and change it to the better.”31 For a Christian and Neoplatonist, like
Synesius, such a thesis would be more acceptable, while the full-scale
destruction of the world would have necessarily implied the inevitable
destruction of the forms-ideas as well, which would sound absurd for
the pupil of Hypatia.
Such a view could find modus vivendi with Christian orthodoxy about
the beginning of the fifth century, the objections of Synesius, being
harmless and current, even in the context of the Cappadocian synthesis,
in comparison with Nemesius, also Platonic and a bishop, who floruit
one or two decades later.
29
Εἰ δὲ γένεσις ἐν τοῖς περὶ ἡμᾶς, αἰτία γενέσεως ἐν τοῖς ὑπὲρ ἡμᾶς, κἀκεῖθεν
ἐνταῦθα καθήκει τὰ τῶν συμβαινόντων σπέρματα.
30
The classical edition of H. Rabe still remains trustworthy; Philoponus, De aeternitate
mundi contra Proclum, Edidit Hugo Rabe, (1899).
31
Translation into Bulgarian of the fragments from the disputes of Zacharias was
made by I. Hristov and V. Marinov from Zacaria Scolastico, Ammonio. Zacaria Scolastico
(1973). (English translation is mine).
Here follows the third objection in Letter 105: “As for the resurrec-
tion, which is an object of common belief, I consider it as a sacred
and mysterious allegory, being far from sharing the views of the vulgar
crowd thereon.”32
This statement by no means implies that Synesius refuted the act
of resurrection, though he defined it as “a sacred and mysterious alle-
gory.” Even in his extremely Platonic writing On dreams, he affirmed that
principally nothing could impede, in certain conditions, the corporal
substance (σωματικὴν οὐσίαν) to ascend to higher “regions,” to resur-
rect (ἀναστᾶσαν) from its fallen position and together with the soul to
reach the light and the heavenly spheres.33 This is that εἴδωλον, thanks
to which not only the soul, but even the lower elements can enter into
contact with the divine. If Synesius was protesting against something,
it was undoubtedly the rough and vulgarized understanding of that
act. His intentional resentment of rough naturalism in presenting the
resurrected bodies was close to what Origen had written in De principiis
(2.10.3). The language of Synesius is (Neo)Platonic, but such a style
was also used by Gregory of Nyssa. In describing the resurrection as a
recovery of the combination of elements and building up again what
had been destroyed, Gregory emphasized the role of the ‘God-seeing
soul’ (θεοειδὲς), striving towards similar entities, but ‘covered up by
body and nailed in it.’ Such Neoplatonic imagery with elements of a
dualistic thinking can also be found in Synesius.34
If we are to understand Synesius’ position, additional details should
be put into consideration. The last 20 years of the fourth century were
the ‘golden period’ of the Egyptian monasticism in Nitria and Scetis.
Different ideas grew rank there. A certain Hierax of Leontopolis in
the Delta had refuted the resurrection of bodies all together. A new
trend, usually called anthropomorphism, became popular among the
monks, especially among the illiterate or the insufficiently educated
among them. God was thought of as being in a human form, and this
conception was connected with different chiliastic views and expecta-
tions. A serious conflict had arisen between the “intellectuals” and the
“villagers” among the monks, which to a great extent coincided with
the traditional misunderstanding between the Copts and the Hellenized
32
Τὴν καθωμιλημένην ἀνάστασιν ἱερόν τι καὶ ἀπόρρητον ἤγημαι, καὶ πολλοῦ δέω
ταῖς τοῦ πλήθους ὑπολήψεσιν ὁμολογῆσαι.
33
Syn. De ins. 10.
34
Gregory of Nyssa Dialogus de anima et resurrectione 76a–80a, 97a–100b.
(and also Romanized) foreigners. In his Pascal letter for the year 399,
Theophilus, the Patriarch of Alexandria, a friend and supporter of
Synesius, had ultimately forbidden anthropomorphism as a wrong and
heretical infatuation. This letter was positively accepted by the “intel-
lectuals,” but negatively by the anthropomorphites.35 Synesius was a witness
of those events and, as far as we know from his Dion, clear-sighted with
regard to Egyptian monasticism. In the aforementioned treatise, the
future bishop of Ptolemais showed himself as a man with intellectual
affiliations, who emphasized the priority of the rational approach to
knowledge above imitation of the divine. Anthropomorphism together with
the rough physical notion of resurrection was always unacceptable to
him, being part of what he usually labeled as ‘vulgar conceptions.’ That
there were many common features between Augustine and Synesius
should not be accepted with surprise. Augustine himself confessed that
for a long period of time he had been thinking of God in human form.
Only his occupation with philosophy had made him change this wrong
view which was so popular among the ordinary people.36 The man
from Cyrene never made such a mistake. He was a loyal Christian,
but also an elitist intellectual, pretending to be a philosopher more
than anything else.37
In conclusion, we have no reason to regard the three objections of
Synesius in his Letter 105 as a testimony for his formal belonging to
paganism; neither should we consider his way of thinking as incompat-
ible with Christianity. It is important to re-emphasize that these objec-
tions were not an obstacle for Theophilus to be the active promoter
of his ordination. My opinion is that in the case of Synesius, we have
to deal with a representative of the highly educated intellectual strata
in the Christian church at that time. Those people were not prone to
abandon the Neoplatonic stereotypes of thought and behavior, but
nevertheless, they took part in the formation of a refined and cultivated
philosophical and theological system, which obtained its perfection in
the following few centuries. Notwithstanding his (Neo)Platonic back-
ground and affiliations, Synesius was a Christian, interested in the deep
35
These events were fairly examined in the well known work of Chitty, Desert a
City, esp. 53ff.
36
Augustine Confessiones 7.1.1.
37
This elitist attitude could be summarized in his rhetorical question in Letter 105:
“What can there be in common between the ordinary people and philosophy?” (∆ήμῳ
γὰρ δὴ φιλοσοφίᾳ τί πρὸς ἄλληλα;).
38
Dimitrov, “Neoplatonic and Christian Motifs,” 1:112–28 [in Bulgarian, with
English summary].
39
The hymns were translated and cited by the edition of Garzya, but some refer-
ences and verifications were made in other editions as well; Garzya, Opere di Sinesio
di Cirene.
40
Vollenweider, Neuplatonische und christlische Theologie, 25–7, 70–88.
41
O’Meara, Porphyry’s Philosophy from Oracles in Augustine, 134–9; Di Pasquale Barbanti,
Filosofia e Cultura in Sinesio di Cirene, 71–84. For the negative appreciation of matter in
Plotinus see Enneades 2.4.16; 1.8.3.
42
A possible influence from Numenius could be traced, especially in the latter’s
definition of matter as something evil and separated by God (usually called Good in
Itself, the Pythagorean Monas). According to the triadic construction of Numenius the
First God is totally transcendent. With the sensible world and the evil matter contacts
the Second God, The Son-Demiurge. We should realize, however, that together with
some slight parallels there are a lot of differences between Numenius and Synesius. We
cannot find any sign of negativism towards the second hypostasis in Synesius, while in
Numenius this is the “undefined Dyas,” the Demiurge. The World Soul of Numenius
is identical with Evil—such an idea would by necessity have sound blasphemous for
the (future) bishop of Ptolemais. See Numenius, Fragments, trans. Édouard Des Places
(Paris, 1973), frags. 21, 11, 14–15, 52, 64–75. For Numenius’ influence on Plotinus see
Porphyry, Vita Plotini. See also Bogdanov, “Neoplatonic Trinitarian Schemes,” 1:9–22
[in Bulgarian, with English summary].
43
Barbanti was disposed to recognize in the Son the third hypostasis of Neoplatonism,
notwithstanding His explicit binding with the Reason and the Wisdom of God; Di
Pasquale Barbanti, Filosofia e Cultura in Sinesio di Cirene, 116–126. This confusion is a
result, according to my modest opinion, of the very strictly followed presumption, that
Synesius has used and created a synthesis in a nearly unchanged manner of the higher
entities of Plotinus, Porphyry and the Chaldeans. An attentive and unbiassed reading
of the hymns would clearly indicate that the author used the language and the ideas,
but freely and accordingly to his main concept of presenting the Divine simultaneously
as Unity and Trinity, as presence in the world and absence from it in the same time (time
being not the proper word for God). Synesius’ views of Trinity differed too much from
the emanational theory of Plotinus, according to which the divine grows weak and
worsens its quality (τὴν χείρονα, Enn. 5.2.2) when proceeding downward in various
emanations. The monistic theory of Porphyry could not be fully identified with the
total equality of the hypostasis, present in the hymns of Synesius.
44
Syn. Hymni 3.528–539: Ναί, πάτερ, ἀγνᾶς/παγὰ σοφίας/λάμψον πραπίσιν/ἀπὸ
σῶν κόλπων/νοερὸν φέγγος/στράψον κραδίᾳ/ἀπὸ σᾶς ἀλκᾶς/σοφίας αὐφάν/κἀστὰν ἐπὶ
σὲ/ἱερὰν ἀτραπὸν/σύνθημα δίδου/σφραγῖδα τεάν. See also Syn. Hymn. 3.619–621: Ἤδη
φερέτω/σφραγῖδα πατρὸς/ἱκέτις ψυμά.
ing in all his writings, prose and hymns alike. The religious concepts
were presented as well, in a highly philosophized form. According to
Synesius, philosophy alone could give a meaning and dignity to human
life, ensuring a true contact with God through ἀλήθεια, against the
erroneous views of the mob. The wise man is akin to God—this is
the concept, which Synesius supported and had once openly stated in the
treatise On dreams.45 The typical Plotinian notions of advent (πρόοδος)
and return (ἐπιστροφή) are present in the hymns.
On dreams was the most purely philosophical writing of Synesius,
based generally on Sententiae of Porphyry, on Iamblichus and Chaldean
literature.46 We find in it, different topics and notions, frequent in the
Neoplatonic milieu from the third to the sixth centuries, including the
problem of the Divine Reason (Νους) and Its sinking into the sensual
world (De insomniis 1, 7–8), the descent and ascent of souls (De insomniis
5–6, 8–10), their bearer (ὄχημα) (De insomniis 5–6);47 the phantasms and
the possibility of soothsaying (De insomniis 2, 5, 7, 14–17). The trea-
tise is imbued with certain pantheism. Following Plato (Timaeus 30b),
Plotinus (Enneades 2.3.7), and Iamblichus (De Mysteriis), Synesius defended
soothsaying (μαντεία) through dream-interpretation, starting from the
principle, that in the cosmos all is in all, but everything, according to
its properties, can contact only with a similar.48 Wise is the man, who
realizes the unity of the cosmos, so that he can be able to use it.49
45
Syn. De ins. 1: οἰκεῖος θεῷ.
46
For ἱερῶν λογίω as a source of wisdom Synesius has mentioned in chapter 4 of
De insomniis. One of the citations in chapter 5 we find as a fragment 118 in the edition
of Des Places, Oracles chaldaïques. For a possible Chaldean influence on Synesius see
Theiler, Chaldäischen Orakel und die Hymnen des Synesios, 1–40.
47
N. Aujoulat has concluded, that the word ὄχημα had been firstly used by Iamblichus
and later by Synesius in a sense of being some kind of shining envelope of the soul, its
boat-bearer, while Porphyry had preferred to use another word—πνεῦμα. See Aujoulat,
Néo-Platonisme Alexandrin, 230. Actually Synesius has used both words in his De insomniis,
so it would not be impossible that he has used πνοία in the hymns in order not to
confuse it with the well known (from Porphyry) meaning of the word πνεῦμα.
48
See the wonderful book of Shaw, Theurgy and the Soul; and the older, but still
relevant book of Lewy, Chaldæan Oracles and Theurgy.
49
Syn. De ins. 2: διὰ πάντων πάντα . . . τῷ κόσμῳ; Syn. De ins. 2: σοφὸς ὁ εἰδὼς τὴν
τῶν μερῶν τοῦ κόσμου συγγένειαν; Syn. De ins. 7: ὁμοίῳ γὰρ τὸ ὅμοιον ἥδεται. Syn.
De prov. 2, 7: καὶ οὐκ ἀσυμπαθῆ πρὸς ἄλληλα τὰ μέρη θησόμεθα. This treatment
concerning the unity of cosmos, the reciprocal similarities, the sympathetical magic
and the possibility of soothsaying sounds very much like the defense of theurgy in De
mysteriis of Iamblichus. See my article Dimitrov, “Theurgy of Iamblichus,” 1:83–93 [in
Bulgarian, with English summary] and also the fragments of De mysteriis, translated by
myself in the same edition, 189–92.
The idea of the middle (τι μέσὸν; Hymn 3.234–44), the mediating prin-
ciple (μεσάτη ἀρχή) and God’s Will (ἰότας) as a middle nature (μέσα φύσις
ἄφθεγκτος; Hymn 3.217–20) is noticeable in the hymns. This idea fits in
perfectly with the context of Porphyrian Neoplatonism, so far as the phi-
losopher from Tyrus had put the Soul as a hypostasis between the One
and the Reason in the souls’s capacity of being a mediator in the
context of the monistic trend towards ‘telescoping’ the hypostaseis.50
The mediating principle between the transcendent one (the Ineffable
of Iamblichus) and the development into the plurality of generation
finds its place in later Neoplatonism as a possibility of overcoming the
otherwise insurmountable barrier between full transcendence and the
creative principle.51 Like all the Neoplatonicians, Synesius defended
the dichotomy in the structure of man. The body, being material, con-
stitutes the lower register of human entity, while the soul is immortal
and divine by nature. Falling down, nevertheless, the soul becomes filthy
and prone to serve the mistress-earth (χθονὶ θητεῦσαι; Hymn 3.573).
Only with effort and God’s help, enhanced by prayers and philosophical
pursuits, can the soul escape from its unhappy existence here and reach
spheres free from the ‘jurisdiction’ of material nature and the laws of
fortune (εἰμαρμήνη).52 But woe to the sinful soul that will not be able
to ascend after its first fall!
The concepts of the boundary character of souls and the two kinds
of souls (intelligible and fallen in matter) betray the concrete influ-
ence of Plotinus.53 Souls descend from the world of light, of the clear
and simple forms, into the world of becoming and diversity.54 These
topics—of the different kinds of souls, of the imaginary and fortune-
telling abilities of ψυχή φανταστική, of its ethereal envelope (πνεῦμα)
and bearer (ὄχημα)—take a central part in the aforementioned treatise
On dreams, confirming Synesius’ interest in traditional topics of ancient
philosophy, which received popularity in the context of (and because
of) Neoplatonism and Chaldean literature.55 As a Neoplatonic, we can
50
The word “telescoping” was used by A. C. Lloyd in Armstrong, Cambridge History
of Later Greek and Early Medieval Philosophy, 283–96.
51
See Proclus Institutio Theologica 27, 100.
52
Syn. De ins. 8–9.
53
Syn. Hymn. 3.549–608, 714–717; 4.202–295; Plotinus Enn. 6.4.14.
54
Syn. Laus calvitii 7: Τὰ πρῶτα τῶν ὄντων ἁπλα κατιοῦσα δὲ ἡ φύσις ποικίλλεται.
Ἡ δὲ ὕλη τῶν ὄντων τὸ ἔσχατον ̀ ταύτῃ καὶ ποικιλώτατον.
55
In De Civitate Dei 9 Augustine has attributed the idea of anima spiritualis, a medium
for soothsaying, to Porphyry. For the word φαντασία and the possible influence of
define his specific attitude towards eternity versus the liquidation of the
world, as has already been discussed, with all the important reserva-
tions and additions. Without opposing Christian opinions, Synesius kept
intact some principles, based on his education, like the eternity of at
least the highest part of God’s creation. His Christian belief, which I
cannot doubt at all, was too intellectualized and elitist, but this was an
important facet of Synesius mentality. We cannot, therefore, escape the
feeling that, for the pupil of Hypatia, philosophy and culture were an
end in themselves, far from the specific ethos of humbleness, notice-
able, for example, in the writings of the great Cappadocians. It would
probably be more correct to designate Synesius as a traditionalist and
elitarian Christian Neoplatonician, but not a Christian theologian.
We have to realize, however, that an intellectualized belief does not
mean a lack of belief. The hymns of Synesius are a good example of
that. He was prone to divide the philosophical truth as a part of a
sophisticated religious system, from the vulgar beliefs of the common
people. But such a snobbish attitude is not unique in the Christian
tradition. Origen used to state in Contra Celsum (1.9), that πίστις was
necessary for the common people insofar as only a small number of men
were endowed with the capacity to be reasonable and deeply involved
in thought and understanding. The mass of the people were strongly
influenced by the material conditions and the nearly inevitable human
weaknesses. In his First homily, Synesius states the following: “Our God
is Wisdom and Word.” While explaining the holy act of the Eucharist
with the help of philosophical language, the bishop of Ptolemais called
for modesty and sobriety of reason.56 Even when summoning the flock,
he put intellectual principles first.
From everything written until now two questions arise logically.
The first is connected with the philosophical and theological sys-
tem of Synesius, if any. The second question is: Was it a Christian
Neoplatonism or anything else? What is the justification for using such
a label?
Extensive research of his writings will convince us not to speak of
a system in the proper sense of the word. I would not, however, agree
with Crawford’s negative evaluation of Synesius as a chaotic and
Iamblichus see Aujoulat, “Avatars de la phantasia dans le Traité des songes de Synésios
de Cirène,” Koinonia 7 (1983): 157–77; 8 (1984): 33–55.
56
Ὁ θεὸς ἡμῶν σοφία καὶ λόγος. Κρατὴρ ὁ παρακινῶν τὸ φρονοῦν, ὁ ταράττων τὸ
λογιζόμενον οὐδὲν προσήκει τῷ λόγῳ.
eclectic dilettante, far from real philosophy and even farther away from
Christian theology.57 To my understanding, we witness in Synesius an
interesting combination of philosophical schemes and Christian founda-
tions of faith. We can hardly find such a combination of philosophy,
religious belief and poetics elsewhere in late antique literature. Being
a different author from the Cappadocians and Augustine, for example,
Synesius possessed features, which made him akin to them. They all
received a similar type of education in the framework of a curriculum,
bequeathed from pagan Hellenism. Through his Hymns and Letters
the author from Cyrene enlisted himself among the fighters for the
developing post-Nicaean orthodoxy. Moreover, these writings reveal
not only commitment, but also a deep knowledge of the essence of the
problems. The language of Synesius was philosophical and traditional-
ist, and he never pretended to be, or to be considered as, a theologian
par excellence—just the opposite, he all the time emphasized his desire to
be thought of as a philosopher.58 His approach was just another kind of
approach to the questions of faith and their treatment for himself as
well as for others. In Dion (4) it is clearly stated, moreover, that Synesius
would never accept to be treated only in this emploi. He was a many-
sided person, active in spite of his contemplative nature and a great
lover of belles-lettres. Such pieces of literature and cultural polemics, like
Dion, Laus calvitii (Praise of baldness) and the lost Cynegetica, witness that
inclination is combined with a fine sense of humor.
Like Augustine and the Cappadocians, Synesius also became a bishop
in the last years of his short life. He was, moreover, an active bishop
who took care of his congregation for the good weal of the faith, for
higher morality and for more education. At the beginning he hesitated
and later accepted the bishopric unwillingly, but with a clear sense of
duty. His hesitations were connected with a deep sense of obligation so
far as it implied a total change of life style. Such hesitations, nonethe-
less, can also be noticed in the case of Gregory of Nazianzus, Gregory
of Nyssa and Augustine. If there were something which radically dif-
ferentiates Synesius from them, it is the lack of any tension between
paganism and Christianity, at least in his writings. But it was not so,
57
Wallis has described him in a witty manner as a “gentleman-farmer-cum-amateur-
philosopher;” Wallis, Neoplatonism, 131.
58
For the Neoplatonic language and its possible symbolic application, even
beyond any discursive expression, see the wonderful research of Ahbel-Rappe, Reading
Neoplatonism.
59
Armstrong, Cambridge History of Later Greek and Early Medieval Philosophy, 314: “The
Platonism that appears in Synesius, who was her (Hypatia’s) pupil, is of a simple kind
and is supposed to go back to the Middle Academy, perhaps through Porphyry.”
60
Ivanka, Platonismo cristiano, 49–68.
61
Because of its subordinationist trends Arianism could be considered as a conces-
sion to the Platonic models of thinking.
62
McEvoy, “Neoplatonism and Christianity,” 155–70. See also Armstrong, “Man
in the Cosmos: A Study of Some Differences between Pagan Neoplatonism and
Christianity,” in Plotinian and Christian Studies, XXII.
63
August. Conf. 7.9.
64
August. De civ. D. 10.23, 28–9.
65
Hristov, “Platonic Elements in the Cappadocian Synthesis,” 1:94–111 [in
Bulgarian, with English summary]. For the exaggerated influence of Plotinus on the
Cappadocians in the works of many scholars, see also Rist, “Plotinus and Christian
Philosophy,” 386–413.
66
According to Barbanti, the hymns of Synesius were Christian in their form
and pagan, when concerning their content; Di Pasquale Barbanti, Filosofia e cultura in
Sinesio di Cirene, 142. I’m prone to support just an opposite conclusion. Neoplatonic
(and Chaldean) phraseology has permeated all the hymns, but besides this phraseol-
ogy, however, we could find relatively clear Christian conceptions as, for example, the
redemptive role of God’s Son, the Incarnation, the relationship among the hypostaseis
of the Holy Trinity, and finally, the fate of the souls in the underworld.
67
Dion, or how to live according to his ideal is a nice piece of polemic literature with
a clear message for more education and freedom. See my article, Dimitrov, “Dio of
Synesius,” 8:165–217 [in Bulgarian, with a translation of the treatise].
68
As it became obvious from the Letter 105.
Georges Leroux
1
I wish to thank Dr. Richard Goulet, from the CNRS in Paris, who read an ear-
lier version of this essay and was kind enough to comment on many aspects of the
discussion. In a forthcoming essay (see infra, note 31), he discusses the formation of
philosophical libraries in Late Antiquity, and he brings forward important new results
on the transmission of philosophical texts. He also discusses the Library of Caesarea,
see infra, note 56. I am of course fully responsible for all that remains speculative in
my effort to grasp the phenomenon of school libraries in their relation to institutional
or civic libraries such as the Alexandrina.
2
Fraser, “Alexandrian Scholarship,” in Ptolemaic Alexandria, 447–478.
3
See Whittaker, “Platonic Philosophy in the Early Centuries of the Empire,” in
Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt, ed. Temporini and Haase, (Berlin: W. de Gruyter,
1987), vol. 2, bd. 36, 1, 81–123.
4
On the life and works of Damascius, see in the first place, Philippe Hoffmann,
DPA, s.v. “Damascius,” D 3, 2:541–593. This article gives all the evidence and presents
a complete bibliography; it stands by itself as an independent monograph. The text of
the Life of Isidorus is known to us through seven hundred fragments, preserved in part
by Photius and for the remaining by the Suda, and must have been written, accord-
ing to Westerink, between the death of Ammonius after 517 A.D. and the death of
Theodoric, 526 A.D. See the edition by Zintzen, Damascii Vitae Isidori reliquiae (1967). An
English translation with notes is available in the edition by Polymnia Athanassiadi (1999),
published under another title transmitted by the tradition, Philosophical History; see also
an interesting review of this edition by Brisson, “Dernier anneau de la chaîne d’or,”
269–282. In this review, Brisson discusses several aspects of the life of Damascius.
5
Photius Bibliotheca Codex 181, 126b40–127a14, where we can read that Damascius
was in charge of rhetorical formation during nine years.
fled with many friends to Persia, where his presence is attested in 532.
A full biography of this extraordinary figure has yet to be written.6
Why should we turn to Damascius to discuss the question of the
Library in Alexandria in Late Antiquity? The main reason is very
simple: the most important works of Damascius, his Treatise on the First
Principles and his commentary on the Parmenides have been transmitted
in a Greek manuscript that once belonged to Cardinal Bessarion, the
Marcianus graecus (246), and that was part of a collection of a group
of canonical texts in the Platonic tradition, later known as the Collectio
philosophica. What is exactly this Collectio philosophica?7 It is a great col-
lection of Platonic and Neoplatonic texts, but not exclusively, that has
survived from the Alexandrian school, including Plato, Plotinus and
Proclus, as well as the great series of late commentaries from Simplicius
and Damascius. The group of manuscripts assembled in the collection
is made up of six manuscripts from one and the same hand, as well as
another group of thirteen others, coming out of the same scriptorium.
The content of the Collectio can be described with a fair degree of
precision,8 but this is not our topic in this paper: our question is how
this collection could have been copied by a Byzantine scholar in the
second half of the ninth century, without having been first assembled
at a much earlier date in Alexandria? The process of collecting these
manuscripts is of course a matter of debate, but the unity of content
is made clearer when we present the whole as a collection assembled
for teaching purposes.
In the present paper, we shall suggest that it was assembled so that
Damascius could bring it from Alexandria to Athens in the late fifth
century, from where it was at a later date brought to Constantinople.
The argument for the Alexandrian origin has already been put forward
by L. G. Westerink,9 and of course other hypotheses would be worth
discussing; for example, that some of these manuscripts could have
been copied in libraries in Constantinople. What do we know about
the transfer from Alexandria to Athens, since some of these texts are
considered to be later than Damascius? Should we try to isolate the
6
See for a preliminary survey of the material Trabattoni, “Per una biografia di
Damascio,” 179–201.
7
For a short introduction, see Wilson, Scholars of Byzantium, 37ff.
8
See the discussion of L. G. Westerink, in his edition prepared with J. Combès;
Damascius, Traité des premiers principes, 1:LXXIII–LXXX.
9
Ibid., 1:LXXVI.
10
See R. Goulet, DPA, s.v. “Aidésia d’Alexandrie,” A 55, vol. 1, who quotes
Damascius Vita Isidori frag. 124.
11
See R. Goulet, DPA, s.v. “Hermeias d’Alexandrie,” H 78, 3:639.
12
See on this matter the introduction of Westerink, “Alexandrian Commentators
and the Introductions to their Commentaries,” 325–348.
13
On Theodoric 526. See Zintzen, Damascii Vitae Isidori reliquiae.
all the main fields of rhetorics, science and dialectics, following what
seems to have been an ideal curriculum in that period.14 When we study
this period, which seems filled with an impression of intense anxiety to
maintain the pagan heritage in a Christian society such as Alexandria,
we cannot escape the fact that most of these figures lived in two dif-
ferent worlds at the same time: Athens and Alexandria. They seem to
have been able to travel, frequently and without difficulty, moving from
a Christian society to a city where pagan thought was still flourishing.
Recent findings, for example in the House of the Philosophers in Athens
before 529, suggest a certain prosperity of the School15 and a feeling
that it was not about to vanish.
Proclus was of course the great Athenian figure, but all his pupils
traveled to Alexandria and came back. Isidorus for example, had
been mandated from Alexandria to make sure that the succession of
the Platonic school should proceed correctly and the story of how
he declined to stay on in Athens, remains obscure. Later, Damascius
himself was mandated from Athens to go back to him in Alexandria
and try to persuade him to come back to take responsibility of the
School in Athens,16 mainly because Marinus’ health was declining.
As we learn from the Life written by Damascius, Isidorus did not stay
long in Athens, most probably in the company of Damascius, who
was like him much displeased with the prevalence of theurgy in the
Athenian school.17 At a much later date, Damascius traveled again to
Athens to assume the leadership of the Academy, somewhere around
515.18 There must have been in Athens a feeling that the Alexandrian
schools, despite their vitality, were more in danger than the Athenian
14
According to Tardieu, Paysages reliques, 21f.
15
Philippe Hoffmann has discussed the evidence, see his article in the DPA, based
on recent archaeological surveys in Athens, particularly on the houses of the philoso-
phers and the much discussed “House of Proclus;” Hoffmann, DPA, s.v. “Damascius,”
D 3, 2:548–555.
16
This trip has been the object of some discussion, after the publication of the study
of M. Tardieu (1990), who argues for another interpretation of the motives behind
the decision of traveling on land; according to him, it was more from a desire to visit
a number of pagan shrines along the road through Syria than the project of getting
back to academic responsibilities in Athens, that motivated the long travel extending
to eight months. See also Brisson, “Dernier anneau de la chaîne d’or,” 273f.
17
Dam. Isid. frag. 292.6–11. A fragment that J. Combès compares with a note
in Dam. Commentary on the Phaedo 1.172.1–5, where the philosopher distinguishes
between the two traditions: the philosophers, like Porphyry, Plotinus and others, and
the hieratics, like Iamblichus, Syrianus and Proclus.
18
See Glucker, Antiochus and the Late Academy, 155ff.
Academy. The stories about violence with the Christians19 had certainly
made their way to Athens, but the Greek city was not itself free from
such an ideological conflict, at least of what we know from the story
of a man like Hierocles.20
Let us go back to the youth of Damascius in Alexandria: as already
mentioned, he was first trained in the field of rhetorics, and around the
age of thirty, he converted to philosophy. We must try to figure what
this conversion meant: of course, it must have meant that he started
to assist in the teaching of a master, but in which institutional context?
What exactly was a school in those times, and how did the students
gain access to the texts? What were the relations of the philosophical
schools with other institutions, like libraries, if anything had survived
from the 391 destruction of the Serapeum?21 Poetry and rhetoric had
been in Alexandria the main research field of the Mouseion, if we
trace it back to the Hellenistic period. All the great scholars, even if
they were mostly preoccupied with astronomy and physics, had an
inclination towards literary learning. But the connection between the
sciences in their research remains for us quite a mystery. For example,
when we try to represent the scholarly enterprise in Alexandria, even
if as early as the foundation years of the Ptolemaic rule,22 we still
have no model of the structure of knowledge like the model inherited
from the Aristotelian classification of the sciences. According to some
scholars, philosophy was not an important part in the first period of
the Library, but with the renaissance movement initiated within the
Academy in Athens, things became different.23 The testimony of Cicero
on Antiochus of Ascalon24 allows us to see in him maybe the first figure
19
A very impressive portrait of Alexandria in those times, written from the per-
spective of archaeological evidence can be found in the work of Christopher Haas,
Alexandria in Late Antiquity. In this study, Haas relies, among other findings, on the work
of the Polish team on the amphitheatres, which can be viewed as lecture halls for the
philosophers of the schools. See Rodziewicz, “Late Roman Auditoria in Alexandria,”
269–279.
20
See my discussion of the travels of Hierocles, “Hiéroclès d’Alexandrie: Pluralisme
et violence à la fin de l’Antiquité;” Boulad-Ayoub and Cazzaniga, Traces de l’autre,
299–320.
21
See on the later history of the Library, and especially on the so called ‘Daughter
Library’ the study of El-Abbadi, Vie et destin de l’ancienne bibliothèque d’Alexandrie,
160–167.
22
See Fraser, Ptolemaic Alexandria, 1:480ff.
23
See El-Abbadi, Vie et destin de l’ancienne bibliothèque d’Alexandrie, 124ff.
24
On this important figure, see Glucker, Antiochus and the Late Academy. Antiochus
was in Alexandria in the years 84 to 87, approximately.
25
See Festugière, “Ordre de lecture des dialogues de Platon aux V e–VIe siècles,”
281–296.
26
See the stimulating description of Fowden, “Platonist Philosopher and His Circle
in Late Antiquity,” 359–383.
27
Fowden, “Pagan Holy Man in Late Antique Society,” 48–51.
the work being done inside the philosophical circles would have been
totally disconnected from the activities of the main Library, whatever
that institution had become during the fourth century.
2. So much for the problems, all of them quite awesome, but we can
still try our best to get a glimpse into the intellectual life of this late
period and for this purpose, we must now turn to the discussion of
the transmission of the philosophical canons. Damascius was trained
in literary matters; we know that he could comment on Demosthenes
and also on the Treatise on style 28 by Hermogenes. In his Life of Isidorus,
he alludes to his respect for the ancient tradition of Egyptian wisdom,
and we also know that under Marinus, he gave himself a very good
training in geometry and other sciences. The wide extension of his
learning is of course very impressive and since he was always in contact
with Isidorus, it is only natural, as an Alexandrian, that he should have
been mandated to accompany his master from Alexandria to Athens
to succeed Marinus. As we have just recalled, they finally made the
trip together through Syria and Asia Minor. At that time, the Athenian
school was in a sort of philosophical crisis, due to some excess in the
practice of theurgy, and Isidorus, trained in the most classical man-
ner, must have been shocked when he arrived there. The story goes
that he was much displeased with what he saw in Athens and soon
traveled back to Alexandria, where the practice of a more spiritually
orientated Platonism was still encouraged by the masters. There is still
much discussion on this orientation, and there is no reason to look at
this difference in philosophical practice as a difference separating an
Athenian and an Alexandrian school, but it must have influenced the
form of the teaching and the relation to texts.29 Damascius followed him
to Alexandria, where he resumed work with Ammonius on the Physics
of Ptolemaeus. It is during this period that we must examine with utter
scrutiny the way the Collectio philosophica was assembled, because after
this period, he himself was called to Athens as a scholarch, and here we
might suggest that he assembled the collection for that reason, with a
prevision of his long stay in Athens. On what type of resources could he
rely for that task, if not on the existing libraries in Alexandria? At this
28
See the discussion of his formation in Hoffmann, DPA, s.v. “Damascius,” D 3.
29
This discussion stems mainly from a comparison between Simplicius and Hierocles;
see the important discussion in I. Hadot, who gives all the necessary background;
Hadot, Problème du néoplatonisme alexandrin.
point, we cannot prove beyond doubt that there was still an important
central Library remaining in the city,30 but we can suggest that most
schools had their collections completed and copied from originals that
were first in the Library.
3. At that time, i.e. around the end of the fourth century, much of the
literature that has not survived for us was still available. We can estimate
that around one text out of forty has been preserved and transmitted
to us.31 This is of course a very imprecise estimate, drawn mainly from
the corpus of historical works, but we can think of it as a proportion
applicable to all categories. When we read that the destruction of the
Serapeum at the end of the fourth century resulted in the burning of
many pagan texts, we can of course only try to measure the loss, but
we can also suggest that many collections had already been copied from
originals in the Library before its ultimate destruction. But we have very
few mentions of planned destruction of texts in Antiquity and as the
recent work of Christopher Haas on Alexandria has shown,32 the city
was known for its reputation both of political intensity and ideologi-
cal tolerance. Emperors like Constantius and Theodosius II are also
known for having taken measures to ensure the protection of texts. But
there is another factor that has to be mentioned to complicate mat-
ters: during the period from the fourth to the sixth centuries, a great
amount of the texts that had been collected in the libraries on rolls of
papyrus were copied on parchment codex. This was of course the main
material condition of transmission, most probably the most important
factor of the structure of new collections:33 the texts that we have not
retained must have perished more for material reasons than planned
destruction, especially the ones which were not copied. If the papyrus
copy had not been copied on parchment, there is slight chance that it
30
On this question, see El-Abbadi, Vie et destin de l’ancienne bibliothèque d’Alexandrie,
162. The discussion of the testimony of Aphtonius of Ephesus, after his visit to the
Serapeum which he described as containing study rooms which were proof of the
philosophical glory of Alexandria is very important.
31
See the forthcoming essay by Richard Goulet, “Conservation et la transmission
des textes philosophiques grecs,” 29–61, who discusses the conditions of transmission
of philosophical texts in Late Antiquity, with an interesting chart on the proportions
of texts that have been transmitted according to schools. Although he has some interes-
ting remarks on the Collectio philosophica, his main focus lies on the Library of Caesarea
and its neoplatonic background.
32
Haas, Alexandria in Late Antiquity.
33
See under the direction of Cavallo, Biblioteche nel mondo antico e medievale.
would survive. There is also at a later date the change from uncial to
minuscule. Since we know that, from the beginning, the Alexandrina had
collected in every field of knowledge and that the collection was on
rolls, we can ask what portion of that collection survived the repeated
assaults on the Library? If we go back to Demetrius, we note that he
figured that a universal library would require at least 500,000 rolls.
Crews of copyists and translators were hired to transmit into Greek
all the collection. This story has been told in the works of the main
historians of the Library,34 and we shall now concentrate on the con-
sequences for philosophy.
4. We must now try to figure out what the place of philosophy was in
this collection. We know that, in the beginning of the Hellenistic period,
Theophrastus bequeathed his collection to Neleus, a disciple of Aristotle,
but we know that due to his conflict with Straton of Lampsacus, he
sold only part of Aristotle’s library to the Alexandrina. Therefore the
nature of the first philosophical collection is already problematic. When
we study the Catalogues (Pinakes) of Callimachus, we notice more of
an inclination towards the literary disciplines in the formation of the
first collections.35 There are six sections for poetry, and five for prose.
But as many scholars have noted, the Aristotelian scientific project,
as it had been elaborated in the main part of the philosopher’s work
concerning physics, seems to have been lost in the process. All that was
transmitted through Demetrius was split into different categories, and
philosophy, comprising dialectics and physics as such, was not a part
of these categories. A close study of the redaction of the catalogues,
from the doxographical tradition, up to Aristophanes and Didymus,
shows us in fact that literary texts had gained the privilege of being
placed in the kernel of conservation. This we know for example from
the description of Diodorus Siculus, who got most of his information
34
El-Abbadi, Vie et destin de l’ancienne bibliothèque d’Alexandrie.
35
See ibid., 103–142. In his important study, History of classical Scholarship (Pfeiffer
1968, 123–151), Pfeiffer discusses the work and method of Callimachus; he also discusses
a fragment of a work of Callimachus, Against Praxiphanes, a peripatetic philosopher who
is quoted as his master by an ancient source, the Life of Aratus. He summarizes his view
as follows: “The learned collections and also the Pinakes may give the impression of
being rather Aristotelian in subject-matter, despite their new purpose; but in literary
criticism Aristotle’s theory and Callimachus’ views are plainly incompatible” (ibid.,
136). For a more recent discussion and summary, see R. Goulet, DPA, s.v. “Callimaque
de Cyrène,” C 22, 2:171–174.
from double copies of the Alexandrina original, that had been stored in
the Temple of Serapis. Later, after the Roman conquest, the description
of Strabo, studied in Alexandria under the patronage of Xenarchus, an
Aristotelian, confirms this orientation towards the literary commentary.
This description is also confirmed, as the historian Luciano Canfora
has already noted, by a mention of Posidonius that in the stoic milieu
of Roman expatriates, there was a feeling of surprise. If the library of
Aristotle was the kernel of the Alexandrina, why is it that the Library
apparently became so indifferent to philosophy?
5. The answer to this question is not so simple, since the facts tend
to show that this was not quite the case. We know from Plutarch, a
Platonic philosopher, priest in Delphi in the second century, that there
was widespread concern about the Aristotelian legacy up to his time.
Plutarch tells us the story of Sulla, and how coming to Athens, he took
for himself the library of Apellicon of Teos, the Aristotelian philosopher
who had just then died. This explains why the collection ended up in
Rome, where it was edited by Andronicus of Rhodes.36 I do not wish
to discuss in detail the subject of the Aristotelian collection, but only to
stress the fact that philosophical preoccupation was not forgotten with
regard to libraries at that time. Now, why should it have been forgotten?
Because, from the beginning in the Hellenistic period of formation in
Athens, the structure of the philosophical schools was different according
to each of them: some schools like the Stoic and the Aristotelian gave
priority to erudition and scientific projects, this orientation resulting in
the priority of physics; while others like the Epicurean and Platonic
schools were oriented more towards spiritual experience and inner
wisdom, which led to a more metaphysical and ethical enterprise. This
remains of course a matter of priority or accent, and all philosophers
did not practice their discipline with the same fidelity to programs of
reading and teaching.
The place of books in different traditions might have differed widely:
the Aristotelian canon is much more important in the perspective of
controlling the accuracy and breadth of the Alexandrina project, since
we can try to measure by comparison the lists of the Librarians and
the other lists in circulation. We must then presume that the Library,
36
This part of the history of the Library has been told in the book of El-Abbadi,
Vie et destin de l’ancienne bibliothèque d’Alexandrie, 95–99.
in its first phases and until the first destruction, played a great role at
least in the transmission of the Aristotelian canon and the expansion of
the Aristotelian research program. But what was its role in the Platonic
tradition, for which Alexandria as a centre of schools was so widely
known at a later period? In the case of the Neoplatonic tradition,
beginning in the third century A.D., it seems that books were widely
available: the greatest testimony to this is, of course, the Vita Plotini by
Porphyry, where the Syrian philosopher takes great care in detailing
the works available to the school in Rome when he was taking part in
the discussions led by Plotinus.37
If the books were available, we must then draw a distinction to try
to understand their preservation and the principles of their collection:
some of them were only copies circulating mainly in the schools; others
were preserved in public libraries as in the Alexandrina, where they were
classified in collections. On the basis of wide evidence, we must ask: first,
what were the relations, if any, between the schools and the Library?
Second, which of these institutions succeeded most in transmitting texts
to later generations? According to some historians, the schools might
have possessed smaller collections of texts, and in most cases already
very specialized, but since they were isolated, and in no way linked to
institutional or political power, they must have been less at risk in the
transmission of texts.38 They would, for example, not be prime targets
for fire or assault. In other words, a collection such as the Collectio
philosophica would have been preserved mainly because of its presence
in a scholarly milieu, otherwise it would have vanished. Here we must
bring in the figure of Damascius.
37
Porphyry’s Vita Plotini has been edited with an important series of studies by Luc
Brisson, and a group of scholars. See Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé, “Arrière-plan scolaire
de la Vie de Plotin,” in Vie de Plotin, ed. Brisson, 1:277–280.
38
See Canfora, bibliothèque d’Alexandrie et l’histoire des textes, 44, 55; and the note of
R. Goulet, “Conservation et la transmission des textes philosophiques grecs,” who
writes: “Les fonds des écoles philosophiques, plus spécialisés et plus restreints, étaient
moins susceptibles de disparaître au hasard d’un siège. Ils pouvaient être plus facile-
ment reconstitués.”
39
See Hoffmann, “Fonction des prologues exégétiques dans la pensée pédagogique
néoplatonicienne,” 209–245.
40
See the discussion in Hadot, Problème du néoplatonisme alexandrin, 73ff.
41
R. Goulet, “Conservation et la transmission des textes philosophiques grecs.”
42
On this exceptional figure, see Dzielska, Hypatia of Alexandria.
43
See the recent work by Sider, Library of the Villa dei Papiri at Herculaneum.
44
Themistius, Orationes quae supersunt, ed. Schenkl, Downey, and Norman.
45
This position we can read in a Porphyrian commentary, written by Dexippus; see on
the question the discussion of Hadot, “Harmonie des philosophies de Plotin et d’Aristote
selon Porphyre dans le commentaire de Dexippe sur les Catégories,” 31–47.
46
See Westerink, “Rätsel des untergründigen Neuplatonismus,” 105–123.
47
Whittaker, “Parisinus graecus 1962,” a series of three articles published first in
Phoenix 28 (1974), for the study of Albinus, no. 1 and 2, and 31 (1977), for the study
of Janus Lascaris, then reprinted in 1984 in: ibid., Studies in Platonism and Patristic
Thought, 320–423.
48
See on this movement the important article of Irigoin, “Survie et renouveau de
la littérature antique à Constantinople (IXe siècle),” 189–192.
Now, let us follow the main thread of the argument: if the selection of
the collection had been purely a matter of school preference, we would
not have found in it the early Hellenistic Platonists, such as Alcinous,
who were held in low esteem by a man like Proclus and by all later
Scholarchs who would have favored Plotinus as a starting point; and
even for Plotinus there is a widespread perplexity stemming from what
seems on his part (Proclus) a real indifference to Plotinus. The collec-
tion then must have had its starting point in an institutional Library
in Alexandria, and if not, in pagan circles in Alexandria.49 Some of
them were linked to schools, others might have been religious. Now, the
date of the presence of Damascius in Alexandria and his preparation
to travel to Athens coincides perfectly with the copy of the originals
and scholia in Alexandria. The hypothesis of a copy made in Athens,
before the final form of the collection in Constantinople, is also part
of this complex story.
The modern editor of Damascius, L. G. Westerink, cannot but suggest
to look in this direction, and this is exactly where we started from: he
suggests that the whole of the philosophical library, that is the library
of the school of Hermeias and Ammonius, could have been transferred
from Alexandria to Constantinople by Stephanus of Byzantium in the
early seventh century.50 According to him, the copy was ordered by a
Byzantine scholar, whom we cannot identify. But one could object that
the collection might have existed independently of the command of
some later patron, and that its composition indicates an earlier process
of assembly, that is the need to put together, in order to save them for
further transmission, the kernel of the Neoplatonic canon. One could
also suggest that such a collection was intended mainly for the Athenian
School, where Alexandrian scholars traveled quite frequently. Damascius
seems to have been the right person to take the responsibility of doing
so, if only from the fact that the collection included all of his main
treatises. The commentaries of philosophers who wrote at a later date
might have been added either in Athens or Constantinople.
49
This much has been suggested by Whittaker, “Proclus and the Middle Platonists,”
281.
50
Westerink, in his introduction to his edition of the treatise of Damascius on the
Frist Principles, argues in favor of an already assembled collection, since it represents
“une collection de copies très soignées d’un fonds existant.” Damascius, Traité des
premiers principes, 1:LXXVII.
51
Hoffmann, DPA, s.v. „Damascius,“ D 3, 2:571, 580ff.
52
See the discussion of the edition by P. Athanassiadi. Brisson, “Dernier anneau
de la chaîne d’or,” 269–282.
53
Westerink, Greek Commentaries on Plato’s Phaedo, vol. 2, Damascius.
54
Westerink speaks of one principal copyist, leaving open the hypothesis that there
might have been several others; see his edition of Damascius. Damascius, Traité des
premiers principes, 1:LXXVII.
55
Westerink discusses several possibilities, but he excludes Photius and Arethas, and
he presents no clear hypothesis as to who was the patron owner of the collection.
that is from the time of the first Alexandrian Platonic schools and the
trip of Damascius to Athens, the preservation of the collection is a
direct result of interaction between institutional and school libraries.
This conclusion, thin as it may look, is already a research program on
the relations between the school libraries, when they were developed
for teaching purposes, and the greater Library, since it is during this
period that the schools would need good copies of the important works
for their use. Where could they find them if not in the Library? This
intricate process testifies for the intensity of Alexandrian scholarship
during the flourishing period of the Alexandrian Platonic schools, from
Plotinus to Damascius. Precise studies of all the manuscripts brought
together in the Collectio philosophica, together with a historical analysis
of the Life of Isidorus, should bring more light on this fascinating period
of intellectual history.56
56
The parallel example of the Library of Caesarea, founded around 230 by Origenes
or Pamphylus, according to a note in a letter of Jerome (Epistle 34, Ad Marcellam), rein-
forces our argument: this institutional Library was in fact in relation with the schools.
This Library was studied recently by Carriker, Library of Eusebius of Caesarea (2003),
who suggests that Origenes had established a school in Caesarea, a hypothesis which
would deserve a discussion we cannot offer here. In his study, Carriker has shown that
the collection of Origenes was transported from Alexandria to Caesarea and copied
again there. Part of this collection was of course the whole corpus of Philo, and we
learn from Eusebius that Isidorus, the Bishop of Sevilla, speaks of 30,000 volumes in
this Library. A comparison with other great Libraries (Pergamon, Athens, Hadriana
in Rome and Athens, Constantinople, etc) tells the same story: the number of books
is impressive and shows direct relations with contemporary schools. These institutional
libraries could not have been put up if they had been without scholarly relations with
schools, and conversely the schools could not have gained access to good-quality origi-
nals if they could not have relied upon institutional libraries, such as state supported
libraries or municipal libraries.
Grzegorz Majcherek
1
On the fate of Library in general, cf.: Canfora, Vanished Library; El-Abbadi, Life
and Fate of the Ancient Library of Alexandria.
2
Bagnall, “Dioskourides: Three Rolls,” 11–25, with a detailed overview of previ-
ous hypotheses.
hopes that it could be found.3 But even if the discovery does not bring
us any closer to determining the actual location of the Library, at least
it throws entirely new light on the nature of academic life in Alexandria
of Late Antiquity.
The excavations of the joint Polish-Egyptian expedition, working on
the site for the past forty plus years, brought to light the only extensive
section of ancient urban architecture to be seen in Alexandria to date.4
Most of the excavated area is occupied by public monuments of the
Late Roman age with the bath constituting the main architectural
complex. This large, symmetrical edifice designed on a rectangular
plan was constructed most probably at the end of the fourth century
as an imperial foundation.5 The huge elevated structure of the cistern
that supplied it with water occupies the central part of the site. In the
western part of the area, a residential district combining industrial and
domestic functions was unearthed.6
But perhaps the best advertised of the Kom el-Dikka discoveries
was the theatre or to be more precise an odeum opening off a long
portico, 180m of which have been explored on the site, running from
north to south.7 It is in this part of the site that a set of surprisingly
well preserved lecture halls was recently uncovered.
All of the newly discovered halls line the back wall of the portico,
which is in itself a monumental setting for these structures (fig. 18). The
halls are rectangular and follow the same orientation, differing only in
size.8 Five of the halls ( J-M) located directly to the north of the the-
atre are of approximately the same dimensions. Their length runs in
the range from 9 to 12 m. Hall (H) is clearly different; at 7 m length,
it is obviously the smallest of the lot (fig. 19). All five of the halls are
bordered on the east by a long casing wall; as a result, all of them are
slightly over 5 m wide. The wall separates the auditoria from an area
that had already been abandoned in the period of their functioning
3
See Los Angeles Times, May 9, 2004; Sydney Morning Herald, May 10, 2004; BBC
News, May 12, 2004, http://news.bbc.co.uk/.
4
For the general topography of the site, cf. Tkaczow, Topography of Ancient Alexandria,
85–90, 94–102.
5
Koł[taj, Imperial Baths at Kom el-Dikka.
6
M. Rodziewicz, Habitations romaines tardives d’Alexandrie.
7
For the theatre, cf. Koł[taj, “Recherches architectoniques dans les thermes et le
théâtre de Kôm el-Dikka à Alexandrie,” 189–190.
8
Majcherek and Koł[taj, “Excavations and Preservation Work, 2001/2002,”
19–31; Majcherek, “Kom el-Dikka: Excavations and Preservation Work, 2002/2003,”
25–38.
and had become a dumping ground for rubbish and debris, one of
the typical kopriai, several examples of which have been recognised in
other parts of the town.9 Our mound extends well to the north and
east towards the bath complex, culminating some 7–8 meters above
the level of the Theatre Portico.
The biggest differences are to be observed in the case of halls lying
nearer to the northern end of the portico. Auditorium (N) is definitely
the longest of the complex, reaching 14 m in length (fig. 20). Auditorium
(P) to the south of it evidently departs from the described scheme, not
only in size and orientation (E-W axis), but also in the internal layout.
Instead of the benches lining three of the walls, there are two distinct
tribunes rising high on two opposite walls and, separately, benches
inside the apse projecting to the east, closely recalling a synthronon, and
suggesting a function quite unlike a regular auditorium (fig. 21). The
building might have been used for ceremonial purposes, while remain-
ing part of the complex as a whole. The similarity with some church
layouts may be largely superficial and misleading. Although it gener-
ally recalls a conventional church design, the absence of any kind of
evidence for an altar speaks against such a theory. Moreover, even a
summary review of known church plans from Egypt reveals no close
parallels for such an arrangement.10
In spite of the variations of sizes, the internal arrangement of the
halls is virtually the same. All are entered from the portico, the doorways
pierced in the thick back wall of the portico, invariably closer to the
northern end of each of the rooms. This creates a kind of functional
vestibule that was occasionally even emphasised by the introduction of
poorly built partition walls, of which faint traces have been recorded in
a few cases, in halls (M) and (N), for example. The floors in the newly
discovered halls are just as varied, from limestone pugging (hall M) to
painstakingly laid limestone slabs (halls H and N).
The benches are undoubtedly the most important and conspicuous
furnishing. The three tiers of benches lining the wall (although there
are exceptions to this rule) are c. 35–40 cm high and almost as wide.
They can seat comfortably from 20 to 30 persons. Some benches follow
9
M. Rodziewicz, Habitations romaines tardives d’Alexandrie, 31, 252.
10
Grossmann, Christliche architektur in Ägypten. One should note, however, that churches
with lateral benches extending well into the aisle are known from Jordan and Palestine,
cf. Duval, “Architecture et liturgie dans la Jordanie Byzantine,” 35–114; Dayr Ayn
Abata, fig. 13; Esbus, fig. 17; Gerasa, fig. 39 a–c.
a rectangular layout (halls H and M) (fig. 22), but in most cases, they
take on the form of an exedera (halls J, K, L and N) (fig. 20). Benches
are usually made of a single row of large blocks, but very often, smaller
randomly set irregular stones were used. In several cases, larger seg-
ments of brick walls cut from abandoned structures, most probably
the bath or the cisterns, were reused—a phenomenon previously noted
also in other constructions of the Late Roman age.11 The benches were
normally plastered over, covering all the irregularities.
The central seat at the end is a distinctive feature in all of the halls.
It could be an ordinary block of stone elevated somewhat above the
neighbouring seats, but very often it takes on a more imposing form
with separate steps leading up to it. The most monumental one was
unearthed in auditorium (K), featuring seven steps flanked with low
sidewalls, and giving access to the seating placed some 1.60 m above
the floor level (fig. 23). Another significant feature found in almost all of
the halls is a low pedestal projecting above floor level. It is invariably in the
centre of the room, opposite the prominently positioned main seat,
and it is most commonly a stone block covered with plaster; although
in one case a marble capital was used for this purpose (hall L).
The latter two features seem to be of key importance for identifying
the function of the newly discovered halls. The central seat was des-
tined undoubtedly for the most important person heading the gather-
ing. Associations come to mind with a lecturer’s ‘chair’—a customary
fitting of lecture halls.
Available ancient iconographic sources largely confirm this hypothesis.
The high chair is an almost invariable attribute of existing represen-
tations of teachers and philosophers. Representations of professors
seated in such chairs, undoubtedly based on actual scenes, were quite
common and widespread in Late Antique art. Later they were also
adopted on a large scale in Christian art, usually depicting Christ as
a teacher. The best evidence of this is a series of ivory plaques and
pyxides, some of them even attributed to Alexandrian workshops.12
Of special significance is a wall-painting preserved in the Via Latina
catacomb in Rome, showing a teacher seated in an exedera and sur-
11
M. Rodziewicz, Habitations romaines tardives d’Alexandrie, 249, 276, 299.
12
Cf. recent discussion of such representations in E. Rodziewicz, “On Alexandrian
School for Ivory Carving,” 49–69, where some of the examples are discussed in the
context of the lecture halls from Kom el-Dikka.
13
Du Bourguet, Early Christian Painting, fig. 111.
14
Quibell, Excavations of Saqqara (1908–9, 1909–10), pl. XIV.
15
Libanius Chreiai 3.7 in ibid., Libanii Opera, recensuit Foerster, (1915) 8:84–85. It is
also worth recalling that, in his report of the tragic death of Hypatia, John of Nikiu
said that the mob “found her seated on the lofty chair,” cf. John, Bishop of Nikiu.
Chronicle of John, Bishop of Nikiu, trans. Charles, LXXXIV 101.
16
For the literary culture of Late Antiquity, cf. Kaster, Guardians of Language;
Cameron, “Education and Literary Culture,” 665–707; in Egypt: Cribiore, Gymnastics
of the Mind.
17
For the dating of the so called Lower Necropolis, cf. Promińska, Investigations on
the Population of Muslim Alexandria, 46–50.
18
Koł[taj, “Dernière periode d’utilisation et destruction des thermes romaines tardifs
de Kom el-Dikka,” 218–229.
19
Kubiak and Makowiecka, “Polish Excavations at Kom el-Dikka in Alexandria in
1965 and 1966,” 102.
20
Saffrey, “Chrétien Jean Philopon et la survivance de l’école d’Alexandrie au VIe
siècle,” 396–410.
21
M. Rodziewicz, “Excavations at Kom el-Dikka in Alexandria 1980–1981,”
233–245. For yet another presumed lecture hall uncovered by the southern wall of
the theatre, cf. M. Rodziewicz, “Review of the Archaeological Evidence Concerning
the Cultural Institutions in Ancient Alexandria,” 317–332.
22
Kiss et al., Alexandrie VII: Fouilles polonaises à Kôm el-Dikka (1986–1987).
23
It should be expected that the lecture halls lined the entire length of the portico,
thus their number could exceed 20 in all.
24
Koł[taj, “Recherches architectoniques dans les thermes et le théâtre de Kôm el-
Dikka à Alexandrie,” 187–194; ibid., “Theoretical Reconstruction of the Late Roman
Theatre at Kom el-Dikka in Alexandria,” 631–638.
25
Borkowski, Inscriptions des factions à Alexandrie, 82–86; for a dissenting view,
cf. A. Cameron and R. S. Bagnall, review of Inscriptions des factions à Alexandrie, by
Z. Borkowski, BASP 20 (1983): 75–84.
26
For the probable function of the theatre as an auditorium, cf. Kiss, “Les auditoria
romains tardifs de Kôm el-Dikka (Alexandrie),” 331–338; E. Rodziewicz, “Late Roman
Auditoria in Alexandria in the Light of Ivory Carvings,” 269–279.
27
Adriani, Annuaire du Musée Gréco-Romain (1935–1939), 55–63.
28
Ibid., Annuario del Museo Greco-Romano (1932–1933), 1:19–27, pl. IV.
29
M. Rodziewicz, Habitations romaines tardives d’Alexandrie, 241.
30
John Moschus Pratum Spirituale 207. On urban gardens, cf. also Haas, “John
Moschus and Late Antique Alexandria,” 47–60.
31
For a recent study on the Alexandrian Gymnasium, cf. Burkhalter, “Gymnase
d’Alexandrie,” 345–373.
32
Vössing, “Staat und schule in der spätantike,” 243–262.
33
Frantz, Late Antiquity, A.D. 267–700, 42–44.
34
Smith, “Late Roman Philosopher Portraits from Aphrodisias,” 127–155.
35
Cf. Duval, “Maisons d’Apamée et l’architecture ‘palatiale’ de l’antiquité tardive,”
468; Sodini, «Habitat urbain en Grèce à la veille des invasions,” 344–397.
36
Libanius gave lectures even in the town bath, while public performances by orators
were often given also in the bouleuteria, cf. Libanius. Autobiography and Selected Letters,
ed. and trans. Norman, 1:117, 135, 153.
37
Ibid., 1:169; Downey, History of Antioch in Syria, 622.
38
Codex Theodosianus 14.9.3.
39
Cod. Theod. 13.3.1–19, 14. 9.1.
40
Roques, “Alexandrie tardive et protobyzantine (IV e–VIIe s.),” 203–236; Gascou,
«La vie intellectuelle alexandrine à l’époque byzantine (IV e–VIIe siècles),” 41–48; Haas,
Alexandria in Late Antiquity.
41
Ammianus Marcellinus Res Gestae 22.16.17–18; cf. for the critical view cf.
Bowersock, “Late Antique Alexandria,” 263–270.
42
The list of students and professors active in Late Antique Alexandria is much
longer obviously, cf. PLRE, 1:217–223.
43
I would like to thank Ms. El1zbieta Szabat for calling my attention to this important
passage. Cf. Elias In Porphyrii isagogen 21.30.
Figure 18. General plan of the Kom el-Dikka site. (Drawing by W. Koł[taj).
Polish-Egyptian Mission at Kom el-Dikka, Alexandria, Polish Centre of
Mediterranean Archaeology in Cairo.
Figure 23. Auditorium K at Kom el-Dikka. View from the north. Polish-
Egyptian Mission at Kom el-Dikka, Alexandria, Polish Centre of Mediterranean
Archaeology in Cairo.
Figure 24. The great portico in front of the Theatre at Kom el-Dikka. View
from the north-west. Polish-Egyptian Mission at Kom el-Dikka, Alexandria,
Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology in Cairo.
1
Cf. Haikal, “Private Collections and Temple Libraries in Ancient Egypt,” see
chap. 2 in the present volume.
2
Abd al-Latīf al-Baghdādī al-Ifādah wa-al-i tibār fī al-umūr al-mushāhadah wa-al- awādith
al-mu āyanah bi-ar Mi r [ Journey to Egypt] 42.
3
Ibn al-Qiftī Ikhbār al- ulamā bi-akhbār al- ukamā [History of Wise Men] 232–234.
al-Qiftī either in full or abridged. Therefore to get the full story of the
burning of the Alexandria Library by Amr, as related by the Arabs,
one has to turn to Ibn al-Qiftī who was the first to relate it in full.
As mentioned above, the story first appeared in Ibn al-Qiftī’s bio-
graphical lexicon. When compared with other biographies of the time
written by Ibn Khallikān, al-Sāfādī, Ibn Shākir al-Kutubī, al-Dhahabī
and others, it is of second-rate value due to summarized material and
inaccurate information. The story itself, as M. El-Abbadi has shown,4
is a compound of at least three distinct parts. The first part relating
to Yahia al-Nahwī, was mentioned earlier by Ibn al-Nadīm and it is
possible that both of them were quoting a third source. The second
part dealing with the number of books was mentioned literally in some
Byzantine sources as El-Abbadi demonstrated. But these two parts of the
story are irrelevant to the subject of the fate of the Library, even though
Ibn al-Qiftī has made them an integral component of his account. The
third part is the important one, as it attributes the destruction of the
Ancient Library of Alexandria to the Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattāb and
his governor in Egypt, Amr ibn al- Ās. It is noteworthy that this part
was written as a dialogue between Yahia and Amr covering several
days and this bears the marks of fiction rather than actual history. It
is most probable that the author heard it as part of an oral tradition
then prevalent.
Furthermore, the first appearance of the Arabic story of the fate of
the Library occurred in the late sixth and early seventh centuries A.H.
(twelfth & thirteenth centuries A.D.) whereas the Arab conquest of Egypt
and Alexandria took place six centuries earlier. It is highly unlikely
that such eminent historians as Ibn Abd al- akam (d. 253 A.H.), al-
Balathurī (d. 279 A.H.), al-Tabarī (d. 310 A.H.) and al-Kīndī (d. 350
A.H.) should have ignored the existence of such a famous Library and
its fate. These historians and their successors reported the details of the
Arab conquest of Egypt and Alexandria; but no mention was made of
what Abd al-Latīf al-Baghdādī, Ibn al-Qiftī and Ibn al- Ibrī reported
about the destruction of the Library by Amr ibn al- Ās.
Moreover, the Coptic historian John, Bishop of Nikiu, who lived the
greater part of his life in the second half of the seventh and the early
eighth centuries A.D., was a near contemporary of the Arab conquest
and recorded many of its events, but he did not mention or even hint
4
El-Abbadi, Life and Fate of the Ancient Library of Alexandria, 169ff.
5
John, Bishop of Nikiu, Tarikh Yohana al Niqiousy, trans. Saber (2003).
6
El-Abbadi, Life and Fate of the Ancient Library of Alexandria, 146–156.
7
Ibid., 160–167.
8
Butler, Arab Conquest of Egypt (1902), 400ff.
9
El-Abbadi, Life and Fate of the Ancient Library of Alexandria, 176ff.
Bernard Lewis
Despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, some writers are still
disposed to believe and even repeat the story of how the Great Library
of Alexandria was destroyed by the Arabs after their conquest of the
city in 642 A.D., by order of the Caliph Umar. This story—its origins,
purpose, acceptance and rejection—provides an interesting example of
how such historical myths arise and, for a while at least, flourish.
This story first became known to Western scholarship in 1663,
when Edward Pococke, the Laudian Professor of Arabic at Oxford,
published an edition of the Arabic text, with Latin translation, of part
of the Compendious History of the Dynasties of the Syrian-Christian author
Barhebraeus, also known as Abū al-Faraj.1 According to this story, Amr
ibn al- Ās, the commander of the Arab conquerors, was inclined to
accept the pleas of John the Grammarian and spare the library, but
the Caliph decreed otherwise: “If these writings of the Greeks agree
with the book of God, they are useless and need not be preserved; if
they disagree, they are pernicious and ought to be destroyed.”2 The
books in the library, the story continues, were accordingly distributed
among the four thousand bathhouses of the city, and used to heat the
furnaces, which they kept going for almost six months.
As early as 1713, Father Eusèbe Renaudot, the distinguished French
orientalist, cast doubt on this story, remarking, in his history of the
Patriarchs of Alexandria, published in that year, that it “had something
untrustworthy about it.”3 Curiously, although Father Renaudot’s text
is in Latin, the word “untrustworthy” is in Greek—perhaps a security
precaution. The great English historian Edward Gibbon, never one
to miss a good story, relates it with gusto, and then proceeds: “For
my own part, I am strongly tempted to deny both the facts and the
1
Barhebraeus, Historia compendiosa dynastiarum, trans. Pococke (Oxford, 1663).
2
For text, see ibid., 180; translation, 114.
3
Renaudot, Historia patriarcharum Alexandrinorum Jacobitarum a.D. Marco usque ad finem
sæculi XIII (Paris, 1713), 170.
4
Gibbon, History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1911), 5:482.
5
Butler, Arab Conquest of Egypt, ed. Fraser, 2nd ed. (1978), 401ff.
6
Chauvin, Le Livre dans le monde arabe, 3–6.
7
Casanova, “L’incendie de la bibliothèque d’Alexandrie par les Arabes,” 163–
171.
8
Eugenio Griffini, “Fī sabīl al-haqq wa t-ta rīkh: al-haqīqa fī harīq maktabat al-
Iskandariyya,” Al-Ahram, January 21, 1925. Summarized in Furlani, “Sull’incendio
della biblioteca di Alessandria,” 205–212.
9
Cf. Gibbon, History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 5:483 n. 141.
10
Abd al-Latīf al-Baghdādī, Kitāb al-ifādah wa-al-i tibār, ed. Sabānū (1983), 52. For
earlier editions, see ibid., Abdollatiphi historiæ ægypti compendium, ed. White (1800), 114;
ibid., Relation de l’Egypte, trans. Silvestre de Sacy (Paris, 1810), 183.
11
Ibn al-Qiftī, Tarīkh al- ukamā , ed. Lippert (1903), 354.
12
There is an extensive literature on the Protocols. An excellent recent book is Ben-
Itto, Lie that Wouldn’t Die (2005).
13
See for example “Historical Precedents of Imam’s Ruling against Rushdie,” Tehran
Times International Weekly, February 23, 1989.
I. Sources
1. Egyptian texts
Abydos Stela
Abusir Papyri
Ashmolean Ostrakon
Book of the Dead
‘dialogue between a man and his soul’
Famine Stela at Seheil
Inscription of Mes
Palermo Stone
Papyrus Anastasi
Papyrus Salt
Pyramid Texts
Ramesseum Papyri
‘Story of the Herdsman’
‘Tale of Hay’
‘Tale of Horus and Seth’
‘Tale of Sinuhe’
‘Tale of the Eloquent Peasant’
‘Tale of the Princess of Bakhtan’
‘Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor’
2. Classical texts
Ammianus Marcellinus Res Gestae
Aphthonius Progymnasmata
Apollonius of Perge Conica
Apostolic Constitution
Aristophanes Acharnians
Arrian Anabasis
Augustine De civitate Dei
—— Confessiones
—— Retractationes
Basil of Caesarea Homiliae in Hexaemeron
Callimachus Pinakes1
—— Against Praxiphanes
Caesar, Bellum Civile
Chaldean Oracles
Cicero Epistulae ad Atticum
1
Callimachus’ Pinakes is cited in the Suda according to Hesychius under the detailed
title of: Πίνακες τῶν ἐν πάσῃ παιδείᾳ διαλαμψάντων, καὶ ὧν συνέγραψαν (‘Tables of
those who distinguished themselves in all branches of learning and their writings’), Blum,
Kallimachos, 151, 161 n. 2; Adler, Suidae Lexicon, s.v. “Kallimachos,” Κ 227, 3:19f.
2
[Commentary on the Isagoge of Porphyry], see PLRE, s.v. “Elias 6,” 3:438. For the
title of his work in Greek (προλεγόμενε τῆς Πορφυρίου εἰσαγωγῆς ἀπὸ φωνῆς Ἠλίου
φιλοσόφου), See also Kroll, RE, s.v. “Elias 2,” (5, 2), col. 2366.
3
The title of Eunapius’ work is Vitae sophistarum (Lives of the Sophists). See John F.
Matthews, OCD3, s.v. “Eunapius,” 568.
4
Florus’ work is commonly known under the title of: Epitome bellorum omnium annorum
DCC (‘Abridgement of all the Wars over 700 Years’). Some manuscripts describe it as
an epitome of Livy; but it is sometimes at variance with Livy. See Edward S. Forster,
Gavin B. Townend, and Antony J. S. Spawforth, OCD3, s.v. “Florus,” 602.
5
Rufinus of Aquileia extended Eusebiues’ Historia ecclesiastica (‘Church History’) to
A.D. 395 by adding two extra books. See C. P. Bammel, OCD3, s.v. “ Rufinus,” 1337.
6
Socrates Scholasticus continued the Historia ecclesiastica of Eusebius from A.D. 305
to 439. See Jill D. Harries, OCD3, s.v. “Socrates Scholasticus,” 1337.
7
Sozomen wrote a continuation of Eusebiues’ Historia ecclesiastica to A.D. 439. See
Jill D. Harries, OCD3, s.v. “Sozomen (Salamanes Hermeias Sozomenus),” 1337.
8
PLRE, s.v. “Synesius 1,” 2:1050.
9
Themistius’ fourth oration (delivered in 357 A.D.), entitled: Εἰς τὸν αὐτοκράτορα
Κωνστάντιον. See PLRE, s.v. “Themistius 1,” 1:893.
3. The Bible
Old Testament
Genesis
Numbers
Psalms
New Testament
John (Gospel)
10
Including the Berlin Gnostic Codex (BG).
IX,1 Melchizedek
IX,2 Thought of Norea
IX,3 Testimony of Truth
X,1 Marsanes
XI,1 Interpretation of Knowledge
XI,2 Valentinian Exposition
XI,2a On the Anointing
XI,2b On Baptism A
XI,2c On Baptism B
XI,2d On the Eucharist A
XI,2e On the Eucharist B
XI,3 Allogenes
XI,4 Hypsiphrone
XII,1 Sentences of Sextus
XII,2 Gospel of Truth
XII,3 Fragments
XIII,1 Trimorphic Protennoia
XIII,2 On the Origin of the World
BG,1 Gospel of Mary
BG,2 Apocryphon of John
BG,3 Sophia of Jesus Christ
BG,4 Act of Peter
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Abd al-Latīf al-Baghdādī al-Ifādah wa-al-i tibār fī al-umūr al-mushāhadah wa-al- awādith
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Barhebraeus, Historia compendiosa dynastiarum, Arabic text and Latin translation by
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Ibn al-Qiftī Ikhbār al- ulamā bi-akhbār al- ukamā [History of Wise Men].
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Stela of, 42 174–175, 178, 182, 188, 191, 192,
academic, 46, 143, 199 200, 201, 202 (see also academic;
life, viii, 5, 191, 192, 200, 201, 202 Alexandria: intellectual life;
(see also under Alexandria) scholarship: Alexandrian)
responsibilities, 175n16 Acropolis of, 75, 78 fig. 1, 89, 90 (see also
See also education; scholarship temples: Serapeum)
Academy. See Athenian Academy. agora, 141, 200
See under Alexandrian Alabaster Tomb, 80n8
Acheminid period, 47 Antirrhodus, Island of, 62n24
Acropolis. See under Alexandria Arab conquest of, vii, viii, 6, 7, 75, 88,
Aedesia, 143, 144, 145, 146, 174 145, 209, 210, 213 (see also Amr ibn
Aedesius, 142n44 al- Ās; see also under Egypt)
Aegis, 82 Arsinoeion, 71
Africa, 61, 100n17 baths of, 75, 192, 193, 194, 196, 197,
African, xviii 199, 200n36, 208, 213, 214, 215
Red Slip (see under tableware) (see also Kom el-Dikka)
agora. See under Alexandria; Athens Bruccheion, 2, 7, 54, 63, 66, 68,
agriculture, 33, 104, 104n29 68n49, 72n70, 75, 76, 80, 86, 87,
Akhmim, 43, 111n8 101n17, 102
al-Baghdādī, Abd al-Latīf. See Abd Eastern Harbour, 2, 56, 61, 62, 63,
al-Latīf al-Baghdādī 64, 65, 67, 68, 70, 71, 72n70, 75,
al-Balathurī, 209 101n17, 140, 210
Alcibiades, 134 Emporium, 64, 70, 71n63
Alcinous, 186, 187 Gabbari, 80n8
al-Dhahabī, 209 Gymnasium, 77, 199
Aleppo, 208 Heptastadion, 65, 72n70, 87
Alexander the Great, 58n8, 80, 96, 99, House of Medusa, 2, 81, 82, 83 fig.
100n16, 101–102n17, 104, 207 7, 84 fig. 9, 86, 87 (see also Centre
tomb of, 87, 191 d’Études Alexandrines; Medusa)
Alexandria, vii, viii, ix, xi, xviii, 1, 2, intellectual life, xvii, 1, 3, 4, 129,
3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 20n29, 36, 39, 52, 58, 131, 133, 143, 146, 178, 185, 189,
58n8, 59, 60, 62, 63, 64, 64–65n35, 200, 201, 202 (see also Alexandria:
65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71n67, 72n70, academic life; scholarship:
75, 76, 77, 77n4, 79 fig. 3, 80, 80n6, Alexandrian)
81 fig. 5, 82n9, 83 figs. 7–8, 85 figs. Jewish community, 130
10–11, 86, 88, 89, 90, 91, 93, 95, 96, Jewish quarter, 68n49
See also Gnosticism 58n5, 73, 90, 98, 99, 99n15, 100n16,
See also under art; education; 105, 106, 173, 174, 177, 178, 179,
Neoplatonism 180, 182, 184, 186, 187, 189
Christianity, xvii, xix, 98n11, 100, 112, East Indian, 72n71
114, 130, 134, 138, 142, 145, 149, Egyptian, 72n71
149n1, 150, 154, 159, 160, 162, 166, Fatimid, 217
168, 195, 210 Mesopotamian, 72n71
Christians, 4, 92, 133, 138, 141, 145, Persian, 72n71, 214
150, 154, 176 private, 2, 39–54, 105n31, 188
See also baptism; church; theology of schools, viii, 7, 177, 179, 182, 182,
Chrysippus, 185 184, 187, 188
Chrysostom, John (bishop), 87 See also archives; Berlin Collection;
church, 3, 89, 91, 92, 93, 100n17, 117, books; Collectio philosophica; el-Lahun
118, 129, 136, 138, 139, 140, 141, Collection; Nag Hammadi Codices;
142, 150, 159, 193, 193n10, 215 papyri; texts
Caesareion cathedral, 140 See also under Alexandria, Ancient
Coptic, 215 Library of; Aristotle; Plato
Fathers of, 88, 112, 113, 115, 116, colonnades, 90, 198
169 colophons, 117, 118, 118n28–29, 122
See also Christianity Compendious History of the Dynasties.
See also under Alexandrian See under Barhebraeus
Cicero, 93, 97, 176, 195 Concessus, 119
Cisneros, 104 Confucius, 102, 103n20
Claremont, California, xix, 111 Conics. See Apollonius of Perge: Conica
Claremont Graduate University in Constantine (emperor), 215
California, 109 Constantinople, viii, 5, 87, 98n11, 99,
Classic Gnostic texts. See texts: Sethian 133, 173, 186, 187, 188, 189n56,
Gnostic 200
Classic Gnosticism. See Gnosticism: Constantius II (emperor), 141, 179
Sethian Coptic
Claudius I (emperor), 76n3 inscription, 110, 117
Cleopatra VII, 64–65n35 language, 110, 110n3, 111, 111n8,
Codex of Theodosius. See Codex 112, 115, 115n17, 116n21, 117,
Theodosianus 118, 118n28, 119n31, 121
Codex Theodosianus, 3, 75, 89, 200 manuscripts, 121
See also Theodosius I (emperor) papyri, 4, 109
codices priest, 209
Askew, 111n8 studies, 115, 121
Bruce, 111n8 See also historians: Byzantine;
See also Berlin Gnostic Codex; Nag International Association for Coptic
Hammadi Codices Studies
codices vetustissimi, 188 See also under church
coins, 82, 195 Coptic Gnostic Library, 111, 111n8,
Collectio mathematica. See under Pappus of 116n20
Alexandria See also Claremont, California; Nag
Collectio philosophica, viii, 5, 171, 173, Hammadi Codices
177, 178, 179n31, 182, 183, 184, Coptic Museum, xix, 109
185, 186, 188, 189 Coptos, 43
Marcianus graecus 196, 188 See also temples: of Min in Coptos
Marcianus graecus 246, 173, 186, 188 copyists. See scribes
Parisinus graecus 1962, 186 Crawford, William S., 149, 165
See also collections; Damascius; Greek: crosses, 118
manuscripts Crusaders, 210, 217
collections, viii, xxi, 3, 5, 7, 35, 56, cuneiform, 47n26
students, 5, 145, 176, 184, 188, 201 Egyptians, 14n6, 16, 17n14, 18n23, 23,
(see also Alexandrian: scholars; 28, 33, 34, 40, 61, 97, 98n11, 113,
Byzantine: scholars) 119, 122, 125 fig. 14
teachers, 5, 6, 53, 136, 157, 174, 194, El-Abbadi, Mostafa, viii, xii, xvii, xx, 1,
199, 200, 201 3, 89, 98n10, 209, 210
teaching, 43, 75, 88, 133, 174, 178, el-Amarna, 42, 43, 47n26
181, 188, 189 el-Bersheh, 42
See also academic; scholarship; texts: El-Falaki, Mahmoud, 82, 82n9, 191
educational el-Hibeh, 50
Egypt, viii, xvii, xviii, xix, xx, 1, 2, 6, Eliade, Mircea, 106, 201
9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 15n7, 17, 19, 20, Elias, 6, 201
20n25–29, 22, 22n33, 23, 24, 25, 27, In Porphyrii isagogen, 201
35, 36, 39, 40, 41, 43, 47, 47n26, 49, el-Kasr. See Chenoboskion
50, 51, 53, 58n5, 64–65n35, 75, 76, el-Lahun Collection, 50
77, 86, 89, 99, 99n14, 100–101n17, ‘tale of Hay’, 50
193, 195n16, 207, 209, 210, 214 ‘tale of Horus and Seth’, 50
Arab conquest of, vii, viii, xix, 7, 209, priestly documents, 50
210, 214 (see also Amr ibn al- Ās; See also collections; Petrie Museum
see also under Alexandria) el-Tod, 42
Lower, 14, 139 Emesa, 146, 152, 153
Middle, 50 Empereur, Jean-Yves, xi, xvii, 1, 2, 3,
Persian invasion of, 196 71n67, 75
Roman conquest of, 181 See also Centre d’Études Alexandrines
Upper, 14n3, 21n31, 100n17, 109, (CEAlex)
121 Emporium complex. See under Alexandria
Egyptian army, 58, 58n4–8, 59, 61, Epictetus, 185
66 Epicurus, 183, 185
fleet, 2, 56, 57, 59, 60 Epistates, 53
Egyptian deities epistemology, 216
Aten, 42 Esbus, 193n10
Geb, 43 Esna, 43
Horus, 43, 44, 45, 46, 50 Etesian winds, 2, 58, 60, 61, 62,
Isis, 43, 45 64–65n35
Khnum, 42, 45 Eucharist, 165
Maat, 14, 14n5 Euclid, 131, 142
Min, 42 Eugnostos. See Concessus
Nephthys, 43 Eunapius, 3, 89n3, 90
Nut, 43 Vita Aedesii, 89n3
Osiris, 43, 44, 45, 46 Eunomeans, 154, 162, 170
Ptahotep, 17n16 Eunomius, 152
Re, 42, 44 Europe, 36, 54, 130
Sekhmet Bastet, 43 Eusebius, 189n56
Seshat, 45 Eutocius, 145
Seth, 50 Evoptius (bishop), 136
Shu, 44 exedera, 91, 194, 199
Thoth, 43, 44, 45
See also Serapis Famine Stela, 48
Egyptian language, 17, 22, 27–29, 47, fate of the library of Alexandria.
116n21, 118 See Alexandria, Ancient Library of:
Hieroglyphic, xi, 47, 48 destruction of
Hieratic, 2, 29–30 Fatimids, 210
Egyptian literature, 15n8, 42 Faw Qibli. See Phbow
Demotic, 47, 48 Fayence labels, 41
Hieratic, 48 Fayoum, 15n7
fire, 55, 98n11, 99–100n16, 107 Great Library. See Alexandria, Ancient
Alexandrian fire of 48 B.C. (see under Library of
Alexandrian) Greece, xvii, 39, 208
Great Chicago Fire of 8–10 October Greeks, 25n40, 36, 39, 48, 92, 97,
1871, 57, 67n46, 68, 69, 70, 73 99–100n16, 213
Great Fire of London 1666, 57 Greek, 47, 110, 110n3, 112, 114, 115,
Great Fire of Rome in 64 A.D., 57, 115n17, 116n21, 118, 119n32, 120,
70 162, 180, 200, 213
San Francisco Fire of 1906, 57 Doric dialect, 160
First Intermediate Period, 13, 14, inscriptions, 76
35n69, 47n26 manuscripts, 173 (see also Collectio
Florus (Lucius Annaeus Florus), 56n2, philosophica)
71 texts (see under texts)
Epitoma de Tito Livio, 56n2 tragedies, 171
Fowden, Garth, 177, 177n26 See also philosophy
France, xviii, 95, 100–101n17, 216 Gregory of Nazianzus, 166
Fraser, P. M., vii, 2, 52, 64n33, 67n48, Gregory of Nyssa, 153, 153n17,
68n51, 71, 72, 171, 184 153n20, 154, 158, 166
furnaces. See Alexandria: baths of De opificio hominis, 153n17, 154
Dialogus de anima et resurrectione, 153,
Galen of Pergamum, 184 153n20
Galerius (emperor), 98n11 Griffini, Eugenio, 214
Gardiner, Alan H., 42
Gaza, 199 Haas, Christopher, 176n19, 179
Gebel et-Tarif, 109, 117, 118 hagneuontes, 91
Gebelein, 51n42 Hall of Written Documentation.
Gellius, Aulus, 56n2, 72–73n71 See under archives
Noctes Atticae, 56n2 Hamburg, 68n54
geography, 36, 48, 52, 76 Han Dynasty. See under dynasties
geometry, 33, 36, 48, 52, 146, 178 (Chinese)
See also science Han Fei, 103
George (Arian bishop), 141 harbours, Hellenistic, 65n38
Georgia, 208 Apollonia in Cyrenaica, 65n38
Gerasa, 193n10 Oeniadae in Acarnania, 65n38
Germany, 216 Piraeus, 65n38–39
Gibbon, Edward, viii, 6, 98, 129, 207, Sunium, 65n38
213, 214 See also Alexandria
Gnosticism, 4, 112, 112n12, 113, 114, Harris, James R., 42, 77n4
115, 121 Heliodorus (Alexandrian philosopher),
Sethian, 113, 114, 114n16, 116 144, 145, 174
(see also texts: Sethian Gnostic) Heliopolis, 43
See also Valentinus Hellenism, 4, 129, 130, 132, 149, 166,
Goulet, Richard, 171n1, 183 170
Graeco-Roman Museum of Alexandria, Hellenistic period, 54, 54n52, 176, 180,
77n4, 79 fig. 3, 80, 81 fig. 5 181
Graeco-Roman period, 47, 47n26, 50, Heptastadion. See under Alexandria
51, 51n41–42 Heracles, 107n35
graffiti, 47n26, 198 Heraclius, 198
grammar, 146, 200 Herculanum, 77n5, 184
grammarians, 143, 208, 210, 213, 214, Herculianus, 137
215 Hermes Trismegistus, 115, 119,
Granada, 104 119n34
Great Harbour. See Alexandria: Eastern Hermeias, 143, 144, 174
Harbour school of, 187, 188
Mouseion, 3, 39, 52, 53, 54, 68, 72, 76, Prayer of the Apostle Paul, 114, 118, 123
77n4, 87, 97, 98n11, 100, 130, 132, fig. 12
176, 177, 184, 200 Second Treatise of the Great Seth, 114
See also academic; Alexandria: Sentences of Sextus, 115
academic life; Alexandria, Ancient Sophia of Jesus Christ, 114
Library of; Alexandrian: Academy; Teachings of Silvanus, 115, 116, 120,
Athenian Academy; Lyceum; 128 fig. 17
scholarship; schools Testimony of Truth, 115
Mozi, 102 Thought of Norea, 113–114
Musae, 53, 54 Three Steles of Seth, 113, 120, 127
Muses. See Musae fig. 16
Thunder: Perfect Mind, 114
Nabi Daniel Street. See under Alexandria Treatise on the Resurrection, 114
Nag Hammadi, 109 Trimorphic Protennoia, 114
Nag Hammadi ‘Library’. See Nag Tripartite Tractate, 114
Hammadi Codices Valentinian Exposition, 114
Nag Hammadi Codices, viii, xi, xix, 4, Zostrianos, 113
109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, See also Berlin Gnostic Codex
116, 117, 118, 121, 122, 123 fig. 12, Nag Hammadi manuscripts. See Nag
124 fig. 13, 125 fig. 14, 126 fig. 15, Hammadi Codices
127 fig. 16, 128 fig. 17 Nag Hammadi tractates. See Nag
Acts of Peter and the Twelve Apostles, Hammadi Codices
115 Nagasaki, 68n54
Allogenes, 114 Napoleon III (emperor), 216
Apocalypse of Adam, 113 Nazis, 216
Apocalypse of James (First), 114 Neleus, 180
Apocalypse of James (Second), 114 Nelles, Paul, 99n15
Apocalypse of Paul, 114 Nemesius (bishop), 152, 153, 157
Apocalypse of Peter, 114 De natura hominis (On the Nature of
Apocryphon of James, 114 Man), 152n16
Apocryphon of John, 113 Neoplatonism, xviii, 121, 135, 136, 142,
Asclepius 21–29, 115 143, 144, 149, 151, 153, 154, 155,
Authoritative Teaching, 115 156, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163,
Book of Thomas the Contender, 115 164, 167, 168, 169, 171, 174, 182,
Concept of our Great Power, 114 183
Dialogue of the Savior, 115 Christian, 149, 165, 167, 168, 170
Discourse on the Eighth and Ninth, 115 Iamblichean, 135, 143, 146 (see also
Eugnostos the Blessed, 114 Iamblichus)
Exegesis on the Soul, 114 Neoplatonic philosophers, 5, 135,
Gospel of Mary, 115 139, 143, 144, 145, 146, 154,
Gospel of Philip, 114 155n25, 157, 164, 165, 167, 169,
Gospel of the Egyptians, 113, 119, 125 184, 186
fig. 14 Neoplatonic schools, 133, 136, 159,
Gospel of Thomas, 110n4, 115 177, 182, 183, 185, 186, 199
Gospel of Truth, 114 Porphyrian, 164 (see also Porphyry)
Hypostasis of the Archons, 113 Neoplatonic texts (see under texts)
Hypsiphrone, 115 See also philosophy
Interpretation of Knowledge, 114 New Kingdom, 17, 31n54, 34, 42,
Letter of Peter to Philip, 114 47n26, 50
Marsanes, 114 New York, 69, 95
Melchizedek, 113 Nile, 1, 13, 15, 18, 19, 58n8, 64n35,
On the Origin of the World, 114 118
Paraphrase of Shem, 114 Nitria, 158
Prayer of Thanksgiving, 115, 119 Numenius, 155n25, 161n42, 167
133, 136, 145, 162, 174, 177, Plato, 39, 88, 115, 129, 133, 150, 154,
182–183 163, 173, 185
Alexandrian Platonic schools, 171, collections of, 88, 115, 133, 134, 171,
175, 189 173, 177, 183, 184, 185, 188
Alexandrian schools, viii, 7, 130, commentaries on, 174, 177
134, 143, 144, 146, 171, 173, Platonic philosophers, 142, 144, 145,
175, 178, 179, 182, 183, 184, 152, 157, 181, 185, 187
185, 187, 188, 189, 201 Platonic school, 133, 143, 144, 145,
Chinese, 3 146, 147, 175, 181
Epicurean, 185 Republic, 115
Greek, xviii, 92, 133, 183, 200 Symposium, 134
Middle Platonism, 121, 155n25, 160, Timaeus, 39, 163, 184
167 See also Athenian Academy;
philosophers, 3, 5, 77, 88, 92, philosophy
100n17, 102, 104, 105n31, 130, Plotinus, 133, 135, 149, 155n25, 160,
131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 161, 161n41–43, 163, 164, 167,
139, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 154, 168n65, 173, 175n17, 182, 185, 186,
155n25, 159, 164, 166, 168, 172, 187, 189
174, 175n17, 176n19, 180n35, 181, Enneades, 163
182, 184, 186, 187, 188, 194, 199, Plutarch, 56n2, 71n67, 73n71, 75
201 (see also Athens: House of the Caesar, 56n2
Philosophers) Plutarch of Athens, 143, 167, 181
philosophical schools, 3, 104n29, 171, Pococke, Edward, 213
172, 176, 176n19, 182–183, 184, poetry, 103n20, 104, 107, 129, 160, 162,
189n56, 199 176, 180, 215
of Ammonius (see under Ammonius) poetics, 146, 166
Aristotelian (see Aristotle: school of ) poets, 102, 129
Athenian, 143, 175, 178, 181, Polish Centre of Mediterranean
187 Archaeology in Cairo, xi, xviii, 85
Epicurean, 181 figs. 10–11, 203–206 figs. 18–24
Gnostic (see Valentinus: Valentinian Polish-Egyptian Mission at Kom
school. See also Gnosticism) el-Dikka, Alexandria, xi, xviii, 2,
of Hermeias (see under Hermeias) 71, 80, 82, 85 figs. 10–11, 176, 192,
of Horapollon (see under 203–206 figs. 18–24
Horapollon) See also archaeology; Kom el-Dikka;
of Hypatia (see under Hypatia) Majcherek, Grzegorz
of Isidore (see under Isidore of polytheism, 92, 130
Alexandria) Pompey (Pompeius Magnus, Gnaius),
Neoplatonic (see under 58n3
Neoplatonism) Pompey’s Pillar. See under Alexandria
Platonic (see under Plato) pontifex maximus, 59n14
Stoic, 181, 185 See also Caesar, Julius
philosophical treatises (see texts: Porphyrius. See Porphyry
philosophical) Porphyry, 151, 160, 161, 161n43, 163,
Platonism, 115, 132, 136, 143, 144, 163n47, 164n55, 167, 167n59, 168,
145, 147, 152n14, 167, 167n59, 175n17, 182, 183, 185
168, 171, 177, 178, 182, 188 Commentary on the Categories of
Presocratic, 183 Aristotle, 185
Stoic, 183, 185 Sententiae, 151n10, 163
See also Neoplatonism; Pythagorean Vita Plotini, 161n42, 182, 182n37
Photius, 146n58, 172n4, 186, 188n55 See also Neoplatonism: Porphyrian
physics, 176, 178, 180, 181 Posidonius, 181
See also science Pothinus, 58
Piraeus. See under harbours, Hellenistic Proclus, 143, 144, 155n25, 157, 172,
173, 174, 175, 175n15, 175n17, 186, Roman period, 1, 3, 52, 72n70, 121
187 Late Roman age, 192, 194 (see also
Institutio theologica (Elements of Byzantine period; Late Antiquity)
Theology), 155n25 Rome, 20, 21n32, 22n33, 57, 68n52,
See also House of Proclus 86, 93, 98, 102, 114, 181, 182, 184,
prose, 180 185, 189n65, 215
Proterius (bishop), 141 catacomb in Via Latina, 194
Psammetichus II (pharaoh), 48 Roman army, 61, 89
pterophores, 48 Roman emperor, 215
Ptolemaic Alexandria. See Alexandria Roman Empire, 210
Ptolemaic Gymnasium. See Alexandria: Romans, 129
Gymnasium royal palaces. See Alexandria:
Ptolemaic period, 1, 72, 171 Bruccheion
Ptolemaic rule. See Dynasty, Ptolemaic Rufinus of Aquileia, 89n3
Ptolemais in Cyrenaica, 4, 150, 154, Historia ecclesiastica, 89n3
159, 161n42, 165
See also Libya S’ankhkare (pharaoh), 42
Ptolemies. See Dynasty, Ptolemaic Sa d ibn Abī Waqqās, 100
Ptolemy I Soter (king), 39, 96, 100n17, Saint Basil. See Basil of Caesarea
102 Saladin, 210, 211, 217
Ptolemy II Philadelphus (king), 99n14, See also Crusaders
208 Saqqara, 50, 195
Ptolemy XII Auletes (king), 58n5 See also under tombs
Ptolemy XIII (king), 58n7, 59, 65n35 Sarapis. See Serapis
Ptolemy, Claudius, 131, 132, 142 Scetis, 158
Handy Tables, 131 (see also Hypatia) Schenke, Hans-Martin, 111
Almagest, 131, 132, 142 (see also scholarch, 5, 144, 177, 178, 187
Hypatia; Theon of Alexandria) scholarship, vii, xxi, 43, 116, 121, 207,
Publius, Aelius (prefect), 86 213, 216
Pyramid Texts, 12, 16n11, 39, 40, 41, Alexandrian, viii, ix, xxi, 4, 5, 36,
51 53, 88, 90, 100n17, 129, 130,
See also texts 131, 143, 145, 146, 171, 176,
Pythagorean, 143, 161n42 183, 184, 189, 200, 201, 202
community, 136 (see also Alexandria: academic
Neopythagoreans, 161, 167 life; Alexandria: intellectual life;
See also philosophy Alexandria, Ancient Library
of; Alexandrian: Academy;
Qenherchepeshef, 50 Alexandrian: scholars; Kom
Qin Dynasty. See under dynasties el-Dikka: auditoria)
(Chinese) Greek, xvii, 88, 92, 143 (see also
Québec, 111 Athenian Academy; Lyceum)
Laval University, 111 See also academic; books; Byzantine:
scholars; education; library;
Ramesseum Papyri, 49 philosophy; schools; scribes; texts
Ramses II (pharaoh), 43, 49 schools, viii, 7, 43, 130, 145, 171, 172,
Ramses IV (pharaoh), 43 176, 177, 179, 182, 183, 184, 185,
Renaudot, Eusèbe (father), 6, 213 187, 188, 189, 199, 200, 201
Rhakotis. See under Alexandria kuttab, 43
rhetoric, 36, 92, 145, 146, 159n37, 172, municipal, 199
175, 176, 195, 200 of temples, 43
rhetors, 90 (see also Aristotle: rhetors See also education; Neoplatonism:
of) Neoplatonic schools; philosophy:
school of (see under Horapollon) philosophical schools; scholarship;
Robinson, James M., 109, 111, 120n35 Valentinus: Valentinian school