HISTORICAL DIFFICULTIES
AND
CONTESTED EVENTS.
L’histoire n’est le plus souvent,
et surtout à distance, qu’une fable
convenue, un _qui pro quo_ arrangé
après coup, et accepté.
(SAINTE-BEUVE, Nouveaux Lundis.
Tome 6ᵐᵉ, p. 8.)
Les vérités se succèdent du pour
au contre à mesure qu’on a plus de
lumières.
(PASCAL).
HISTORICAL DIFFICULTIES
AND
CONTESTED EVENTS.
BY OCTAVE DELEPIERRE, LL.D., F.S.A.
SECRETARY OF LEGATION TO THE KING OF THE BELGIANS.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1868.
[_The right of translation is reserved._]
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
1. THE COLOSSUS OF RHODES (B. C. 306) 13
2. BELISARIUS (565) 23
3. THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY (640) 31
4. POPE JOAN (855) 40
5. ABELARD AND ELOISA (1140) 49
6. WILLIAM TELL (1307) 67
7. PETRARCH AND LAURA (1320) 93
8. JEANNE D’ARC (1430) 105
9. FRANCIS I. AND COUNTESS OF CHATEAUBRIAND (1525) 116
10. CHARLES V. OF SPAIN (1557) 128
11. THE INVENTOR OF THE STEAM-ENGINE (1625) 139
12. GALILEO GALILEI (1620) 148
APPENDIX TO THE NOTICE ON WILLIAM TELL 161
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL INDEX 167
INTRODUCTION.
The age in which we live seems remarkable for its appreciation of
men of renown, and for the homage rendered to them. Societies that
are still in their youth are liable to be dazzled by the superficial
wonders of historical tradition, and to allow their admiration to be
easily taken captive; but an epoch ripened by experience, and by a
long habit of literary criticism, should rather reserve its enthusiasm
for ascertained facts, and for such deeds of renown as are beyond the
pale of doubt and discussion. Thus we find in the present day a marked
predilection, not only as a matter of general utility but also from
a sense of justice, for a keen research into every doubtful point of
history. Nations as well as individuals need the maturity of time to
appreciate at their real value the actions and the traditions of past
ages.
The art of writing history has two very distinct branches, the
combination of which is essential to the production of a complete
historian. A research into, and a criticism of, events with no other
aim than to elicit truth, is one branch of the historical art; the
other is the resolution to interpret, to describe, to give to each
event its full signification and colouring; to put that life into it in
fact which belongs to every human spectacle. It is only the first part
of the task that we propose to undertake in these essays.
Seneca has said that we must not give too ready credence to hearsay,
for some disguise the truth in order to deceive, and some because they
are themselves the victims of deception. Other Greek and Latin writers
have also warned us against a too ready faith in popular traditions.
How many errors bequeathed to us by the historians of antiquity owe
their enlarged growth, ere they reached us, to their passage through
the middle ages.
De Quincy tells us that if a saying has a proverbial fame, the
probability is that it was never said. The same opinion may be held of
a great many so-called historical facts which are perfectly familiar
even to the ignorant, and yet which never happened.
The French critic Lenglet du Fresnoy, in his work “_L’Histoire
justifiée contre les Romans_,” has devoted about 100 pages to
historical doubts; but he only touches the surface of the subject. Many
years before Niebuhr, the Abbé Lancellotti published at Venice in 1637,
under the title of “_Farfalloni degli antichi Storici_,” a curious
volume, now rare, in which he exposes the many absurd stories taught
in schools as history. The book contains more than a hundred of these
fictions, and was translated into French by T. Oliva 1770.
Du Pan, in his _Recherches sur les Américains_, says that Montezuma
sacrificed annually twenty thousand children to the idols in
the temples of Mexico. In such assertions the improbability and
exaggeration are so self-evident that it is needless to dwell upon them.
“Books,” says the Prince de Ligne, “tell us that the Duke of Alba put
to death by the hands of the executioner in the Low Countries eighteen
thousand gentlemen, while the fact is that scarcely two thousand could
have been altogether collected there.
Who is there who now believes in the story of Dionysius the Tyrant
becoming a schoolmaster at Corinth?[1]
Even in the time of Titus Livius there was so much doubt as to the
truth of the legend of the _Horatii_ and the _Curiatii_, that he
writes, one cannot tell to which of the two contending people the
Horatii or the Curiatii[2] belonged. Yet this cautious historian
relates in another place how Hannibal fed his soldiers on human flesh
to give them energy and courage. Mr. Rey[3] has carefully studied the
origin of the heroic fable of the death of Regulus, and has exposed its
fallacy.
In comparatively modern times also, how many delusions do we find
worthy of ancient history. The story of the Sicilian Vespers,[4] for
instance, and the episode concerning Doctor Procida, who far from being
a principal in the massacre, was not even present at it. We may also
mention some of the anecdotes of Christopher Columbus:[5] the fable
of the egg that he is said to have broken, in order to make it stand
upright: the account of his anxiety, amounting to agony, among his
mutinous crew, to whom he had faithfully promised a sight of land--all
of which has been disproved by M. de Humboldt in his _Examen critique
de l’Histoire de la Géographie_.
The history of England also furnishes many examples of similar
credulity. Without entering upon the murder of King Edward’s children,
which story has been discussed by Walpole, may we not cite the death of
the Duke of Clarence, who for four centuries was believed to have been
drowned in a butt of Malmsey?--an error exposed by John Bayley in “_The
historic Antiquities of the Tower of London_.”
We may cite again the often-mooted question of the exhumation of the
body of Cromwell, and of the outrages committed on his remains by
order of Charles II:[6] the interesting but imaginative picture of
Milton dictating Paradise Lost to his daughters, while, if we may
believe Doctor Johnson, he never even allowed them to learn to write.
Modern historians, however, are often equally incorrect. Among them we
may quote the poet laureate Southey, who was guilty of a remarkable
perversion of facts regarding one of the wisest men of the 19th century.
In an article in the _Quarterly Review_ (Vol. XXXIX. p. 477. April
1829) entitled, _State and Prospects of the Country_, we are told
that Conrad, a monk of Heresbach, had pronounced in presence of an
assembly, an anathema against Greek, saying that: “a new language had
been discovered called Greek, against which it was necessary to guard,
as this language engendered every species of heresy; just as all they
who learned Hebrew, infallibly became Jews.”
This curious anecdote was repeated in _La Revue Britannique_, No.
46. p. 254, whence it found its way into a note of the _Poème de la
Typographie_ of M. Pelletier (1 vol. 8ᵛᵒ. Genève, 1832) and the mistake
was republished in many other books. Now the real fact is, that Conrad
of Heresbach had never been a monk, but was a confidential counsellor
of the Duke of Cleves, and that, far from prohibiting the study of the
ancient languages, he was one of the savans of the 16th century who
shewed the greatest zeal in encouraging a taste for their culture. It
is he himself who, in order to expose the ignorance of the clergy of
that period, relates, that he heard a monk from the pulpit pronounce
the anathema on the Greek language which we have mentioned above. So
easy is it, by distorting facts, to make or mar a reputation!
When we reflect on the innumerable errors daily propagated by books,
we have cause to be alarmed at the strange confusion in which all
literature may find itself a few centuries hence. It is very possible
that historical events will be even more difficult of proof than
before the invention of printing, which may consequently have served
to augment disorder and perplexity rather than to have assisted
in the promotion of truth and accuracy. In a recent number of the
_Constitutionnel_, in a _feuilleton_ supposed to be from the pen of
M. de Lamartine, it is stated that: “The tombs of great poets inspire
great passions. It was at Tasso’s tomb,” he says, “that Petrarch,
during his first absence, nourished his regretful remembrance of
_Laura_!” Now Petrarch died in 1374, and it was more than two hundred
years afterwards (in 1581) that Tasso published his first edition of
the _Gerusalemme Liberata_!
We should not know where to stop if we attempted to bring forward
examples of all the improbable and the untrue in history. We shall
confine ourselves therefore to the examination of a few of the most
universally accredited facts, the truth of which, to say the least, is
extremely doubtful.
We at one time entertained the project of reconstructing the critical
work of the Abbé Lancelotti already mentioned, by enlarging its scope.
This rare and scarcely known book (_Farfalloni degli antichi Storici_)
would have served us as a basis, upon which we should have proceeded
to review history in general. It would have been an instructive and
a pleasant task to demolish falsehood in order to arrive at truth;
to set aside, in good faith, worn out platitudes, deeds of heroism
resting on no proof whatsoever, and crimes wanting the confirmation
of authenticity; but when we set ourselves to estimate its extent, we
shrank from so laborious an undertaking.
In working out the subject, we should have related, with Henry
Schnitzler (_De la colonisation de l’ancienne Grèce_), and with Schœll
(_la littérature grecque_), that _Cecrops_ the Egyptian had imposed
upon us when he pretended to come out of Egypt, as did _Cadmus_ when he
professed to arrive from Phœnicia.
The Abbé Barthélemy (_Voyage du jeune Anarcharsis_) would have
enlightened us on the memorable battle of _Thermopylæ_, where
_Leonidas_, instead of resisting the Persians with three hundred
men, commanded, according to _Diodorus_, at least seven thousand--or
even twelve thousand, if we may believe _Pausanias_. We should have
exposed the fabulous part of the history of _Sappho_, by following Mr.
C. F. Neue (_Sapphonis Mytilinææ fragmenta_) and M. J. Mongin, in
his remarkable article on this poetess in _l’Encyclopédie nouvelle_;
and the learned Spon (_Miscellanies_) would have explained to us the
pretended tub of Diogenes. Other innumerable errors would have been
brought before the reader, for we have only cited a very small portion
of the programme.
Alfred Maury (_Revue de Philosophie_) would have convinced us that
Cæsar never said, and never would have said, to the pilot “Why do you
fear? You have Cæsar and his fortunes on board,” &c.
On all these subjects an analytical work would be of great use, and for
the benefit of those who might be induced to undertake such a task, we
proceed to point out the principal chapters in the work of Lancelotti.
1) Zaleucus submitted to have one of his eyes put out, in order to save
his son from the loss of both his eyes.
2) The people living near the cataracts of the Nile are all deaf.
3) The army of Xerxes drained the rivers on its passage, to satisfy its
thirst.
4) In Egypt the women occupy themselves in commerce while the men
remain at home to manufacture cloth.
5) The account given by Titus Livius of the resolution of the Roman
senators at the taking of Rome by the Gauls.
6) Agriculturists, or tillers of the ground, are declared consuls and
dictators by the Romans.
7) The Lake of Thrasymene takes fire.
8) The philosopher Anaxarchus bit off his tongue and spat it in the
face of the tyrant.
9) In a combat between Aëtius and Attila, the blood of the soldiers
killed and wounded flowed in such torrents that the dead bodies were
swept away by it.
10) Ten Roman virgins, at the head of whom was _Clelia_, after having
been sent as hostages to the king _Porsenna_, returned to Rome by
swimming across the Tiber.
11) Æschylus killed by a tortoise dropped upon his head by an eagle.
12) In the school of Pythagoras the disciples kept silence during the
space of five years.
13) A grapestone caused the death of _Anacreon_; and the senator
_Fabius_ was choked by a hair in his milk.
14) _Mutius-Scævola_ burned his hand to shew his fortitude.
15) Among the Spartans all men lived in common and ate in public on the
same spot.
16) That the young girls in Sparta occupied themselves in public
duties, perfectly naked.
17) _Lycurgus_ permitted the young men in his republic to practise the
art of stealing.
18) _Lycurgus_ forbade the use of gold and silver money in his
republic. He allowed iron coins to be made, of a very large size.
19) _Lycurgus_ was the originator of the concise, sententious language
generally termed _laconic_.
20) _Romulus_ and _Remus_ suckled by a she-wolf, and _Cyrus_ by a bitch.
21) The exploits of _Horatius-Cocles_.
22) The dumb son of _Crœsus_, perceiving a soldier about to kill his
father, suddenly recovered his speech.
23) The history of _Lucretia_, such as historians have related it.
24) _Democritus_ and _Heraclitus_.
25) The poverty of the grandees of Rome.
26) _Curtius_ leaping on horseback into the gulf.
27) Draco, the Athenian legislator punished idleness with death.
THE COLOSSUS OF RHODES.
B. C. 306.
In the elementary works for the instruction of young people, we find
frequent mention of the Colossus of Rhodes.
The statue is always represented with gigantic limbs, each leg resting
on the enormous rocks which face the entrance to the principal port of
the Island of Rhodes; and ships in full sail passed easily, it is said,
between its legs; for, according to Pliny the ancient, its height was
seventy cubits.
This Colossus was reckoned among the seven wonders of the world, the
six others being, as is well known, the hanging gardens of Babylon,
devised by Nitocris wife of Nebuchadnezzar; the pyramids of Egypt; the
statue of Jupiter Olympus; the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus; the temple
of Diana at Ephesus; and the Pharos of Alexandria, completely destroyed
by an earthquake in 1303.
Nowhere has any authority been found for the assertion that the
Colossus of Rhodes spanned the entrance to the harbour of the
island and admitted the passage of vessels in full sail between its
wide-stretched limbs. No old drawing even of that epoch exists, when
the statue was yet supposed to be standing; several modern engravings
may be seen, but they are mere works of the imagination, executed to
gratify the curiosity of amateur antiquarians, or to feed the naive
credulity of the ignorant. Nevertheless, the historian Rollin, several
French dictionaries, and even some encyclopedias, have adopted the
fiction of their predecessors.
A century ago, the Comte de Caylus, a distinguished French
archeologist, found fault with his countrymen for admitting this
fiction into the school books[7] for young people, but he sought in
vain to trace its origin.
Vigenère, in his _Tableaux de Philostrate_, is supposed to have been
the first who ventured to make an imaginary drawing of the Colossus. He
was followed by Bergier and Chevreau,[8] the latter adding a lamp to
the hand of the statue. A fictitious Greek manuscript, quoted by the
mythologist Du Choul,[9] further adorns the Colossus by giving him a
sword and lance and by hanging a mirror round his neck.
The Count Choiseul-Gouffier, in his _Picturesque journey through
Greece_, published about the year 1780, declares the Colossus with the
outstretched legs to be fabulous.
He says: “This fable has for years enjoyed the privilege so readily
accorded to error. It is commonly received, and discarded only by
the few who have made ancient history their study. Most persons have
accepted without investigation an assertion which is unsupported by any
authority from ancient authors.”
Nevertheless the Belgian Colonel Rottiers, and the English geologist
Hamilton,[10] do not yield to this opinion, but endeavour still to
place the site of the statue at the entrance to one of the smaller
harbours of the island, scarcely forty feet wide. Rottiers goes even
further, and gives a superb engraving of the Colossus, under the form
of an Apollo, the bow and quiver on his shoulders, his forehead
encircled by rays of light, and a beacon flame above his head.
Polybius is the first among the ancient writers who mentions the
Colossus of Rhodes, in enumerating the donations received by the
inhabitants of the island after the fearful earthquake they experienced
about 223 years before Christ. “The Rhodians,” says he, “have benefited
by the catastrophe which befell them, owing to which, not only the huge
Colossus, but innumerable houses and a portion of the surrounding walls
were demolished.” Then follows a list of the rich gifts they received
from all parts. Among the benefactors of the town of Rhodes, Polybius
mentions the three kings, Ptolemy III. of Egypt, Antigonos Doson of
Macedonia, and Seleucus of Syria, father of Antiochus.
The elder Pliny records that the Colossus, after having stood
for fifty-six years, was overthrown by an earthquake, and that
it took Charès of Lindos, to whom the Rhodians had entrusted its
re-construction, twelve years to complete his task.
It is probable that the statue of Minerva, from 50 to 60 feet in
height, which was designed and partly executed by Phidias for the
Acropolis at Athens, served as a model for Charès, not only for the
material, but for the conception of the Colossus and for the site on
which it stood.
Minerva was the patroness of Athens as the sun-god Helios was the
patron of the island of Rhodes.
About 150 years before Christ a certain Philo-Byzantius wrote a short
treatise on the seven wonders of the ancient world.[11] In it he gives
an explanation of the construction of the Colossus, but nowhere speaks
of the extended legs under which vessels in full sail entered the
port, nor of the beacon light. On the contrary, he mentions one sole
pedestal, which was of white marble. Moreover, the statue was said to
be 105 feet in height, and the great harbour entrance, according to
modern research, was 350 feet wide; it could not therefore possibly
reach across this space.
Lastly, if the statue had stood at the entrance of the great harbour,
the earthquake must have overthrown it into the sea, whereas Strabo
and Pliny tell us that its fragments remained for a considerable time
embedded in the earth, and attracted much attention by their wonderful
size and dimensions.
The following is the real truth concerning the Colossus. Towards the
year 305 before Christ, Demetrius Poliorcetes laid siege to Rhodes, and
the inhabitants defended themselves with so much bravery, that after a
whole year of struggle and endurance, they forced the enemy to retire
from the island.
The Rhodians, inspired by a sentiment of piety, and excited by fervent
gratitude for so signal a proof of the divine favour, commanded
Charès to erect a statue to the honour of their deity. An inscription
explained that the expenses of its construction were defrayed out of
the sale of the materials of war left by Demetrius on his retreat from
the island of Rhodes.
This statue was erected on an open space of ground near the great
harbour, and near the spot where the pacha’s seraglio now stands; and
its fragments, for many years after its destruction, were seen and
admired by travellers.
This explanation is still further supported by the fact, that a chapel
built on this ground in the time of the Templars is named _Fanum Sancti
Ioannis Colossensis_.
We have seen that Strabo, who wrote and travelled during the reigns
of the first two Roman emperors, was, after Polybius, the earliest
author who mentions the fall of the Colossus of Rhodes, and that very
concisely. Pliny enters into somewhat fuller details, and speaks of the
dimensions of the mutilated limbs. “Even while prostrate,” says he,
“this statue excited the greatest admiration; few men could span one of
its thumbs with their arms, and each of its fingers was as large as an
ordinary full-sized statue. Its broken limbs appeared to strangers like
caverns, in the interior of which were seen enormous blocks of stone.”
From this time we find no further mention whatever of these fragments,
but it is remarkable that towards the end of the second century after
Christ some writers speak of a colossal statue at Rhodes as still
existing. It is possible that one was again constructed, but of smaller
dimensions. Indeed, _Leo Allazzi_ tells us that the Colossus of Rhodes
was reconstructed under the Emperor Vespasian.
Alios Aristides, who flourished between the years 149 and 180 of the
Christian era, wrote a panegyric on the island of Rhodes, on the
occasion of another earthquake which happened there under the reign of
Antoninus Pius. He alludes to demolished monuments, but he consoles
the inhabitants by telling them, that at any rate all vestiges of
their former grandeur have not disappeared, and that they will not
be obliged, as in the former disaster [that of B. C. 407], to rebuild
the greater part of their town. He reminds them that, on the contrary,
the two basins of the port still remain, as well as the theatre, the
gymnasium, and _the great bronze statue_.
This passage is certainly not very clear, and it remains to be proved
if the author here speaks of the Colossus which had been restored and
had escaped the earthquake, or of some other bronze statue.
Pausanias, who wrote shortly after Aristides, speaks also in two places
of the earthquake in the time of Antoninus, without making any mention
of the Colossus; but in a description of Athens, he alludes in terms of
great admiration to a temple of Jupiter built by Adrian, and he adds:
“The emperor consecrated to it a magnificent statue of the god, which
surpassed all other statues except the Colossus of Rhodes and of Rome.”
The author could hardly have made this comparison if there had only
existed in his time fragments of the Colossus of Rhodes.
Lastly, the satirist Lucian makes frequent mention of the Colossus, and
he even introduces it in a dialogue of the assembled gods.
It is probable, therefore, judging from these passages from Aristides,
Pausanias, and Lucian, that, at the epoch in which they lived, the
Colossus of Rhodes had been restored or reconstructed; for if during
four centuries past the fragments had been lying in the dust, these
writers would not have thus expressed themselves.
A long time after the fall of the Roman empire, the island of Rhodes
was conquered by the general-in-chief of the caliph Othman, in the 7th
century of the Christian era; and then mention is once more made of
a Colossus in metal. “This last memorial of a glorious past was not
respected by the conqueror,” says the Byzantine history; “the general
took down the Colossus, which stood erect on the island, transported
the metal into Syria, and sold it to a Jew, who loaded 980 camels with
the materials of his purchase.”
Such is the account given by the Emperor Constantine Porphyrogenetos,
and confirmed by that of Theophanes, Zonaras, and others. As to the
fable of the ancient Colossus between whose gigantic limbs ships in
full sail were believed to have passed, we are disposed to think that
it originated at the time of the Crusades, when the inhabitants of
Rhodes must have amused themselves by relating to the new-comers all
sorts of incredible stories of their past grandeur.
We can refer those who may still be anxious for further details on the
Colossus of Rhodes, to a treatise on the subject by Carl Ferdinand
Lüders, in which the fiction of the extended limbs is completely
disposed of; but this treatise contains such an array of learned
accessories, _more germanico_, that few will probably have the patience
to read it through.
BELISARIUS.
A. D. 565.
The imagination of poets, painters, and sculptors, backed by one of
_Marmontel’s_ novels, has helped to make of an apocryphal tradition a
matter of history which has been believed in by the many, who are ever
open-mouthed to receive the marvellous upon trust.
This tradition relates to the general Belisarius, the conqueror of the
Vandals, who, after having been falsely accused of treason, is said to
have been deprived of his sight by the Emperor Justinian, and to have
been reduced to such a state of poverty that he was compelled to beg
his bread in the streets of Constantinople.
No contemporary historian mentions these circumstances; but they have
been repeated age after age without examination, and several learned
men of repute, such as Volaterranus, Pontanus, &c., have helped to
propagate the error in the literary world.
In the 16th century it was so unquestionably accepted by the Italians,
that they gave the name of _Belisarius begging_ to a beautiful ancient
statue then in the Borghese museum, which Winckelmann, in his _Histoire
de l’Art_, has proved to be no other than a statue of Augustus
propitiating Nemesis.
Between the years 1637 and 1681, this fable was made the subject of
several tragedies. In the following century Marmontel composed and
published his romance of Belisarius, the conception of which arose from
an engraving that came into his possession. In his Memoirs he himself
thus explains the circumstance:
“I had received a present of an engraving of Belisarius taken from the
fine picture of him by Van Dyck. My eyes were continually attracted to
the face, and I was seized with an irresistible desire to treat this
interesting subject in prose; and as soon as the idea took possession
of me, the pains in my chest and lungs seemed to leave me as if by
magic. The pleasure of composing my story, the care I took in arranging
and developing it, occupied my mind so entirely, that I was drawn away
from all thoughts of self.”
The novel was so successful that it was translated into almost every
language of Europe, and three successive editions appeared. But the
really ludicrous part of the story is, that in the preface to the
edition of 1787, the author declares that he has followed from first
to last the account given by Procopius, while in fact the details
presented by this contemporary of Belisarius in the five first chapters
of his _Secret History_ are diametrically opposed to the picture drawn
by Marmontel.
Thus then the fiction of blind Belisarius begging was quickly
propagated, and was helped on by the artist David, who painted in 1781
his celebrated picture of the general. Again, in the reign of Napoleon
I., M. Jouy wrote a tragedy on this subject, but he only obtained
permission to bring it out in 1825, and thanks to the immense talent of
Talma it was very well received. M. Jouy, in his preface, showed his
ignorance as an historian by saying, “I have kept faithfully to the
facts, details, and characters authorised by history.”
Lastly, this error appears in modern times in a Turkish tradition, and
is noticed by Feller in his _Universal Biography_. “There is shown to
this day,” says he, “a prison in Constantinople called the _Tower of
Belisarius_. It stands on the borders of the sea, on the road from the
castle of the seven towers to the seraglio. The common people say that
the prisoners let down a small bag at the end of a string to solicit
alms from the passers-by, saying: “_Date obolum Belisario quem Fortuna
evexit, Invidia oculis privavit_.”
After having traced as briefly as possible the origin of this fable,
we will dwell for a moment on the manner in which the best and most
learned critics have treated it.
The hackneyed story of Belisarius, blind and begging, was unknown to
all contemporary authors without exception. Not one can be quoted as
having mentioned so remarkable a circumstance. From the 6th to the 12th
century, no writer who speaks of this great general ever alludes to his
blindness or to his poverty.
The French historian Le Beau, in his “_Histoire du bas Empire_,” says:
“The fall of Belisarius gave rise to a ridiculous story which has
been for 600 years repeated by poets and prose writers, but which all
well-informed authors have agreed in refuting.”
The real fact, drawn from the best sources, and recorded by Gibbon, is
this:
About two years after the last victory of Belisarius over the
Bulgarians, the Emperor Justinian returned in bad health from a
journey to Thracia. There being a rumour of his death, a conspiracy
was formed in the palace, but the conspirators were detected, and
on being seized were found to have daggers hidden under their
garments. Two officers of the household of Belisarius were accused,
and torture induced them to declare that they had acted under the
secret instructions of their chief. Belisarius appeared before the
council, indignant and undaunted. Nevertheless, his fidelity, which had
remained unshaken for forty years, availed him nothing. The emperor
condemned him without evidence; his life was spared, but his fortune
was sequestrated, and from December 563 to July 564 he was guarded as a
prisoner in his own palace. At length his innocence was acknowledged,
and his freedom and honours were restored; but death, which might
possibly have been hastened by grief and resentment, removed him from
the world within a year of his liberation.
About 600 years after this event, John Tzetzes, poet and grammarian,
born in Constantinople, attempted in ten bad Greek verses to draw a
picture of Belisarius deprived of sight and penniless. The tale was
imported into Italy with the manuscripts of Greece, and before the
close of the 15th century it was taken up by more than one learned
writer and universally believed.
The credulity of the multitude is such, that they still persist in
ignoring the refutation of Samuel Schelling (_Dissertatio historica de
Belisario_, Witteb. 1665, in 4ᵗᵒ), of Th. Fr. Zeller (_Belisarius_,
Tubing. 1809, in 8ᵛᵒ), of Roth (_Ueber Belisar’s Ungnade_, Bâle 1846,
in 8ᵛᵒ) and many others.
In a note to Gibbon’s _History_ edited by W. Smith LL.D., we see that
two theories have been started in modern times to account for the
fable of the beggary of Belisarius. The first is that of Le Beau,
who supposes that the general was confounded with his contemporary
John of Cappadocia. This prætorian prefect of the East, whose crimes
deserved a thousand deaths, was ignominiously scourged like the vilest
of malefactors, clothed in rags and transported in a bark (542) to
the place of his banishment at _Antinopolis_ in Upper Egypt, and this
ex-consul and patrician was doomed to beg his bread in the cities which
had trembled at his name.
The second supposition is that of Mr. Finlay (_History of the Byzantine
Empire_), who suggests that the story took its rise from the fate of
Symbatius and Peganes, who, having formed a conspiracy against Michael
III., in the 9th century, were deprived of their sight and exposed as
common beggars in Constantinople.
It is not likely, however, that the fate of men in the ninth century
should have been confused with that of individuals in the sixth.
It is right to add, that Lord Mahon, in his _Life of Belisarius_,
argues in favour of the tragic fate of Justinian’s celebrated
general. “But,” observes Dean Milman, “it is impossible to obtain any
satisfactory result without contemporary evidence, which is entirely
wanting in the present instance.” These words from the learned Milman
lead us to suppose that he rejects the authority of Procopius, who
accompanied Belisarius as counsellor and secretary in his Eastern wars,
in Africa, and in Italy, as he himself informs us; and who, in his
_Anecdota_,[12] devotes five chapters to the life and misfortunes of
Belisarius, without saying one word either of his blindness or of his
abject poverty.
Ernest Renan, in his _Essais de morale et de critique_, has also
examined into the trustworthiness of the _Secret History_ of Procopius,
and he arrives at the opinion, that this author had only exaggerated
the crimes of the wicked century in which Justinian lived. He would
then have been the last to soften the disgrace incurred by Belisarius.
At the time of the fall of Napoleon I., a popular song written by
Népomucène Lemercier on Belisarius, became more than ever in vogue, as
it contained allusions to the misfortunes of the companions in arms and
soldiers, attached to the emperor. At all the Bonapartist reunions they
sang:
“_Un jeune enfant, un casque en main,
Allait quêtant pour l’indigence,
D’un vieillard aveugle et sans pain,
Fameux dans Rome et dans Byzance;
Il disait à chaque passant
Touché de sa noble misère,
Donnez une obole à l’enfant
Qui sert le pauvre Bélisaire!_”
In France this ballad contributed greatly to keep up a belief in the
fabulous story which we have here examined.
THE ALEXANDRIAN LIBRARY.
A. D. 640.
Ptolemy-Soter, chief of the dynasty of the Lagides, laid the foundation
of the Alexandrian library. It was afterwards enlarged by his son
Ptolemy Philadelphus and his successors; and from this celebrated
repository the city of Alexandria derived the title of “_Mother of
Books_.”
There is much difference of opinion as to the number of works contained
in this library. Instead of 54,800 volumes as asserted by St.
Epiphanes, or 200,000 according to Josephus, Eusebius tells us, that at
the death of Ptolemy Philadelphus, 100,000 volumes were collected in it.
The building was situated to the east of the large sea-port, near the
city of Canopus, and became a prey to the flames when Julius Cæsar,
who was besieged in that part of the town in which the museum stood,
ordered the fleet to be set on fire. The wind unfortunately carried
the flames to the neighbouring houses and to the locality of the
_Bruchion_, close to the site of the valuable library.
Lucan, in his _Pharsalia_, has described this conflagration with much
spirit:[13]
“On one proud side the lofty fabric stood
Projected bold into the adjoining flood;
There, fill’d with armed bands, their barks draw near,
But find the same defending Cæsar there:
To every part the ready warrior flies,
And with new rage the fainting fight supplies;
Headlong he drives them with his deadly blade,
Nor seems to be invaded, but to invade.
Against the ships _Phalaric_ darts he aims,
Each dart with pitch and livid sulphur flames.
The spreading fire o’erruns their unctuous sides,
And nimbly mounting, on the topmast rides:
Planks, yards and cordage feed the dreadful blaze;
The drowning vessel hisses in the seas;
While floating arms and men promiscuous strew’d,
Hide the whole surface of the azure flood.
Nor dwells destruction on their fleet alone,
But driven by winds, invades the neighbouring town:
On rapid wings the sheety flames they bear,
In wavy lengths, along the reddening air.
Not much unlike the shooting meteors fly,
In gleamy trails athwart the midnight sky.
Soon as the crowd behold their city burn,
Thither all headlong from the siege they turn;
But Cæsar, prone to vigilance and haste,
To snatch the just occasion ere it pass’d,
Hid in the friendly night’s involving shade,
A safe retreat to Pharos timely made.”
Orosius tells us that 400,000 volumes were destroyed by the fire:
“So perished,” says he “this monument of the learning and labour of
the ancients, who had amassed the works of so many illustrious men.”
“_Monumentum studiique curæque majorum qui tot ac tanta illustrium
ingeniorum opera congesserant._”[14]
Cleopatra was not insensible to the loss of so great a treasure,
and Antony, to console her, presented her with the whole collection
of books made by the king of Bithynia at Pergamus, to the number of
200,000 volumes. These books, with the few that had escaped the flames,
formed the second library, and were placed in the _Serapeon_, or temple
of Serapis, which from that time became the resort of all learned men.
In A. D. 390, the fanatic Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, worthy
of being the friend of the tyrant Theodosius, took advantage of the
protection of that Emperor to disperse the library of the _Serapeon_,
and to drive out the savans who assembled there. He overthrew the
temple itself and built a church on its ruins which bore the name of
the Emperor Arcadius. It would thus appear that the oldest and most
extensive libraries of Alexandria ceased to exist before the 5th
century of the Christian era. Nevertheless, there is still an opinion
maintained among learned men that the immense collection made by the
Ptolemies was destroyed by the Arabs in the 7th century.[15]
Several writers, with Gibbon at their head, have rejected this notion.
Reinhart published at Göttingen in 1792 a special dissertation on the
subject. It was Gregorius Bar-Hebræus, better known under the name
of Abulpharadje, elected primate of the East in 1264, who gave the
earliest account of the burning of the library at Alexandria, in a
chronicle he published in Syriac, and afterwards translated into Arabic
at the solicitation of his friends.
He says: “John the grammarian came to Amrou, who was in possession
of Alexandria, and begged that he might be allowed to appropriate a
part of the booty. ‘Which part do you wish for,’ asked Amrou. John
replied, ‘The books of philosophy which are in the treasury (library)
of kings.’ Amrou answered that he could not dispose of these without
the permission of the Emir Al-Moumenin Omar. He wrote to the Emir,
who replied in these terms: ‘As to the books you speak of, if their
contents are in conformity with the Book of God (the Koran) we have
no need of them; if, on the contrary, their contents are opposed to
it, it is still less desirable to preserve them, so I desire that they
may be destroyed.’ Amrou-Ben-Alas in consequence ordered them to be
distributed in the various baths in Alexandria, to be burnt in the
stoves; and after six months, not a vestige of them remained.”[16]
How open is this unlikely story to objection! In the first place, John
of Alexandria was dead before the city was taken, on the 21st December
640.
D’Herbelot, in his _Bibliothèque Orientale_, tells us that at that
period four thousand baths existed in Alexandria. What a multitude of
volumes it must have required to supply fuel for them for the space of
six months! And then the absurdity of attempting to heat baths with
parchment!!!
Renaudot was the first in France who threw a doubt on this story in his
_Histoire des Patriarches d’Alexandrie_. “It merely reposes,” says he,
“on Eastern tales, and these are never to be relied upon.”
Kotbeddin, in his _History of Mecca_, from which de Sacy quotes an
extract in his _Notes des Manuscrits_, Vol. IV. p. 569, relates
seriously, that at the taking of Bagdad by _Hulagou_ the destroyer, of
the empire of the Caliphs, the Tartars threw the books belonging to the
colleges of this city into the river Euphrates, and the number was
so great, that they formed a bridge, over which foot-passengers and
horsemen went across!
Besides Abulpharadi, two other eastern writers give an account of the
destruction of the library: Abd-Allatif and Makrizi; but they only go
over the same ground as their predecessors.
These three writers (of the 12th, the 13th, and the 15th centuries) are
the less to be relied upon as no other eastern historians who speak of
the conquest of Egypt by the Arabians, mention the loss of their great
repository by fire.
Eutyches, the patriarch of Alexandria, who lived in the 10th century,
and who enters into details of the taking of this city by the Arabians;
Elmacin, who, in the 13th century, recounts the same fact; and
Aboulfeda, who at about the same period gives a description of Egypt,
completely ignore this remarkable and important event.
How is it that the Greek authors, who were so incensed against the
Saracens, omit to speak of this conflagration authorised by Omar?--and
that after centuries of silence Abulpharadi is the first who opens his
lips on the subject? And it is still more surprising that this writer
did not mention the anecdote in his _Chronicle_, published in Syriac,
but that he only added it while translating his work into Arabic at the
latter end of his life.
The Caliphs had forbidden under severe penalties the destruction of all
Jewish and Christian volumes, and we nowhere hear of any such work of
destruction during the first conquests of the Mahommedans.
Quite at the beginning of the 5th century, Paulus Orosius, a disciple
of St. Jerome, mentions, on his return from Palestine, having seen
at Alexandria the empty book-cases which the library had formerly
contained.
All these arguments brought forward by Assemanni, by Gibbon, by
Reinhard, and many others, do not appear to have convinced M. Matter,
although he admits in his _Histoire de l’École d’Alexandrie_, that a
certain amount of courage is necessary to maintain the opinion of the
existence of an extensive collection of books at the commencement of
the conquest.
“There are two points beyond dispute,” says he, “in this question. The
first is, that Alexandria possessed during the 5th and 6th centuries,
after the destruction of the _Serapeon_, a library of sufficient
importance to contain many valuable literary works. The next is, that
these works, far from being limited to religion and theology, as Gibbon
supposes, included various branches of study; of this we cannot
entertain a doubt when we reflect on the later productions of the
school of Alexandria.”
In order to establish his argument, Matter enters into long details.
“Gibbon himself,” he says, “would have admitted later that Amrou might
have burned other works in Alexandria besides those on theology.”
Two orientalists, Langlès and de Sacy, have adopted a very similar
opinion. “It is incontestable,” says the former, “that on the entrance
of the Mahommedans, a library still existed at Alexandria, and that it
fell a prey to the flames.”[17]
De Sacy allows that the story told by Abulpharadi is very probable, and
proves that at that period the Mahommedans did demolish libraries and
destroy books, in spite of the law against any such destruction.
At any rate this opinion has only been adopted by a small minority, and
Amrou is generally exonerated from having been the destroyer of the
Alexandrian Library.
POPE JOAN.
A. D. 855.
Is it true that a woman succeeded in deceiving her cotemporaries to the
extent of elevating herself to the pontifical throne?
Did a catastrophe ensue which afforded a proof of her sex as unexpected
as indisputable?
If there is no foundation for this tale, how comes it that it has been
so long accepted as authentic by writers whose attachment to the Roman
church is perfectly sincere?
Such are the questions that we here propose to ourselves, and which
have been recently treated by two Dutch literati, Mr. N. C. Kist,
professor at the university of Leyden, in a work published in 1845;
and Mr. J. H. Wensing, professor at the seminary of Warmond, who has
written a refutation of Mr. Kist’s work in a thick volume of more than
600 pages, printed at the Hague.
I will proceed to give a brief sketch of the circumstances as
presented to us by reliable authors.
After the death of Leo IV., in the year 855, the Roman people
proceeded, according to the custom of that period, to the nomination of
a sovereign pontiff. The choice fell upon a foreigner who had for some
years been resident in the eternal city. He was held in high repute, as
well for his virtues as for his talents. This stranger was a woman of
English origin, born in Germany, who had studied in France and Greece,
and who in the disguise of a man had baffled all detection. Raised to
the pontifical throne, she assumed the name of John VIII., and governed
with exemplary wisdom, but in private life was guilty of irregularities
which resulted in pregnancy. She endeavoured to conceal her situation,
but on the occasion of a great religious festival she was seized with
sudden pains in the midst of a procession, and, to the astonishment
and consternation of the crowd, gave birth to a child who instantly
expired. The mother herself died upon the spot, succumbing to the
effects of pain, terror, and shame.
This is the most widely spread version; it has however been asserted
that the female pope, “_la papesse_,” survived her mischance, and ended
her days in a dungeon.
Anastatius, deacon and librarian of the Roman church, was living at
this period, and collected numerous materials for a history of the
sovereign pontiffs. He composed a series of their biographies under the
title of “_Liber Pontificalis_,” and affirms that he was present at the
election of the Popes from Sergius III. to John VIII., that is to say
from 844 to 882. He must then have been a witness to the catastrophe
of Joan. Now he makes no mention of it, but, in his work, Pope
Benedictus III. follows immediately after Leo IV. An occurrence of so
extraordinary a nature must necessarily have struck him. It has indeed
been pretended that he did make mention of it, but that his account was
suppressed by defenders of the church, and that in some manuscripts it
is still to be found. Nevertheless these manuscripts, very scarce and
incorrect, only contain one phrase to the purpose, which is met with
for the first time in the writings of the 14th century. It is moreover
accompanied by an expression of doubt (_ut dicitur_) and there is at
the present time scarcely any enlightened critic but would regard it as
an interpolation of the copyist.
The silence of Anastatius admits therefore of but one interpretation.
It is not until two hundred years after the alleged date of the event
that the first mention of it is found in the _Chronicon_ of Marianus
Scotus, who was born in Scotland in 1028, and died at Mayence in 1086.
He says: “Joan, a female, succeeded Pope Leo IV. during two years, five
months, and four days.” A contemporary of Marianus Scotus, Godfrey
of Viterbo, made a list of the sovereign pontiffs, in which we read
between Leo IV. and Benedict III., “_Papissa Joanna non numeratur_”
(the female Pope does not count).
We must come to the 13th century to find in the _Chronicon_ of Martinus
Polonus, Bishop of Cosenza in Calabria, some particulars respecting
the female Pope Joan.[18] At this period a belief in the truth of her
existence is spread abroad, and the evidences become more numerous, but
they are little else but repetitions and hear-says; no details of any
weight are given.
David Blondel,[19] although a Protestant clergyman, treated the story
of Pope Joan as a fable. The English bishop John Burnet is of the
same opinion, as well as Cave, a celebrated English scholar. Several
other learned men have amply refuted this ancient tradition. Many
have thought to sustain the romance of Marianus against the doubt
excited by a silence of more than 200 years, by asserting that the
authors who lived from the year 855 to 1050, refrained from making any
mention of the story on account of the shame it occasioned them; and
that they preferred to change the order of succession of the Popes by
a constrained silence, rather than contribute, by the enunciation of
an odious truth, to the preservation of the execrable memory of the
woman who had dishonoured the papal chair. But how is it possible to
reconcile this with the other part of the same story, that the Roman
court was so indignant at the scandal, that, to prevent a repetition
of it, they perpetuated its remembrance by the erection of a statue,
and the prohibition of all processions from passing through the street
where the event had happened. What shadow of truth can exist in things
so totally contradictory?
Moreover, Joseph Garampi[20] has proved beyond dispute, that between
the death of Leo IV. and the nomination of Benedict III., there was no
interval in which to place Pope Joan, and the most virulent antagonists
of the court of Rome make no mention of her.
In 991 Arnolphus, bishop of Orleans, addressed to a council held at
Reims, a discourse in which he vehemently attacked the excesses and
turpitudes of which Rome was guilty. Not a word, however, was said on
the subject of Joan. The patriarch of Constantinople, Phocius, who
was the author of the schism which still divides the Greek and Latin
churches, and who died in 890, says nothing respecting her.
The Greeks, who after him maintained eager controversies against Rome,
are silent respecting Joan.