While the myth of Christians “burning the Great Library of Alexandria” is far more widespread, it is often claimed they also destroyed the Library of Antioch. This claim is usually made in passing and with little detail, other than that it was the short-lived Christian emperor Jovian who was the culprit and the fact the library contained “many pagan works” was the alleged motive. So this crime is often mentioned in catalogues of Christian crimes against ancient learning. But what is it based on? And did it actually happen?

Online atheist polemicists of a certain tenor often catalogue lists of crimes perpetuated by Christianity down the centuries, both real and imaginary. These include supposed evidence that Christianity “hated ancient learning” and tried to destroy it at any opportunity, despite the fact Christian scholars actually came to an intellectual accommodation with the pre-Christian learning they inherited fairly early and so were substantially instrumental in preserving it (see The Great Myths 8: The Loss of Ancient Learning). Those who try to argue otherwise have a few favourite pieces of alleged evidence, which usually include the destruction of the Great Library of Alexandria and/or its daughter library in the Serapeum and the murder of Hypatia, supposedly on account of her learning and wisdom.

The slightly more obscure claim that the Christian emperor Jovian “ordered the burning of the Library of Antioch” is bandied around less often, but is brought up on occasion and can be found on some lurid timelines of Christian book burning, such as the one complied by Kenneth Humphreys on his sprawling and chaotic website jesusneverexisted.com. There, on a page with the dramatic title “Darkness Descends on the Greco-Roman World”, Humphreys assures us thus:

364 Emperor Jovian orders the burning of the Library of Antioch.

Strangely, if queried about the basis for this and the details of the event, most of those who cite this “fact” cannot produce anything much, though they usually fall back on a Wikipedia page on the Library of Antioch, presenting it as proof. Unfortunately, as with many Wiki pages on out-of-the-way topics like this one, the article is far from reliable (Edit – since I wrote this the Wiki page has been substantially edited and corrected, in part as a result of my article here. But readers can see an archived copy of the article as it was here).

To begin with, it talks about the “Royal Library of Antioch”, founded by the Seleucid king Antiochus III around 221 BC. After a few details, it then states categorically that “The Royal Library of Antioch was destroyed in 363 AD by the Christian Emperor Jovian”. This may seem straightforward enough, but this is supported by the following sentence, complete with an unattributed quote:

[Jovian], who “at the urging of his wife, burned the temple with all the books in it with his concubines laughing and setting the fire”, which greatly displeased the citizens of the city as they could only watch angrily as the collection went up in smoke.

So where is the quote about Jovian’s wife and these laughing concubines from? The article gives no indication, but it goes on to cite and quote German historian Johannes Hahn’s book Gewalt und religiöser Konflikt (Akademie Verlag, 2004):

Jovian ordered the destruction of the Traianeum, which Julian had converted to a library, because he wanted to gain the favor of the Antiochians. However, he failed completely: not only the pagans but also the Christians interpreted this as a barbaric act.

Except Hahn’s book is, as the title would suggest, in German and the two sentences given here come from a blog devoted to ancient Antioch, Antiochipedia. The translation of Hahn’s account comes in a brief post on Antioch’s Mouseion, which was a different institution founded much later than the Royal Library by Antiochus X Eusebes Philopater (reigned 95-92 BC). The Wiki entry says this shrine to the Muses was possibly “considered a part of the Royal Library, but this is uncertain according to scholars.” Fair enough. But what is pretty certain, even from the Hahn quote, is that the library Jovian apparently ordered destroyed was neither the Royal Library (contrary to what the confused Wiki entry says) nor the Mouseion, but a third and much later institution. Because Hahn makes it clear the library in question had been housed in a temple to the deified emperor Trajan – the Traianeum – built by his successor Hadrian and converted into a library by Julian, Jovian’s predecessor. So even the Wiki article’s badly cited information makes it clear that this library was not the earlier, more ancient institution but one that was, given Julian’s very brief reign, no more than seven or eight years old.

But the Antiochipedia post at least gives us something the Wiki article itself fails to make clear: where the quote about the emperor’s order, his wife and the laughing concubines comes from. It is a fragment from the tenth century Byzantine encyclopedia, the Suda, which collects pieces from a wide range of mostly lost earlier sources and sorts them by topic. As is typical of the Suda, the entries on Jovian are a jumble which appear to be from at least three or more different sources. These range from ones that generally praise the short reign of Jovian for restoring Christianity to its favoured role after the brief pagan restoration by Julian to one that is rather more scathing. And this is the one relevant to the issue of the destruction of the library. Here is Abram Ring’s translation from the Suda Online project:

This man, who gained control of the Roman empire after Julian, as has been said, disdained all and was eager to reap the benefit of the honor that had come to him, and, fleeing from Persia, he hurried to get within the Roman provinces to display his good fortune, and he turns over Nisibis, a city long subject to the Romans, to the Persians. Therefore, they mocked him in song and in burlesques and the so-called ‘lampoons’ because of [his] betrayal of Nisibis.
And Jovian, set in motion by his wife, burned down a very elegant temple built by the emperor Hadrian for the deification of his father Trajan. This temple, by command of Julian, had been converted to a library by a eunuch named Theophilus, but Jovian burnt it down along with all its books, and the concubines themselves, while laughing, set the fire. The Antiochenes became upset with the emperor and threw out some of the books onto the ground, so that whoever wanted could pick one up and read it, and they stuck others to the walls. And they were this sort of thing: “You came from war; O, that you had died there.” And “You damned Paris, so very good-looking….” etc. And “If I don’t grab you and take off your fine clothes, your chlaina and chiton, which cover your shame, and swiftly send you yourself weeping to the Persians.”
And an old woman who had seen that he was big and handsome and recognized that he was an idiot declared: “As long and deep as folly!” Another private citizen dared to shout in a loud voice at the racetrack and afforded laughter to everyone [by] saying empty, insipid [words] to his comrades. And monstrous things would have happened, if a certain Sallustius had not ended the disturbance.

It is generally agreed that the source for this was a seventh century chronicler John of Antioch, whose Historia chronike survives in a few fragments. One of these gives a shorter version of the story, on which the Suda version clearly depends:

They [the inhabitants of Antioch] directed their mockery at his wife as well, because of the destruction of a temple. For the emperor Hadrian had established a small elegant temple for the deification and honour of his father Trajan, which Julian the Apostate made into a library. It was this temple that Jovian burned down along with all its books.

(Jo. Ant, fr. 206)

So the source dates to about three centuries after the fact. It is also not at all flattering to Jovian, which has led some scholars to think it ultimately must derive from a pagan source used by John of Antioch. This is why Eunapius of Sardis, the pagan historian who was no fan of the Christian emperors, is sometimes nominated as a likely ultimate source, but this is purely supposition.

The exact sequence of events in the Suda anecdote and their relationship to each other is also not entirely clear. Obviously it is recording a conflict between the new emperor and the citizens of Antioch, who were angered by the surrender of Nisibis. They lampoon the emperor by distributing texts taken from the Illiad, applied mockingly to Jovian. So, it seems, Jovian retaliates by burning the Traianeum and its library. Why exactly is Jovian’s wife mocked as well? We do not know. Whose concubines are involved? Some translations of the Suda text make them out to be Jovian’s, implying disapproval by John of Antioch (or his source) for being led astray by wanton women. On the other hand, the Suda Online entry’s commentary suggests the concubines were actually those of Theophilus, the man who created the library on Julian’s command, though this raises the question of why a eunuch, of all people, would have … concubines.

Whatever this odd anecdote is all about, what is missing from both the Suda version and John of Antioch’s short account is any implication that Jovian ordered this destruction out of a hatred for ancient pagan learning. Even if we accept this or something like it happened, the Suda story makes it clear that the destruction was in the context of Jovian being lampooned by the citizens of Antioch. Roman emperors did not take kindly to this sort of thing – Caracalla set his troops on the people of Alexandria in 215 AD when they mocked him, so perhaps the Antiochenes got off lightly.

So now we have tracked down the source of the story, it is clear that this was not the ancient Royal Library that was said to be destroyed, but a very recent and much smaller institution. And the destruction was not some indication of Christian hatred of learning, just an emperor angry with a mob who had a taste for literary jokes.

The Wiki article goes on to claim:

The Royal Library of Antioch had been heavily stocked with “unholy” pagan literature by the aid of his non-Christian predecessor, Emperor Julian. This collection also included the pagan works of the library of George, Arian Bishop of Alexandria, hated by Christians and pagans alike, who was murdered by an Alexandrian pagan mob in 361.

It certainly seems Julian confiscated the book collection of George of Cappadocia after he was torn apart by another one of those murderous Alexandrian mobs, as we have the letter he wrote to Ecdicius, prefect of Egypt, asking him to facilitate this (Julian Ep. 107 378c) and have the books sent to Antioch. Where exactly they ended up is not clear, however. The Royal Library is a likely destination for them, but given the library Jovian destroyed was not “the Royal Library of Antioch”, the claim these books were somehow the victim of Jovian’s burning does not really work. Of course, it is also possible that the collection went to the new library Julian established in the Traianeum and so burned as a result of Jovian’s spiteful arson. George’s library did include pagan literature but was mostly Christian – hardly surprising given he was a bishop and patriarch. So this means the Wiki entry’s heavy implication that the collection’s “‘unholy’ pagan literature” was somehow the target of Jovian makes little sense and is not supported by the Suda anecdote at all. For a detailed analysis of Julian and the library of George the Cappadocian, see D.N. Greenwood, “Ammianus, Julian and the Fate of George’s Library” Classical Philology, Vol.114, No. 4, October 2019, pp. 656-59.

So the story in the Suda and John of Antioch is not about any destruction of the Royal Library and there is no evidence at all that this alleged incident was anything to do with Jovian hating “pagan literature” with or Christianity’s attitude to ancient learning generally. The bigger question is, however, did it happen at all?

There is good reason to doubt it did. As already noted, the only traceable source for the Suda anecdote is John of Antioch, writing three centuries removed from the supposed date of the events. Given the patchy nature of our sources about anything in the ancient world, this is not enough in itself to inspire solid scepticism. But the real problem lies not in where this event is mentioned, but where it is not.

Ammianus Marcellinus is one of our key sources for this period, given he was a contemporary and his history, the Res Geste, is careful, highly detailed and well-sourced. More importantly, he accompanied Jovian to Antioch in 363 AD, so he was there on the ground. He gives an account of Jovian’s fairly short visit saying “we came by long marches to Antioch” and that the emperor “lingered for a time at Antioch, bowed down by the weight of divers cares, but pursued by an extraordinary desire for getting out of the place.” (Ammianus, XXV.10). This seems to be because of a series of reported ill omens, which Ammianus details and uses to prefigure Jovian’s sudden death not long afterwards. But nowhere in this pagan historian’s account do we have the literary lampooning of Jovian or the burning of any of the city’s libraries. Given Ammianus was a scholar, no great fan of Jovian and someone who laments the neglect of libraries elsewhere in his work, it would be odd for him to forget to mention the destruction of one in dramatic circumstances in his account.

We also have another pagan writer, the orator Libanius, who was living in Antioch at the time. We have speeches and lectures by him and no less than 1,500 letters, yet not a hint in any of that material about this library being burned. Similarly the twelfth century historian Zonaras, another key source for Jovian’s reign makes no reference to the incident. Nor do Zosimus or Philostorgius.

These silences add up to a good reason to think the whole story is a later invention, though it is impossible to work out how or why it arose. Even scholars who are inclined to the idea that Christianity had a deleterious effect on ancient learning harbour strong doubts about the historicity of this incident. Dirk Rohmann’s Christianity, Book-Burning and Censorship in Late Antiquity: Studies in Text Transmission (DeGruyter, 2016) can make some dubious arguments and tends to strongly overstate the hostility of Christians to ancient learning. But he is sceptical about the Antioch library story, saying “the historicity of the text is not without doubt”, noting the silences referred to above and concluding “Jovian indeed took actions against pagan philosophers. Whether or not he actually destroyed the library is less clear.” (Rohmann, pp. 240-1). This most likely why the notorious Catherine Nixey, in her deeply flawed popular book The Darkening Age: The Christian Destruction of the Classical World, (Macmillan, 2017) does not use the story at all. Nixey is eager to bolster her creaking thesis with all the cherry-picked evidence she can find and leans heavily on Rohmann to do so. But even she steers clear of this doubtful story.

The only scholar referred to in the badly written Wiki entry, Johannes Hahn, actually does not support the idea that this story tells us anything about Christian attitudes to ancient learning. He clearly accepts that the event happened, but his book argues this and similar incidents were not religious in inspiration at all. As a review of his work summarises:

Hahn’s investigation to be discussed here revolves around the question to what extent the escalation of religious unrest in late antiquity to violent clashes can actually be attributed solely to religious differences. Hahn’s thesis is that such tensions are not only rooted in the current religious conflicts that have erupted as a result of short-term changes; Rather, deeper-reaching causes, such as social, economic or ethnic differences, are to be held responsible.

(Monika Schuol, “Review: Gewalt und religiöser Konflikt”, Klio, 2004)

So did Jovian destroy the esteemed and ancient Royal Library of Antioch? Well, no. Not even the two dubious sources we have say that. Did he destroy a smaller, relatively new library recently created in the Traianeum? At best all we can say is “maybe“, but even that is highly doubtful. And if this did happen, does it tell us anything at all about Christian attitudes to ancient and pagan learning? No, it does not. Because the only sources that mention this event make it clear it was motivated by the citizens of Antioch mocking the emperor and his wife, not any animus against learning.

So the glib cataloguing of this supposed event as evidence of Christianity’s hatred and destruction of pagan knowledge is, yet again, based on no knowledge or analysis of the sources or any understanding of the scholarship. When those who invoke this story try to substantiate it at all, it is usually by reference to a confused, badly written and mostly erroneous Wikipedia article, which is more evidence that Wiki needs to be handled with great care on obscure points like this one. And unfortunately the fragmentary nature of the sources means that we may never find out what the laughing concubines supposedly had to do with the whole thing.

Edit 09/09/22 – It seems the Wiki article on the Library of Antioch has been substantially edited and corrected, in part thanks to the arguments and references in my article above. Of course, corrections like this can be reversed easily and zealots are often more determined antagonists in these “edit wars” than the average Wiki editor. So we will have to see if the corrections survive.