The Library of Alexandria: What Really Happened?
What if I told you the Library of Alexandria was not destroyed? Not exactly.
We all know the story. Julius Caesar arrives in Alexandria, a fire breaks out, and the greatest library in the ancient world goes up in flames, taking hundreds of thousands of books with it.
Except there are several problems: the Library survived Caesar. And it survived for centuries after him. And by the time it finally disappeared, there may not have been one library left to destroy.
So what really happened to the Library of Alexandria?
When it comes to history, there are a lot of stories that we hear so often that eventually we stop questioning them. Unless you are an historian. But, sometimes those stories are even repeated as fact by books, websites, documentaries, and so-called experts. And sometimes, when you start digging into the citations, you discover something really interesting. One source cites another source, which cites another source, which cites another source, and eventually you arrive at a claim that seems to be everywhere, but you cannot actually find a solid original source for it. History is full of these kinds of misconceptions. This is why History is the ultimate detective game!
But the thing about the Library of Alexandria is that it shows something important about history: The story we inherit is not always the story the evidence supports.
The Library of Alexandria is one of the most famous historical stories in the ancient world. For me I’ve been mesmerized by this story ever since I was in about third grade, when I saw an artist’s version of the library of Alexandria on my Viewmaster that featured the Seven Wonders of the World, as they were in 1974.
I digress.
So, you’ve probably heard the story. Alexandria had the greatest library in the ancient world. It contained hundreds of thousands of scrolls, perhaps even every important work that existed. Then, in 48 BCE, in a civil war with Ptolemy XIII (the thirteenth), Caesar started a fire in the docks, which spread to the library. The story goes that the Library of Alexandria burned. But, it
is not quite that simple.
You see, Caesar was a man of propaganda and stories, which could explain why the stories of this great fire are inconsistent with others.
But before I go into that let’s go back to the beginning.
Alexandria was founded by Alexander the Great in 331 BCE. Under the Ptolemaic dynasty, it became the capital of Egypt and one of the great intellectual centers of the ancient Mediterranean.
The Library emerged in the third century BCE as part of the Ptolemies’ larger effort to make Alexandria a center of scholarship. And this is where we need to make our first distinction. The Library was not simply a building full of books. It was associated with the Mouseion, or Museum—the institution dedicated to the Muses.
The Mouseion was a scholarly community supported by the royal court. Strabo, who visited Alexandria in the late first century BCE, describes the Mouseion as part of the royal palace complex and mentions its covered walkway, communal dining arrangements, and scholarly community.[1] So rather than imagining the Mouseion as an ancient version of your local public library, think of it more like a royally supported research institution with a major
library attached to it.
Scholars came to Alexandria to study, write, teach, edit texts, and conduct research. And the collection was enormous. Or at least, ancient sources tell us that it was enormous. You’ve probably heard numbers like 500,000 scrolls. Sometimes the number is given as 700,000. But we don’t have a surviving catalog that allows us to verify exactly how large the Library was. And there’s another problem.
A scroll is not necessarily the equivalent of one book. A single work could occupy several scrolls. So when someone tells you that the Library contained exactly 500,000 books, that is much more precise than our evidence allows.[2] What we do know is that the Ptolemies had an enormous ambition: to collect and preserve written knowledge. Ancient accounts describe an aggressive acquisition program. One famous story says that when ships arrived in Alexandria carrying books, the texts were taken, copied, and returned while the originals were retained for the royal collection.
Whether every detail of that story should be taken literally is another question. But the broader picture is clear. Alexandria was deliberately built as a center of scholarship. And here’s another important misconception. There wasn’t necessarily one giant building containing every scroll in Alexandria.
There were multiple collections.
One was associated with the Royal Library and Mouseion. Another important collection was associated with the Serapeum, the enormous temple complex dedicated to the god Serapis. The Serapeum was not the same institution as the Mouseion. And its library was not simply the original Library in another building. It was a separate collection, traditionally described as a daughter library.[3] That distinction becomes extremely important when we talk about what happened to Alexandria’s books. Because the Library did not simply go from being perfect to being destroyed.
Its intellectual world was already changing. Political instability affected Alexandria’s scholarly community. During the reign of Ptolemy VIII, intellectuals were expelled from the city, including the librarian Aristarchus of Samothrace. That did not mean that scholarship in Alexandria suddenly ended. But it demonstrates something important.
The institutions that supported scholarship were dependent upon political circumstances. The Library wasn’t an immortal institution floating above history. It depended on governments, money, scholars, buildings, and political stability.[4]
And then Julius Caesar arrived.
In 48 BCE, Caesar was pursuing Pompei the Great, who had fled to Egypt. Pompei arrived in Alexandria before Caesar, but Ptolemy XIII, Cleopatra’s brother and political rival (and possible husband) had Pompei assassinated. When Caesar arrived, he became involved in the conflict between Cleopatra and Ptolemy. And this is where one of the most famous episodes in ancient history begins.
And then, in 48 BCE, Julius Caesar arrived in Alexandria. A terrible battle broke out. Caesar’s boat caught fire. And the Library of Alexandria burned.
The end.
Except… It’s not quite that simple. The Library of Alexandria did not have one dramatic death. Its story is much more complicated, and, I think, much more interesting.
During the fighting in Alexandria, Caesar ordered ships in the harbor to be burned. The fire spread from the dockyards. And books were destroyed. This part of the story is not a myth. The ancient historian Plutarch, writing more than a century after Caesar’s death, says that the fire spread from the dockyards and destroyed the great Library.[5]
But Cassius Dio, another ancient historian, gives us a somewhat different description. He says that the fire destroyed the docks and grain warehouses and that many books were burned.[6] And this distinction matters. Because there is a huge difference between saying:
“Caesar’s fire destroyed books.”
and saying:
“Caesar burned down the entire Library of Alexandria.”
The first statement ““Caesar’s fire destroyed books.” is supported by the ancient evidence. The second claim of “Caesar burned down the entire Library of Alexandria.” is much harder to establish.
In fact, Roger Bagnall has argued that the Library’s disappearance should not be understood as the result of one catastrophic event. The fire of 48 or 47 BCE probably destroyed a significant number of books, but there is evidence for continued library activity in Alexandria afterward.[7]
So did Caesar’s fire cause enormous damage?
Yes.
Did it destroy books? Yes.
Did Caesar single-handedly destroy the entire Library of Alexandria? The evidence doesn’t allow us to say that with confidence. And this is where the traditional story gets even more interesting. Because the story doesn’t end with Caesar.
The Library, or at least Alexandria’s scholarly institutions and collections, continued. Over the following centuries, Alexandria experienced political upheaval, changes in imperial patronage, violence, and destruction. Edward Watts’s research shows that Alexandria’s intellectual institutions changed significantly during the Roman period. The Royal Library and Mouseion
eventually disappear from the historical record, while the Serapeum and its library became increasingly important as a center of scholarship and as a repository of literature.[8]
In other words, the story begins to look less like a single fire… and more like a long process.
A long while after Caesar’s death, his nephew, Augustus Caesar, rose to power. By the time Augustus ruled Alexandria, and it fell under Roman province, the Temple of Cesarean became a public library. The citizens of Alexandria witnessed decay during the destruction of the Kitos War in 115 CE, and for over 100 years, there was peace.
However, in 270 CE, the Attack of the Aurelians destroyed much more of the museum. In 365 CE, an earthquake in Crete caused a tsunami in Alexandria. Efforts to preserve the library continued as scholars and academics moved as many scrolls as they could away from the library and into the Temple of Serapis. However, despite these efforts to preserve the great Library of
Alexandria, along with its other public libraries, intellectualism decayed.
Collections could be moved. Institutions could decline. Buildings could be damaged. Scholars could leave. And books could be copied into other collections. Eventually, the original Royal Library and Mouseion disappear from the historical record. But the story of Alexandria’s books continues.
By late antiquity, the Serapeum had become one of the most important intellectual and cultural institutions in Alexandria. When Alexandria fell under the rule of Christian Patriarch Theophilus in 391 CE, he ordered the military and people of Alexandria to destroy the Temple of Serapis and convert it into a church. There is evidence connecting the destruction with the fate of the library associated with the temple, although the precise contents and condition of the collection at that moment remain debated by historians.[9]
In 412 CE, Alexandria’s ruler, Christian Patriarch Cyril ordered his people to convert the Temple of Caesareum, which was also a library, into his headquarters. It was here in 415 CE, at the Temple of Caesareum, that a Christian mob violently murdered Hypatia, the University’s first female professor, and female mathematician. The timing of her death is significant, because, though many believe that the destruction of the library came around Hypatia’s death, clearly the library fell under destructive conditions for 300 years prior.
So consider this, Hypatia was murdered in Alexandria in 415 CE. But the Serapeum was destroyed in 391 CE, which was twenty-four years earlier. So the destruction of the Serapeum and the murder of Hypatia are two separate events. They happened in the same city, during a period of enormous social and religious change, but they should not be collapsed into one event.
And this is particularly important to me because of my own research into Hypatia and Alexandria. By the time Hypatia was living and teaching in Alexandria, the city was centuries removed from the Alexandria of Euclid, Eratosthenes, and the early Ptolemies. The intellectual landscape had changed. The political landscape had changed. And the institutions that had once
supported the great Ptolemaic Library had changed as well. So if someone tells you that the Library of Alexandria was destroyed when Hypatia was murdered, the chronology itself tells us that the story cannot be right.
And then there’s one final chapter in the Library’s mythology.
You’ve probably heard the story that after the Arab conquest of Alexandria in the seventh century, the caliph Umar ordered the remaining books of the Library to be burned. According to the story, there were so many books that they were used as fuel for the city’s bathhouses. It is an extraordinary story.
But it is also a very late story. The famous account appears centuries after the Arab conquest, rather than in a contemporary account of the conquest itself.[10] And by the seventh century, we have another problem. If the great Ptolemaic Library had already declined and disappeared centuries earlier, what exactly would have been left for the conquerors to destroy? The evidence does not support the dramatic story of an intact ancient Library sitting in Alexandria for centuries, waiting for someone to burn it.
But that doesn’t mean the story of Alexandria’s books simply ends.
And this is where the story of Alexandria’s knowledge takes an unexpected turn. Centuries after the Library of Alexandria had ceased to exist, the Translation Movement took place primarily in Baghdad. This happened during the Islamic Golden Age, beginning in earnest around 762 CE with the founding of Baghdad by the Abbasid Caliphate and reaching its height during the reign of Caliph Al-Ma’mun from 813 to 833 CE. During his reign, Baghdad became a major center of translation and scholarship, as scholars worked to bring Greek, Persian, Syriac, and other works into Arabic.[11]
But the Greek texts being translated in Baghdad were not sitting on shelves in Alexandria, waiting to be rediscovered. They had survived in scattered copies across the Near East. Caliphs sent peaceful diplomatic missions to Constantinople to buy or trade for Greek manuscripts from the Byzantine emperors. In Persia and Syria, many Greek works had already been translated
into Syriac by Christian scholars. Muslim leaders funded Christian and Jewish scholars to bring these texts to Baghdad and translate them into Arabic, creating a remarkable chain of preservation and transmission that carried Greek mathematics, astronomy, medicine, philosophy, and other forms of knowledge into a new intellectual world.[12] It didn’t matter if the books were written by “pagan” Greeks like Aristotle, Plato, or Ptolemy. Christian, Jewish, and Muslim scholars sat side-by-side in Baghdad translating mathematics, astronomy, medicine, and
philosophy because the ruling caliphs viewed scientific knowledge as universal and valuable.
And this movement was remarkably collaborative. The leaders of the Islamic world paid fortunes for books and translations. There is even a famous legend that Caliph Al-Ma’mun paid the translator Hunayn ibn Ishaq the weight of each translated book in pure gold. Whether or not that story is literally true, it captures something important about the value placed on knowledge during this period. The books of Alexandria did not survive as one intact library, but their ideas
survived because generations of scholars copied, translated, studied, and passed them on.[13]
And this is where the story becomes bigger than the Library of Alexandria itself. The Library didn’t survive as one immortal building, and its books did not all disappear in one spectacular fire. Knowledge moved. Books were copied. Scholars carried ideas across languages, cities, religions, and empires.
And perhaps that is the real legacy of Alexandria, and perhaps in an age where we are watching our own historical books be destroyed at the hands of AI, this is one of our greatest inspirations.
So what actually happened?
The most honest answer is also the most interesting.
We don’t know everything.
And that’s okay. The Library of Alexandria wasn’t necessarily destroyed in one spectacular moment. It was an institution. And institutions can disappear gradually. They can lose funding. Their scholars can leave. Their political patrons can change. Their collections can be dispersed. Their buildings can be destroyed. Books can be copied. And eventually, the institution itself can
disappear while some of its intellectual legacy survives somewhere else.
That, to me, is a much more fascinating story than the simple story of Caesar lighting a match. Because the real history of the Library of Alexandria isn’t really a story about one fire. It’s a story about how knowledge survives, and how it can disappear.
And perhaps the most important lesson is this: History isn’t about replacing one absolute story with another. It’s about going back to the evidence. It’s about asking where a claim came from. It’s about finding the earliest sources we can. And then asking what those sources actually tell us. Sometimes the evidence gives us a clear answer. Sometimes it gives us several possibilities. And sometimes, after all the research, the most historically responsible thing we can say is:
We don’t know exactly what happened. But we know enough to know that the story is more complicated than the myth.
And that brings us to the end of our story of the Library of Alexandria. Coincidentally, it also brings us to the end of Math! Science! History!.
This podcast, Math! Science! History! actually began with a book. I had written Hypatia: The Sum of Her Life, and I started this podcast as a way to build on that work, to continue exploring the history behind the mathematics and science I had spent so much time researching. And to share my enthusiasm for the world of Math and Science History.
Today, almost exactly seven years later, that little idea became more than I ever expected it to become. But now, after more than 200 episodes, I have decided to close the podcast. It was a painful decision. The truth is, running an independent podcast takes an enormous amount of time, work, money, and searching for money, at this point, it simply isn’t serving me financially in the way I need it to. Especially in these times.
But before I go, I want to say
Thank you!
Thank you for listening. Thank you for following me through all of these stories, from mathematics and science to the people and ideas that changed our understanding of the world. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to dig into these questions and share what I found.
And I hope you won’t consider this the end of the story. There are hundreds of episodes waiting for you in the archives, along with transcripts that you can go back and explore. So if you’ve enjoyed Math! Science! History!, I hope you’ll keep listening, keep reading, keep asking questions, and keep digging into the history behind the things we have discovered, epiphanized, realized, and created.
And maybe it’s fitting that this is where I’m ending. The Library of Alexandria didn’t survive as an institution, but its ideas survived because people kept copying them, studying them, translating them, and passing them on.
As of this episode, this podcast won’t continue, but the work is still here. The stories are still here. The research is still here. That way, you can still go back and explore it.
I’m moving on to a new season. I don’t know what is in that season. Hopefully it’s exciting, thought-provoking, rewarding and adventurous. You can follow me on LinkedIn and the other socials to see where I land. But, in this very moment, I am deeply and profoundly grateful that you came along for the journey.
As we close out this final episode, I want to go back to the original meaning of carpe diem. We often translate it as ‘seize the day,’ but the Latin word carpe actually means ‘pluck.’ It’s the word you’d use for picking a ripe fruit from a tree. It’s not about force; it’s about timing, appreciation, and enjoying the moment exactly as it is.
For seven years, this podcast has been my harvest. We’ve gathered stories, laughter, and lessons that I will carry with me. And as I ‘pluck’ this final day, I want to leave you with this: if you are standing at the edge of a new chapter in your own life, don’t feel like you have to grab at it. Just ‘pluck the day.’ Take the moments that are ripe for you. Savor them. And then, use that harvest to plant the seeds for your next season.
Thank you for seven incredible years!
Carpe diem my friends!
Bibliography
Bagnall, Roger S. “Alexandria: Library of Dreams.” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 146, no. 4 (2002): 348–62.
Dio Cassius. Roman History. Translated by Earnest Cary. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Gutas, Dimitri. Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early ʿAbbāsid Society (2nd–4th/8th–10th Centuries). Routledge, 1998.
Hahn, Johannes. “The Destruction of the Serapeum of Alexandria, Its Library and the Aftermath.” Klio 103 (2021).
Lewis, Bernard. “The Vanished Library.” New York Review of Books, September 27, 1990.
Open University. “The Destruction of the Library.”
Plutarch. “Life of Caesar.” In Plutarch’s Lives. Translated by Bernadotte Perrin. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Strabo. Geography. Translated by Horace Leonard Jones. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Watts, Edward J. City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria. University of California Press, 2006.
[1] Strabo, Geography, 17.1.8, trans. Horace Leonard Jones, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). See also Edward J. Watts, City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria (University of California Press, 2006), chap. 6.
[2] Roger S. Bagnall, “Alexandria: Library of Dreams,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 146, no. 4 (2002): 348–62
[3] Edward J. Watts, City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria (University of California Press, 2006), 149–51.
[4] Watts, City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria, chap. 6.
[5] Plutarch, “Life of Caesar,” 49.6, in Plutarch’s Lives, trans. Bernadotte Perrin, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1919).
[6] Cassius Dio, Roman History, 42.38.2, trans. Earnest Cary, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
[7] Bagnall, “Alexandria: Library of Dreams,” 356–62.
[8] Watts, City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria, 143–68.
[9] Watts, City and School in Late Antique Athens and Alexandria; Johannes Hahn, “The Destruction of the Serapeum of Alexandria, Its Library and the Aftermath,” Klio 103 (2021).
[10] Bernard Lewis, “The Vanished Library,” New York Review of Books, September 27, 1990; Open University, “The Destruction of the Library”.
[11] Dimitri Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early ʿAbbāsid Society (2nd–4th/8th–10th Centuries) (Routledge, 1998), 1–27.
[12] Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 75–120.
[13] Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 121.