The Penguin Book of Dragons

by The Penguin Book of Dragons (retail) (epub)

  Suppose they say, “Who explains this?” We say, “We trust in the teachings of Moses, or rather of the Holy Spirit, who spoke through Moses. And this is what he says: ‘God led every kind of animal before Adam, to see what he would call it. And whatever he called it, that was its name.’  3 Thus, the dragon must have been one of the animals. I am not saying to you that dragons do not exist. Dragons do exist, but they are snakes, born of other dragons. When they are newborns and young, they are small, but when they grow up, and then grow old, they become large and fat, surpassing other snakes in bulk and size. They say that dragons grow to more than thirty cubits and grow in girth like a large wooden beam. Dio the Roman, who wrote the history of the kings and Republic of Rome, recounted the famous Punic war. He says that when Regulus, the consul of Rome, was fighting against Carthage, a dragon suddenly slithered out and lay outside the Roman camp.4 At his command, the Romans killed it and skinned it, and he sent the skin to the Roman Senate. It was an amazing sight. The Senate measured it, as Dio himself says, and it was found to be 120 feet long. Its girth was comparable to its length.

  “There is also another species of dragon that has a broad head and golden eyes; some of them have horns on their tendon whereas others have beards under the chin.5 This species is called the Agathodaemon, or Benevolent Spirit. It is said that these do not have venom. So a dragon is a natural species, just like the rest of the animals. It has a beard just like the goat, and a horn on its tendon. Its eyes are large and golden in color. Dragons come in both large and small sizes. All other species of snakes have venom, except the dragon alone, which does not.

  “The fables also say that dragons are pursued by thunderstorms, for they are swept up by the air currents and killed. But when I heard this, I laughed. How can they sometimes give it a human shape and make it rational, and at other times a snake? Or sometimes an enemy of God, and other times hunted down by God? Truly, ignorance is a dangerous thing. We are greatly harmed by not reading the sacred books and conducting research in them, according to the Word of the Lord. Instead, the soldier says, ‘I am a soldier and do not need to read.’ As for the farmer, he cites farming as his excuse, and the other professions likewise, and so we all end up deficient. Thunderstorms do not hunt dragons but are caused by clouds, when the humidity fills them up with water and they acquire more volume and then are driven on by the air, namely, the wind. When the wind gets inside and ruptures the cloud, it causes the sound. This clap from above, then, is called thunder. And that which is driven forcibly by the wind down to earth is called a thunderbolt. Whether it falls upon a house or a tree, it ruptures and tears them apart. If it falls upon a person or some other animal, it kills it. Accordingly, we frequently see people and other animals killed by thunderstorms, but not dragons.”

  WHY DRAGONS FEAR LIGHTNING1

  Michael Psellos (1018–ca. 1075) was one of the most versatile Byzantine intellectuals. A politician intimately implicated in the events of his time, he wrote a fascinating history, the Chronographia. He also sought to revive ancient philosophy and science, which, he believed, had fallen into decline among his contemporaries. He composed works in almost every genre of Byzantine literature and gave lectures at a school that he founded with imperial support. Some of these lectures are on scientific matters and largely summarize ancient theories, but that is apparently not true of the following presentation on dragons, which weighs the possible reasons why dragons fear lightning, a topic hitherto unaddressed in ancient or medieval dragon lore.

  You have asked me today for the first time about rainbows, but let us postpone that discussion for another day, for it is a large and complicated topic that requires a detailed investigation . . . Now, I will try to give a scientific explanation about the other matters that you have set forth, as far as I am able. They are the following: What manner of fire does lightning have and from where does it come when it flashes forth? Is every fire that rushes down from the clouds capable of burning? . . . Is it true what some people say, that the race of dragons fears lightning-fire, or even that this fire is actually waging a war against dragons and that it targets them with an irresistible momentum, propelled by almost voluntary powers? And what are we to make of the sights we observe in the blaze of lightning, which sometimes imitate one animal, and sometimes another? . . .

  As for dragons, I have not yet, to this day, come across any treatise that explains, in the terms of natural science, why they fear lightning. So once the first person has done so [that is, Psellos himself]—and I too will refer it to my conception of nature—then perhaps another person will give a more exact interpretation of it.

  I, then, say that the race of dragons is dry by nature and fiery in substance. Even their eyes blaze forth with fire and the venom that they vomit forth is smoky and it dissolves any bodies that it touches. Thus, dragons are vulnerable to fire on account of their dryness and they are liable to be burned up. Hence, they fear lightning and leap through the air looking for enclosed spaces under the earth, especially around lakes and cisterns, since, as I said, they are vulnerable to fire on account of their dryness and can be burned up by lightning-fire, even from a distance. That is why, wherever a dragon appears, hissing as it passes through, lightning strikes there, ravaging the adjacent areas. It is often the case that rattling, hissing, and grunting sounds are heard even without a dragon present . . . But if a malicious demon should take on the body of a dragon and, pursued by fire, should lead the beast to those places where the demon was already accustomed to spread its malice, this account is not to be rejected entirely out of hand. For this is the ancient agenda of that race, on account of which it formerly drove us out of Paradise and is now attempting, again through its ill-omened malice, to remove us from the earth as well.

  A DEMON IN DISGUISE1

  When Psellos said that demons sometimes take the form of dragons, he may have been thinking of the Martyrdom of Saint Marina, a hagiographical romance written probably before the seventh century. It concerned a (legendary) virgin maiden from Pisidian Antioch (modern Turkey), who lived when the Roman Empire was still pagan. As happened often to her kind in these tales, she was persecuted by an imperial official who was captivated by her beauty. After torturing her, he placed her in a jail cell, where a demon named Rufus appeared in the form of a dragon to kill her. When Marina defeated the dragon, its demonic accomplice arrived to finish the job, but it too succumbed to the power of her prayers. Elements of this story later circulated in medieval Europe in legends associated with Saint Margaret (see pp. 158–60).

  When Marina finished her prayer, a great earthquake occurred in that place, and the jail was shaken. Suddenly, out from the corner a great dragon emerged, terrible to behold, and its skin varied in color. His hair and beard were like gold. His teeth gleamed and his eyes were like pearls. Fiery flame and a great quantity of smoke issued from his nostrils. His tongue was like blood and serpents were coiled about his neck. The corners of his eyes were like silver and he stood in the middle of the jail, roaring and hissing. Then he ran in a circle around Marina, holding a bared sword, and his hissing filled the jail with a horrendous stench. The holy virgin was terrified: her bones rattled and her face changed complexion. She forgot her prayer out of sheer fear. But the Lord complied with her request and revealed to her the Enemy and Adversary of all people. Bending her knee, she began to pray and to say, “Invisible God, whose visage can dry up the deep sea, you are the one who places limits on Hades; who loosens the bonds of the earth, so that it does not waver; who humbles the power of the dragon, that enemy of the good; who bound Hades and freed those who were enclosed within it. Give me now the benefit of your watchfulness and take pity on me. Do not allow me to be treated unjustly by the evil demon. May it be your will, Lord, that I defeat his flame, whose identity I would not have recognized.”

  When she said these things, the dragon was provoked and hissed at her fiercely. But the holy servant of God made the sign of the cross on her forehead and
over her entire body. In tears, she prayed, saying, “Lord, make this evil wolf and rabid dog be gone from my presence, along with his stench. And let the sweet goodness of your holy spirit come upon me.” As she said these things, the dragon became mightily angry at her and took hold of her . . . With his feet planted on the ground, some of the snakes that were coiled upon him slithered off his neck and opened his maw so that it gaped. He then dragged the holy maiden toward himself and placed his mouth upon her neck, while sending his tongue down, underneath her heels. And in this way, like a stag, he raised her up and swallowed her into his belly. Her hands made the sign of holy Christ, and, as this sign went down ahead of the rest of her, they ruptured the dragon’s innards. He fell from the square in a great crash; he was split asunder and died. The holy maiden emerged from his belly without having suffered any harm. Turning around, she said to him, “Truly, you have found that which you sought.”

  The dragon lay there, sprawled upon the ground. And suddenly again, from the other corner of the jail a great demon fell upon Saint Marina’s knees. She saw him and began to pray, saying, “Praise your name and all glory be to you, Lord Jesus Christ. I rejoice in gladness and exalt you, Father of All, our most powerful Creator Christ . . .” And when she said that, the demon stood up with a howl, took her by the hand, and said to her, “Be quiet for a little while, Marina. You have said enough. I will reveal great things to you. For I sent my relative Rufus, in the form of a dragon, to kill you. Yet you killed him with your prayers, and now you want to kill me too. But spare me, Marina, and do me no harm.” But holy Marina sealed her entire body with the sign of the cross and she grabbed the demon by his hair and beard. He then dragged her toward himself and they wrestled. The demon said, “Ow, my beard really hurts!”

  THE TREASURY DRAGON OF CONSTANTINOPLE1

  Hypatios, the bishop of Gangra, was believed to be among those who assembled at the Council of Nicaea in 325, which condemned the heretical teachings of Arius and decreed that the Father and the Son were of the same substance. Although Emperor Constantine (r. 306–37) had convened this council, his son Constantius (r. 337–61) stood by Arianizing beliefs that the Son of God was subordinate to the Father. This controversy about the nature of Christ resonated centuries later in miracles attributed to Hypatios. In one such legend, a dragon took up residence in the imperial treasury in Constantinople. The prayers of Constantius’s heretical priests were unable to dislodge this monster, so Bishop Hypatios, a staunch supporter of Nicaean orthodoxy, was summoned to subdue it. Composed around the same time as the Beowulf poem (see pp. 57–73), this story also concerned a serpentine dragon attracted to a treasure hoard, but the similarities end there. Unlike its northern European counterpart, this creature had been sent by God to demonstrate to Constantius the error of embracing heretical teachings about the nature of Jesus Christ.

  The bright glow of the saint’s superlative and glorious miracles was visible everywhere, and even the emperor himself benefited from them. This was Constantius, the son of the most faithful and Cross-Bearing Constantine, who, through his naïveté, had converted to the impious heresy of Arius. For this reason, he was being set straight by God’s corrective power, which sometimes took strange forms. State revenue flowed from every part of the inhabited world to the imperial treasury and from there the emperor’s hand dispersed it to service the common needs of the republic. A great beast, known as a dragon, of such size as times past had never seen, entered into the treasury and, wrapping itself around the pile, prevented the emperor from accessing this wealth. He killed many people whether by depriving them of money or through his breath. For all who came near the money in order to carry out the emperor’s commands, knowing nothing in advance about the dragon, would be desiccated by his breath alone and the sparks that flew from his eyes. And those who tried to ascertain how the others had met their end would also fall dead just like them. One could now see a pile of dead bodies adjacent to the pile of money and the public affairs of the republic were extremely imperiled. The emperor was reduced to continual groaning and lamenting, because of his fear and uncertainty how to handle this situation. He had only one hope, namely that the prayers of the priests who shared his beliefs and outlook could help him. He summoned them and bid them to end this disaster by pleading intensively with God. Well, his companions in Arian insanity readily obeyed his order. When they advanced to the treasury gates and ordered them to be opened, even those who stood farthest away were killed by the deadly breath of the beast. Many of these evil-thinking priests fell dead, for all that they had promised that they would slay the dragon with their prayers.

  This failure of Arius’s falsehood and deception disheartened and depressed the emperor, the magistrates, and that entire City of Great Name [Constantinople]. As the emperor was wallowing in his misery, someone brought him salvific news, saying “O most serene lord, if you summon Hypatios of the Church of Gangra, he will quickly turn your woes into joy.” When the emperor received this most excellent piece of advice from one of the messengers, he sent envoys to the holy archpriest, including men honored with high rank at the court, and persuaded him to come swiftly to those afflicted with danger and confusion . . . The vast multitudes of the populace assembled and they all begged the servant of God to help them. They led the great Hypatios to the dragon’s lair. That initiate of the truth and upholder of the teachings of Saint Paul then imitated the divine Paul, in both thought and deed, in taking on the dragon. For just as Paul shook off the snake that bit him and decreed that it be burned by fire, so too did the hierarch decide regarding the dragon.2 Through his communion with the faith of the Apostle and the similarity between the miracles, he persuaded the emperor, the populace, and those who were ill with the Arian mental disorder that even wild beasts and venomous serpents can be subdued by confessing the Consubstantial Trinity. Straightaway, that noble follower of Christ, Hypatios, opened the doors of the treasury and entered into combat, alone among all. For everyone else left him and fled because of their heretical delusion . . . Most of the city populace stood at a great distance from the doors, in the circular open space where the column of the most faithful Emperor Constantine stands, which the locals call the “forum.” The great Hypatios ordered a great fire to be lit. As the furnace burned, he ventured toward the common destroyer of mankind, grasping his staff in his hand. First, he terrified the dragon with the words of peace, wielding the sign of the cross as if it were a weapon, the greatest guarantee of safety that the Lord bestowed upon his own disciples. For even though animals lack speech, they say, they nevertheless have an implanted sensation of fear of the servants of their Creator. Thus, writhing and pain took hold of the dragon; lifting his head to the holy man, he then lowered it again, striking the money. Wrapping himself around his face, he contrived a way to hide his own head. He forgot all about killing people and even sensed his own demise. He was ordered to crawl out through the doors and to part from his pile of money. This he did, though he did not want to. The old man rapidly struck the dragon with his staff and caused him to hasten his departure. Thus, aggrieved by the continual blows, the dragon quickly stood up at the insistence of the rod, and thus a majestic miracle took place. The leviathan could be seen standing up in one place and receiving multiple blows from the staff, unable to do any harm to his punisher.

  As the contest took place, the day drew to a close. The crowd gathered outside was taking the delay hard. They imagined that God’s champion had been devoured by the beast, in a like manner to those whom it had already killed. But the saint emerged slowly from the treasury, dragging his staff on the ground and pulling the dragon along, as if he had been tied to it by a hook. Even so, it instilled a sudden terror in the crowd. The hierarch ordered the dragon to mount the pyre with haste. He went to the place of the furnace, circled around it, and then threw himself onto it. Thus, before all the people, he was consumed by fire. And after that point, the emperor had free use of his treasury, just as before, and placed upon it, as a se
curity seal and guard, the honorable visage of the hierarch, drawn in a picture. This has been preserved there until this day, without any alteration or decay, in commemoration of the miracle.

  THE TERROR OF TREBIZOND1

  Saint Eugenios was remembered as a martyr who died in the persecution of the Christians launched by the emperor Diocletian (r. 284–305). His cult was later prominent in the city of Trebizond (modern Trabzon, in northeastern Turkey) and he was honored as the chief patron-saint of the independent Byzantine empire of Trebizond, which lasted from ca. 1200 to 1461. In the fourteenth century, the bishop of Trebizond Ioannes (Ioseph) Lazaropoulos (r. 1364–67) collected centuries’ worth of stories about the saint’s miracles, including a tale in which he inspired an emperor to slay a dragon. The emperor in question was probably meant to be Alexios II Grand Komnenos (r. 1297–1330) of the (Roman) empire of Trebizond.

  How the saint helped to kill the dragon: Having reached this point in our account, let us, in order to pay back our debt [to the saint], take up the thread of our story and tell of the slaying of the dragon that happened in our own days. There is a great mountain to the east of the city of Trebizond, which was called Mithros by the ancient Greeks, on account, I presume, of the rituals of Mithras that took place there. Even today the place is called Mithrion by all the locals. Just above this mountain, near the adjacent lake and the spring that flows there, lurked a large dragon, because of which the place is called Dragon’s Well by the locals down to this day. The dragon was terrible to behold and fierce. Fire flashed from its eyes and venom dripped from its lips. The beast was unapproachable and entirely evil, invincible, and murderous. The harm that he brought to that whole region made it utterly impassable. The city was hard pressed and extremely vexed, because the goods that it needed had to come from that road, and the city’s suppliers were no longer able to use it out of fear of the dragon. Thus, seeing this state of affairs, that celebrated emperor was unable to endure the extent of the harm that was being caused or the harmful behavior of the dragon. He realized that he had to prepare himself for a showdown with the beast. And look now at the fight that he put up!