The Historians of Late Antiquity

by David Rohrbacher

  While the brief works of Victor and Eutropius omit any reference to Julian’s early years, they do provide interesting comments on the massacre of 337. Their version is perhaps that of the KG and represents the official imperial line, which absolved Constantius II and Constantine’s other sons and blamed the killings on the soldiers acting on their own initiative. Both mention only Dalmatius, Constantine’s nephew, as a victim of the massacre. Victor, writing at the time of Constantius, needed to be more circumspect, and he says that the instigator of the slaying was unknown (41.22). Previously he had mentioned that Constantine’s appointment of Dalmatius as Caesar had angered the army, and the discerning reader is presumably intended to connect the comments and assign blame properly (41.15). Eutropius, writing later, was able to speak more freely. He also blames the killing of Dalmatius on the military, but adds that Constantius “allowed rather than ordered” the coup (10.9.1). Orosius also follows this tradition, saying that Dalmatius was “immediately destroyed by a military faction” (7.29.1).

  The ecclesiastical historians provide the most details about the early life of Julian. Although Rufinus’ abbreviated account contains no information, Socrates’ account of the emperor is very full, and is surprisingly positive in comparison to the other Greek church historians (3.1.1–24). He attributes the killing of Dalmatius to the soldiers, but adds that Constantius’ jealousy was an additional factor which endangered the lives of Gallus and Julian. Socrates points out that Constantius had required that all of Julian’s teachers be Christian in an attempt to shield the boy from pagan influences. Julian’s great skill at literature made Constantius worried that he might become emperor, Socrates implausibly suggests, and so the boy was sent away to Nicomedia for his further schooling. The historian frames his story as a conflict between Julian and Constantius centered upon religion. For example, certain orations of the renowned pagan orator Libanius suggest that Julian’s teacher Hecebolius had insisted out of professional jealousy that the boy swear an oath not to attend the lectures of Libanius. Julian, sticking to the letter of the oath, had paid another student to attend and transcribe the lectures, which he read privately (Bowersock 1978: 27–8). Socrates, however, manipulates this story to claim that it had been Constantius who had forbidden Julian to attend Libanius’ lectures because of the orator’s paganism.

  Socrates, like the other ecclesiastical historians, is particularly interested in Julian’s conversion to paganism. He sees Maximus of Ephesus as primarily responsible for Julian’s religious fervor as well as for his desire to rule the empire. While publicly pious and serving as an official in the church of Nicomedia, he shows Julian secretly studying philosophy and reassuring his friends that soon, when he has gained power, their position will be greatly improved. Accounts like the one found in Socrates, which suggest that a cabal of pagans had been working for or at least hoping for Julian’s accession to the throne, have had some influence upon modern interpretations of his rise to power. John Drinkwater has, however, demonstrated that such an idea founders both on the ancient evidence and on common sense, since there was no reason to expect Julian’s accession at that point, nor could his pagan friends provide any means to protect him (Drinkwater 1983). Socrates’ account instead serves to blend Julian’s revolutionary political activity with his religious deviance by closely linking his usurpation with his paganism.

  Sozomen’s account of Julian’s youth focuses primarily upon his early devotion to Christianity. By narrating the early events of Julian’s life in a flashback, after beginning with several anecdotes of Julian’s anti-Christian activities, the historian deftly highlights the contrast between the persecuting emperor and the pious child. Julian’s parents were Christian, he had been baptized, he had received biblical instruction, and he was raised by bishops (5.2.7). Sozomen’s account of the massacre is taken from Socrates, and he skips Julian’s early schooling to go directly to his exile at Macellum (5.2.9). In this beautiful place, Sozomen claims, Julian and his brother had the perfect Christian upbringing, where they studied the Bible, went to church, and showed proper devotion to the cult of the martyrs. Sozomen provides an anecdote, missing from Socrates, which he found in the work of Julian’s contemporary Gregory Nazianzen. Julian and Gallus worked together to build an edifice to house the remains of the martyr St Mamas (5.2.12–13). Julian struggled to build up his side of the monument, but each piece was thrust away as he tried to set it up. The message that Mamas was sending only became apparent later, however. While Sozomen is dependent upon Socrates for many of the details of Julian’s advanced education, he shows himself to be more psychologically insightful in his account of the young Julian’s attraction to Maximus of Ephesus (5.2.16–17). He concurs with Socrates that Maximus both encouraged Julian to hate Christianity and assured him that he would be emperor one day. Julian was susceptible to favorable prophecies and divination in general, Sozomen suggests, because his uncertain relationship with Constantius cast a constant pall of fear over his mind. Constantius wavered several times between executing Julian to prevent the risk of usurpation and elevating him to imperial power as a colleague. It thus seems not unlikely that this uncertainty predisposed him to find particular solace in the theurgic power to control the doings of the gods.

  Theodoret provides an abbreviated account of Julian’s early life. After a brief mention of Julian’s pious early years and his inability to build the martyr’s shrine (3.2), Theodoret moves forward to 351. With the emperor Constantius in the west and the pious Christian Gallus appointed Caesar, Julian, Theodoret says, decided to seize power for himself. Socrates had attempted to link Julian’s desire to rule with his conversion to paganism in the person of Maximus, who was portrayed as both treasonous and blasphemous. Theodoret has taken this linkage even further. His Julian, driven by lust for power, decided to learn the magical arts which will ensure his victory (3.3). He traveled through Greece on a tour of magicians and seers who might predict the future for him. An anecdote which Theodoret drew from Gregory Nazianzen suggests that Julian did not so much undergo a conversion from Christianity as willed himself to be blind to its truth. A seer whom Julian met in Greece brought forth certain demons inside a temple for divinatory purposes, but when Julian instinctively made the sign of the cross, the demons fled. Julian questioned the man, who claimed the demons had left not from fear, but rather from simple displeasure at the tactlessness of Julian’s behavior. Julian, tricked by this explanation, was initiated into idolatry, “so lust for power stripped the wretched man of piety” (3.3.5). Theodoret paints the picture of a Faustian Julian who sold his soul in order to rule the empire. His Julian is also the most cruel and the least learned, and Theodoret provides none of the complexity or contradictions of the man which Socrates and Ammianus give.

  Victory in Gaul and the accession in Paris

  As war threatened on the Persian frontier, Constantius decided to risk the elevation to power of Julian, his only surviving nephew. In November 355 Julian was appointed Caesar and was married to Constantius’ sister in order to further cement their alliance. In order to defeat the usurper Magnentius in Gaul in 351, Constantius had encouraged various barbarians against him. Magnentius was now gone, but serious disturbances continued in the province. It was expected that Julian would serve merely as a figurehead in Gaul, while Constantius himself and his generals restored order (Athanassiadi 1981/92: 52–88; Bowersock 1978: 33–45; Blockley 1972a).

  Julian, despite his complete lack of military training, took to the soldier’s life. His forces had great success in restoring order in Gaul, most notably at the Battle of Strasbourg (357), which was the subject of a monograph by Julian himself (Eun. fr. 17). It seems that Julian’s advisors, men appointed by Constantius, made many of the key decisions. Julian often quarreled over power with these advisors, and he maintained later that Constantius had purposely set up his Caesar in Gaul without resources in the hope that the emperor would rid himself of a rival.

  After Julian was credited with the victo
ry at Strasbourg, Constantius, who had faced numerous crises of usurpation during his reign, began to look upon his Caesar with some trepidation. Julian and others, it seems, began to entertain thoughts of Julian coming to power one day by various possible routes. A letter written by Julian to his close friend and advisor Oribasius suggests as much (ep. 14). Julian recounted, probably in 359, that he had had a dream in which a tall tree collapsed while a fresh new shoot grew alongside it. Julian’s dream, of course, implies only that he would succeed Constantius, not that he planned an active conspiracy to overthrow the emperor (Baldwin 1975: 91).

  In February 360, Constantius demanded that more than half of Julian’s soldiers be sent to him in the east, where a Persian offensive was expected. Some felt that he envied Julian’s successes in Gaul and wished to contain the Caesar’s ability to challenge him. Julian publicly acquiesced and encouraged his troops to do so, despite unrest among his soldiers and the circulation of an anonymous broadsheet protesting the order. The Gallic troops, who would have been compelled to travel thousands of miles from their homes and families, were particularly exercised by the transfer. Later that night, soldiers surrounded Julian’s quarters and demanded his appearance, whereupon he was crowned as Augustus.

  Few events in late antiquity have inspired more modern debate than the circumstances surrounding Julian’s revolt, and in particular the question of Julian’s own responsibility, if any, for his elevation. It has been suggested that he aimed at supreme power years before his elevation, with evidence drawn from his military operations in 359, which were said to be timid in order to amass strength for a revolt (Müller-Seidl 1955). More broadly, many scholars have doubted the version presented by Ammianus and by Julian himself, of a Caesar reluctantly forced into revolt, and have presented evidence either of premeditation or of backroom machinations which led up to the seizure of power (Barnes 1998: 153–5; Drinkwater 1983: 370–83; Bowersock 1978: 46–54).

  After the proclamation, some months passed, during which Julian corresponded with Constantius in increasingly bitter tones in an attempt to be recognized as the emperor’s equal without war. Finally, in 361, Julian formally broke with Constantius and moved his army swiftly through northern Italy to occupy the Balkans. Constantius began to move his army west to confront Julian in civil war when he caught a fever and died in Cilicia on 3 November 361, leaving Julian as sole ruler of the Roman world.

  Ammianus presents a detailed account of the debate among Constantius, his wife Eusebia, and his advisors, as to the advisability of Julian’s elevation to Caesar, and adds an elaborate description of his presentation to the soldiers and Constantius’ speech of introduction (15.8). Ammianus artfully provides an introduction of Julian which is simultaneously directed to the soldiers and to the reader himself. The soldiers examine Julian’s face carefully for signs of what sort of emperor he might prove to be, and then break out into sustained applause, claiming that Julian’s selection was not the act of Constantius but rather of the divine will. The moment is marked by Julian’s wry quote of Homer, that he is seized by “purple death” (15.8.17), a reference to the royal color, which is matched by Ammianus’ triumphant quote of Vergil, “I am undertaking a greater task” (15.9.1). In addition to preparing the reader for Julian’s future military successes in Gaul, Ammianus foreshadows his future religious policies, quoting a blind old woman in Vienna who heard his name and exclaimed, “This man will restore the temples of the gods!” (15.8.22).

  After a short digression on the Gauls, Ammianus begins his sixteenth book with a formal praise of the Caesar, telling the reader that what follows may read like a panegyric but is in fact entirely truthful. He compares Julian to the greatest of emperors, Titus, Trajan, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius. He adds that the young Julian’s successes in Gaul are all the more outstanding and deserving of praise because of his inexperience and the surprise with which his successes were met (16.1). Later in this book, Ammianus provides a more detailed section of praise of the Caesar (16.5). His ascetic and “philosophic” nature are particularly highlighted. Julian ate only the common food of the soldiers, and on the rare occasions when he slept he did so in rough blankets. In addition to studying philosophy, he was conversant in poetry, rhetoric, and literature. Ammianus adds some administrative anecdotes which demonstrate Julian’s wit and his sense of justice, and concludes by mentioning his tremendous success in the reduction of the burden of taxation upon the Gauls. Despite these moments of idealization, however, Ammianus frequently portrays Julian in the course of the narrative as fearful or uncertain and prone to human emotions and inclinations. The portrayal of this complexity of character has long been admired as one of Ammianus’ greatest accomplishments (Fontaine 1978).

  Ammianus provides us with by far the most detailed description of Julian’s activities in Gaul in the 350s (Matthews 1989: 87–93; Blockley 1972a). While Ammianus’ account is biased, he provides enough information to deconstruct the story he tells. His Julian in Gaul is a military genius who must constantly struggle against the interference of Constantius’ generals. The generals are not so much incompetent but rather are working toward the Caesar’s failure for sinister reasons, and Constantius himself continually works to undermine Julian’s success out of jealousy. Throughout the narrative, details of Constantius’ pompous display (16.10) and military failure (18.7–10, 19.1–8) contrast with Julian’s simplicity and success. Closer investigation, however, might encourage the reader to sympathize with Constantius’ professional generals, who often gave good advice and who were undoubtedly annoyed by the interference of a novice and a figurehead. Constantius also was clearly responsive to Julian’s concerns. For example, after Marcellus failed to support Julian militarily in 356, he was dismissed by the emperor, and Marcellus’ attempt to denounce Julian at court before Constantius was unsuccessful (16.4, 7). Ammianus relates these facts with enough innuendo to cloud the matter, by pointing out that Constantius’ ears were open to every slander. In 357 Julian had his greatest success at the Battle of Strasbourg, which made his military reputation. The battle was the subject of a lengthy rhetorical set piece in Ammianus, which derives in part from Julian’s own account of the battle (16.12; Blockley 1977). Again the glory of the presentation of the battle is undercut by a stray detail which Ammianus includes, revealing that at a key moment Florentius, one of Constantius’ generals, ensured a Roman victory by overruling a decision of the Caesar (16.12.14; Barnes 1998: 152–3; Matthews 1989: 91–2).

  Ammianus’ full account of the events at Paris in February 360 leading up to Julian’s acclamation sharply rejects any conspiracy. His account can be considered a reflection of the “official” version insofar as many, though not all, of the details are present in two other important sources friendly to Julian: Libanius’ Funeral Oration for Julian (or. 18) and Julian’s own Letter to the Athenians, written not long after the acclamation in the hope of winning allies for the looming civil war with Constantius.

  Ammianus claims that Constantius used the supposed need for troops in the east as a pretext for the withdrawal of Julian’s troops, when in reality the emperor simply envied his Caesar’s success and growing reputation. Julian’s anxiety at Constantius’ orders was derived not from thoughts of his own safety or power, but from public-minded fear for the future security of Gaul after the sharp diminishment of his troop strength (20.4). It was not Julian’s idea, writes Ammianus, but that of the notary Decentius, that the troops should all gather in Paris before their departure. Julian spoke pleasantly to the soldiers he knew, arranged for the transport of their families to the east, and even entertained the officers at dinner. Throughout this period, however, “he encouraged them with gentle words to hasten cheerfully to the emperor,” and assured them that Constantius would amply reward them (20.4.12). That evening, of their own accord, the soldiers revolted, acclaiming him as Augustus all night. Although he gave a speech refusing the honor, fear eventually compelled Julian to accept, and he promised that he would reward his men
for their service.

  Critics of Ammianus’ account have often focused on his mention of the officers’ dinner, which Julian conspicuously fails to mention in his own account of the evening. The existence of such a dinner is certainly compatible with several more conspiratorial accounts of the acclamation. Julian himself may have instructed some officers to support him, or others may have taken advantage of the situation to orchestrate the “spontaneous” uprising of the soldiers. Nothing in Ammianus’ account, however, demands such an interpretation (Matthews 1989: 93–100).

  The theories of conspiracy behind Julian’s elevation usually rely most heavily upon certain fragments of Eunapius, whose approach to this period of Julian’s life must therefore be carefully investigated. Eunapius, in a manner more blunt and crude than that of Ammianus, claims that Constantius continually sought to undermine Julian out of envy and anger (fr. 20). Eunapius declines to discuss the details of the Battle of Strasbourg, saying that he was unwilling to try to rival Julian’s own work, although his own ignorance of military matters probably played a role in this decision as well (fr. 17). Eunapius’ Julian nobly restrains his troops from plunder and teaches them virtue (fr. 18.1). He negotiates brilliantly with the Chamavi, who respect him as a god (fr. 18.6).

  There can be no question that Eunapius presented Julian as completely justified in his revolt against Constantius. Zosimus describes Constantius’ attempt to transfer troops to the east as part of a plot by the emperor to gradually remove all power from Julian, whom he envied (3.8.3–4). Did Eunapius go further and provide evidence of a conspiracy, instigated by pagans, to gain the throne for Julian? Two passages from Eunapius’ Lives of the Sophists have often been misread to suggest this, but David F. Buck has clearly demonstrated the difficulties with such an interpretation (Buck 1993). The fragments are as follows. “Having summoned the priest from Greece and having performed with him certain things known only to themselves, he was roused for the destruction of the tyranny of Constantius. Oribasius of Pergamum and a certain Euhemerus from Libya joined him in these activities” (fr. 21.1). Compare this further comment on Oribasius: “he excelled in other virtues so much that he even made Julian emperor” (fr. 21.2).