Socrates’ account of Julian’s program is much fuller than that of Rufinus. He emphasizes Julian’s cleverness and his ability to manipulate different factions in society (3.1.43–8). He is also eager to show that, despite Julian’s claim to be a philosopher, the emperor did not in fact act in accordance with true philosophy during his reign. The recall of bishops, most of them orthodox, from exile, was a policy which would seem favorable to orthodox readers, and thus the historians are careful to emphasize Julian’s hidden purposes. Socrates says that the recall was ordered to make Constantius appear to have been cruel toward his subjects in comparison with his successor (3.1.48). Socrates later repeats the charge, arguing that although Julian had readily agreed to Christian requests when they reflected poorly on the policies of Constantius, his normal instinct was to be contemptuous toward them (3.11.1–2).
Socrates draws from Rufinus the contention that the new incentives which a pagan emperor provided quickly separated true Christians from nominal ones. As evidence, he provides the case of the sophist Hecebolius, who was a Christian under Constantius, a pagan under Julian, and then a Christian again after Julian’s death (3.13.5–6). Socrates presents a long digression inspired by Julian’s school law (3.12.7, 3.16). In response to the law, Socrates relates, two Christian rhetoricians, the younger and elder Apollinaris, created a wholly Christian curriculum. The elder Apollinaris translated the five books of Moses into epic verse and put some other books of the Hebrew Bible into the form of tragedies. His son rewrote the New Testament in the form of Platonic dialogues. This fascinating expedient was not necessary for long, of course, since Julian soon died and the law was rescinded. Socrates uses this episode as an opportunity to discuss the broader issues of Christian education which it raised. He argues both that truth is to be found in the works of the ancients, even if it is not the full truth of Christianity, and, in a more instrumental way, he argues that Christians have need of the tools of rhetoric in order to effectively make their case against pagans. Julian’s reign must surely have inspired many similar reflections on the relationship between Christian and secular education, which clearly remained a matter for serious discussion in Socrates’ own day.
Socrates provides three examples of violent persecution during Julian’s reign. He takes from Rufinus the case of Theodore and the miraculous brow-wiper (3.19). He also presents the case of the Phrygians Macedonius, Theodulus, and Tatian, who, disgusted at the reopening of a temple by the governor Amachius, broke into the temple at night and demolished the idols (3.15). Given a chance to avoid punishment by sacrificing, they obstinately refused, and as a result were tortured and roasted to death on a grill. Socrates describes the killing of George at Alexandria in far greater detail than Ammianus had (3.2). In his version, Constantius had granted to George the right to build a church over a Mithraeum, a subterranean temple to the eastern god Mithras. In cleaning out the shrine, numerous human skulls were discovered, which were said to be the remains of persons of all ages who had been sacrificed for divinatory purposes. The Christians paraded these skulls through the streets of Alexandria, whereupon the insulted pagans launched an attack which resulted in casualties on both sides. In connection with these disturbances, Socrates claims, George was killed, having been tied to a camel, torn to pieces, and then burned (along with the camel). The method of execution seems to have pagan ritual overtones, and the burning was a way of preventing the preservation of George’s bones for later veneration. Socrates’ account agrees with that of Ammianus in the suggestion that George was widely disliked by people of all classes. Some had claimed that George, a homoiousian, was killed by supporters of Athanasius, but Socrates disagrees, and as proof that pagans were to blame he reprints the letter which Julian wrote to the citizens on the occasion (3.3). The emperor blames the attack on pagans, who, he says, should not have engaged in such violence, even though he feels that George probably deserved even worse.
Sozomen draws upon Socrates for much of his narrative of Julian’s religious policies, but he seems to have felt that Socrates was not critical enough of the emperor. Both through arrangement of material and through the introduction of supplementary material, Sozomen leaves the impression of a more malevolent emperor and a more frightening reign. Unlike Socrates’ account, which proceeds through Julian’s life in chronological order, Sozomen begins with several accounts of the emperor’s paganism before sketching his childhood in flashback (5.1–2). This helps place Julian’s evil in the foreground. We are told that the emperor so openly apostatized, and so frequently bathed himself in the blood of sacrificed animals, that he underwent a kind of reverse baptism. Sozomen also evokes the state of mind of the Christians of the empire at Julian’s accession. He suggests that the fear Christians felt at the possibility of a true persecution was more painful than an actual persecution would have been (5.2.1). This is a recurrent theme in Sozomen, who, like other church historians, frequently reminds the reader that Julian’s abstention from full-blown persecution was merely a device to forward his aim of conversion. When Maris, the bishop of Chalcedon, rebuked Julian for his atheism, Julian mocked his blindness, saying that Jesus would never cure him. Maris responded that he was glad to be blind, so that he would not have to gaze upon an apostate face. Julian made no reply, according to Sozomen, because he thought the display of “forbearance and gentleness” toward Christians would be more beneficial for paganism (5.4.9). Even after narrating the emperor’s death, Sozomen returns to this idea, arguing that Julian’s lack of overt persecution was only strategic and that he had threatened to launch a full-scale assault on Christianity on his return from Persia (6.2.9).
Sozomen’s presentation of Julian’s subtle persecution may be divided into two sorts of material. First, the historian provides examples of laws and policies of the emperor which were prejudicial, even if not openly persecutory, toward Christians, and second, he provides examples of actions taken by Julian’s subordinates or by local officials which the emperor failed to prevent. Julian’s school law is an example of the first sort. Unlike Socrates, Sozomen is not at all convinced of the value of the classics, stating that the writings of Apollinaris would undoubtedly be considered as good as the classics if it were not for the extreme love for antiquity by which men are possessed (5.18.4). Sozomen also provides numerous details about how the emperor manipulated financial and urban policy to benefit pagans. For example, Caesarea, the metropolis of Cappadocia, was removed from the list of independent cities because it was so strongly Christian. He adds that the property of the church of Caesarea was looted and the clergy forced to serve in the governor’s bodyguard (5.4.1–5). Julian’s removal of the exemptions and privileges which Constantine had granted to the clergy might not be self-evidently discriminatory, but Sozomen details the hardship that it caused (5.5.1–4). Churches were forced to pay back the funds they had raised from a tax which had been specially earmarked for them during the reign of Constantine. These backdated demands required church property to be sold, and Sozomen claims that money was even demanded from nuns who had taken vows of poverty. Clergy were also held responsible for rebuilding temples which had been destroyed, and failure to pay led to torture and imprisonment.
To the short list of martyrs which Socrates had provided, Sozomen adds many more stories, drawn often from Gregory Nazianzen or from his own personal experience. These stories bear much similarity to the story of George. In most cases, pagans, encouraged by the example of their emperor, took advantage of the new order to attack Christians or drive them away. The murders of Eusebius, Nestabus, and Zeno in Gaza may serve as examples of this sort of event (5.9). The inhabitants of Gaza beat and imprisoned the three, and then assembled in the theater, where they accused the Christians of committing sacrilege in the temple and generally demeaning the gods. The prisoners were then killed in a gruesome fashion. It was reported, says Sozomen, that the emperor was enraged about these events, but this was untrue and merely an expression of the guilty feelings of the perpetrators. In fa
ct, Julian did not even bother to write a letter, as he did after George’s death, and when the governor of the province arrested some of the perpetrators, Sozomen claims, the emperor removed him from power and threatened him with death (5.9.11–13). Sozomen returns to the theme of the emperor’s failure to act repeatedly. After recounting more similar stories, he remarks that even if the emperor did not commit these acts, nevertheless there were many martyrs (5.11.12). Later Sozomen describes how his own grandfather was one of many Christians who were forced to flee for fear of mob violence, repeating his contention that blame ought to be fixed upon the emperor, who did not apply the law to perpetrators (5.15.13–14). Sozomen also accuses Julian of appointing subordinates who persecuted Christians in violation of the emperor’s explicit wishes. One such subordinate was Julian’s uncle, also named Julian, who served as prefect of the east. When Julian was looting the church of Antioch and torturing a priest, he mocked the sacred church vessels by performing lewd acts upon them. In the case of this Julian, divine wrath functioned with appalling swiftness, as his genitals and rectum were immediately afflicted with an incurable worm infestation, which killed him (5.8).
Sozomen catalogues some of the means by which the emperor sought to stealthily induce his subjects to worship the gods (5.17). The emperor placed pictures of Zeus and Ares next to pictures of himself, in the hope, Sozomen suggests, of tricking Romans who were simply offering the respect due to an emperor into simultaneously worshipping pagan gods. The emperor also presented Roman soldiers who had come to receive their pay with incense and fire for a sacrifice. Many obeyed out of greed or habit, says Sozomen, although he does add a tale of several soldiers who realized too late what they had done, and then ran screaming through the streets in horror until they were able to return their pay to the emperor.
Sozomen relates, following Rufinus and Socrates, the stories of the temple of Apollo at Daphne and the Temple in Jerusalem. His account of the suburb of Daphne is particularly full, as he adds details about the discreditable and erotic nature of the place which he perhaps derived from his personal experience (5.19–20). Sozomen’s account of the rebuilding of the temple is expanded from that of Socrates with the addition of more colorful details and of his own reflective comments on the lessons to be drawn from the events (5.22). Despite his reliance on Socrates, Sozomen claims to have learned the story from eyewitnesses, and he directs disbelieving readers to go and track down witnesses themselves.
Theodoret provides less detail and more atmosphere than Socrates or Sozomen, as is his wont. Like Sozomen, he is most critical of Julian’s refusal to protect Christians under assault by their neighbors and by his entrusting of “civil and military offices to the most savage and impious men” (3.6.5). Theodoret provides quick sketches of martyrdoms and persecutions similar to those offered by Sozomen (3.7, 11, 15, 18). He expands on Sozomen’s story of the blasphemy and ensuing disease of Julian’s uncle Julian by adding that Felix and Elpidius, two other high government officials, were present as well (3.12–13). Shortly after Julian’s horrible death, Felix too died, although he is silent on Elpidius’ fate.
Theodoret follows the other ecclesiastical historians in depicting Julian as a cunning persecutor, “wearing a mask of reasonableness, but preparing traps and snares” to trick men into apostasy (3.15.1). The emperor, he says, polluted the well water and the food for sale in Antioch by the admixture of sacrificial meat (3.15.2). He also relates the story of the repentant soldiers, who sprinted through the city alarmed at their unwitting engagement in sacrifice. In his version, the soldiers are not let off so easily. Instead of simple dismissal, they were spared from execution only at the last minute and sent to a distant outpost of the empire (3.17). Their fate is similar to that suffered by Valentinian, who would later become emperor and then had the rank of tribune (3.16). Theodoret says that he was sprinkled by purifying water as he walked by a religious procession led by the emperor. In disgust, Valentinian punched the priest, and as a result was condemned to a desert outpost. Theodoret sees his elevation to emperor a year later as a sign of divine providence.
Orosius’ short passage on Julian’s religious policies may serve as a summary of some of the important themes of the church historians. Julian attacked Christianity “by subterfuge rather than by force,” and sought to convert men to paganism “by honors, rather than by tortures” (7.30). The only legal measure Orosius mentions is the school law, in face of which, he reassures his readers, Christians preferred to resign rather than to convert. Sozomen believed that Julian would have begun to openly persecute Christians, had he returned victorious from Persia, and Orosius provides an elaborated version of this forecast, claiming that Julian had ordered the construction of an amphitheater in Jerusalem where bishops, monks, and saints would be fed to the beasts upon his return. The prevention of these evil plans by Julian’s death is deemed further evidence of God’s providence.
Secular policy
While Julian’s religious policies set him apart most strikingly from the other emperors of late antiquity, his secular policies inspired a great deal of contemporary comment as well. Historians frequently evaluate his legal policies and practices. The good Roman emperor spent a large amount of his time hearing cases, and the quality of the emperor as a judge served as a traditional yardstick of the success of his rule. Julian’s reign began with an exceptional tribunal. Shortly after the death of Constantius, the new emperor conducted treason trials, in which several of Constantius’ former courtiers were condemned to exile or death. The trials were dominated by the military, whose support Julian needed to cement as quickly as possible (Bowersock 1978: 66–9; Thompson 1947a: 73–9). The historians also discuss his judging practices and philosophy in more mundane cases.
Other policies of Julian have been seen as deliberately archaizing, and part of a general attempt by the emperor to rule as a philosopher-king. Julian’s dismissal of eunuchs, cooks, and barbers from his staff was believed to reflect a “philosophical” orientation, and he offered positions in the imperial bureaucracy to intellectuals and writers. He restored certain privileges to the senate at Constantinople, and in his dealings with senators, he attempted to revive the forms and attitudes of the early imperial and republican period in Rome’s history. These revivals were seen alternately as inspired or affected by observers and historians.
Julian’s fiscal and legal policies seem to have been part of an attempt to restore wealth and autonomy to the local councils, or curiae, of the cities and towns of the Greek east (Pack 1986). The independent city had been central to classical civilization for centuries, but the sprawling imperial bureaucracy had made possible the evasion of curial responsibilities, and encouraged powerful men to pursue careers at the imperial rather than the local level. In response to these trends, Julian removed exemptions which had allowed the powerful to avoid service on city councils. He also restored property which had been taken into private or church hands to the control of the councils and attempted to lower taxes on the cities. These moves were often criticized, both because they interfered with the vested interests and privileges of the powerful, and also because they were seen, perhaps correctly, as veiled attacks on ecclesiastical power and on Christianity in general.
Ammianus reserves some of his most extravagant praise for Julian in his role as judge. The historian is willing to see at least some merit in the emperor’s suggestion that during his reign, it seemed that Justice herself had descended to earth (22.10.6, 25.4.19). Knowing that he was somewhat excitable, Ammianus tells us, Julian allowed himself to be corrected by his associates, and freely admitted when he had made a mistake. Julian is also praised for his careful judgement and willingness to closely examine all of the relevant facts (22.10.1). For Ammianus, however, the preeminent quality a judge should have is mercy, and he tells numerous anecdotes in which Julian displays this quality. Julian gave a sentence of exile rather than death to a rapist, and when the victim’s parents complained, he explained that an emperor’s mercy
must be beyond the law (16.5.12). In a similar vein, he refrained from hearing a case in which a personal enemy of his would be a defendant until he had reconciled with the man (22.9.16–17). The sparing of the Alexandrians who had killed the bishop George could be seen as an example of mercy rather than of Christian persecution (22.11.11). It is common knowledge that Julian was merciful even toward enemies who had conspired against him, says Ammianus, preferring the threat of the sword to its actual use (25.4.8–9).
Ammianus considered the trials held at Chalcedon shortly after Julian’s accession, at which various of Constantius’ adherents were unfairly punished, to be an exception to Julian’s general mildness (22.3). Instead, the trials, held in the presence of military officials, were examples more of prejudice than of impartiality. Certain of Constantius’ most notorious courtiers were properly punished with death, Ammianus felt, including the chamberlain Eusebius, the investigator Apodemius, and the notorious Paul “the Chain,” so named for his practice of stringing together series of accusations to prosecute the innocent. But others were condemned on little or no evidence, and the financial official Ursulus, who had been supportive of Julian when he was still Caesar, was condemned to death solely because he had earlier offended the generals with a stray comment. Julian tried to disassociate himself from this execution, but Ammianus refers to it as an “inexcusable crime.” The historian further condemns Julian for allowing Arbitio, who had been one of Constantius’ main henchmen and consistently inimical to Julian himself, to sit in judgement of others. This grievous misjudgement is blamed by Ammianus on Julian’s “timidity, or his ignorance of what is proper” in the early days of his reign (22.3.9).
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