Julian the Apostate: 332–363 AD

The Legacy of Constantine

In 335, Emperor Constantine (Constantinus), sensing his death approaching, summoned his sons and nephews and, with optimistic hope, divided the vast empire he had built among them. The West, including Britain, Gaul, and Spain, he gave to his eldest son Constantine II; the East, comprising Asia Minor, Syria, and Egypt, to his second son Constantius; North Africa, Italy, Illyricum, and Thrace—including the new and old capitals of Constantinople and Rome—to his youngest son Constans; and Armenia, Macedonia, and Greece to his two nephews. The first Christian emperor had spent his life restoring monarchy to the Roman Empire and unifying its people's faith; his death (337) put all this at risk. He faced a difficult choice: his rule had not gained the sanctity of time, so there was no guarantee of a peaceful and calm succession by a single heir; thus, a divided government seemed a lesser evil than civil war.

Yet civil war did occur, and murder once again emptied the stage. The army would submit to no one but Constantine's sons; all male relatives of the emperor except his nephews Gallus and Julian were killed; Gallus was ill and promised an early death; Julian was five years old and perhaps his youth softened Constantius's heart, whom Ammianus credits with responsibility for all these crimes. Constantius renewed the ancient East-West war with Persia, which had never ceased since the Battle of Marathon, and left his brothers to eliminate each other through fratricide. When he remained as sole emperor (353), he returned to Constantinople and ruled the reunited realm with stubborn persistence and zealous incompetence; he was too malevolent to be happy, too cruel to be loved, and too arrogant and empty to be great.

The city that Constantine had called New Rome—but which even in his lifetime took his name—had been founded around 657 BC by Greeks on the shore of the Bosporus. For a thousand years it was known as Byzantium (Byzantion); and the adjective "Byzantine" continued to describe its civilization and art. No place on earth could have a better position for a capital; Napoleon in 1807 at Tilsit called it "the empire of the world" and refused to cede it to Russia, which, because of the direction of its rivers, longed to establish its dominion over it. A power ruling this city could at any moment it wished close this main passage between East and West; the city was the meeting point of continental trade and the products of a hundred countries; and an army could position itself on its shores to repel Persian raiders from the East, Huns from the North, Slavs from the North, and barbarians from the West. Its swift currents provided defense on every side except one; that one side could be fortified with a strong wall; in the "Golden Horn"—the calm inlet of the Bosporus—warships and merchant vessels could find shelter from storm or enemy attack. The Greeks called this inlet, perhaps because of its shape, Keras (Horn); the word "Golden" was later added to indicate the wealth that entered its port in the form of fish, grain, and goods from many lands. In this city, among a population that was mostly Christian and long accustomed to monarchical rule and Eastern splendor, a Christian emperor could enjoy the public support that the proud Senate and pagan people of Rome withheld from him. The Roman Empire in this region remained safe for a thousand years from the wave of barbarian invasions that overwhelmed Rome. Goths, Huns, Vandals, Avars, Persians, Arabs, Bulgarians, and Russians in turn threatened the new capital but could not capture it; during this thousand years, Constantinople was captured only once, by Christian Crusaders who loved gold a little more than the Cross. Until eight centuries after the rise of Muhammad [peace be upon him], this city remained safe from the surging wave of Islam that had engulfed Asia, Africa, and Spain. Contrary to expectation, Greek civilization enjoyed exceptional continuity and survival in this city, stubbornly preserved its ancient treasures, and finally transmitted them to Renaissance Italy and the Western world.

In November 324, Constantine the Great set his assistants, engineers, and priests in motion from the port of Byzantium and passed through the surrounding hills to determine the boundaries of his intended capital. Some wondered why he chose so vast an area for the city, but he said: "I shall advance so far that He, the invisible God who marches before me, will consider my movement sufficient." He spared no labor or word that could secure deep popular support in terms of religious sentiment and the backing of the Christian Church for his program and country.

"In obedience to God's command," he brought thousands of workers and artists to build walls and fortifications, administrative buildings, palaces, and houses for the city; he adorned squares and streets with fountains and porticoes, and with statues plundered indiscriminately from dozens of cities in his realm, and, to divert the rebellious impulses of the people, he built a vast and ornate hippodrome (circus), of a size whose like was possible only in declining Rome, so that the people's love of gambling and heroic games might be satisfied there. New Rome was inaugurated as the capital of the Eastern Empire on 11 May 330, and thereafter every year on the same day a magnificent festival was held. Paganism officially ended, and the Middle Ages of triumphant faith truly began. The East had successfully carried forward its spiritual and intellectual struggle against the apparently victorious West and was about to rule the spirit of the West for a thousand years.

Constantinople, in the two centuries after becoming the capital, became the richest, most beautiful, and most civilized city in the world and remained so for ten centuries. In 337 it had a population of about fifty thousand; in 400, about one hundred thousand; and in 500, about one million. According to an official document (around 450), Constantinople had five imperial palaces, six palaces for court ladies, three palaces for government leaders, 4,388 large mansions, 322 streets, and 52 porticoes. To these must be added hundreds of shops, dozens of pleasure resorts, magnificent baths, many ornate churches, and large and beautiful squares that were in truth museums of ancient world art. On the second of the hills that dominated the surrounding waters stood the Forum of Constantine; it was an oval enclosure with triumphal arches at its two entrances, surrounded by porticoes and a collection of statues; to its north stood a magnificent Senate palace; and in the center was a famous porphyry column 36.5 meters high, topped by a statue of Apollo attributed to Phidias himself.¹

From the Forum of Constantine branched a splendid and wide main street lined on both sides with palaces and shops, shaded by columned porticoes. This street extended westward, passed through the city, and reached the Augusteum, a square three hundred meters long and one hundred meters wide. The name of this square was taken from the word Augusta,² the title of Helena, Constantine's mother. At the northern end of this square stood Hagia Sophia, the Church of Holy Wisdom, in its first form; to the east of the square was the second Senate building; to the south, the main imperial palace and the public baths of Zeuxippus—vast buildings with hundreds of marble and bronze statues; and to the west, a small memorial building with an arched gateway called the Milion (milestone). This "stone" was the point from which highways branched out connecting the provinces to the capital—some of these roads are still in use. Here also, to the west of the Augusteum, stood a great hippodrome. Between this hippodrome and Hagia Sophia lay the imperial palace or "Sacred Palace," a labyrinthine building of marble, enclosed within 150 acres of gardens and porticoes. Here and there, and in the suburbs of the city, stood the houses of the nobility. Behind the narrow, winding, and closely packed alleys lay the shops of merchants and the houses of ordinary people. The "main street" at its western end led through the "Golden Gate"—in Constantine's wall—to the Sea of Marmara. Rows of palaces lined all three shores, and their splendid images shimmered in the water with the movement of the waves.

The city's population at the upper levels was mostly Roman, while among the rest Greeks formed the majority, but all equally called themselves "Romans." While the official language of government was Latin, the people spoke Greek; but in the seventh century Greek replaced Latin even in the government apparatus. Below the high-ranking government officials and senators was a class of landed nobles whose members sometimes lived in the city and sometimes on their rural estates. Another class, despised by these nobles but equal to them in wealth, consisted of merchants who exchanged the goods of Constantinople and its hinterland with the merchandise of other parts of the world. Below these were the employees of the offices, whose numbers were constantly increasing; and still below them were the shopkeepers and craftsmen of various trades; another class, lower still, consisted of nominally free laborers who had no right to vote and were prone to rioting; these were usually kept in discipline by hunger and police, and their mustaches were greased with public games and daily rations totaling about 80,000 kilograms of grain or loaves of bread to keep them quiet. Lowest of all these classes, here as in other parts of the empire, were the slaves, whose numbers were fewer than those of the slaves in Rome in Caesar's time and, thanks to the laws of Constantine's era and the moderating influence of the Church, were treated more humanely.

At certain times, free people, after finishing their daily work, rushed to the hippodrome. This arena had an amphitheater 170 meters long and 116 meters wide and could accommodate from 30,000 to 70,000 spectators. An oval ditch separated these spectators from the racecourse. Between games, spectators could stroll in a shaded promenade 843 meters long adorned with marble railings. The spina or spine of the arena—a low wall extending the length of the arena from one gate to the other—was decorated with rows of statues. In the middle of the spina was the obelisk of Thutmose III brought from Egypt, and to its south was a column whose surface was covered with three intertwined bronze serpents. This column had previously been erected in Delphi to commemorate the victory of Plataea (479 BC). These two columns still stand. The emperor's special seat, the kathisma, was in the fifth century adorned with a gilded bronze statue of four horses, a work of ancient art by Lysippus. In this hippodrome, great national festivals were held with public processions, championship races, hunts or fights with animals, acrobatic performances, and displays of strange animals and birds. The blending of Greek tradition and Christian sentiment had made the cruel and brutal aspect of these entertainments less pronounced in Constantinople than in Rome. We hear nothing of gladiatorial combats in the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire. Nevertheless, twenty-four horse and chariot races, which usually formed the main part of the program, provided all the excitement that characterized Roman festivals. Riders and charioteers were divided into four factions—Blue, Green, Red, and White—according to the color of their clothing and the title of their patrons; the spectators—and indeed the entire population of the city—were also divided in the same way. The two main factions—the Blues and the Greens—fought in the hippodrome with trumpets, shouting, and sometimes with knives in the streets. It was only during the games that ordinary people could shout their feelings; demand favors from their ruler, request reforms, denounce oppressive officials, and sometimes harshly rebuke the emperor himself, who sat safely on his high seat and left it under the protection of guards after the races ended.

Aside from that, the people were politically powerless. Constantine's constitution, which followed that of Diocletian (Dioclesian), was openly monarchical. The two Senates—in Constantinople and Rome—could deliberate, pass laws, and issue decrees; but their decisions were always subject to the emperor's veto, and their legislative power had largely been usurped by the emperor's advisory council (Sacrum Consistorium Principis). The emperor himself could legislate with a simple decree, and his will was the highest law. In the emperors' view, democracy had become unworkable; the very empire that democracy had helped to create had destroyed democracy; democracy might have been useful for governing a city, but it was useless for ruling a hundred different provinces; democracy had turned freedom into license and license into chaos; to the point that the resulting class and internal wars had threatened the economic and political life of the entire Mediterranean world. Diocletian and Constantine concluded that order could only be preserved by limiting high offices to an aristocracy of counts and patrician dukes; and these counts and dukes whose nobility was not inherited but granted by the emperor, completely powerful and independent, who, by virtue of their unique prominent position and Eastern splendor and majesty, and also because of the monarchy, sanctity, and support that the Church had conferred upon him, enjoyed high prestige. Perhaps the conditions of the time required such a system; but its flaw was that no restraining factor remained in the ruler's path except the flattering advice of officials and fear of sudden death. This system created a very efficient administrative and judicial organization and kept the Byzantine Empire enduring for a thousand years—but at the cost of political stagnation, general lethargy, court intrigues, eunuch conspiracies, succession wars, and a series of palace revolutions that sometimes placed the throne in the hands of a worthy individual, rarely a man of pure character, and often an adventurous schemer or a mad prince.

Christians and Pagans

In this Mediterranean world of the fourth century, where the state depended heavily on religion, ecclesiastical affairs were so troubled that the government felt it must intervene even in the mysteries of theology. The great debate between Athanasius and Arius ended with the convening of the "Council of Nicaea" (325). Many bishops—in the East, the majority—still openly or secretly supported Arius; that is, they considered Jesus the Son of God but not consubstantial with the Father or co-eternal with Him. Constantine, after accepting the council's decree and exiling Arius, summoned him for a private conversation (331), found no heresy or apostasy in him, and issued a decree for the return of Arius and his followers to their churches. Athanasius protested; an assembly of Eastern bishops in Tyre deposed him from the bishopric of Alexandria (335), and he lived in exile in Gaul for two years. Arius met Constantine again and declared his adherence to the "Nicene Creed," but with exceptions so subtle that naturally the emperor could not understand them. Constantine believed his words and ordered Alexander, the Patriarch of Constantinople, to accept him among the priests. Socrates, the church historian, tells a painful story about this:

It was Saturday, and Arius was to go to church the next day with the congregation of the faithful; because of his audacious crime, God's wrath seized him. For, after leaving the emperor's palace ... and approaching the porphyry column in the Forum of Constantine, terror overcame him and dysentery seized him ... while defecating, his intestines also came out from his seat, much blood flowed from him, and his small intestine also fell; in addition, parts of his spleen and liver also came out with the bleeding, so that he died almost immediately.

Constantine, upon hearing the news of this timely "evacuation," thought that perhaps Arius had really been an apostate and heretic. But when the emperor himself died the following year, the baptism ceremony was performed for him by his friend and advisor Eusebius, the bishop of Nicomedia who was a follower of Arius.

Constantius took theology more seriously than his father. He personally inquired into the question of Jesus' Father, adopted Arius's view, and felt morally obliged to enforce it throughout the Christian world. Athanasius, who had returned to his bishopric after Constantine's death, was exiled again (339); church councils, convened by the new emperor and under his control, affirmed only Christ's likeness to the Father, not His consubstantiality with Him. Priests loyal to the "Nicene Creed" were driven from their churches, sometimes under pressure from mobs; for half a century, it seemed that Christianity would be unitarian and would abandon the doctrine of Christ's divinity. In those bitter days, Athanasius spoke of himself as "one against the world"; all the powers of the country were against him, and even his followers in Alexandria rose against him. He fled his bishopric five times, his life was often in danger, and he wandered in foreign lands; for a full half century (323–373), with patient diplomacy and sharp and eloquent speeches, he fought for the creed and faith that had been defined under his leadership at Nicaea; even when Pope Liberius also submitted to the new conditions, he stood firm on his belief. The Church owes the doctrine of the Trinity more to him than to anyone else.

Athanasius appealed his case to Pope Julius I (340). Julius reappointed him to his bishopric; but a council of Eastern bishops in Antioch rejected the Pope's ruling (341) and appointed Gregory, a follower of Arius, to the bishopric of Alexandria. When Gregory arrived in the city, opposing factions rioted violently and killed many people; Athanasius, to stop the bloodshed, left the place (342). A similar riot broke out in Constantinople. When Constantius issued a decree appointing the Arian Macedonius in place of the patriotic orthodox Paul, a crowd of Paul's supporters resisted the soldiers, and three thousand people lost their lives in that fray. The number of Christians killed by fellow Christians in these two years (342–343) exceeded all the Christians killed by pagans throughout Roman history during the persecution programs.

Christians differed on almost every point except one—that pagan temples should be closed, their property confiscated, and the same means that pagans had previously used to torment Christians should now be turned against them. Constantine had considered pagan sacrifices and rites abominable but had not forbidden them; Constans declared these rites completely prohibited and prescribed the death penalty for those who committed them; Constantius ordered that all pagan temples be closed and all pagan rites stopped. Those who disobeyed this order put their lives and property at risk; this punishment even applied to governors who neglected to enforce the order. Nevertheless, in the expanding sea of Christianity, islands of paganism remained. Older cities—Athens, Antioch, Smyrna, Alexandria, and Rome—had scattered pagan populations, especially among the aristocracy and in the schools. In Olympia the athletic games continued until the time of Theodosius I (379–395); in Eleusis the pagan mysteries continued to be performed until Alaric destroyed the temple there (396); and in the schools of Athens the teaching of Plato's, Aristotle's, and Zeno's theories with moderated interpretations continued. (Epicurean philosophy had been declared illegal and was considered synonymous with atheism.) Constantine and his son continued to pay the salaries of the heads and professors who still negligently managed the University of Athens; jurists and orators still turned to that university to learn the secrets of rhetoric; and pagan sophists (teachers of wisdom) offered their wares to anyone who could pay the price. All the people of Athens were fond of Prohaeresius and proud of him. He, who upon entering the University of Athens was a poor youth who had nothing but a bed and a garment—shared with another student—had later been able to occupy the official chair of rhetoric, and now at eighty-seven years old was still so handsome, strong, and eloquent that his student Eunapius regarded him as "an ageless and immortal god."

The outstanding sophist of the fourth century was Libanius. He was born in Antioch (314) and had separated himself from his kind mother to study in Athens; his mother had suggested marriage to a girl who had inherited a large fortune from her father to keep him from traveling; but he had replied that seeing the learned city of Athens was preferable to marrying a goddess. He benefited from his teachers as stimuli and encouragers, not as mere scholars; and amid a bewildering crowd of teachers and schools he educated himself. After teaching for a time in Constantinople and Nicomedia, he returned to Antioch (354) and there established a school that for forty years was the foremost in the empire in fame and number of students. As he himself assures us, his fame was so great that the outlines of his speeches were sung in the streets. Ammianus Marcellinus, John Chrysostom, and Saint Basil the Great were among his students. Although he spoke and wrote in defense of paganism and sacrificed in the temples, he enjoyed the favor of Christian emperors. When the bakers of Antioch went on strike, he was chosen as arbitrator by both workers and employers; when the people of Antioch revolted against Theodosius I, the conquered people of the city chose him to go to the emperor for justice. He lived about one generation after the killing of his friend Julian and the collapse of the revived paganism.

Paganism in the fourth century took various forms: Mithraism, Neoplatonism, Stoicism, Cynicism, and local cults worshiping city and rural gods. The ground of Mithraism had already disappeared, but Neoplatonism was still a strong pillar in religion and philosophy, doctrines that Plotinus had given in such an obscure form—the threefold spirit that encompassed all truth; the Logos or mediating divinity that had performed the work of creation, spirit as the divine aspect, and matter as body and evil; and realms of existence through whose invisible stages the spirit descended from God to man and could ascend again from man to God by traversing the same stages—left its mark on Paul and the Apostle John, found many followers among Christians, and molded many heresies in the Christian world. Iamblichus, the Neoplatonic philosopher from Chalcis in Syria, added miracle to the mysteries of Neoplatonic philosophy: the mystic not only saw things imperceptible to the senses but in a state of ecstasy and rapture connected with the truth and acquired a divine power that enabled him to perform magic and divination. Maximus of Tyre, a disciple of Iamblichus, combined the claim of the wonderful power of hidden forces with such eloquent and sincere praise of paganism that he captivated and enchanted Julian. Maximus, in defense of paganism against the contempt directed at it by Christianity, said:

God, who is the Father and Creator of all things and older than the sun and heaven and greater than time and eternity and the flow of all great beings, cannot be defined by any legislator or scholar; no one can describe Him and no eye has the power to see Him. But we, who are unable to comprehend the essence of His existence, in our desire to know Him resort to names and sounds and images and seek help from gold and ivory and silver, plants and rivers, and floods and mountain peaks, and, feeling our weakness, attribute to His essence what appears beautiful in this world. ... If a Greek remembers God through the art of Phidias, or an Egyptian through the worship of animals, or another through the worship of a river or a hearth fire becomes aware of His power, I do not become angry at such deviations; let such people [in their own way] observe, remember, and love.

It was partly the eloquence of Libanius and Maximus that turned Julian from Christianity to paganism. When their student Julian ascended the throne, Maximus hurried to Constantinople and Libanius in Antioch raised a cry of victory and joy: "Behold how we have regained the life that was lost; joy like a life-giving breath has spread over the whole earth, because a true god, in human form, rules the world."

The New Caesar

Flavius Claudius Julianus, nephew of Constantine, was born in 332 in Constantinople in the imperial family. His father, elder brother, and most of his cousins were killed in the massacre that formed the prelude to the reign of Constantine's sons. He was sent to Nicomedia to be educated under Bishop Eusebius. Christian theology so dominated his other teachings that it was expected he would later become one of the saints of the religion. At the age of seven he began studying classical literature with Mardonius; the old eunuch's love for the works of Homer and Hesiod passed to his student, and Julian entered the brilliant and poetic world of Greek mythology with delight and wonder.

In 341, for reasons now unknown to us, Julian and his brother Gallus were exiled to Cappadocia and practically imprisoned for six years in the palace of Macellum. After his release, Julian was allowed to live in Constantinople; but the vigor and vitality of youth, sincerity, and intelligence made him so popular that the emperor became alarmed. He was therefore sent back to Nicomedia and there began to study philosophy. He wanted to attend Libanius's lectures but was forbidden; nevertheless, he arranged for complete notes of the teacher's discussions to be brought to him. Now he was a handsome and lovable seventeen-year-old youth ready for the dangerous attraction of philosophy. When the door of philosophy and free thought opened to him, Christianity suddenly appeared to him as a system of dogmatic and unquestionable commands whose promoters, namely the Church, had, as a result of Arian controversies and mutual excommunications by Eastern and Western church leaders, fallen into disgrace and division.

In 351, Gallus became Caesar—that is, the future heir to the throne—and took over the government in Antioch. Julian, who for a time was safe from the emperor's suspicion, went from Nicomedia to Pergamon and from there to Ephesus and studied philosophy successively with Aedesius, Maximus, and Chrysanthius and, as a result of their teachings, secretly turned to paganism. In 354, Constantius suddenly summoned Gallus and Julian to Milan, the seat of his court. Gallus had exceeded the limits of his authority and had ruled the Asian provinces with such oppression that he had even alarmed Constantius himself. He was tried before the emperor and convicted of several crimes, and his head was immediately severed from his body. Julian was kept under surveillance in Italy for several months; finally he convinced the suspicious king that politics had never entered his mind and that his only interest was philosophy. Constantius, relieved that he was dealing only with a philosopher, exiled him to Athens (355). Julian, who was expecting the death penalty, gladly consented to this exile, which took him to the source of pagan knowledge, religion, and thought.

In Athens, he spent six months joyfully studying in a space where Plato's voice had once echoed, befriended Themistius and other immortal and forgotten philosophers, delighted them with his eagerness for learning, and captivated the people of the city with his kind behavior and humility. He compared those refined pagans, who were heirs to a thousand-year-old culture, with the dry and stubborn theologians who had surrounded him in Nicomedia, or with those pious statesmen who had considered it necessary to kill his father and brothers and many others, and realized that no beast could be found more savage than Christians. When he heard that the famous temples had been destroyed and their priests deprived of employment and their property divided among eunuchs and supporters of the emperor, he wept. Perhaps it was at this time that he accepted, out of caution and completely privately, initiation into the Eleusinian mysteries. Pagan ethics permitted him in his dissimulation. Moreover, his friends and teachers, who shared his secret, would not allow him to publicly declare his conversion to paganism, because they knew that if Constantius learned of it, he would grant him the honor of untimely martyrdom, and meanwhile they waited for the time when this person under their protection would ascend the throne and restore their lost positions as well as their gods. For a full ten years Julian observed the outward forms of Christian worship and even publicly read the Holy Scriptures in church.

During this period of dissimulation, the emperor again summoned him to Milan. He did not dare to go, but a message came from Empress Eusebia assuring him that she had taken favorable measures for him at court and there was no cause for fear. To Julian's disbelief, the emperor gave him his sister Helena in marriage, conferred upon him the title of Caesar, and appointed him to the governorship of Gaul (355). This shy bachelor youth, who had come to court in the garb of philosophers, reluctantly put on military uniform and assumed marital duties. Awareness that the Germans, taking advantage of internal wars and the destruction of military force in the western empire, had invaded the Roman provinces on the banks of the Rhine, defeated a Roman army, plundered the old Roman colony at Colonia, captured forty-four other cities, conquered Alsace (Alsatia), and advanced sixty-four kilometers into Gaul troubled Julian more. Constantius, after confronting this crisis, summoned Julian, and although he suspected him and considered him too insignificant to suddenly become a capable administrator and warrior, gave him 360 soldiers and ordered him to reorganize the army of Gaul and sent him beyond the Alps.

Julian spent the winter in Vienne on the banks of the Rhone and with great zeal busied himself learning military instructions and studying the arts of war. In the spring of 356 he assembled an army in Reims, drove back the invading Germans, and recaptured Colonia. Then he was besieged in Sens by the Alemanni—a tribe whose name was later given to Germania; for thirty days he repelled their attacks, supplied food for the local people and his soldiers by every means, and wore down the enemy. Then he moved south, engaged the main force of the Germans near Strasbourg, arranged his soldiers in the shape of a crescent bull, and with brilliant tactics and personal bravery led them to a decisive victory over the enemy forces—which were far more numerous. Now Gaul could breathe more freely, but in the north the Salian Franks were still plundering in the valley of the Meuse (Mosa). Julian engaged them, defeated them, and drove them back across the Rhine; then he returned triumphantly to Paris, the center of the province of Gaul. The grateful Gauls honored the young Caesar, whom they now considered equal to Julius Caesar, and his soldiers expressed hope that he would soon ascend to the imperial throne.

He remained in Gaul for five years; he resettled devastated lands, renewed the defensive organization of the Rhine, prevented economic exploitation and political corruption, restored the prosperity of the province and the financial power of the state, and at the same time reduced taxes. The people were amazed that this thoughtful youth, who had just separated from his books, had miraculously transformed himself into a great commander and statesman and a just and kind judge. He established the principle that every accused person, until his crime is proven, must be considered innocent. Numerius, one of the former governors of Gallia Narbonensis (the Narbonne districts in Gaul), was accused of embezzlement; he denied the alleged crime, and his guilt was not proven. Judge Delfidius, angered by the lack of evidence, cried out: "O most powerful Caesar! If denying the crime is sufficient for the acquittal of the accused, can anyone ever be convicted?" Julian replied to him: "If mere accusation is sufficient, can anyone be considered innocent?" Ammianus says: "This was one of the many cases of his human mercy."

His reform measures created many enemies for him. Officials who were alarmed by his precise oversight of affairs, or who envied his popularity, sent secret messages to Constantius and accused Julian of wanting to seize the imperial throne. Julian countered this accusation by writing an elaborate panegyric in praise of the emperor. Nevertheless Constantius, who still suspected Julian, summoned Sallustius, who was a Gaul and the chief magistrate of the province and who cooperated honestly with Julian, and dismissed him. If we believe Ammianus's account, Empress Eusebia, who was childless and jealous, bribed Julian's female attendants to give him abortifacient drugs during his wife's pregnancy; and when Helena, despite all this, gave birth to a son, the midwife cut the child's navel so close to the body that the child died from excessive bleeding. Amid all these troubles, Julian received an order from Constantius (360) to send the best elements of his army in Gaul to join the forces fighting against Persia.

This action by Constantius was not unjustified. Shapur II had demanded the return of Mesopotamia and Armenia to Iran (358). When Constantius refused to accept this demand, Shapur besieged and captured "Amid" (present-day Diyarbakir). Constantius went to war with him and ordered Julian to hand over 300 men from each regiment of the Gaulish army to the emperor's representatives to be sent to fight in Asia. Julian protested that the soldiers of those regiments had been recruited on the condition that they would not serve beyond the Alps, and he also reminded that if the Gaulish army weakened, the security of that province would be endangered. (Six years later the Germans successfully invaded Gaul.) Nevertheless, he ordered his soldiers to obey the emperor's representatives. The soldiers refused to carry out this order, gathered around Julian's palace, proclaimed him Augustus (emperor), and asked him to keep them in Gaul. He again advised them to obey the emperor's command, but the soldiers insisted. Julian, who like Julius Caesar felt that the die had been cast, accepted the title of emperor and prepared to fight to preserve the empire and his own life. The army that had refused to leave Gaul now vowed to advance to Constantinople and place Julian on the throne.

Constantius was in Cilicia when he heard the news of the revolt. He fought another year with Iran and risked his throne to preserve his country; then, after signing an armistice treaty with Shapur, he moved his legions westward to confront his cousin. Julian advanced with a small force. He stopped for a while in Sirmium (near Belgrade) and finally declared his paganism to the world. With great enthusiasm he wrote to Maximus: "We now openly worship the gods, and all the soldiers who are with me are believers in their praise."

Good fortune saved him from a dangerous situation: in November 361, Constantius died of fever near Tarsus at the age of forty-five. A month later, Julian entered Constantinople and, without facing opposition, ascended the throne and, with all the outward appearances of the affection of a loving cousin, escorted Constantius's funeral.

The Pagan Emperor

Now Julian was thirty-one years old. Ammianus, who often saw him, describes him thus:

He was of medium height. His hair was so soft and smooth that it seemed freshly combed. His beard was rough and trimmed so that it was always pointed. He had bright and sparkling eyes that spoke of the sharpness of his mind. His eyebrows were delicate, and his nose was quite straight. His mouth was slightly large and his lower lip fleshy. His neck was thick and bent, and his shoulders were broad and sturdy. He was proportionate from head to toe, and therefore strong and a capable runner.

But his own description of himself is not so pleasant:

Although nature has not made my face very beautiful and has not given it the freshness of youth, I myself have only added this long beard to it out of perversity. ... I get along with the lice that roam in it; as if it were a thicket for wild animals. ... My hair is unkempt and I rarely trim my head and nails, and my fingers are always black with ink.

He was proud that amid the splendor and majesty of the court he had preserved the simplicity of a philosopher's life. Immediately after ascending the throne, he rid himself of the eunuchs, barbers, and spies who had served Constantius. After the death of his young wife he decided never to marry again, and therefore no longer needed eunuchs; he thought that one barber was sufficient for all the palace staff; and because he ate the simplest food, he considered one ordinary cook sufficient. This pagan dressed and lived like ascetics. Apparently after his wife's death he had no sexual relations with any woman. He slept on a rough bed in a cold room and did not allow the rooms to be heated throughout the winter; he said: "I want to accustom myself to cold." He had no love for entertainment. He avoided the theater because of its buffoonery; by avoiding attendance at the hippodrome he wounded the people's feelings. For a while he went to the hippodrome on official holidays, but since he found all the races similar, he soon abandoned this practice. The people were first impressed by his virtues, asceticism, and precise attention to government affairs and considered him the equal of Trajan in command and like Antoninus Pius in sanctity, and like Marcus Aurelius a philosopher-king. It amazes us how this young pagan was so easily accepted by the people of a city and an empire that for a generation had known no rulers except Christian emperors.

He pleased the Senate of Byzantium by observing its traditions and rights. When the consuls came to visit him, he rose from his seat and always tried to consider himself like Augustus as the servant and representative of the senators and the people. Whenever he inadvertently violated one of the Senate's privileges, he fined himself ten gold pounds and declared that like other citizens he was subject to the laws and regulations of the Republic. From morning until evening, except for a short time in the afternoon devoted to study, he attended to government affairs. According to accounts, his light diet made his body and mind so agile that he quickly moved from one task to another, and from conversation with one person to talking with another, and every day wore out three secretaries. He performed the duties of a judge with seriousness and interest and exposed the sophisms of lawyers; he cheerfully submitted to the sound judgments of judges against his own opinion, and captivated everyone with his sound decisions. He reduced taxes on the poor, refused to accept the golden crowns that were usually offered to the new emperor by each province, exempted Africa from paying overdue taxes, and abolished the heavy tribute that had hitherto been taken from the Jews. He made the regulations for issuing medical licenses stricter and strictly enforced them. His success in governing the country surpassed even his military successes; Ammianus says: "His fame gradually became so great that it spread throughout the world."

Amid all these governmental activities his main attention was to philosophy, and his main purpose, which he never forgot, was the restoration of the ancient rites. He ordered that pagan temples be repaired and opened, their confiscated property returned, and their lost revenues restored. He sent letters to the prominent philosophers of the time and invited them to live as guests in his court. When Maximus arrived, Julian interrupted his speech in the Senate, hurried to welcome his old teacher, and introduced him to the assembly with great praise. Maximus took advantage of the emperor's attachment, wore luxurious clothes, and arranged a luxurious life for himself; after Julian's death he was subjected to severe interrogation about how he had so quickly accumulated such improper wealth. Julian paid no attention to the contradiction between his own style and that philosopher's way of life, because he loved philosophy too much to be disgusted by the behavior of philosophers. He wrote to Eumenius: "If anyone has convinced you that there is anything more beneficial for mankind than the uninterrupted study of philosophy in leisure time, know that he is a deceiver who wants to deceive you too."

He loved books very much and carried a library with him in wars; he expanded the library that Constantine had founded and established other libraries. Once he wrote: "Some people are attached to horses, some to birds, and some to wild animals; but from my childhood I have had an overwhelming desire to study books." Since he prided himself on being both a writer and a statesman, he tried to justify his policy with negotiations in the style of Lucian, or speeches in the style of Libanius, or letters with the eloquence and charm of Cicero's letters, and official philosophical treatises. In the "Hymn to the Son of the King," he interpreted his new paganism; in an article titled "Against the Galileans,"¹ he expressed his reasons for abandoning Christianity. He, with a view that can be considered a precursor of "higher criticism," writes that the Gospels contradict each other, and their only common points are unbelievable statements; John's Gospel differs essentially from the other three in style and theology, and the story of creation in Genesis indicates a plurality of gods.

Except if each of these stories [of "Genesis"] is a myth and, as I believe, has a hidden interpretation, all of them are full of blasphemy against God. First, it appears that God, who created Eve Himself to help Adam, was unaware that she would cause Adam's fall. Second, that God withholds knowledge of good and evil (that is, the only knowledge that gives substance to the human mind) from man and envies that man, by sharing in the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, might gain eternal life proves that such a God is extremely spiteful and jealous; why is your God so jealous and even takes revenge on children for the sins of the fathers? ... Why is such a powerful God so angry with demons, angels, and humans? Compare this trait with the human mercy that even people like Lycurgus and the Romans showed toward offenders. The "Old Testament" (like paganism) permits and even requires animal sacrifice. ... Why do you not accept the "Law" that God gave to the Jews? ... You claim that the previous "Law" was limited in time and place; but I can bring ten, or even ten thousand quotations from the books of Moses in which he says that the "Law" is for all times.

When Julian tried to revive paganism, he realized that paganism is not only extremely diverse in practice and belief but contains far more myths and descriptions of unbelievable miracles than the Christian religion; and he realized that no religion can hope to attract and excite ordinary souls until it mixes its moral principles with splendor, wonder, and myth. He was amazed at the antiquity and widespread prevalence of myth. In this regard he writes: "No one can discover when myths originally appeared, ... just as he cannot know who was the first person who sneezed." Finally he accepted the necessity of myths and considered it necessary for establishing moral principles in the minds of the ignorant. He himself retold the story of Cybele in a different way, and how that Great Mother in the form of a black stone had been brought from Phrygia to Rome; and the tone of his narrative was such that it left no doubt that he did not believe in the divinity of the stone or the power of its transfer. He discovered that to convey spiritual and intellectual ideas one must use perceptible symbols, and he considered the worship of the sun among the people a religious counterpart to the philosopher's attention to reason and light. For this poetic king it was not difficult to compose a hymn in praise of Helios, the sun king, who was the source of life and the origin of countless blessings for mankind; in his view the "Logos" or "Word of God," which had created the world and now sustained it, was this very Helios. Julian added the gods and demons of pagan religions to this "supreme principle" and "first cause"; in his opinion, accepting all these gods was not very difficult for a philosopher who followed religious tolerance.

If we consider Julian a freethinker who replaces myth with reason, we are mistaken. He considered atheism a bestial and lowly thing, and in the doctrines he taught, supernatural forces intervened as much as in any other cult. Few can be found who have woven as much idle talk as Julian in his prayer hymn to the sun. He accepted the Neoplatonic Trinity, identified the Platonic idea with the divine mind, considered them the Logos or mediating wisdom that is the creator of all things, and regarded the world of matter and body as a satanic obstacle in the path of virtue and the freedom of the imprisoned spirit. The spirit can free itself through virtue, love, and philosophy and reach the stage of contemplating spiritual truths and laws, and thus be absorbed into the Logos and perhaps into "the Supreme Lord" Himself. In Julian's belief, the gods of the pagan religion represented spiritual forces; he could not accept them in their common human form, but he knew that people less often rise to the abstractions of philosophers or the mystical imaginations of saints. Openly and secretly, he performed the ancient rites and so excessively indulged in sacrificing animals to the gods that even his admirers were ashamed of this cruel slaughter of his. In his wars with Iran, like the Roman generals, he always resorted to augury and divination, and listened carefully to the interpretation of his dreams. He apparently believed in Maximus's magical power.

Like every reformer, he also thought that the world needed moral renewal; and to achieve this goal he did not content himself with formal legislation but tried to penetrate into people's hearts through religion. The symbolism of the Eleusinian and Ephesian mysteries had greatly fascinated him; in his view, for creating a new and authentic life, no rites were better than these ceremonies; he hoped that the rites of consecration and entry into these mysteries would expand from the monopoly of a small number of nobles to a large number of ordinary people. According to Libanius, "he preferred to be called a priest rather than an emperor." He envied the hierarchy of the Christian Church, its devoted priests and nuns, its collective prayer ceremonies, and its unifying zeal in the matter of alms. It was beyond him to go beyond imitating the better aspects of the religion he intended to destroy. He infused new blood into the body of the pagan priesthood, established a "church" for that religion with himself at its head, and urged his clergy to surpass Christian priests in preaching to the people, helping the poor, comforting strangers, and being examples in good living. He established schools in every city for teaching and propagating the pagan religion. He wrote a letter to his priests in the style of Saint Francis's letter to his fellow monks:

Treat me as you want me to treat you; let us agree that I will express my opinions about your affairs and you will do the same about my words and deeds. In my opinion there is nothing dearer to us than this mutual cooperation. ... We must share our money with everyone, but especially with the good, the poor, and the wretched. And although this saying may seem silly at first glance, I say frankly that even sharing with the wicked in clothing and food is a worthy act. For what we give to a human being is because of his humanity, not his moral character.

This pagan was in every respect a Christian except in belief; when we read his works, if we do not count his vanished myths, we get the impression that he owed many of the pleasing transformations of his character to the Christian ethics that had permeated him during his childhood and youth. Now let us see how he behaved with the religion he had been raised in. He granted Christianity complete freedom of preaching, worship, and practice, and returned the orthodox bishops, who had been exiled by Constantius, to their places. But he cut off state aid from the churches and closed the chairs of rhetoric, philosophy, and literature in the universities to Christian professors, on the grounds that these subjects could be taught with more sympathy by pagan professors. He ended the exemption of Christian clergy from taxes and heavy civil labors, as well as the free use by bishops of government facilities, prohibited the transfer of inheritance to churches, and ordered that Christians not be employed in government departments; he commanded the Christians of every locality to compensate for any damage they had caused to pagan temples in previous reigns, and issued permission to destroy churches that had been built on lands confiscated from pagan temples. When this policy led to disorder, injustice, and revolt, Julian set out to support the Christians but refrained from changing his laws. He, with a sarcastic tone less befitting a philosopher, reminded Christians who had been oppressed that "their Holy Book recommends enduring misfortunes with patience." Christians who showed severe and insulting reactions to these laws were severely punished; but pagans who tormented or insulted Christians did not receive due punishment. In Alexandria, the pagan population hated Bishop George, the Arian who had seized Athanasius's bishopric; when George provoked them by organizing a procession of Christians who mocked the Mithraic cult, they seized and mutilated him, and although the number of Christians who rose to defend him was small, many Christians were killed in that riot and tumult (362). Julian wanted to punish the rioters, but his advisors persuaded him to content himself with writing a strongly worded letter to the people of Alexandria. In these circumstances, Athanasius emerged from his hiding place and occupied his episcopal seat; Julian protested that this had been done without his permission and ordered Athanasius to relinquish his position. The old bishop obeyed, but the following year Julian died and Athanasius, the embodiment of the victorious Galilean, returned to his bishopric. Ten years later he died at the age of eighty, full of honor and the scars of suffering.

Finally, Julian's intense insistence on advancing paganism led his programs to failure. Those who suffered from him fought him patiently and stubbornly; those who were favored by him adopted an indifferent attitude. Paganism was spiritually dead and no longer had within itself a motivating force for the young, a consolation for pains, or a hope for the afterlife. Some converted to it, but mostly with the expectation of political advancement or the emperor's gold coins; some cities restored official sacrifice ceremonies, but only to attract the emperor's favors; even in Pessinus, the homeland of Cybele, Julian had to bribe the people to honor that Great Mother. Many pagans considered the pagan religion synonymous with a good conscience in pleasure and were dissatisfied that they saw Julian more ascetic than Christ. This so-called freethinker was the most pious person in the country, and even his friends found keeping pace with him in asceticism burdensome; or they were basically skeptics who almost openly laughed at his obsolete deities and his many sacrifices. The custom of sacrificing animals on altars had almost disappeared in the East, and also in the western parts of the empire except Italy; people considered it an unworthy and futile matter. Julian called his movement Hellenism, but this word disgusted the pagans of Italy, who despised every still-surviving Greek custom. He relied too much on philosophical discussion and argument, which never reached the emotional foundations of faith. His works were only understandable to the educated, who also considered accepting it beneath their dignity; his cult was an artificial eclecticism that could not take root in the hopes and desires of the people. Even before he died, his failure was evident; and the army that loved him and mourned his death chose a Christian to succeed him.

The End of the Journey

His last great dream was to rival Severus and Trajan: he wanted to raise the banner of Rome in the capitals of Persia and once and for all end Persia's threat to the security of the Roman Empire. With great enthusiasm he prepared his army, chose his officers, repaired the border fortresses, and prepared provisions in the cities that lay on his path to probable victory. In the autumn of 362 he went to Antioch and gathered his forces. The city's merchants took advantage of the arrival of the soldiers to raise prices; the people complained that "everything is plentiful, but expensive." Julian summoned the leaders of the merchants and ordered them to curb their profiteering; the leaders promised to do so but did not keep their promise. Finally Julian "set and announced a fair price for all goods." Perhaps it was to lower prices that he brought four hundred thousand kilograms of grain from other cities of Syria and Egypt there. The merchants protested that the prices set by Julian made profit impossible; then they secretly bought the imported grain and took it along with their goods to other cities; thus, the people of Antioch suddenly found themselves with plenty of money but no food. Then the people denounced Julian for his interference. The wits of Antioch mocked his beard and also his praise of the dead gods. He responded to them in a pamphlet called "The Beard-Haters," but his writing was not very worthy of an emperor in terms of grandeur and sarcasm. In this writing, with sarcasm and innuendo, he apologized for his beard and rebuked the people of Antioch for their audacity, frivolity, extravagance, moral corruption, and lack of interest in the Greek gods. The famous park of Daphne, which was once the sacred temple of Apollo, had turned into a pleasure resort; Julian ordered that entertainments there be stopped and the temple revived; this order had not yet been carried out when a fire destroyed that park. Julian, who considered the Christians responsible for this arson, closed the great church of Antioch and confiscated its property; several witnesses were tortured, and one priest was also sentenced to death. The only consolation for the emperor in Antioch was his "Feast of Reason" with Libanius.

Finally the army was ready, and in March 363 Julian began his campaign. He moved his forces across the Euphrates and then the Tigris; he pursued the Persians, who had begun to retreat, but was wearied by their "scorched earth" style of war, in which they set fire to the harvests while retreating, and his advance was almost halted; his soldiers occasionally reached the brink of famine and starvation. In this exhausting war the emperor displayed the best qualities of his command; he shared hardships with his men; he used a meager ration equal to or even less than theirs; he walked on foot in the heat and crossed streams; and in all battles he fought in the front line. Among his prisoners were young and beautiful Iranian women, but he respected their privacy and did not allow anyone to touch them. Under his capable leadership, his forces advanced to the gates of Ctesiphon and besieged it, but inability to provide food forced them to retreat. Shapur II chose two Iranian nobles, cut off their noses, and ordered them to go as fugitives to the Roman camp and complain of this flagrant injustice and lead Julian into the desert. The two obeyed; Julian trusted them and followed them with his army for 34 kilometers into a waterless and grassless desert. When he wanted to bring his soldiers out of this trap, he was attacked by a Persian force. This attack was repelled and the Persians fled. Julian, paying no attention to not wearing armor, pursued them at the head of his soldiers. A javelin was thrown into his side and pierced his liver. He fell from his horse and was taken to the tent. His doctors informed him that he had only a few hours left to live. Libanius claimed that the javelin had been thrown by a Christian, and later no one from the Persian soldiers was seen claiming the reward set for killing the emperor. Some Christians also, like Sozomen, confirmed Libanius's statement and praised that killer "who had performed that brave act for God and religion." The last scene of Julian's life (27 June 363) was similar to that of Socrates and Seneca. Ammianus says:

Julian, while lying on his bed, addressed his grieving friends and said: "Friends! It is very timely that I must leave this life, and I am glad that I return the soul to nature as it wishes." ... All those present wept and he, who even at that moment still maintained his composure, rebuked them and said it is not fitting to mourn the death of a ruler who has been called to unity with heaven and the stars. When these words silenced them, he engaged in a difficult discussion with the philosophers—Maximus and Priscus—about the status of the soul. Suddenly his side wound opened, blood pressure took his breath, and after drinking a sip of cold water that he had requested, he quietly died. At the time of his death he was thirty-two years old.¹

The Roman army, which was still in danger, needed leadership, and its leaders chose Jovian, the head of the imperial guard, for this position. The new emperor made peace with Iran by returning four of the five satrapies that Diocletian had taken from Iran seventy years earlier. Jovian did not persecute anyone but immediately transferred state support from pagan temples to the Church. The Christians of Antioch celebrated the death of the pagan emperor with public rejoicing. Nevertheless, most of the victorious Christian leaders advised Christians to forget past oppressions. Eleven centuries had to pass before Hellenism could again find an opportunity to express itself.