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 LIBRARY 
 
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THE 
 
 EMPEROR JULIAN 
 
 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY 
 
 WITH GENEALOGICAL, CHRONOLOGIC AL AND 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL APPEN^ICEST"'^ \ 
 
 BEING THE HULSEAN ESSAY FOR TH% ^W^^'^'l\ \\\ , 
 
 "^ ■x.york: J 
 
 ./ 
 
 GERALD HENRY RENDALL, M.A. 
 
 FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLF.aF., CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 DEIGHTON, BELL, AND CO. 
 
 LONirON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS. 
 
 1879 
 
PATRI CARISSIMO 
 
 CVI REFERO ACCEPTVM 
 
 SI QVID VEL POTVI VEL POTERO 
 
 HAS DEDICO PRIMITIAS 
 
 21689 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I OWE it to the indulgence of the Trustees of Mr Hulse's 
 benefaction that I have been enabled to mend and finish 
 much that was faulty and imperfect in this Essay as sub- 
 mitted more than two years ago to the Examiners. The 
 Introduction — which makes no pretension to research and 
 merely gathered up some thoughts suggested by preliminary 
 reading — has been abridged, and rigorously stripped of all 
 expansions and unnecessary illustrations. What remains of 
 it I have spared rather from tenderness for its prescriptive 
 right to appear in print than from any sense of its intrinsic 
 worth. The body of the work has been treated to pruning 
 here and readjustment there, and to more of augmentation 
 than either. I have not stinted fulness of treatment, more 
 sanguine of making my Essay thorough and true, than 
 popular or entertaining. Chapters ill. and vii, have been 
 so rewritten as to be almost new, and the same may be 
 said of much of the last Chapter. The Appendices, though 
 prepared in germ, were of course not inflicted upon the 
 first readers of the Essay, and aspire only to be serviceable 
 to this or that special student. 
 
 Ancient and modern authorities — as the closing Appendix 
 may attest — furnish wide fields for the student of Julian's 
 acts and motives. Through by far the greater part of these 
 I have found time and opportunity to roam. Much as I 
 am in debt to judgments passed by other minds on materials 
 open to all, I trust that no facts are now imported into this 
 Essay which do not find warrant in the pages of the old 
 writers. Whatever in the first scramble of Prize Essay 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 writing I jotted down at second hand, I have since been 
 able to verify, and according to its proper weight and con- 
 text co-ordinate or exclude. References to the prime au- 
 thorities — to Julian's own works in the margin, to the 
 writings of others in the foot-notes— I have appended 
 freely, but — except where conscious of a direct debt in 
 thought or expression — have not been at ill-spent pains to 
 multiply corroborative citations from later critics. 
 
 Two hundred years ago the Apostate's career furnished 
 English Pamphleteers with food for piquant and voluminous 
 controversy. A century has run since the great author of 
 Tlie Decline and Fall compiled his masterly narration of 
 Julian's successes and failures : it must remain the wonder 
 and despair of rivals. It seems indeed to have scared com- 
 petitors from the field. French brilliance, German thought, 
 Danish imagination have all had their say, but Gibbon's 
 countrymen have honoured their greatest by silence. It 
 needed some external impiilse to call out a successor, and 
 a gentle violence to drive him into print. I can only be 
 grateful that Alma Mater has supplied both incentives for 
 work that has been full of pleasure in the execution. 
 
 To De Broglie preeminently among Frenchmen, to 
 Neander, to Miicke, to Strauss, and in a less degree to 
 Rode, Semisch and the like among Germans, I tender 
 thanks for the suggestive labours of which I have reaped 
 the fruits, the value and helpfulness of which I inadequately 
 requite by this general acknowledgment. 
 
 I must close with thanking my friend and brother-fellow 
 Rev. V. H. Stanton of Trinity College for his kindness in 
 reading my proofs as they passed the Press, and aiding me 
 with wise corrections and suggestions. 
 
 G. H. R. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Intboducxion pages 1 — 22 
 
 CHAPTEE I. PAGE 
 
 BeligiouB Policy of Oonstautme and Constantius 25 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Juliaji'B Boyhood, YoutLi, Education, and Ca3sai'8hip ... ... .. 35 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 Neo-Platonism 62 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Julian's Theology 74 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Julian's Idea of Religion ... ... ... 103 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Julian's Personal Religion ... .. ... ... ... ... 127 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Julian's Administration 150 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Persecution under Julian ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 176 
 
 Section I. Acts of Persecution, p. 176—203. 
 Section II. Educational Policy, p. 203—216. 
 Section III. Estimates of Julian, p. 216—227. 
 
xu 
 
 Julian and Christianity 
 
 Julian and Hellenism 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 228 
 
 240 
 
 Vioisti Galilaee ! 264 
 
 Appendix A. Genealogical Table of the family of Constantius Chlorus 280 
 
 Appendix B. Chronological Tables of Ji;lian's life 281 
 
 Appendix C. Synopsis of Literature upon Julian 291 
 
INTEODUCTION. 
 
 /col. COLL. 
 
 i IJBRAin 
 
 XVYORrC 
 
 R. E. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 § 1. Boman Religion. 
 
 The birth of Christ sounded the knell of Paganism, Though Inteoduc- 
 
 from distant and despised Judoea the wailing of the ban- ' 
 
 shee was inaudible to Roman Paganism, at almost the same Homan 
 time the ancient religion of Rome underwent a final revolu- ^'^ '^'^'"' 
 tion. Old faiths had long been refluent. At the close of the 
 Republic they were abandoned and replaced by new. The 
 inauguration of the Empire of Rome synchronizes in some 
 sort, and by no means accidentally, with an abdication of Em- 
 pire by the old gods. Amid the varying types of Paganism, 
 representing sometimes Greek sestheticism, sometimes Scy- 
 thian savagery, sometimes Oriental sensuousness, sometimes 
 Egyptian repose, it had been the pride of Roman Paganism 1. patri- 
 to be above all else patriotic. Lacking the exuberant rich- ° ^'^ 
 ness of Hellenic art and poetry, spurning alike the mystic 
 piety and the voluptuous self-abandonment of the hot East, 
 it strove with characteristic earnestness and consistency to 
 be intensely national, . Even before the Republic fell the 
 power and the genius of the primitive religion died utterly 
 out. Rome haughty, self-reliant, mistress of the world, 
 needed no longer the aid of gods to win her victories ; the 
 soul of Roman religion had evaporated, and the young 
 Empire proclaimed its disappearance. Before imperialism 
 and cosmopolitanism the very conception of patriotism had 
 withered : it could not breathe or live in that atmosphere. 
 
 Next after being patriotic Roman religion had been 2. moral. 
 moral : it had personified (such was its one effort of imagi- 
 
 1—2 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IsTRoDuc- nation) the moral virtues, and set tlicse personified abstrac- 
 ^Z^" tions to superintend every sphere and occupation of life. 
 But in an age of much superficial culture and still more 
 of vast material civilisation, bringing with it luxury and 
 enervation and their habitual concomitants widespread social 
 and personal immorality, the homeliness and simplicity 
 of the old faith had been abandoned. Faith, early cramped 
 by the pedantry of a fatuous theology, had first degenerated 
 into formalism, and tlien fallen an easy prey to rationalism, 
 scepticism or all-pervading Hellenism. As a system of faith 
 extinct, as an agent of morality powerless, as a lever of 
 patriotism decayed, it was chiefly as a political mechanism 
 that the ancient religion survived. Augur could not face 
 augur without a smile, but neither was the worse augur for 
 that. The old forms were of service still. They subsisted on 
 the strength of their weakness. They were too harmless to 
 evoke opposition : they were too useful to invite abandon- 
 ment. They answered their purpose sufficiently well, and to 
 supply their place would have been tiresome. 
 
 Imperial- To the consolidation of Imperial government corresponded 
 
 i?'"**!"^ a consolidation, so to say, of State religion. We are as- 
 Rdiqwus "^ . . 
 
 Revival, tonished to find Augustus actually takmg m hand a religious 
 
 revival ; and emperor after emperor follows in his suit. 
 Strange to say, when religion seemed most dead, there was a 
 general restoration of temples, a new importance attached to 
 worship and ceremonial, a higher regard for the sacred offices, 
 Nature ^ refreshed reverence paid to the Gods. This did not mean 
 of the ^\y^^^ i\^Q old faith was repossessing its lost dominion, but 
 that a revolution in religion had occurred. Achieved facts 
 received recognition, and religion was openly remodelled in 
 accordance with their teaching. Imperial religion presents 
 as necessary and violent a contrast to the religion of primi- 
 tive Rome, as Imperialism itself to senatorial rule. Its sole 
 unity was of a political character. The Emperor's power 
 needed every support that it could find, and religion promised 
 to be one of the most valuable. It was effective as a police 
 agent ; it could be conveniently turned to a moral purpose, 
 where policy and morality went hand in hand ; and in a few 
 
INTRODUCTIOX. •"> 
 
 cases its time-honoured prerogatives enabled it to discharge iNxr.optrc- 
 as effectively and less offensively a censorship which required — ' 
 something more than a statutory sanction. When the 
 monarch became the fountain-head of law and authority, 
 religion contributed its quota to his elevation. It was not 
 enough that the Emperor should be Pontifex Maximus, the 
 head of the religion ; not enough that a lineal connexion 
 should be established between the mythical Gods and the 
 Imperial house ; the Emperor was made the object of 
 religion as well. The deification of the Emperors proved a 
 project as happy in result as it was audacious in conception. 
 It was no w^onder that Emperors should foster religion which, 
 more than anything else, conferred on them a prestige 
 literally supernatural. In a manner, too, religion by this 
 very step retained in a changed dress its old characteristic of 
 nationality. Patriotism proper had of course died out ; cos- 
 mopolitanism had transformed it into submission instead of 
 self-sacrifice ; loyalty to the State had become obedience to 
 " the Emperor. As patriotism has been the ruling element in 
 the old religion, so in the new the key-stone of the whole 
 was reverence clustering round the person of the Emperor. 
 
 But the fossilisation of the old State religion, and its vir- Provision 
 tual abandonment of all religious pretensions, could not kill tiie ous needs. 
 religious instinct. That remained active as ever, and needed 
 to be provided for. This was done in the simplest and at 
 the same time most comprehensive way, by giving it free 
 scope. Every trace of the old jealous exclusiveness was for- 
 gotten. Just as the constitution of Rome swelled from city to 
 state and from state to world-embracing empire, so religion 
 became as broadly cosmopolitan as the Empire itself. Hence- 
 forth Roman Paganism loses all unity except that of political 
 allegiance already described. Strictly speaking it does not 
 admit of treatment as a single whole. It breaks into innu- 
 merable forms of faith and worship, which alike by their 
 complexity and independence defy analysis. But this multi- 
 tudinous assemblage of creeds was constantly subjected to 
 the action of various forces, intellectual, emotional, spiritual 
 and mystical, the general drift of which can be roughly 
 
O INTRODUCTION. 
 
 iNTnoDtJc- measured and traced. This we Avill attempt to do, at least 
 TioN, -^ ^i^g ^^gg ^£ those which bore most directly on the state 
 of things preceding the era of Julian. 
 
 Stoidsm. 
 
 Its cha- 
 racter. 
 
 § 2. Philosophies Old and New. 
 
 The intellectual currents of the time are mirrored in the 
 fortunes of the more conspicuous schools of philosophy. 
 Stoicism has first claim upon our attention. It produced its 
 noblest representatives from a soil with so little outward 
 promise as the Empire. Almost alone among the sages of 
 antiquity, does Marcus Aurelius, the Roman Emperor, 
 with Epictetus, the Roman slave, deserve the epithet of 
 'holy,' not unjustly accorded by Pagans to his colleague and 
 father-in-law Antoninus. 
 
 The influence of Stoicism was necessarily very partial : 
 it was congenial only to the narrow circle of minds of a tone 
 so pure and elevated and self-sufficing as to cherish virtue 
 for the innate love and reverence they had for it. Through 
 them it influenced others, but indirectly and imperfectly. For 
 Stoicism, aiming at perfect airadeia, and inculcating an ideal 
 of unapproached severity, provided neither lever nor fulcrum 
 to lift earth-bound souls to the ' toppling heights of duty ' 
 set before them. On the religious side it never soared 
 like Platonism, for its conception of religion was limited to 
 Defects of duty and conduct. Neither transporting the emotions, nor 
 kindling the imagination, it failed in effectiveness of appeal 
 to the individual and unregenerate soul : it could not work 
 conversions. Its thinly masked materialism, its pantheistic 
 degradation of the deity, its dreary fatalism, all combined 
 with its forbidding severity to narrow and restrict its influence, 
 It was, and was found out to be, wanting. It imparted to 
 the best of its disciples a profound undertone of sadness and 
 desolation. True it nerved a Thrasea Paetus here and a 
 Helvidius Prisons there, fired a Lucan or embittered a 
 Persius, but it never, for good or for evil, so much as touched 
 the common crowd. For them it was useless. It provided 
 no personal God ; it offered no explanation of pain or misery 
 
 Stoicism. 
 
INTEODUCTION. 7 
 
 or present evil ; it promised no release from sin, no mode of iNTnoDrc 
 sanctification ; it enunciated that he who offended in one '^^' 
 point was guilty of all ; and yet in its entire annals it could 
 not find' one ideal wise man to satisfy the requirements of 
 its law, and be the exemplar of them that came after : finally, 
 it cut off hope in denying imraortality^ For such defects not 
 even its lofty universalism could atone. 
 
 The first centuries of the Christian era show Stoicism Transfor- 
 becoming forlornly conscious of its own inadequacy. It ^f**?"." °f 
 ceased either to originate or refute. Its constructive and 
 scholastic age alike were past. Wearied with fruitless dis- 
 putation, hopeless of a sound criterion of truth, baffled or 
 else satisfied in its researches into nature, it elaborated no 
 further its treatises on formal logic or metaphysics, abstained 
 from multiplying or exploding new theories of physics, and 
 devoted itself to ethics alone. Facere docet 2-)liiloso}}hia noii 
 dicere, 'Conduct not theory is the end of philosophy,' Avrites 
 Seneca; while Musonius, in the same spirit, reduced philo- 
 sophy to the simplest moral teachings. Even here it had no 
 heart to argue longer, and refine upon the relations or inter- 
 dependence of differing forms of virtue. In an age of flat 
 unbelief and timorous superstition, of hopeless dissatisfaction 
 and of passionate longing after securer truth, Stoicism despair- 
 ingly conscious of universal and increasing degeneracy, fruit- 
 lessly battling against sin within and without, ceased to 
 teach didactically, and wearily addressed itself to preach its 
 gospel of sad tidings, or sadly to commune with its own soul 
 and be still. Its very sternness became strangely and wist- 
 fully indulgent towards human frailty. Its great doctors Stoic 
 become homilists or devotional writers, throwing themselves 'P^^^^'^^^^O- 
 with vehemence or tenderness or importunate appeal upon 
 the promptings of man's inner self, not endeavouring to con- 
 
 1 In despair it sometimes cited Cato (Zeller, Stoics &c., p. 257 n.), or 
 again Antoninus. Cf. Merivale, Boyle Lectures, p. 9G. 
 
 ^ So at least earlier Stoics; and so too, to the popular understanding at 
 any rate, M. Aiu'elius; tliough the convergence of Stoicism towards 
 Platonism, represented by Seneca, taught a future life with Purgatory and 
 Elysium, and indeed a quasi-immorlality. Zeller, Stoics EpicureaJis and 
 Sceptics, pp. 206—209. 
 
8 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 iNTROBrC- 
 TION. 
 
 Stoicism 
 and Pa- 
 gallium. 
 
 Stoicism 
 arid Chris 
 tianity. 
 
 Mnrcxis 
 Aurelius, 
 
 vince the intellect but to move the heart. In its old age 
 Stoicism fathomed new deeps in its vaunted " conformity to 
 nature." 
 
 To Paganism Stoicism was not antagonistic. It did 
 indeed in its esoteric teaching scornfully reject the current 
 mythologies, and deny the efficacy of prayer or ceremonial 
 worship, but even here, by virtue of free allegorizing of 
 ancient myths, of faith in prophecy dreams and divination (to 
 which a doctrine of predestination was made to lend some 
 rational support), and of belief in Balfjiove<; and guardian 
 genii, the Stoic philosopher found various points of approxi- 
 mation to the popular beliefs. In its exoteric utterances 
 however it went far beyond this. In the supposed interests 
 of morality Stoicism pertinaciously upheld existing modes of 
 faith and worship, and strove to confirm by a religious sanc- 
 tion individual conscientiousness and public virtue. Thus 
 Marcus Aurelius, an Agnostic as regards his personal con- 
 victions, was yet as Emperor careful to observe all ancestral 
 religious rites : and this not from simple indifference or 
 sheer hypocrisy. The Stoic Pantheist discerned in Polytheism 
 the popular expression of his own more enlightened Pan- 
 theism, and believed that the manifold Gods of the heathen 
 were but partial, and, as it were, fractional representations 
 of the unknown One, whom he had learned dimly to 
 apprehend. 
 
 Towards Christianity, in so far as it differentiated that 
 ■religion from other cults, Stoicism felt very differently. 
 When in the person of Antoninus Stoicism mounted the 
 throne of the world, both from the vigorous supj)ression of 
 malicious sycophants, and from the tolerance accorded to the 
 most pronounced Scepticism, the Christians hoped much. 
 But neither petitions nor complaints availed to justify their 
 expectations. Under the just and gentle sway of Marcus 
 Aurelius persecution waxed fiercer than before. Martyrdoms 
 for the first time became numerous : torture apparently was 
 now first employed to enforce apostasy. The records of the 
 churches of Smyrna, of Lyons, of Autun, and of Vienne all 
 testify the same tale. The ribald calumnies of detractors, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 and the defiant taunts of Christian Apologists, may have Introcuc- 
 whetted the philosopher's dislike, but from the first Christi- '^^' 
 anity must have roused his aversion rather than his sym- 
 pathy. The stern Stoic could have little tenderness for these 
 stubborn and rebellious nonconformists. In favour of their 
 religion they could claim neither the ancestral sanction of 
 Paganism, nor the j)rescriptive liberties of philosophic 
 Scepticism. It was an impertinence for ignorant rustics and 
 untaught artisans obstinately, contemptuously to spurn rites 
 to which the cultivated philosopher yielded at least outward 
 respect. Stoicism, in spirit if not in theory, was too exclu- 
 sive and aristocratic to suffer common folk to share that 
 intellectual freedom, that elevated atheism, which was the 
 monopoly of the initiated few. Of the inward purity and 
 loftiness of Christian morality Stoicism knew nothing ; the 
 inscrutable courage and resolution imparted by it was im- 
 puted to sheer perversity^; while the irrepressible Schwdr- 
 merei of Christians, their enthusiasm and fanaticism, their 
 infatuation and aggressiveness, their superstition and their 
 bigotry, were as repulsive as they were unaccountable to 
 the Stoic. 
 
 Epicureanism — and a wide latitude may be accorded to Epicure- 
 the term — deserves consideration next. In numbers, it dis- "'"«'"• 
 tanced Stoicism hopelessly : no philosoj)hy was so popular; it 
 seemed to many the only philosopliy that could strictly be 
 said to survived Intellectually however it was in stagnation. 
 Throughout the Imperial epoch it produced not one exponent 
 of first or even second-rate capacity. In his auction of phi- 
 losophers Lucian lets Epicurus go for two minae: Sceptics 
 and Cynics alone fetch a lower price. For many years before 
 Julian's accession Epicureanism was the one historic school 
 unrepresented amid the chairs of Athens University. The 
 inspired intensity of its great poet-apostle had rapidly burnt 
 out. Men cared as little for the Atomic Theory, as the Gods 
 of Epicurus cared for men. Epicureans, like Stoics, aban- 
 doned physics and metaphysics, and found no ethics worth 
 
 ^ Kara. \j/i\r]v Trapdra^iv, iIis oi HpioTtavoi. — M. Aui'cl. Medit. XI. 3. 
 2 DioK. Laert. x. 9. 
 
10 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 iNTRODro- teaching; dilettantes, with a thin veneer of spurious Hellenism, 
 _J anxiously flattering themselves that they lived after some 
 theory, they enlisted under Epicureanism as giving the most 
 comfortable account of this life and the most absolute assur- 
 ance that there was no life to come. As tutors, rhetoricians, 
 barristers and wits they leavened society. 
 Epicure- Epicureanism derived much amusement from attacks on 
 
 FaZnUm *^^® popular religion. It derided its superstitions, chuckled 
 over its immoralities, and poked fun at its Gods. In the 
 abandoned flippancy of its attacks it proves how completely 
 religion had lost its hold on the upper classes of society. It 
 did not attempt any semblance of reconstruction ; for by the 
 Epicurean the religious instinct was declared not to exist, 
 and where created or inculcated to be bad and deserving of 
 eradication alone. By exposing charlatanism, jeering at faith 
 and ridiculing enthusiasm, he served partly to discredit, and 
 still more to debase sinking Paranism. 
 Eincurc- Against Christianity Epicureanism felt no peculiar spite. 
 
 ChrSti-"^ Christians were possibly more simple and gullible than other 
 anitij. denominations, but apart from that were well-meaning good- 
 natured people, by no means adapted to make much stir in 
 the world. 
 Scepti- The Sceptic Philosophy proper was 'far too sterile and 
 
 cisvi. negative to be widely influential under the Empire or at any 
 other time. Still small coteries went on thrashing chaff and 
 demonstrating doubt, the certainty and desirability of which 
 Sextus Empiricus among others syllogised in formal tropes, 
 with the solitaiy flaw that logical demonstration was by his 
 own showing proved impossible. Of dogmatic theology, 
 Pagan Hellenistic or Christian, they said as of other things, 
 that God and belief in God were equally probable, equally 
 true, and equally untrue as any other hypothesis. 
 Neto Syx- Such is the unattractive spectacle presented by the old 
 
 philosophies. It is no marvel that efforts were made after 
 new systems. From the inauguration of the Empire, and 
 even earlier. Eclecticism — witness from very different sides 
 Seneca and Lucian — was everywhere rampant. The new 
 philosophies — if theosophies is not the more appropriate 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 appellation — were eclectic attempts to harmonise more Intel- Inteoduo- 
 
 ,. , P . 1 1 TION. 
 
 ligently faith and reason. — 
 
 Of these sects the Neo-Pythagoreans need very passing Neo-Py- 
 mention ; they endeavoured to reconcile polytheistic beliefs J^^^^jf*^''"'"' 
 and practices with the transcendental conception of a supreme 
 Being too exalted to be honoured by sacrifices or named in 
 words, and only to be dimly apprehended by pure reason as 
 darkly prefigured or occultly manifested in the mystic symbols 
 and numbers of Pythagoreanism. 
 
 A kindred but less abortive attempt presents itself in Piatonism. 
 revived Piatonism. The School of Plutarch, Apuleius, Galen, 
 Celsus and Numenius flourished until merged in third- 
 century Neo-Platonism. Men of piety conjoined with culture, 
 dissatisfied alike with vulgar superstitions and with current 
 intellectual negations, they sought in the defaced traditions 
 of antiquity a record of the primitive revelation vouchsafed 
 to man. With this view national beliefs were reverently but 
 closely scrutinised. The result was the recognition of a 
 supreme eternal invisible God, pure and passionless, and also 
 of the immortality of the soul, whose proper aim was moral 
 assimilation to God. Subordinate to the supreme deity were 
 ranged superhuman powers and activities, who controlled the 
 forces of nature, and regulated the affairs of men. Beneath 
 these again were unnumbered haiixove^;, peopling the universe 
 and the intermundia, the authors of health and sickness, weal 
 and woe : to them it was that prayers and sacrifices were 
 offered, as the appointed mediators between God and man. 
 
 The truth of religion in Plutarch's view was irrefragably Plutarch. 
 proved by the testimony of antiquity, by the evidences of 
 prophecy and oracles, by miracles of mercy and visitations 
 of judgment, by the efficacy of prayer and the revelations of 
 the inner consciousness. He appealed alike to historical 
 evidence and to individual experience. His sympathies were 
 singularly wide : he gladly recognised the soul of goodness in 
 the thousand creeds and formulas of Paganism. Amid all the 
 characteristic diversities of development he pointed to the 
 central and animating truth which they with more or less 
 of faithfulness represented. By their aid he strove to recon- 
 
1 2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IxTRODuc- cilc the supernatural with the rational, disarming the infidel 
 — 1' by the same argument with which he refuted superstition. 
 " The true priest of Isis is he who, having been taught by 
 law the rites and ceremonies that pertain unto the Gods, 
 examines the same by reason and philosophises on the truth 
 that they enshrine \" These principles he faithfully ajiplied 
 to the fabric of existing religions. Omens, for instance, were 
 defended by a theory of predestination, a kind of ordered or 
 pre-arranged harmony whereby for the believer the signs 
 were brought into correspondence with the event signified. 
 The eccentricities and imperfections of prophecies and oracular 
 verses, out of which scoffers made great capital, were ac- 
 counted for by distinguishing between what has been called 
 dynamic and mechanical inspiration. ' Not the language, 
 nor the tone nor the expression nor the measure of the verse 
 proceeds from the God ; — all this comes from the woman. 
 God but supplies the intuition and kindles in the soul a light 
 for that which is to come.' Similarly the rationale of prayer, 
 that is the converse of man with God, was to be found in its 
 subjective effect. Images could only be defended as repre- 
 sentations and reminders of the invisible deities, and such 
 indeed in their origin they were, until an idle superstition 
 perverted them from symbols into actual gods. 
 
 Thus there was at least one philosophy, which assailed 
 the rationalism of Euhemerus and the atheistic materialism 
 of Epicurus as sincerely and unsparingly as it denounced the 
 credulity of superstition; which recognised in infidelity the 
 counterpart and twin brother of superstition ; and which 
 endeavoured to enlist against both the higher promptings 
 alike, of reason and of conscience. But while philosophy 
 timidly conserved old faiths, or despondently proffered bare 
 negations, the religious instincts of men carved for themselves 
 more convenient channels in which to flow. 
 
 ^ riut. To 2»'icstess of Isis, c. in. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 1 3 
 
 8 8. Hellenism and Mystery Worship. Introdtjc- 
 
 Greek religion, originally derived from the East, had lldlomm. 
 wholly changed the conceptions from which it took its origin. 
 Repelled artistically by the grotesque ugliness of Phoenician 
 religion both in its inward conceptions and outward repre- 
 sentations, too full of joyfulness to bear with the cruelties of 
 a Moloch worship or offerings of human blood, the Greek 
 genius with a splendid imaginativeness recast the whole of 
 its religion in an anthropomorphic mould. By a series of 
 magnificent metamorphoses it repudiated a debased Fetichism, 
 and substituted a graceful anthropolatry. As Egypt and the 
 East were the home of symbol-worship, Greece was the 
 nursery of myths. Such as they were, teeming with grace 
 and beauty and gladness, yet as a religion destitute enough 
 of moral elevation or depth of insight, Greek forms of belief 
 attained a strong external and literary hold upon the people 
 who professed them. 
 
 From its defects as a religion hardly less than its merits Its adain- 
 as a mythology, Hellenism possessed unique power of adapta- " '^ ' 2/- 
 tion to the taste or instincts of foreign nations. Everywhere 
 commended by the supreme intellectual ascendancy of the 
 Greek mind, everywhere communicated by the conquests of 
 Alexander, it eventually not only naturalised itself in the 
 religion of Rome, but spread from town to town throughout 
 the East, from the shrine of Jupiter at Ammon or Venus at 
 Dendera to the mouths of the Danube and Borysthenes, or the 
 banks of the Indus and Jaxartes, until "EXX-T^i^e? became in 
 the East the generic name for Pagans. Sometimes supplant- 
 ing, sometimes transfiguring, sometimes combining with pre- 
 existing faiths, Hellenism triumphed gloriously. But having 
 neither moral depth nor historical foundation, it was as a 
 religion helpless in battling against Scepticism. It yielded 
 on the intellectual ground after strangely ineffective pretences 
 at resistance, and fell back for influence and self-main- 
 tenance on the innate richness of its mythology, the wealth 
 of its literature, the products of its art, the beauty and joy- 
 
1 1 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Introdtjc- ousncss of its cults. These were calculated to command 
 ^' every admiration short of worship), from high and low to- 
 gether, 
 Mystenj. The moral and religious element, which had disappeared 
 
 on up. fj^.Qj^^ Roman and had scarcely found a ^^lace in Greek reli- 
 gion, was supplied by the mysticism of the East. The 
 irreligious religion of Greece had been from the first sup- 
 plemented by various forms of mystery-worship, and the 
 more as its failure to meet the religious instinct of men 
 Its rela- became increasingly apparent. The Greeks, we have seen, 
 \'irelk^^^^ reconstructed their mother religions on an anthropomorphic 
 religion, basis ; pretty and captivating as was the result, it necessarily 
 fell, so far as its truth was concerned, before the advances of 
 philosophy and science, though the beauty of the design 
 secured it to the last wide popularity alike from the literary 
 side and from that of external observance. But the spiritual 
 side having fallen into abeyance, the parent religion began 
 forthwith either Kronos-like to devour its own offspring, or 
 else harmoniously to adopt it as partner of the same hearth 
 With and home. Roman religion, on the other hand, with its 
 reUgion. deeply religious sense, forbade all mystery-worship, and for 
 long successfully kept it at bay : as Roman faith failed, and 
 became enfeebled in moral aspiration and ideals, various 
 forms of mysteries began to intrude. Full license was not 
 accorded, until the public renunciation of national faith was 
 formally announced in the deification of the Emperors, and 
 the public advertisement given that the old gods were de- 
 funct. Plain folk could no longer believe in state Gods, when 
 asked to recognise in the person of Csesar a God, a priest, an 
 atheist all in one. The declaration of atheism was so ex- 
 plicit, that gods had to be sought elsewhere. 
 Groicth At a time when the oracles were wholly dumb, and faith 
 
 Uonof"^' burned very low, when men looked fondly back to 'the dear 
 
 Mystery- dead light' of at least a sincere Paganism, when they saw the 
 V/orsliiv, . CD ' J 
 
 dishonoured corpse of the old faith, for all its splendid 
 
 trappings, simply the mark of ridicule and insult, when poor 
 
 souls all the world over, utterly to seek for a Saviour or an 
 
 exemplar or a divine voice of guidance, groped in darkness, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 what wonder that at such a time mystery- worship grew iNinoDrc- 
 rampant ? The mysteries of Mithras, Isis, and Serapis, the _1" 
 strange rites of Tauroholia and Krioholia with their mystic 
 interment of the neophyte and baptism of blood, professed at 
 least to unveil the secrets of the hidden world, and supply a 
 link between the unseen and the seen. Reinterpreting the 
 ancient myths probably in a pantheistic sense, they at least 
 averred that the world was not wholly forsaken of God, and 
 in symbolic deed and word set forth the hope of immortality. 
 In some particulars they furnish a strange and hardly 
 accidental parody of the most sacred mysteries of Chris- 
 tianity. Not only was a long and painful preliminary train- 
 ing required of the catechumens of Mithras, the initiation of 
 water, of fire, of fasting, and of penance, whereby as in the 
 Christian Church the initiated {reketoi) might become first 
 hearers, then worshippers, then illuminated or elect, and so 
 pass into the body corporate of those admitted to the full 
 esoteric revelation, but there were more direct imitations of 
 Christian rites. There Avas baptism for the purification of 
 sins, the unction of holy oil for the sanctification of life, and 
 the oblation of bread and wine to serve as the bond of 
 brotherhood. 
 
 But coupled with these rites were baser forms of worship. Its immo- 
 pandering to curious and diseased superstition. Magic, '"'^' 
 miraculous phenomena, invocation of the dead, visible appari- 
 tions of spiritual powers, were the unfailing accompaniment 
 of all modes of mystery-worship. These brought in their 
 train not only soothsaying and magic, demonolatry and necro- 
 mancy, and all the arts called black, but came with their j)lague 
 of lice as well as their plague of darkness : lewd and abomin- 
 able rites, foul phallic emblems were employed to stimulate 
 and satisfy the cravings of diseased minds. Thus shamefully 
 prostituting the higher mission that they undertook, they at 
 once degraded the intellect and polluted the soul. 
 
unity. 
 
 1 G INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Inteoduc- § 4. Christianity. 
 
 TION. 
 
 ms77f Amid the fatigue of old faiths and philosophies, the 
 
 chrisii- tcdious travail of new systems, and the invasion of pernicious 
 superstitions, one only, faith philosophy or superstition, 
 pressed steadily forward. Confounded at first with Judaism, 
 Christianity soon shook itself free, and set out on its career of 
 progress. It shunned publicity ; it did not court the notice of 
 the educated or the powerful; yet at the opening of the second 
 century, even high officials became aware that there was 'a 
 new superstition' abroad in the world; so novel indeed in 
 kind, so strangely inoffensive and staid, so suspiciously loving 
 and worshipful, as to call for the wisdom of an emperor' fitly 
 to discountenance it. Its devotees were pronounced so far 
 unblameable as to deserve punishment only when prosecuted, 
 not inquisition for prosecution's sake. The next emperor'' 
 has ascended the throne, and Christianity is found to have 
 made a new step in advance. The new religion is infecting 
 the wise as well as the foolish ; is adopting a philosophic 
 guise, is entering the field of literature, and pressing for at 
 least a fair hearing of its claims. Christianity denounced as 
 atheistic, as revolutionary, as immoral, busily refutes these 
 charges. It is the age of the Apologists. Gradually it aban- 
 dons defence; the calumnies have become too stupid and flat to 
 deserve reply; and Christian writers are engaged in co-ordi- 
 nating Christian truth and doctrine with the lore of philoso- 
 phers and the varied wisdom of the past. Christianity 
 is in contact with the court; bishops are presented; Christian 
 teachers are in correspondence with the Imperial family; nay/'V 
 the Emperor himself is suspected of leanings towards the 
 religion I A very few years more, and Christianity is a 
 recognised^ cult existing under Imperial sanction and legal 
 protection. The rulers® of the Church have become influential 
 potentates, with whom it is no condescension for courts to 
 
 1 Sc. Trajan. 2 Hadrian. 
 
 3 Cf. Origon's correspondence with Mamniaea; with the Emperor Thiliji, 
 his wife and mother. 
 
 * Edict of Gallienus. » E.g. Paul of Samosata. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 intrigue. Not many years later we find the principal places Introduc- 
 in court about the Imperial person filled by Christians, amid ^^"^ ' 
 whom are numbered the Emperor's wife and sister, and from 
 whose ranks the shrewd Diocletian selects his own most 
 confidential servants. Even numerically, Christianity at the 
 accession of Constantine was the professed religion of a tithe 
 of the inhabitants of the Empire. 
 
 Such in most rapid outline was its external progress: let 
 us examine its relations to current religion, to society and to 
 the State. 
 
 Paganism in its later stages has no more characteristic Christi- 
 
 feature than the carelessness and prodigality of its poly- Pagaidsm 
 
 theism. The spirit of cosmopolitanism, inaugurated by Pagan 
 
 Caesar and consummated in the Edict of Caracalla, affected ^'^^''^f'^'o^'- 
 
 ' tanism. 
 
 religion no less than all other parts of thought and life. 
 Free-trade in religion was alike a recognised theory and an 
 accomplished fact. It was a quite antiquated proceeding to 
 chain the guardian gods to the walls of the beleaguered city. 
 Greek enterprise conveyed with it the national gods to 
 favour the disposition of its wares, and in return transported 
 home the deities of the countries where it dealt. At the 
 great centres of commerce, Alexandria, Antioch, and the like, 
 there lived side by side the strangest medley of heterogeneous 
 gods: — gods of all origins, gods of all shapes and sizes, gods 
 of all sexes and colours, found equal honour or dishonour 
 from crowds of speculative worshij)pers. Athens, the city of 
 temples, for fear of forgetting some one, reared altars to the 
 unknown gods. Rome solved the same problem by build- 
 ing the Pantheon. Such was the religious universalism of 
 the day. The rival religions, prompted whether by generosity 
 or indifferentism or the shrewdness of self-interest, conspired 
 as a rule to favour and abet each other. One only excited Paganism 
 universal opposition. Priests and false prophets at least, if ^" ".'"'"'^ 
 none otlier, recognised the radical antagonism of Christianity Christi- 
 to their pretensions. 'If thei'e is any atheist, Christian or "'" ^' 
 Epicurean here present, let him be cast out\' 'No Christian 
 admitted' was on the door of their sanctuaries. 
 
 1 Lucian Ah:r. § 38. 
 R. E. 2 
 
18 INTBODUCTION. 
 
 Introduc- Such was the obvious attitude for Pagan Clergy towards 
 
 '^^' the new religion. To which side did public opinion incline? 
 
 Chnsti- Unpopularity beyond a doubt was one of the trials which 
 
 aiiiti/ and i i j j . . 
 
 ruhiic the early Christians were called to face. Again and again 
 Opiiiiun. ^^ were the first victims of any general dissatisfaction. 
 iiritij of Not merely does Nero select them as the most agreeable 
 anityl''' sacrifices to popular rage ; but if there was a plague, or an 
 earthquake, an eruption or an eclipse, a famine or a fire, if 
 the Tiber overflowed its banks or the Nile did not, the 
 populace cried out, ' The Christians to the lions.' The 
 jealousies of Pagan priests and mystagogues, the imperilled 
 interests of certain classes of artisans and employes account 
 in part for this : but still more the character and efiect of the 
 religion itself. Atheism was a charge no less natural than 
 damaging. The fanaticism, eccentricity and apparent mo- 
 roseness of Christians made fatally against them. The ex- 
 travagance of individuals, for instance as criminals at the 
 bar or as soldiers called on to take the military oath, 
 discredited their faith : and dark charges of nightly license 
 and strange sorceries of blood easily fanned prejudice into 
 persecution. It was little by little and very slowly that the 
 sterling virtue of Christians disarmed calumny and enforced 
 respect. It cannot be safely said that before the time of 
 Diocletian Christianity had ceased to be unpopular. But 
 one among other things proved by his persecution is its 
 strength in the affections of the people. 
 Christian- The treatment of Christianity by the State is quite 
 ity and the another question. Religious persecution was an idea alto- 
 gether alien to the genius of the Roman Empire. Incidentally, 
 to be sure, to suppress patriotism or bridle some dangerous 
 and ruling hierarchy, it might become necessary; but such 
 persecution was political not religious. Rational polytheism 
 naturally if not necessarily assumes the validity of other forms 
 of belief. The State did not profess any exclusive religious 
 belief : the gods of each newly-conquered nation were duly 
 catalogued without remonstrance among divinities: Olympus 
 was open to all comers without competitive examination. 
 Nay, it did not profess even a particular cult. In the solemn 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 religious festival preceding the Marcomannic War Marcus Introduc- 
 Aurelius sent for priests from all quarters and of all cults, ^i^" 
 that all the gods might go with his arms. Rome attributed 
 half her success to her impartial treatment of all deities. 
 Universal Empire was the due guerdon of universalism in 
 religion. The persecutions of Nero and Domitian sprang it Pen^ecu- 
 would seem out of mere caprice and malice. These excepted, p",^ors"'^' 
 it is those emperors who first descried the social and j^oUtical 
 powers and perils latent in Christianity, in other words the 
 wisest and the most far-sighted, a Trajan, a Hadrian, or a 
 Marcus Aurelius, who head the roll of reasoning consistent 
 persecutors. The commonest test imposed on recusant Chris- 
 tians was the essentially political, though nominally religious 
 test of sacrifice to the genius of the Emperor. Persecution Gradual 
 naturally enough grows more violent and more systematic in yo^axw- 
 proportion as the politico-social jiower of Christianity is secution. 
 gradually realised. When Christianity was a provincial and 
 plebeian affair, Trajan's gentle and limited persecution 
 rescript is put forward as a remedy for local troubles and 
 disaffection s. Hadrian's edict bears the same impress; it is 
 a salutary, if painful antidote, to relieve the pressure of local 
 pain. Antoninus Pius explicitly ordains that Christians are 
 to be punished when convicted of political crimes; while 
 whoever accused them on the score of religion was liable to 
 prosecution. In Marcus Aurelius there is more of settled 
 dislike and consistent suppression. We are informed, he 
 writes, that the laivs are violated by those called Christians ; 
 let them be arrested and punished with divers tortures. The 
 Church was rapidly consolidating its internal government, and 
 daily becoming a more formidable social power. The next 
 real epoch in persecution is that, when 'after long years the 
 accursed monster arose, Decius, to vex the Church.' Govern- 
 ment being awake or at least waking to the sense that 
 Christianity was a world-wide force, persecution ceases to be 
 local and is made general. The spasmodic fears of Decius 
 become the settled policy of Valerian. For the first time an 
 Emperor realised the full extent of the problem, foresaw that 
 Christianity must either triumph or die. Sternly and thought- 
 
 9 9 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 iNTRODuc- fully he grappled with it. For the time the attack was foiled. 
 
 ^i^' It was renewed in almost precisely the same form, when 
 
 forty years later the great tenth wave of persecution swept 
 
 with overwhelming violence upon the devoted Church. 
 
 Strength But the Diocletianic persecution proved that the Church 
 
 "/ ^'"^ need no lonfjer plead for sufferance from the secular power, 
 
 adult . 1 1 1 i • • . c -1. 
 
 Church, but could face it as an equal and make terms m virtue ot its 
 own strength. By that time the Christians had become not 
 merely the Emperor's trustiest servants: they were also the 
 backbone of the State. In the army entire legions were 
 composed of Christians, in the great towns whole quarters 
 were occupied by them. The time was gone by when they 
 declined mihtary service or official functions. From their 
 numbers were recruited the most enterprising artisans, the 
 most regular tax-payers, and the strength of the proletariate. 
 The old Empire was growing decrepit: it was not yet bed- 
 ridden, yet had small strength longer to walk abroad: it 
 could but just totter about its own domains and warn off 
 intruders. It could not long hold out against increasing 
 physical inanition: the steady decrease of population alone 
 threatened it with rapid mortification. Few now married : 
 still fewer produced offspring; and of offspring produced an 
 abnormally large percentage perished in infancy. Physically 
 as well as morally the best hope of the Empire lay in the 
 Christians. For the successors of Diocletian the sole alter- 
 native was dull protracted civil war or unification of Church 
 and State. Constantine's choice and execution of the wiser 
 course constitutes his claim to greatness. 
 
 § 5. Conclusion. 
 
 It is worth while in conclusion to gather into one focus 
 
 the results obtained, and to summarise the state of affairs at 
 
 the accession of Constantine. 
 
 Paganism The simpler, more unsophisticated Paganism of earlier 
 
 doomed. j^ggg is manifestly doomed. It might still indeed be seen 
 
 siUing in its tomb like Charlemagne, clothed with insignia 
 
lows 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 of pomp and the sceptre of power, but void now of the living Introduc 
 soul that had given to those outward emblems all their i!l" 
 significance. Greek Philosophy as a decomposing agent had 
 signally succeeded : as a constructive power it had no less 
 signally failed. It had finally degenerated into stale moralis- 
 ing. To the rescue of prevalent unbelief various forces had 
 stepped forward — most conspicuously, mystery-worship and 
 revived Platonism. The former appealed most effectively to 
 the lower instincts, the latter lacked the historical founda- 
 tions which it required and assumed. The world lay in 
 ruins ; current creeds and philosophies were like convicts 
 piling and repiling heaj)s of waste shot. Probably nine out 
 of ten educated men regarded faith as a thing of the past, 
 scepticism as mistress of the future. 
 
 Yet signs of a very different kind were not wanting. Vitality 
 Though the forms of religion had broken away, the spirit of ^^ilg^^ 
 religion was still quick ; it had even developed: the sense of Sense. 
 sin, an almost new phenomenon, began to invade Society 
 and philosophy ; and along with this, an almost importunate 
 craving after a revelation. The changed tone of philosophy, 
 the spread of mysticism, the rapid growth of mystery-worship, 
 the revived Platonism, are all articulate expressions of this 
 need. The old Philosophy begins not only to preach but to 
 pray : the new strives to catch the revealed voice of God in 
 the oracles of less unfaithful days'. If any religion was 
 destined to j)revail amid the downfall of all creeds and 
 mysteries, it had become manifest that that religion was Christi 
 Christianity. The precise numerical strength of the Church "'"''^'J- 
 is comparatively unnnportant. Whether a fifth or a twentieth 
 of Rome's subjects, the minority was formidable from its 
 nature not its numbers. It was with the Church as with her 
 martyrs. Be they counted by hundreds or by thousands, 
 their blood was in either case the seed of the Church. It 
 was a new and astounding phenomenon that a religion had 
 come into the world capable of producing martyrs at all. 
 Of what other religion could it be said that its devotees 
 'were only too ready to die'? In the teeth of an organised 
 
 1 Porphyry's Collection of Ancient Oracles. 
 
22 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Inteoduc- and concentrated despotism a new society had grown up, self- 
 ^i^" supporting, self-regulated, self-governed, a State within the 
 State. Calm and assured amid a world that hid its fears 
 only in blind excitement, free amid the servile, sanguine amid 
 the despairing, Christians lived with an object. United in 
 loyal fellowship by sacred pledges more binding than the 
 sacr amentum of the soldier, welded together by a stringent 
 discipline, led by trained and tried commanders, the Church 
 had succeeded in attaining unity. It had proved itself able 
 to command self-devotion even to the death. It had not 
 feared to assimilate the choicest fruits of the choicest intel- 
 lects of East and West. The main dauger lay in the decom- 
 posing forces that threatened it from within. Yet it bid fair 
 to triumph over these. It would hardly have to battle with 
 a temper more impetuous and strong than Tertullian, an 
 intellect more commanding and subtle than Origen : yet the 
 centripetal forces were stronger ; Tertullian had died an 
 heresiarch, and Origen but narrowly and somewhat of grace 
 escaped a like fate. If rent with schisms and threatened 
 with disintegration, the Church was still an undivided 
 whole. 
 
THE EMPEEOE JULIAN 
 PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY. 
 
/ (T>L.COTJ.. ^ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 RELIGIOUS POLICY OF CONSTANTINE AND CONSTANTIUS. 
 
 With the triura^Dh of Constantine over Maxentius Chris- Constan- 
 tiauity entered on a new stage. The Edict of Milan was the /j^/o«s 
 formal rehabilitation of Christians in their rights as citizens. Policy. 
 The favour extended to them was in the first instance poli- 
 tical rather than religious : but little by little, partly of 
 policy, partly of superstition, partly of sincere conviction, 
 Constantine, while adhering to a policy of religious tolera- 
 tion, rendered more and more unequivocal adhesion to 
 Christianity. The vague Deism with which he commenced 
 proved untenable in the heat of the strife between the old 
 faith and the new. A colourless tolerance was ipso facto im- 
 possible as a permanence, however wise and natural a step- 
 ping-stone to the era to come. Each accession of power 
 made it more imperative upon him ' to make up his mind on 
 the choice of a God\' A hundred years previously it had 
 appeared to a Tertullian inconceivable, either that an em- 
 peror should be a Christian, or a Christian be made emperor. 
 Now with no very obvious wrench either to the state or the 
 individual the momentous change was effected, the incre- 
 dible achieved. Changed religion indeed, as Constantine 
 himself declared^, could not but produce changed government. 
 But the general policy of toleration, the sole policy possible 
 for a statesman of Constantino's political tact, Avas not aban- 
 
 1 Eus. Vit. Const, i. 27. 
 
 ' Ep. ad Arium in Eus. Vit. Comt. ii. 65. 
 
2G CONSTANTINE. 
 
 doned. In much of the emj)ire, emiuently at Rome * itself. 
 Pagan society was too strong, too aristocratic, too influen- 
 tial to be defied with impunity, and a policy of open per- 
 secution would have been plain suicide. But the effect of 
 the open patronage of Christianity by the Court and the 
 active discouragement of Paganism was enormous. 
 External 111 externals Christianity went forward with rapid strides. 
 
 Progress of Proselytes poured in on all sides. ' In town and country alike 
 anihj. might be seen nothing but new converts breaking their idols 
 of their own accord ^.' Churches sprang up in all directions 
 with architecture of a new magnificence. Vying with pa- 
 laces in splendour, they were fitly called basilicas. The 
 clergy increased yet faster than the laity. Of bishops there 
 were nigh 2000. The Churches of Carthage and Constan- 
 tinople each counted its 500 priests : it became necessary actu- 
 ally to limit by law the numbers of the clergy : of the lower 
 orders, deacons and readers, acolytes and exorcists, singers 
 and doorkeepers, there was proportionate abundance ; while 
 armies of paid agents, parabolani and copiatae, visited the 
 sick or buried the dead. Hermits and anchorites, celibates 
 and virgins, monks and sisterhoods, swarmed by thousands 
 in the land. Nor is this surprising when we read of the rich 
 endowments in territory or cash given to special churches ; 
 of official promotion of Christians ; of privileges and exemp- 
 tions accorded to clergy ; immunities from taxation reserved 
 for Christian citizens ; presents of clothes or money awarded 
 to converts ; subsidies granted to poor churches from the 
 fiscal revenue ; relief funds distributed among the poor. Be- 
 sides these substantial aids the Avhole wciglit and prestige of 
 Court favour was freely thrown into the scale of Christianity. 
 The Emperor entertained bishops, discoursed doctrine, con- 
 futed heresy, presided at councils. Fashion and advance- 
 ment both followed in the wake of the new religion. 
 
 The internal effects on Christianity produced by the new 
 
 ^ Beuguot goes so far as to sui^pose that Constantiue's fear of the 
 ascendant Paganism of Eome was one motive for the transfer of his capital 
 to Constantinople. 
 
 ^ Eus. Vit. CoH.s^ II. 18. 
 
RELIGIOUS POLICY. 27 
 
 relations in which it stood to the State, present less bright internal 
 an aspect. It was unqualified gain that Christianity should be ''",J.^,f{. 
 able to temper the savage traditions of Roman law, abolishing anitij. 
 the barbarous practices of branding and crucifixion, facilita- 
 ting the manumission of slaves, and imposing penalties upon 
 infanticide, rape, and fornication. But the Church did not 
 stop here : Constantine's reign furnishes the earliest prece- 
 dent for the infliction of spiritual punishments on civil of- 
 fences, and conversely spiritual offences are now first chastised 
 as such by the arm of law. The dragon's teeth are sown which 
 sprang up armed, whether as the Inquisition or as Ultra- 
 montanism. And this was but the least part of the general 
 demoralisation of spiritual life, which invaded the Church 
 at large, and which found a very partial and in some respects 
 injurious remedy in the great ascetic and monastic reaction 
 which it largely contributed to excite. 
 
 A sudden outburst of heresy is another symptom which increase of 
 followed the advent of the Church to power. Schisms ''"^^''^* 
 gained all at once a new vitality, and began to flourish 
 with tropical rankness and luxuriance. Donatists and 
 CircumceUions in the South, Arians in the East, made 
 havoc of the peace of the Church. The history of Arian- 
 ism attests how ineffectual a salve for the sore councils 
 proved. This new prominence of heresy is directly due to 
 the changed relations of Church and State. Partly the Church 
 assimilated foreign and impure elements : partly the civil 
 power was placed from the outset in a false position. 
 The Emperor should never have been permitted, far less 
 invited to preside at councils, to administer church disci- 
 pline, to decide on questions of doctrine, to deal out chas- 
 tisement or leniency to heretics. The Donatist troubles 
 which so vexed Africa flowed directly from Constantine's 
 hesitation and embarrassment. Arianism but for imperial 
 vacillation might have died with its author. Nursed by 
 Constantine's unwisdom, it became the war-cry of an ambi- 
 tious talented faction, who crippled Christianity, stifled true 
 religion, well-nigh extirpated orthodoxy, and who have been 
 the means of ousting the faith of Christ for more than a 
 
28 CONSTANTINE. 
 
 thousand years from the greatest of the old-world continents. 
 Probably no keener disappointment ever befel Constantine 
 than that of which he was thus the immediate source. He had 
 hoped and, as it would seem, expected to find in Christianity 
 that principle of unity which might reintegrate the divisions 
 of the Empire. It was this hope perhaps which chiefly led 
 him in the first instance to adopt the Christian faith : he 
 was persuaded — it is his own confession* — that could he be 
 fortunate enough to bring all men to the worship of the 
 same God, this change would produce another such in the 
 government of State. To his intense chagrin, he found that 
 far from resolving all discords and reuniting jarring interests 
 of State, the Church proved incapable of keeping peace 
 within its own borders. The most troublesome of seditions 
 was that kindled and fanned by a Church feud. 
 Paganism When Christianity became the avowed religion of the 
 
 stantine. State, naturally enough Paganism, if not forcibly suppressed, 
 was openly discountenanced. Constantine, in the first flush 
 of triumph, seems to have expressly prohibited the old reli- 
 gion, and made the exercise of pagan rites a penal offence. 
 He hoped perhaps by a bold stroke to give the finishing blow 
 to tottering Paganism. Meeting with unexj)ected resistance, 
 and saved by Christian advisers or by his own political tact 
 from proceeding to open persecution, he yet discouraged the 
 old religions in the most unmistakeable way. The subsidies 
 and exemptions accorded to Christians were practically fines 
 and disabilities imposed on Pagans. And more direct dis- 
 couragements were not wanting. The Emperor would not 
 suffer his portrait to appear in Pagan temples : Pagan festi- 
 vals were neglected, or adapted^ to Christian cults : Pagan 
 shrines were by special writ left incomplete : many were dis- 
 mantled of their most precious ornaments, more were suf- 
 
 1 E2). ad Ariuni in Eus. Vit. Const, ii. 65. 
 
 ' This principle of adaptation was widely carried out, or sometimes baldly 
 enongli, e.g. the old procession to Serapis was retained, with the solemn 
 deportation of the tttjxvs tov Ne^Xou and other emblems; its goal alone was 
 altered, and became the Church, in place of the temple of the God, Soz. 5. 3. 
 3, On the widespread paganisation of Christianity cf. Draper, Conflict 
 between Religion and Science, p. 46, and Intell. Dcvel. of Europe. Ch. x. 
 
RELIGIOUS POLICY. 29 
 
 fered to fall into disrepair : not a few, where licentious rites 
 were practised, were openly suppressed. The sign of the 
 Cross supplanted the emblems of the gods. Sunday by Sun- 
 day, while Christian soldiers attended divine service, their 
 comrades paraded in camp to recite with military precision 
 a prayer toHhe one true God. So far as Paganism pos- 
 sessed inward devotional life and spirit, its disaster was even 
 more complete. Not only did Constantine, while retaining 
 the title of Pontifex Maximus and submitting probably to the 
 ceremony of a formal installation, systematically neglect the 
 religious functions of the office, but beyond this the blow was 
 more directly fatal. The Emperor, it must be remembered, 
 was the chief deity of Paganism; his worship almost the 
 sole common link which bound together its endless deno- 
 minations. For the Emperor to avow himself a Christian 
 was for God to descend from his own altar and proclaim his 
 apostasy. The small practical effect produced by so stu- 
 pendous a catastrophe, proves merely how inconceivably 
 little of sincere faith in its own creed remained to Paganism. 
 
 Such was the general tenour of Constantine's endeavours Con.itan- 
 
 ■ T-» 1 1 T • 1 • , tine''s lie- 
 
 after religious unity. But local conditions stepped in to ugious 
 
 modify the execution of this general policy. In the East, -^^"''^y- 
 where Christianity had widest hold, Paganism succumbed, to 
 the verge in many places of complete disappearance. In 
 Constantinople, ^kw excellence the Christian city of the em- 
 pire, no heathen rite, nor altar, nor temple, was to be seen. 
 In the West, on the other hand, pre-eminently at Rome, the 
 central asylum or shrine of Polytheism, the old ceremonial 
 remained untouched. There temples were restored : thu 
 Emperor was still sovereign Pontifex ; augurs and flamens 
 and vestal virgins retained their old privileges ; the harus- 
 pices officially reported the significance of thunderbolts ; 
 ' Dii te nobis servent ' was the recognised military salute ; 
 coins still wore their pagan emblems ; the Emperor himself 
 remained 'divine,' the consort of Jupiter or Mars, of the 
 unconquerable Sun or the Genius of Rome. The Divine 
 Institutions of Lactantius survive to show with how living a 
 spell Paganism still held in bondage the minds of men. 
 
30 CONSTANTIUS. 
 
 Con>:tiin- The death of Constantine overlaps by six years the birth 
 
 Famuiim. ^^ JuHan. The first great political event which the future 
 Apostate could remember was doubtless the death of his 
 grandfather and the accession of Constantius. The new em- 
 peror's policy towards Paganism hovered between reluctant 
 tolerance and legalised persecution. He inaugurated^ his 
 reign with a decree of persecution, suggested or approved 
 by his Christian councillors. All superstitious worship was 
 suppressed, and Pagan sacrifices expressly interdicted : 
 though in favoured localities at any rate temjDles were suf- 
 fered to stand as interesting monuments of antiquity, or as 
 useful for the celebration of public games or ceremonies. 
 That during the earlier part of his reign the edict was not 
 literally carried out, may be considered certain. During the 
 troubles with Magnentius, it was practically a dead letter, 
 to judge by the edict issued almost immediately after the pre- 
 tender's fall,prohibiting heathen nocturnal rites at Rome ^; but 
 no sooner did Constantius find himself in 353 A.D. securely 
 seated on the throne of empire, than he reinforced his earlier 
 enactments by a decree^ compianding under heavy penalties 
 the summary closing of all Pagan temples. A yet more 
 stringent edict"* in 356 made participation in idol-worship or 
 sacrifice a capital offence ; increasing crimes and tyranny 
 produced a corresponding increase of suspicious fears, and 
 the next eighteen months produced three decrees* for the 
 legal infliction of the most horrible tortures, the rack and the 
 hot iron, on all persons in connexion with the court who 
 dared to take part in magic rites. But here again Con- 
 stantius did not consistently carry out the policy prescribed 
 on paper. At Rome he himself respected the privileges of 
 the vestal virgins ", as Pontifex Maximus distributed coveted 
 sacerdotal offices among the patricians, and investigated with 
 
 1 A.D. 341. 2 Theod. Cod. xvi. x. 5. 
 
 ' The actual publication of this law (Cod. Just. i. xi. 1) has been disputed, 
 but on hardly sufficient grounds. Cf. Beugnot, p. 138 : against him 
 Chastel, p. 78. 
 
 * Cod. Theod. xvi. x. 6. ^ Ibid. ix. xvi. 4—6. 
 
 ^ Symmachns, Ejyp. x. liv. 7. 
 
RELIGIOUS POLICY. 31 
 
 interest the origin and story of the more famous temples. 
 And this on the full tide of ascendant fortune ! At Rome 
 society remained Pagan, and the aristocracy sturdily declined 
 to sue royal favour at the expense of religious apostasy. The 
 loss of caste involved would have been but poorly counter- 
 balanced by court smiles and official patronage bestowed in 
 compensation on the renegade. Without dissimulation or 
 check, patricians, prefects, consuls and municipal magistrates 
 of Rome wore the garb, retained the titles \ and did the 
 honours of the old cult with unabated zeal. Nor was Rome 
 a solitary exception : at Alexandria too heathen worship 
 was maintained in almost its ancient splendour. From this 
 conflicting evidence, this stringency of letter combined with 
 laxity of practice, the fair inference is that the law was never 
 dangerously pressed, but only politicly employed, where 
 circumstances permitted. It was the sheathed sword that 
 could be drawn at pleasure ; and it was in the East that 
 it found most scope for action. In the West, whatever 
 may have been the theory, in practice the Imperial policy 
 amounted to almost complete religious toleration". 
 
 Constantius during his closing years lapsed gradually in policy 
 into a sort of political dotage : he became the tool of hypo- "■! '^f."" 
 critical and designing courtiers ; he grew less, not more tole- 
 rant ; he multiplied the demoralising exemptions accorded 
 to Christians ; he fostered still more effectually Church dis- 
 putes ; he intruded more audaciously into theological contro- 
 versies ; he pitched his pretensions not short of infallibility ; 
 he surrounded himself more closely with, and left himself more 
 
 1 Beiignot, p. 161 ff., quotes numerous inscriptions in support of this 
 position. 
 
 " Beugnot considers Constantius' professed policy to have been one of 
 toleration; but in face of the laws above referred to, of the non-publicatiou 
 of which there is no satisfactory evidence, this cannot be maintained: in 
 any case they would api^ear to represent the views of Constantius, even if 
 these were not actually carried into effect : (cf. De Broglie, iii. 364 n.). He 
 also makes far too light of the evidence for actual spoliation and destruction 
 of temples. The fact does not rest merely on rhetorical tropes of Libanius, 
 but is incidentally supported by numerous occurrences of Julian's reign. 
 Cf. Schrdckh Kirchcngcschichte, vi- pp. 8 — 11. 
 
32 CONSTANTIUS. 
 
 completely than his father at the mercy of despicable favour- 
 ites. 'With his chamberlain' (the notorious Eusebius), 
 writes Ammian S 'he possessed considerable influence:' he 
 armed himself with spies innumerable : the ' Curiosi ' be- 
 Con^tini- came a regular department of State, with fixed salaries and 
 
 tins' Conn- ^^ official name. It is difficult to credit the numbers of 
 cillors. 
 
 those who, as dependents in the palace or as officials in 
 
 the provinces, sucked the blood of the exhausted State. The 
 eunuch, that parasite of Eastern despotism, was re-imported'' 
 to the West, to serve in the bedchamber, to sit at the table, 
 to whisper in the ear, and to guide the councils of the Em- 
 peror. Constantius j)romoted to special honour this crew, of 
 whom Christian and Pagan writers speak with the same 
 contemptuous hate, these ' lizards and toads, creatures may 
 be of the spring, but all unclean.' Men of learning found 
 no place at Court. His councillors. Christians in name, were 
 many .of them bishops, but all or almost all made religion a 
 mere stepping-stone to self-advancement. 
 
 Christian ^^^^ Church was in the most indescribable confusion. 
 
 Amrchy. From the time when the Council of Nicaea had delivered 
 the final verdict of Christianity on the Arian heresy, Arians 
 had ceased to be honest if misguided heretics, and had con- 
 verted themselves into a turbulent political faction. At each 
 episcopal election or expulsion the most exalted sees of 
 Christendom, Constantinojsle, Alexandria, Autioch, furnished 
 scenes that would have disgraced a revolution^: venerable 
 confessors * were tortured into heresy ujDon the rack : ortho- 
 dox prelates or clei'gy were exiled, starved, strangled, or be- 
 headed^ The great Christian commonwealth seemed drift- 
 ing into helpless anarchy. Bishops had become so many 
 ceutres of confusion and ringleaders of heresy, who could 
 
 1 Apud quern — si vere tlici debeat— miilta Constantius potuit. — Amm. M. 
 XVIII. iv. 3. His favourites and officials were also all Christians, not, like 
 Constantine's, of mixed creeds. 
 
 ^ Constantine's wisdom bad discouraged wbat Diocletian's pride had in- 
 troduced. Gibbon, c. xix., is admkably terse upon this subject. 
 
 ^ Cf. esp. the history of Bps. Macedouius, Gregory and George. 
 
 * e.g. Hosius of Cordova. 
 
 ' Cf . among many Lucius Bp. of Hadrianople, Paul of Constantinople, and 
 Liberius of Rome. 
 
RELIGIOUS POLICY. S3 
 
 publicly inaugurate their reign with ribald blasphemies\ 
 Arians in the East, or Sabellians''' in the West, they met in 
 council and counter-council to frame new creeds, or fulmi- 
 nate anathemas". To and fro they galloped to this synod 
 and to that, till the public posting service (at whose 
 expense they travelled) threatened to succumb. Arians, semi- 
 Arians, and Acaciaus found councils an unrivalled organisa- 
 tion for mischief ; Homoean, or even Anomoean creeds, were 
 put forth with reckless prodigality. From the time that 
 Constantius became sole emperor, though the number of 
 councils keeps pace with the number of years, not one sup- 
 ported orthodox Christianity. Constantius lived to see the 
 work of subversion crowned with success, and orthodoxy vir- 
 tually non-extant. He lived to see Athanasius a fugitive 
 with a price upon his head, and to witness the Council of 
 Ariminum at which, in the words of Jerome, 'the whole 
 world groaned amazed to find itself Arian ^' The fatal Cov^tan- 
 results of the policy adopted in Constantino's reign were cTrUUmi 
 making themselves manifest. In alleys and in the wilderness, leaders. 
 out of sight of kings' palaces, the Church had thriven better 
 than under shadow of the imperial upas-tree. The Emperor, 
 surrounded by a greedy faction of Eusebian councillors, 
 became semi-Arian by conviction. Thenceforth he acted 
 sometimes as mouthpiece, sometimes as catspaw, of the Euse- 
 "bians. His unreasoning arrogance suited him for either Comtan- 
 task. No hesitation or bashfulness hindered his usefulness. J",*ce!''™" 
 Ignorant, if not stupid, no problem awed him. His will, he 
 said in open council of the Church, was as good as a canon ^ 
 He began to regard himself as above all human limitations, 
 to style himself Jord of the universe'', to substitute for ' His 
 
 1 Eudoxius at Constautiuople. On taking the episcopal throne his first 
 words were, ' The Father is dae^-q^; the Son evaclSrjs.' 
 
 " Photinus. 
 
 3 Cf. the rival councils of Sardica and Antioch. 
 
 * lugemuit totus orbis, et Arianum seesse miratns est. In this paragraph 
 the worst, i.e. the political, side of Ariauism is depicted. There is no inten- 
 tion to prejudge controversial rights or wrongs. 
 
 5 oirep eyw ^oiiXo/xai tovto kclvwv, SXeye, vofxi^ia6w. — Athan. Hist. Ar. ad 
 Mnn. I. 33, p. 732 c. 
 
 " Amm. Marc. xv. i. 3. 
 
 R. E. 3 
 
.S4 ' CONSTANTIUS. 
 
 Majesty ' a new title ' His Eternity,' and having scaled the 
 heights of solitary pre-eminence to assert like dominion in 
 Church as in State. In return for the aggrandisement and 
 privileges he conferred upon the Church, he claimed a sole 
 jurisdiction within it^: and the more worldly of the Church's 
 members acquiesced without compunction in the nefarious 
 bargain. By his ipse dixit he could banish the bishop^ of 
 bishops, the head of Christendom ; he could starve a coun- 
 ciP into submission, or roundly declare to recalcitrant ortho- 
 dox bishops that he had determined to take the law into 
 his own hands, and establish peace in the Church without 
 their aid. His infallibility was more infallible than the 
 Pope's own, for his decision was valid even when pronounced 
 anything but ex cathedra. At the Council of Milan, having 
 summoned the conclave from their proper place of meeting 
 to his own imperial palace, he burst in upon the assembled 
 bishops with the words*, ' The doctrine you are combating is 
 mine ; if it is false, how comes it that all nations have been 
 made subject to my power?' And once again, as the dis- 
 cussion waxed hot, he cried, ' Have I chosen you to be my 
 counsellors, and shall my will be thwarted still ? ' 
 
 Such were the leaders who swayed the destinies of 
 Church and State ; such the court and such the Christianity 
 beneath whose aegis Julian was nursed. 
 
 ^ De Broglie, L'Eglise etc. iii. p. 363: ' Se croyant maitre de I'lilglise, 
 il lui convenait que TEglise, jI sou tour, fut maitresse de tout. II lui 
 promettait la domination poi;r la consoler de la servitude.' 
 
 ^ Liberius. » Sc. the Council at Ariminum. 
 
 •* Luc. Cal. i^ro Athan. i. p. 834 b. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Julian's boyhood, youth, education, and caesarship. 
 
 " This should have been a noble creature — ho 
 Hath all the energy which should have made 
 A goodly frame of glorious elements 
 Had they been wisely mingled." 
 
 It is not too miicli to say that JuliaD's personal motives, 
 qualities and aims, all-decisive as they were in determining 
 the character of the great reaction which history must always 
 couple with his name, would remain a riddle, had no notices 
 of his early years survived. The thoughts, training and ex- 
 periences of Julian's boyhood and youth shed floods of light 
 upon his subsequent career: they convert a historical surprise 
 and crux into a consequent and little complicated narrative. 
 
 Among the earliest events indelibly impressed upon the Julian's 
 memory of the imaginative child of six must have been*^" *"'''■ 
 those days of horror when he and his brother Gallus, hidden 
 away in the obscure recesses of a church, listened in hushed 
 terror to the tramp of soldiers and cries of bloodshed, watched 
 the anxious faces of their protectors, the good Mark of 
 Arethusa and his servants, and heard the whispered news 
 passed from mouth to mouth of the death of those nearest 
 and dearest to them. The sun of the sons of Constantino rose 
 blood-red with the slaughter of their kin. Two uncles and 
 four^ cousins were the first-fruits of dominion offered up by 
 
 1 'Seven,' wi-ites M. Talbot in his Etude sur Julien p. v., misunder- 
 standing (as appears in his subsequent translation), the passage in Ep. 
 ad Ath. 270 c. The ^^ dfefioi there spoken of include the two uncles and 
 
 3—2 
 
36 JULIAN. 
 
 him, whom the orphaned survivor might well call the butcher 
 of his family \ These things remained to Julian the un- 
 utterable horrors of a tragedy which he shuddered to recall. 
 In this indiscriminate and most unnatural carnage fell Julius 
 Constantius, younger brother of the great Constantine and 
 father to Julian. Alone of indirect branches of the Imperial 
 house, his two sons survived the hideous massacre. If 
 Constantius blamed fortune for having thus preserved them, 
 he yet shrank from forthwith imbruing his hands yet more 
 deeply in innocent blood. The oversight might be forgiven : 
 the danger was not imminent. An emperor might spare 
 awhile a child of six, and a boy of thirteen already, it was 
 said, smitten with a deadly diseased Thus Julian was saved. 
 A mother's cai'e he had never known, for the accomplished ^ 
 
 JTilian's elder brother; the Greek clearly runs i^ /jl^v dve\pLois , e/x^ 8k... 
 
 Moreover there were not seven cousins of the Imperial stock left to murder. 
 The six dve\j/ioi are: 
 
 (1) irarqp ifxbs, eavrov Sk Oe7os, sc Julius Constantius, father of Julian, 
 and uncle to Constantius. 
 
 (2) Trpos irarpos Oeios not Dalmatius, but a second brother of Jul. 
 Constantius, apparently named Constantine. 
 
 (3) 6 TrpecT^vTaros d.Se\(p6s of JuUan, sc. an elder son of Jul. Constantius 
 and Galla: brother to Gallus, and half-brother to Julian. We do not else- 
 where hear of him. 
 
 (4) (5) Dalmatiua and Annibaliauus, cousins alike to Constantius and 
 to Julian. 
 
 The sixth remains uncertain. ? Constantine jun., son of the Constantine 
 ■who was brother to Jul. Constantius. It was not Nepotianus, as Talbot 
 Bays, for he survived till 350 a. d., when his feeble rivalry with Magnentius 
 for the purple ended in his death. See Appendix A. 
 
 * Constantius' personal incrimination in these murders is habitually 
 assumed, without very convincing proof. The chief witnesses against him 
 are Athan. Hist. Ar. ad Monach. c. 69, p. 776 b, Jer. Chron., Zos. ii. 40, 
 p. 106, as well as Julian himself ad Ath. 270. Sokr. iii. 1, Eutrop. x. 9 and 
 Aur. Victor imply a minor degree of guilt, allowing but not inciting to 
 murder. Greg. Naz. Or. iv. xxi. p. 550 b. makes Constantius Julian's Saviour. 
 For the sequence of events cf. de Brog. UEglise etc. iii. p. 10 n. as against 
 TUlemont, Hist, dcs Emp, iv. 313 pp.; see infr. p. 43 note. 
 
 2 Soz. V. ii. 9. 
 
 3 Of Basilina we know but little. Amm. Marc. xxv. iii. 23 mentions her 
 noble lineage. Julianus, the ^Draetoriau prefect, was her father. According 
 to Amm. M. xxii. ix. 4 she was distantly connected with Eusebius, the 
 Arian Bishop of Nikomedia. Of her brother Julianus, Comes Orient is under 
 
BOYHOOD. 37 
 
 Basiliua had survived but a few months the birth of her JuWrn 
 first-born. But the child promised to inherit something of ^^^^j^. 
 his mother's fondness for the poems and masterpieces of '"'*«• 
 ancient Greece. At least he drank in with avidity such 
 Homeric or Hesiodic or philosophical lore as the family eunuch 
 Mardonius, his precise and old-fashioned pedagogue, was ji//^. 352 b 
 pleased to instil. The child's eager teachableness must have 
 often recalled even to the harsh eunuch reminiscences of the 
 mother whom he had led along the same paths. To Eusebius, 
 the Arian bishop of Nikomedia, it was entrusted to bring up 
 the child, with whom on the mother's side he was distantly 
 connected, in the way of the imperial religion\ About his 
 religious education neither Julian himself nor his biographers 
 enter into detail. He no doubt passed through the regular 
 stao-es incident at that asfe to the Christian catechumen and 
 neophyte — was counted among 'the purified,' 'the illumi- 
 nated,' and 'the perfected' in orderly succession — received the 
 seal of baptism — participated in the Eucharist — was instructed 
 in the services of the Church, and initiated into the highest 
 mysteries of faith and dogma^. The old culture and the new 
 faith were each to mould his intellectual and moral growth: 
 from the poison of Paganism he was to be guarded inviolate. 
 For six years or more he was nurtured thus, in the society of 
 tutors and grown-up folk alone. With no father's or mother's 
 love to win his confidence, cut off from home affections, 
 separate from other children, he enjoyed none of those bright 
 sunny influences which are most essential to the free develop- 
 ment of all child-nature. Mardonius, whatever his moral 
 worth, was at least no congenial companion for a quick and 
 susceptible child. He was Scythian-born, and rough in uis.m a. 
 manner^ A eunuch moreover, well-advanced in years and 
 
 Julian till Ms sudden death in 363, \re know little good. For Basilina'a 
 study of the Classics and for her preinatm-e death, Julian himself is our 
 witness, Misop. 352 b. 
 
 ^ Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 552 A. 
 
 ^ E. Lamt5 elaborates on this with almost fanciful minuteness. It is 
 odd that Miicke, Julianas Lebeii unci Schriftcn p. 70, should so vehemently 
 and pertinaciously argue that .Julian was never baptized. 
 
 ^ Misop. 352. Juhan does not omit to notice significantly the corro- 
 
38 JULIAN. 
 
 not free, we may conjecture, from the repellent aspect, and the 
 dwarfed moral nature that characterised his unhappy class \ 
 His virtue, if such he possessed, was of a severe, forbidding 
 type: he mistook distant surliness for dignity, harsh insensi- 
 bility for wise reserved He was a precisian and a martinet, 
 and made his pupil's life one monotonous round. In going 
 
 Mil. 351 A B, to school he must perforce walk always by the same road and 
 keep his eyes fixed upon the ground: he must regard with 
 philosophical or puritanical aversion the pantomime, the 
 
 Mis. 351 c D dance, the horse-race, everything indeed that to a Roman boy 
 savoured at all of fun or excitement. If ever, as happened 
 twice or thrice, he went to the theatre, it was by order, as a 
 part of educational training: if the child's heart longed for a 
 dance or a romp about the garden, he was drearily referred 
 to the dancing of the Phaeacian lads, the piping of Phemius 
 or Demodokus, the bowery isle of Kalypso or the garden of 
 Alkinous, as far more delicious than the living reality. 
 
 ii7/.v. 353 b, He was properly steeped in philosophy from Sokrates to 
 Theophrastus^ Thus at the most critical time of life all his 
 spontaneity and natural affectionateness of disposition was 
 chilled and nipped. A remarkably beautiful character was 
 strangely marred. Not only, like all children Avho are thrown 
 much or entirely with their elders, did he become precocious 
 in habits and thoughts. He was by nature a wistful dreamy 
 child, full of strange reveries ; from his earliest years he 
 would be possessed by a strange elation of soul as he gazed 
 upon the splendour of the sun, and would strive to meet his 
 
 spondeuce of name between bis pedagogue and tbe general wbo urged 
 Xerxes to the invasion of Hellas. We can bardly be sure bow mucb of 
 real esteem and gratitude towards Mardonius lurks under tbe satirical 
 tone adopted in tbe Misopogon : tbe passing notice in Or. viii. 241 c, 
 wbicb seems best referred to Mardonius, is affectionate in tone. Liban. 
 Epitaph, p. 525 calls bim ^iXnaTOi aujrppoaivyjs 4>v\a^, but wbat else could 
 he say of bim who made Julian a ' Hellene ' ? Miicke p. 6 — 10 takes tbe 
 more unfavourable view and is pulled to pieces for it by Eode, p. 23 note. 
 ^ Cf. Amm. Marc. xiv. vi. 17 ; xvi. vii. 4, 8; xviii. iv. 5, and v. 4. 
 
 2 KoKwy <Te/jLv6T7yra t7]v aypoidav Kal (Tw(ppocnJVTjv ttjv avaLad-qaioLv. — Mis. 
 351 c. 
 
 3 His young days may forcibly remind the reader of passages in John 
 Stuart Mill's Autohiogruplui, Ch. i. 
 
 359 c. 
 
BOYHOOD. 39 
 
 rays with unblencliing eyes ; or again under the pure firma- 
 ment, a child-worshipper, would meditate upon the wonder of 
 the stars till all thought of self, all sense of surrounding sights 
 or sounds were swallowed up in yearning contemplation of 
 the Gods\ This rich emotional nature was all forced in upon 
 itself: there was no one to encourage his child-confidences, or 
 guide them into true channels. Hard experience made him 
 day by day increasingly and sadly worldly-wise : reserve, dis- 
 trust, dissimulation became a second nature to him^ The 
 dullest reader may feel touched at the sad self-conscious irony 
 of the MisojJogon, as Julian with ill-concealed bitterness 
 traces his rough ungraciousness of manner, his severe un- 
 sympathising view of life to the training of that loveless 
 childhood: almost against his will he tells us how the iron 
 had entered into his soul, and to his last day rankled there. 
 From self-recorded traits of boyhood, nay even from the 
 letters of his manhood, considering what a training he had 
 endured, Ave see how full he by nature was of tender brim- 
 ming lovingness. He possessed to a singular degree the two- 
 fold power of attaching others to himself, and not less him- 
 self to others. If he came out of the ordeal so frank and 
 loyal a friend, so thoughtful and sympathising a master, so 
 gi'ateful and humble a disciple, so fervent and self-forgetful a 
 worshipper of all that he believed good and true, what might 
 not a happier training have made him? 
 
 But fate gave no amends for past unkindness. At thirteen juUan at 
 years of age, when in years he had but just passed from the ^^'^<^^^^^^^' 
 child into the boy, but in thought and premature discretion 
 was almost full-grown, Julian was removed from Constanti- 
 nople^ to a new home. The jealous suspicions of Constantius 
 could not suffer any jorince of the blood royal so near the 
 
 ^ Or. IV. 130 c D. ' Emptier declamation was never written,' says the 
 remorseless Schlosser {Jena. Zeit. p. 12(3), and denies all the nobler motives 
 accentuated by Neander and Herwerden. 
 
 * ido^, (pacri, BevT^pT] (j>vcis, Misop. 353 A, says J., speaking of his own 
 education. 
 
 3 It is possible that the death of Eusebius, his relative and mentor, in 
 342 A.D. (according to other authorities 341 a.d.), contributed to this. See 
 App. B, Isote 3. 
 
40 JULIAN. 
 
 seat of power. Julian and Gallus^ hitherto designedly kept 
 separate, were now together banished to the wilds of Cappa- 
 docia. Not that the royal chateau of Macellum* was in it- 
 self unpleasing. True it was far from the haunts of men : 
 yet placed on a spreading plain skirted by woods that climb 
 towards the snowy peaks of the Argseau range, its natural 
 situation was lovely and picturesque enough: without were 
 gardens and fountains ever flowing, while withiu doors the 
 appointments were admirable, the fare and service princely. 
 
 uiAth.2nB But to Julian it was in his own words an oriental state- 
 prison. It was heaven's help, not man's kindness, that 
 brought him safely through. His sole gain was the society of 
 his step-brother Gallus, itself a questionable advantage. Not 
 only was Gallus several years his senior: in character as in 
 looks he was a complete contrast to Julian. His rough 
 untutored mind, his strong natural passions were the very 
 reverse of Julian's refined intellectual taste, and gentle self- 
 controlled demeanour. A Titus was linked to a Domitian'. 
 And Gallus' natural violence and savagery were aggravated, 
 not subdued by the treatment to which the two brothers 
 
 'd Ath. 271 were in common subjected. Immured like very prisoners, 
 kept under secret espionage as well as open surveillance, cut 
 off from every play-mate, every teacher, every servant even 
 in whdm they could repose confidence, they were forced to 
 consort with slaves ever on the watch for an unguarded word 
 or look. Suspicion was the very air they breathed, repres- 
 sion of each natural sentiment the alphabet of their moral 
 training. Under such auspices they 'sucked the milk of 
 godly doctrine'* from paid agents of the tyrant. Stinted of 
 
 1 Gallus bad beeu educated at Ephesus, on his ancestral property. 
 Sok. III. i. 
 
 ^ Macellum was in the immediate neigliboiirlaood of Mons Argaeus, 
 (the modern Aryi or Arjiah Dar/]i), at whose foot lay Caesarea, previously 
 Mazaca (cf. Amm. M. xx. ix. 1), the capital of the district. For accounts see 
 Soz. V. ii. and Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 550 o. 
 
 * Tantum a temperatis moribus luUani differens fratris, quantum inter 
 Vespasiani tilios fuit Domitianiim et Titum. — Amm. M. xiv. xi. 28. 
 
 4 Theod. E. H. iii. ii., and cf. Jul. ad Ath. 271 c with Soz. II. E. v. ii. 
 and Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 551 a. 
 
YOUTH. 41 
 
 more liberal culture, the youthful princes were taught the 
 Christiau evidences, were trained to give alms, to observe 
 fasts, to venerate and with their own hands rear the shrines 
 of martyrs, and even to officiate themselves in the services of 
 the Church. 
 
 Such was Julian's life from thirteen to nineteen^ such his Julian's 
 preparation for the more active existence on which he next [lof""''' 
 entered. What was the character of his sentiments at this 
 time? Endowed by nature with intellectual capacities of a 
 high order, he was yet by no means the mere student or 
 recluse. The blood of Constantius Ohlorus ran in his veins. 
 The course of his life testifies to the full the practical vigour, 
 the ardent courage, the restless indefatigable craving for 
 action that animated him. It was because all other channels 
 were closed to him that Julian plunged with characteristic 
 vigour into literary pursuits. Though devoid, as his works 
 testify, of originality or of actual genius, he was possessed of 
 a quick active intellect, and of receptive powers of the very 
 first order. The grace of style, the abounding readiness of 
 allusion, the variety of knowledge he displays, show with what 
 diligence and with how great success he steeped himself in 
 the productions of the greatest writers of Greece. But his 
 intellectual labours are for our immediate purpose less 
 material; it is rather his religious standpoint at this juncture 
 that we must seek clearly to realise. 
 
 That Julian was a professing Christian there is no doubt. Julian's 
 Not only was he intimately acquainted with the Bible, and a ''^ 'i/"^"* 
 practised theologian versed in j^atristic lore ; but in his out- 
 ward life he attended divine service, observed fasts, practised 
 scrupulously the regimen of ecclesiastical discipline, built 
 shrines to the holy martyr Mamas, and performed subordinate 
 clerical functions. All this however, it is manifest, proves 
 nothing whatever as to his private convictions. Theodoret*^ 
 states explicitly that '/ecu- of Constantius' instigated these 
 outward exhibitions of Christianity. Christian or no Chris- 
 tian, he must regulate his outward conduct as such. It was 
 
 1 See Ai^p, B. Note 3. 
 
 2 Thcod. III. ii. Cf. Jul. £j;. i2, 423 c. 
 
42 JULIAN. 
 
 a part of the yoke laid upon him. Christianity was one of 
 the accomphshments he was to acquire. To demur, to object, 
 to rebel might have cost him his life. He was too sub- 
 jugated now, and what is more, too discreet to think for an 
 instant of anything but passive submission. By this time 
 too he had become too practised a dissimulant to betray him- 
 self by unguarded words or acts. Years later, even when 
 joint-emperor, in an outlying province, surrounded by trusty 
 legions, while in private practice and conviction he was a 
 complete Pagan, to all outward seeming he remained a 
 Christian. How much more then as a solitary, defenceless 
 youth! Not that he had become as yet even at heart an 
 open dissident, a pronounced unbeliever'; but rather that the 
 religion, which he obediently accejDted in externals, had laid 
 no hold upon him inwardly, while his bias was to see and 
 notice the objections and imperfections with which it was 
 surrounded. 
 Feeihrqs Such at least would seem a priori the probable state of 
 
 towards ^\^q Q^i^Q^ if we cousider how Christianity presented itself to 
 tius. him. It came to him under royal stamp and warrant, as 
 
 the religion of his oppressors. It was part .of his discipline, a 
 wise prison-rule, so to speak, that the most beneficent 
 Constantius was pleased to lay upon him. His gentle cousin ^ 
 who had made him an orphan, had butchered his kinsmen, 
 had driven him into exile, had treated him as a slave, pro- 
 vided him now with a religion. Would Julian be very eager 
 
 1 M. Lami^ (Jiilien VApostat, p. 25, 26), who knows a vast deal of what 
 Mardonius thought aud said to his pupil, writes thus of Julian's youth : 
 ' Julien sut que la creation et la lutte iDrimitive des ^l(?nients, qui ne sent 
 qu'esquiss^s h, grands traits dans la Genfese, se trouvent avec tous leurs 
 di^tails dans H^siode ; que le Dieu Eros, qui f^conde le chaos et en fait 
 sortir I'ether et le jour, est la parole de Dieu, disant que la lumifere soit; 
 que le regno de Cronos et I'iuvasion des maux par I'imprudence de Pandore 
 correspondent ;i la chute de rhomme et 'k rimprudence d'Eve ; que la 
 mutilation d'Uranus et la naissance d' Aphrodite sont les details du deluge 
 etc. &c.' in the same style: but I see no traces of Julian having been so 
 clever or ' advanced ' as M. Lam^. 
 
 - d ^iXavOpuTrhraTos ovtos paaiXevs, writes Julian, in one of the bitterest 
 passages of liis manifesto to the Athenians. E^j. ad Atli. 270 c. Cf. 6 
 KaXbs Kwyardi'Ti.os, ibid. 273 I3. 
 
EDUCATION. 4o 
 
 to accept it unquestioned ? With his works before us it is no 
 mere conjecture to say that the first instinct of JuUan's 
 youth was a terrifying awe and a shrinking abhorrence of 
 Constantius^ He speaks of the XvKo^CKia he was forced to ^^/'-ss- 
 assume : says how he shunned the Imted presence ; and what 
 efforts it cost him to lodge under the same roof with his 
 father's murderer. It was well enough for courtier slaves to 
 palaver of Coustan tins' past innocence, of his present regrets, 
 his wish to make amends, his sense that his childlessness was 
 a deserved judgment from on high''', but Julian had facts to 
 speak to him as well as servile mouths. The Emperor had 
 first spoiled him of his kin, then stripped him anew of every 
 friend, then robbed him of liberty itself, and should he in re- 
 turn accept without demur the boon of the religion that he 
 offered? Fear, suspicion, resentment, hate, passions not less 
 potent because assiduously masked, were all enlisted against, 
 not for the religion of the tyrant. 
 
 Nor could the religion commend itself by its own virtue. Imperfect 
 Christianity, it must never be forgotten, was set before Julian ^chrUtian- 
 in the mangled imperfect form of Ariauism. From his later '^2/- 
 writings, from the contemptuous scorn with which he almost 
 invariably treats the teaching and even the name of Christ, 
 it may safely be aflirmed that the moral beauty of Christ's 
 character and work had never captivated the imagination of 
 the Apostate; and there is little wonder in this, considering 
 how violently Arian was his training, and also how tliat heresy 
 neglects and tends therefore to mar and deface the true 
 personality of Christ. 
 
 But not only was this mutilated distortion of Christianity insincere 
 the aspect of it displayed to Julian; even this was propounded ^««<''^«''«- 
 
 1 Cf. the narrative in Zonar. xiii. x. p. 21. 
 
 - Ep. ad Ath. 271 a. b. As the passage is important in respect to 
 Constantius' direct implication (cf. p. 36) in the murders of 337 a. d., it 
 shall be quoted in full. /jL€Te/xe\rjcre yap avrQ, (paal, koL eSrixOv deivQs, 
 dTrai.8iav ri ivrevOev vofxi'^ei Svcrrvxe^v, rd re es tovs TroXefiiovs toi)s Tlepaas 
 
 ovK evTVX^s irpaTTeiv €K roiruv vTro\afij3dvei ^Xeyov roaavra /cat 5t; kuI 
 
 'iireidov 7]/j.as, Stl to, fikv dirarridds dpydaaro, to. 5^ piq. Kal rapaxous ei'^as 
 draKTov /cat rapaxi^oous aTparevfiaros. Similarly in the First Panegyric of 
 Constantius {Or. i. 17 a), the hhime is transferred to the agents, who trans- 
 gressed the wishes or orders of Constantius. 
 
44 JULIAN. 
 
 by most unworthy advocates. There is no positive evidence 
 that one sincere Christian was numbered among the young 
 prince's tutors: such were not readily found, nor greatly 
 patronised among the dependents of Constantius: certain it 
 is that most of his teachers were either wholly careless, or 
 else Pagans in disguise, as they openly became so soon as 
 the court breezes blew that way. Julian is hardly to be 
 blamed if he regarded with indifference or even concealed 
 dislike an enforced religion propounded so imperfectly, and 
 commended so disadvantageously. 
 
 On the other hand, what were his relations towards 
 Paganism? Besides his day-dreams, his yearning reveries, 
 his communings with a felt but unknown Deity, his foremost 
 pleasure was his books. They distracted him from the 
 miserable present: in Homer he could revel by the hour, for- 
 getful of frets and troubles and perils looming in the distance; 
 Plato was already perhaps his darling author ; Aristotle's 
 keen dialectics were familiar ground \ And in all these 
 authors whom he loved the best, in the poets and historians, 
 in the orators and philosophers of Greece there was one 
 common property; they were believers in and teachers of a 
 polytheistic creed. Compared with their garlands of ever- 
 lasting flowers, the writings of divines and longdrawn dis- 
 cussions on dogma or Christian evidence seemed colourless 
 and perfumeless indeed. Was it not a legitimate inference 
 that the inspiration of each was drawn from the creed, and 
 that the value of the creed might be in some measure deter- 
 mined by the efficacy of the inspiration? At this age, be it re- 
 membered, the Bible had not yet attained, the chosen Classics 
 had not yet lost that common sanction of the wisest, which 
 conferred on them something more than their inherent lustre. 
 The critic and schoolman still handled the Bible with con- 
 tempt. Like Mohammed claiming the Koran as his tj'ue 
 miracle, Paganism could point to her Homeric scriptures, 
 that 'Old Testament' which enlisted nay enforced the admir- 
 ing reverence even of the disbeliever, and say 'These are the 
 
 ■^ This literary appreciativeuess was the prime difference, which made 
 the identical traiuing of the two brothers bear fruits so dissimilar. 
 
EDUCATION. 
 
 45 
 
 seal of my Apostleship.' Julian must thus early have begun 
 to feel, what in later life he continually reiterates, that the 
 splendid afflatus of the old culture was the gift of the Gods 
 whom it reverenced. 
 
 This crrowino- bias towards Paganism could not but tend Vieiv of 
 to develope. It was Julian s misfortune to be brought up on 
 book-learning without the healthy corrective of practical 
 observation. Cut off from his fellows, except a picked and 
 unworthy few, he saw things from the student's point of 
 view; he became what in great part he continued to be 
 through life, a pedant. Defrauded of all opportunity of 
 testing their practical influence upon men's lives, he judged 
 creeds by their self-enuntiation or their literary results. No 
 view of polytheism could have been more favourable. What 
 he knew from personal observation of Christianity, what he 
 witnessed of its moral power, was not encouraging: the man 
 he most hated for his crimes was the man most loud in 
 Christian profession; the paid satellites, who were his spies 
 and tools, were one and all Christians. Of Paganism on the 
 other hand he knew only, on the positive side, that it was 
 the avowed creed of all those whose works he most 
 cherished and admired, and still the living' faith of one-half 
 the Roman Empire; on the negative, that it was the faith 
 not only hated by those whom he hated, and suspected by 
 those who suspected him, but also feared for its power by 
 those who prohibited him contact with its more gifted ex- 
 ponents. Not that such thoughts as these were consciously 
 present to Julian in a developed form: he had not yet for- 
 mulated a theory; self-analysis and introspection had not 
 proceeded thus far. Some Sokrates was needed with skilled 
 
 1 The term may seem strong, but cf. Mucke, p. 33. ' Nicbt lauge nach 
 JiUian's Tode verschlangen die Hellenenverfolgungeu nicht weniger Opfer 
 als einst die der Christen und richteten sich sogar gegen das zarte weibliche 
 Geschlecht. Gerade der Umstaud, dass viele der edelsten Helleuen fiir 
 iln-e zwar falscbe, aber dock aufricbtige Ueberzeugung den Miirtyrertod 
 starben, weil sie mit der viiterlicben Eeligion nicht die eiuzige Grundlage 
 ihres sittlieben Denkens und Handels verlieren wollten, beweist unwi- 
 deiieglicb, dass der Hellenismus, wenn auch unheilbar krank und dem 
 bicheren Tod geweibt, doch noch eine lehende, wenn auch keine trostende 
 Macbt war.' Such I imagine it appeared at this time to Julian. 
 
46 JULIAN. 
 
 maieutic art to bring them to the birth; but dormant they 
 
 lay there, a self-sown seed ready to spring up under the first 
 
 warmth of sympathy, or the dew of judicious instruction. 
 
 Rias to- That such was Julian's state of mind is quite confirmed^ 
 
 iL-anh Pa- i ^i^qI^ intimations as remain. 'From the first rudiments 
 
 gannm. J 
 
 of boyhood,' writes Ammian", 'his bias was towards Pagan- 
 ism; little by little with growing years his devotion that way 
 grew with him. In fear and trembling, yet as often as he 
 was able, he meditated in secret on all that looked thither- 
 ward.' With his own lips he himself declares with what 
 Or. 4. 130 c D strange fascination in those early days he gazed upon the 
 sun and stars, so that wholly forsaken of earthly thoughts, 
 he was possessed with the beauties of heaven, and, a beardless 
 astrologer, entered into strange and sensible rcqiport with 
 them, as he pondered then upon the Gods. There is yet 
 another testimony, which though rejected by some as coming 
 from hostile sources yet seems so natural as even to invite 
 belief. In the training of catechumens it was an established 
 practice to set the students rhetorical theses, which con- 
 stantly took the form of apologetic defence or attack upon 
 Christianity ^ In such school-room exercises Julian*, it is 
 said, was prone to conduct the defence of Paganism with 
 unseemly vigour and ingenuity against the less impartial 
 Gallus. Here is a genuine representation in the concrete of 
 exactly that state of mind which it has been the aim of 
 these pages to depict, and in which he continued to hang 
 balanced until the day came when he bade adieu to Macellum, 
 and by Imperial permission repaired to Constantinople. 
 
 ^ The passage iu Ep. 51 (to the Alexandriaus) proves nothing as to the 
 sincerity of Julian's Christianity. The statement does not amount to 
 this, and is further made with a definite ulterior object in view. Ee- 
 monstrating with the Alexandrians on then: stupid and obstinate adherence 
 to Christianity, and urging them to become Pagans, he says : ' Be sure you 
 won't go wrong in taking my advice, seeing that for twenty years I was a 
 follower of that sect, and have now for twelve years been a follower of the 
 Gods.' ovx anapT-ijaeffOe ttjs opdrjs odou Trei^o/xevot TuiiropevdivTi. KaKeLvrju Trjv 
 bZbv dxp(-s eruiv eiKOffi Kal TavTr)v -IjdT] auv 6eois 7ro/5euo^eVv dwd^Karov ?tos. 
 
 ^ Amm. M. xxii. v. 1. 
 
 3 Compare J. H. Newman, Arians of the Fourth Century, p. 31, 32. 
 
 * Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 657 a. 
 
EDUCATION. 47 
 
 The five years that followed the recall from Macellum Julian at_ 
 
 • . o 1 T T , 1 • Tj? rpi Conxtanti- 
 
 were decisive of the part Julian was to play m lite, i hey ,jo^jg_ 
 were passed in the prosecution of his studies, in the first 
 instance at Constantinople. He received the training of an 
 ordinary well-educated citizen : grammar he learnt of Nik- mis. 354 a. 
 okles^; his master in rhetoric was the sophist Hekebolius, a 
 sort of Vicar of Bray of his times, who an Arian under Con- 
 stantius, and a hot Pagan under Julian, pleaded abjectly in 
 the succeeding reign for readmission into the Christian 
 communion. In philosophical acquirements as in natural 
 genius he had by this time outstripped his instructors I 
 Fairly beaten and baffled by the precocity of their pupil, his 
 teachers had petitioned' Constantius, that their young charge 
 might be permitted to attend others of the more famous 
 seats of learning. More important than this was the fact 
 that in the metropolis his merits were too much before 
 the world. It was not safe to leave a prince of the blood, 
 brother to a reigning Emperor, free to his own devices. 
 He was imprudent enough to make friends amid felloAv- 
 students and teachers ; unfortunate enough to attract the 
 notice of citizens. Dangerous talk of his talents, his so- 
 ciability, his fitness for Empire reached the Imperial ear. 
 Constantius' suspicions took fire. He must leave Constanti- 
 nople. Fondly hoping that literary zeal might foster political 
 indifference and supplant dangerous aspirations, he ordered 
 or permitted Julian to proceed to Nikomedia. There he was juUan nt 
 to remain under the eye of Hekebolius, and was solemnly ^/j^"'"^' 
 pledged not to imperil his orthodoxy by attendance at the 
 lecture-room of Libanius. Hekebolius cared little about the 
 taint of Paganism*. Perhaps he imagined that it was the 
 
 ' Sok. III. 1. 
 
 ^ Eunapius, Vit. Maximi, p. 68. 
 
 ' This 6toi7 of Eusebius is fairly enough called in question by Rode, 
 p. 29. It seems an unlikely enough display of generosity and humility on 
 the part of J.'s teachers. Both Lib, Eintaph. and Sok. iii. i. give only 
 the second groimd here alleged, viz. that of an imperial order, and that 
 beyond a doubt was the deciding reason. Still Eunapius' account is just 
 possible, and may remain in the text ' suspect. ' 
 
 •• Liban. £2"'f- V- 527, asserts that the oath was exacted really by Hekebolius, 
 
48 JULIAN. 
 
 personal influence of Libauius that alone need be feared. 
 Be that as it may, Julian, though keeping the letter of his 
 oath, was enabled day by day to peruse the lectures that he 
 was forbidden in person to attend. He devoured them vora- 
 ciously; he made them the model of his style. They fell in 
 with his half-formed prepossessions. Predisposed to Hellenism 
 alike by his philoso]3hical and literary studies, and by the 
 estimate of Christianity which personal experience had 
 taught him, Julian responded to the advances made to him 
 Contact by the leaders of the Neo-Platonist movement. They had 
 Tiat nlst's ^*^^ °^^^y arguments, and scoffs, and polite contempt for the 
 Christian 'superstition,' but were also men of real culture, 
 and not less of insight into character. They showed him 
 sympathy, such as he had never before received: treated him 
 with a kindness and deferential courtesy hitherto unknown 
 to him: stimulated his industry, jsraised his acquirements, 
 flattered his genius, entered into his difficulties. Their hazy 
 cloud castles of mystic yearning and promise and hope, 
 fabrics wrapped in visionary splendours, fascinated wistful 
 longings nursed by the Phaedrus and the Republic; they 
 chimed with 
 
 those obstinate questionings 
 of sense and outward things, 
 fallings from us, vanishings ; 
 blank misgivings of a Creature 
 moving about in worlds not realised, 
 
 of which his i-eligious sentiment rather than conviction had 
 consisted. He drank in the new Gospel. He was soon a 
 convert to its creed. 
 Julian's for to this period beyond all cavil his definite perversion 
 
 to Paganism must be referred. Whatever his jDrevious mis- 
 givings or self-questionings, he had not definitely renounced 
 Christianity before his arrival in Nikomedia in 351. Under 
 more favourable auspices he might yet have been won for the 
 Church. Had he for instance chosen Alexandria as his school, 
 
 who was jealously afraid of his rival's attractive powers. This is clearly 
 inconsistent with the idea of his having magnanimously iietiticmed in 
 Julian's favour. Probably he exacted the oath by imperial command. 
 
EDUCATION. 4D 
 
 and fallen under the influence of an Athanaslus, it is curious 
 to think what a transposition of his whole subsequent career 
 might have resulted. The testimonies here are decisive. 
 Not only does Sozomen single this out as the period of his 
 conversion, and Libanius speak of him as at this time bridling 
 his virulent hate against the gods, and, tamed by divinations, 
 breaking loose like a lion from the chains which fastened him, 
 but Julian himself designates his twentieth year as that in 
 which he began first 'to walk with the gods\' For the young 
 man of twenty — for Julian as for many another — the impres- 
 sions now received, the emotions now awakened were to mould 
 his entire future. To himself he seemed issuing out of dark- 
 ness into day: 'let the time of that darkness be forgotten,' he 
 writes, speaking of the years immediately preceding this 
 period. Light was streaming in upon his soul, chasing away 
 the shadows that had rested there and illuminatinsf the 
 heights that lay before him. He was not yet wholly satisfied : 
 his soul still panted Excelsior!: the old cravings after a goal 
 still unattained spurred him on. His shrewd teachers per- 
 ceived them, and forged them into chains that bound him 
 fast. By wise reticence, by suppressed allusions, by mystical 
 hints and inuendoes, they taught the neophyte to believe 
 that there were new glories, unknown ecstasies, more tran- 
 scendent revelations awaiting the initiated believer. The 
 fame of Aedesius attracted him to Pergamus. With all the Aedesiw:. 
 gravity of age but all the enthusiasm of youth, Julian sat at 
 the old man's feet drinking in breathless and open-mouthed 
 the master's wisdom^ Pressed to reveal those higher esoteric 
 mysteries^ to which from time to time he would refer, the old 
 man answered, 'Thou knowest all my heart, thou hast heard 
 all my instruction ; thou seest with thine eyes how feeble 
 is this outward tenement of soul, and its frame nigh to disso- 
 lution. If thou Avouldst do aught, loved child of wisdom, get 
 thee to mine own true-born sons, and there take thy fill of the 
 
 1 Soz. V. 2; Liban. Epit. p. 528, Prosphon. 408; Jul. Ep. 51, 434 d. 
 - Eunap. Vit. Maximi, p. 86 — 90. 
 
 ^ Liban. Prosph. 409. Epit. 528 dwells on the impression first produced 
 on Julian by oracles and the various arts of divination. 
 
 K. E. 4 
 
50 JULIAN. 
 
 sweet juices of all wisdom and instruction: if tliou partici- 
 patest in those holy mysteries, thou wilt verily blush to have 
 borne the nature and name of man. Would that Maximus 
 Eusebiits qt Priscus Were here present ! But of my friends, Eusebiua 
 anthius. ^^^ Chrysanthius alone are left here. Take heed unto them 
 and have compassion on my age.' Thus he was transferred 
 to the teaching of Eusebius and Chrysanthius. At the close 
 of elaborate philosophical discourses, Eusebius would utter 
 obscure warnings against impostures that delude and mock 
 the senses, magicians' acts, cheating and materialising men's 
 conceptions by pretended miracles. On one such occasion 
 Julian took Chrysanthius aside, and asked him to expound 
 the meaning of such epilogues. Affecting a profound gravity 
 he sagely replied, 'You will do well not to learn of me, but 
 of their author;' in accordance with which advice he con- 
 sulted Eusebius directly. After some fencing Eusebius, 
 pressed hard by Julian's pertinacious curiosity, and finding 
 him at length fairly in the net, told him of one Maximus, 
 among the oldest and most honoured of their teachers, who 
 with the magnificent boldness of genius, despising sober 
 logical demonstration, applied himself to these fool's mani- 
 festations. He then went on to say how Maximus had one 
 day summoned them to the temple of Hecate; and how, 
 after he had adored the goddess and burned incense and 
 chanted a liymn, the statue of the goddess, as they sat there, 
 smiled visibly upon him, and the torches in her hands todk 
 fire. At this recital, continues the narrator, the divine Julian 
 bade him farewell and stick to his books; 'for you have 
 shewn me the man I was looking for.' So saying, he kissed 
 Chrysanthius and set off with speed for Ephesus\ 
 Maxinuis. The story, even if its literal correctness is questioned^, is 
 full of instruction and significance. It is a true picture of 
 
 1 According to Sok. iii. 1, whom Nieepb. x. 1 follows, Maximus came to 
 Nikomedia to proselytize Julian ; his statement arises perhaps from careless 
 reading of Liban. ad Jul. Hyp. p. 376. In Liban. Pro^pli. p. 408, Ionia is 
 given quite correctly. Teuffel p. 151 is hasty in imputing the opposite ver- 
 sion merely to Eunapii;s' desire to flatter his sophist. 
 
 * As it is, forcibly enough, by Teuffel p. 151. Neauder, Church Hist. in. 
 p. 54 note, and Naville p. 53, use much the same language as the text. 
 
EDUCATION. 51 
 
 the restless agitation, the yet unsatisfied cravings that were 
 driving him forward at all hazards, the constant pursuit of a 
 higher truth, a completer revelation than any as yet vouch- 
 safed him. It betrays at once the ardour and the weakness 
 that characterised him: he was full of excitable impetuosity, 
 and not less of a wistful superstition. He possessed a tem- 
 perament dissatisfied yet sanguine, a mind docilely receptive* 
 yet ardently inquisitive, a nature emotional rather than 
 strong, imaginative and sensuous rather than calmly philo- 
 sophical or patiently devotional. Maximus was a teacher 
 well suited to such a pupil. To a venerable hoary beard, a 
 quick searching eye, a rich harmonious intonation worthy of 
 an Athene or Apollo, he united a commanding eloquence 
 and a prophetic earnestness, that seem to have enforced 
 assent, enchaining his hearers with a kind of awe. 'The 
 hidden spark of divination' of which Libanius^ speaks, was 
 quickly nursed into flame. Julian became, what he remained jniian 
 
 through life, his devoted adherent. After due probation he tl','""^ ^'^''' 
 ... ^ Platonist. 
 
 was solemnly initiated in the temple of Artemis^ To the 
 
 accompaniment of weird chants and unholy rites, amid awful 
 apparitions of demons and spirits of the departed, with every 
 accessory suited to impress the imagination and stifle calm 
 deliberation, Julian was admitted to the new faith. • He was 
 disinfected from the pollution of Christianity*: the taint of 
 baptism was washed off with the warm blood of a slaughtered 
 bull sprinkled on his head^. From this time forth his con- 
 version to Paganism was complete. The hopes of the party 
 centred in him. He was in active correspondence or personal 
 contact with the leading Neo-Platonists of Greece and Asia. 
 His change of creed was not of course outwardly professed. 
 
 ' Thns we do not find Julian originating one new fragment of philosophy, 
 or even without hesitation propounding a new allegorical interpretation. 
 
 ^ Fro'iphon. p. 408. 
 
 ' M. Lam^, Jul. VApost. c. in., has hriUiautly but fancifully worked up 
 the events of successive days with the preparations, the surroundings, the 
 words, looks, gestures and feelings of the principal actors into an elaborate 
 bit of historical romance. 
 
 4 Lib. Epitaph. 528. 
 
 ^ De Broglie {L'Eglise, cOc, iv. p. 100) and others refer the event to 
 the time of his pronounced apostasy in Gaul. 
 
 4—2 
 
52 JULIAN. 
 
 The lion was unshackled, but had yet a while, says Libanius\ 
 to wear the ass's skin. No sooner did whispers of his apo- 
 stasy, of at least undue familiarity with Pagan teachers, begin 
 to circulate ^ than Julian shaved close, wore the tonsure, 
 observed saints' days, assiduously read the Scriptures in 
 public, and adopted the outward demeanour of a monk^ 
 But in private he indulged in Pagan practices and mystic 
 rites. 
 Julian's The rapidity and the completeness of Julian's conversion 
 
 cunver- demand neither surprise nor blame. Christianity was pre- 
 sented to him for perfunctory acceptance, not only in a 
 maimed, disfigured shape, not only as the religion of his 
 enemies, but also by wretchedly unworthy exponents. With 
 Paganism his fortune was just opposite. Hellenism, wooing 
 him in its most finished and becoming dress, courted his 
 spontaneous acceptance, not only as the religion of new-found 
 friends, but also as introduced to him by most worthy advo- 
 cates. Not an Aedesius merely or Maximus 'the soul-phy- 
 sician^' but Libanius greatest of the sophists, lamblichus the 
 most divine^ Themistius prince of orators^ Proaeresius king 
 of eloquence', such were the men through whom Julian 
 learned Paganism. In the fact of his conversion^ there was 
 nothing unnatural nor ignoble, rather the reverse: it calls 
 
 1 Epitaph, p. 528, cf. Greg. Naz. Or. iv. c. 79, p. 605 a. 
 
 2 Amm. M. xxii. v. 1. To this period is attributed the epistle of Gallus to 
 Julian, which, alluding to the sinister rumours afloat, adjures Julian to 
 hold fast the memory of the martyrs and not forsake the religion of his 
 fathers. Its authenticity is doubtful. For Gallus' communications with 
 Julian cf. Philost. E. H. in. 27. 
 
 3 Soz. V. 2. Sok. III. 1. Gallus, Ep. ad Jul. 
 
 4 Liban. ad Jul. Hyp. p. 37fi. 
 
 6 This lamblichus is not the well-known Neo-Platonist philosopher, 
 author of De Vit. Pijthag., etc., for he died earlier in the century : but 
 Julian applies to him, Ep. 27. 401 b, the 0etos— indeed eetiraros— which, 
 with daifj^vios, was the characteristic epithet of lamblichus the elder. Cf. 
 Or. 4. 157 c D, Or. 6. 188 b. Or. 7. 222 b, &c. 
 
 6 Gregory of Nazianzus calls Themistius ' the prince of orators.' 
 
 7 Cf. the inscription upon his commemorative statue at Athens, " The 
 Queen of Cities to the King of Eloquence." 
 
 8 Herwerden De Jul. Imp. 12 pp. summarises very well the influences 
 internal and external brought to bear. 
 
EDUCATION. 63 
 
 for pity, not for condemnation; it is the permanence of it 
 rather, when but for i>rejudiee and pride and bigotry a better 
 judgment might have been formed, that awakes regret. It 
 proved too late to retrace his steps, when superstition, and 
 pride of consistency, and intellectual self-sufficiency, and. 
 long-protracted pain of enforced disingenuousness, all barred 
 the way. 
 
 If anything was yet lacking to confirm Julian in his Death of 
 adherence to Paganism, and alienation from Christianity, ^ "*' 
 Constantius was careful to supply the want. Julian had still 
 one relative in the world, cousin at once and brother-in-law^ 
 to the Emperor. His hour was now come to be brought to 
 'The Butcher,' Gallus, who had hitherto disregarded Con- 
 stantius' threats and evaded his orders, was now enticed by 
 soft promises to leave his Eastern province and visit the 
 Emperor in person. At first he journeyed with the state befit- 
 ting a Caesar; one by one, as the toils closed faster round him, 
 the marks of homage were withdrawn; from Constantinople 
 he was hurried away by imperial order; at Petobio (Pettau) 
 creatures of the Emperor put him under arrest, stripped him 
 of the purple, dressed him in common clothes, bade him 'Get 
 up at once,' and so drove him in a post-chaise to Pola. The 
 place^ was ominous: the blood of Crispus still cried from its 
 prison walls. It was destined to witness yet another Caesar's 
 death, falling victim to his kinsman's jealousy, Gallus was 
 spared the mockery of a trial. His hands tied behind him, 
 he was dragged like a common felon to the block. Even the 
 decency of burial was denied to the mutilated trunks 
 
 ^ Gallus and Constantius were connected as brothers-in-law by a double 
 tie. An elder sister of Gallus had been Constantius' first wife, previous 
 to his marriage with Eusebia: while Gallus had espoused Constantina, 
 pister to the Emperor, and relict of the murdered Annibalianus (cf. Ep. ad 
 Ath. 272 d). See GeneaJogical Tables, Appendix A. 
 
 2 «Near Pola,' says Amm. M. xiv. xi. 20, while Sok. ii. xxxiv. 4 and Soz. 
 IV. vii. 7 designate the site of the murder as Flanona or Flavona, an island 
 of Dalmatia ; it is at no great distance from Pola. 
 
 2 In connexion with the murders that inaugurated the accession of 
 the sons of Coustantine, Dr Auer had already written [Kaiser Jul. &c. 
 p. 4), " Gallus and Julian had one fault ; they could not forget, though 
 
54 JULIAN'S BOYHOOD, YOUTH, 
 
 Julian Scarcely liad the news of his brother's murder reached 
 
 ITciuif Julia-Q. when he too received the mandate to repair from the 
 quiet retreats of Ionia 'to visit the Emperor in person.' 
 There had risen in Constantius' mind a doubt whether the 
 Imperial consent had been formally attached to his departure 
 from Macellum\ It was an authenticated fact that only 
 three years before the young pripce-student had had an 
 interview with his brother on his royal progi'ess eastward 
 adAih.TiZK through Nikomedial Letters had passed at intervals be- 
 tween them. Besides there was an a priori probability that 
 he was a co-conspirator. It was certain at least that he was 
 connected by blood with the Emperor himself, and was now 
 the sole offender who had not expiated by death that crime. 
 Ep. 68. 'The wolf thought well to be his watch-dog. 
 Julian at Treated like a prisoner, dragged backwards and forwards 
 
 Court. between Milan and Comuni, in daily terror of his life, forced 
 adA(h.2-2D to guard every word and look, he learned bitterly enough that 
 'it was better for him to entrust the care of his life to the 
 gods than to the word of Constantius ^' Possessed with 
 deep-seated hatred for the murderer, for whom he was forced 
 to simulate affection and loyal respect, he transferred no 
 doifbt some portion of that hate to the religion he so loudly 
 professed. 'How often,' says an eloquent writer*, 'as he 
 
 Constantius wonkl gladly have drawn a veil over the past :" but it required 
 some impudence to add concerning the death of Gallus, (p. 38) " Juhan 
 had no call to complain." To an ordinary reader the grounds alleged in 
 Ep. ad Ath. 272 are not wholly trivial or unreasonable. 
 
 1 Eode, p. 35, adopting Sievers' suggestion, Stiiditm d-c, p. 228, supposes 
 Ammiau to have confused the departure from Nikomedia with that from 
 Macellum, thinking the charge as it stands too ridiculously unsubstantial. 
 If however it was Gallus' entreaties had extorted a tacit assent, the Emperor 
 may have scented a plot in fraternal good feeling. 
 
 2 Amm. M. xv. ii. 7 places the interview at ConstantiuojDle, but is clearly 
 outweighed by the authority of Libanius (cf. Epit. p. 527), a resident at the 
 place, whose statement Sok. iii. 1 corroborates. 
 
 3 The words actually occur at a later crisis, cf. Zosim. iii. 9; but in 
 Ep. ad Ath. 273 a, Julian attributes his preservation from Constantius' 
 violence to the direct intervention of the gods. Significantly enough, in 
 the letter referred to this is the first crisis of his life where he acknowledges 
 their direct guidance. 
 
 •* De Broglie, UE/jlisc dbc, iii. p. 281. 
 
EDUCATION, AND CAESARSHIP. 55 
 
 raised his eyes to heaven, must he have seen, rearing itself 
 between him and the God of Constantius, the bloody image 
 of a father he had never known, and a brother that he dared 
 not mourn.* 'His Eternity' had just reached the climax of 
 arrogant self-sufficiency. He had cashiered* a fourth Caesar. 
 Persia for the nonce was quiet. Emperor of Emperors he 
 aspired too to be counted Bishop of Bishops. With a brutal 
 candour he asserted his lordship in Church as well as in State, 
 in doctrine no less than in discipline*. His civil supremacy he 
 regarded as the proof and the measure of his religious ortho- 
 doxy. Arianism was demonstrably orthodox, if Constantius 
 was Arian. L'eglise cest tnoi was the position to which he 
 committed himself To assert it he browbeat or bribed, 
 menaced or cajoled, imprisoned or exiled, tortured or deposed 
 refractory bishops, as seemed best. No prestige of office 
 could protect Liberius from Thracian exile, no extremity of 
 venerable age deliver Hosius from tlie rack. 
 
 But it was not only a personal antipathy to Constantius, 
 not only Constantius' own unworthiness^, or his supercilious 
 domineering over the Christian commonwealth, that finally 
 discredited Christianity in the eyes of Julian. These things 
 only corroborated or accorded with results to which personal 
 observation must have led him. The Christians with whom 
 he chiefly came in contact during his residence at the court 
 of Milan were beyond a doubt the Arian bishops who clung 
 about liJie throne. They justified the bitter taunt of Liberius, 
 
 1 sc. Gallus. The first tliree alluded to are Magnentius, Vetranion and 
 Nepotianus. For the titles assumed by Constantius, see Amm. M. xv. i. 3. 
 
 2 For Constantius' behaviour at the Council of Milan, see pp. 33, 34 : 
 cf. also De Broglie's graphic narrative in L'Eglise tfcc, iii. 258 pp. 
 
 3 The colours in which this Emperor appears in these pages are un- 
 deniably dark. The apologist of Constantius must draw his materials from 
 almost any quarter sooner than his connexion with Julian or his adminis- 
 tration of Chmch matters. Throughout the two long elaborate panegyrics 
 which Julian has left us, he was unable to record a single personal favour 
 conferred on him by Constantius, with the exception of the elevation to 
 the Caesarship. Even this solitary boon was accorded under pressure of 
 imminent external dangers (Julian's irony in Or. l 45 a b, as compared with 
 ad Ath. 278 and the like is quite audaciously broad), and only after 
 prolonged vacillation had finally persuaded Constantius that it would be 
 more politic to robe Julian in the purple than to assassinate him. 
 
oG JULIAN'S BOYHOOD, YOUTH, 
 
 by which he bade the Emperor remember that bishops were 
 not created to avenge his wrongs*. It so chanced that the 
 council of Milan synchronised with Julian's stay in the place. 
 It is needless to dwell in detail on the scenes of quarrelsome 
 turbulence, or on individual cases of duplicity that marked 
 the hey-day of ascendant Arianism, when a Valens and 
 Ursacius swayed the helm of council, when honest men 
 turned cowards, and wise men traitors, when prelatical 
 violence and rancour and self-seeking drowned or gagged the 
 voices of the solitary spokesmen of truth, and the blindness 
 or timidity of her less unworthy leaders jeoparded well-nigh 
 the existence of the Church of Christ. With Avhat disdainful 
 scorn must Julian in his hours of privacy have cast aside 
 that mask of religion^ which he was forced to wear, and 
 turned from the present to dream of Hellas, ' home of the 
 Muses'! Almost at the very hour^ that he was joyfully turn- 
 ing his back on the palace to journey towards his mother's 
 hearth*, another illustrious exile also set his face north- 
 
 1 Theod. II. xvi. 22, with which compare Athan. Hist. Ar. ad Mon. c. 
 37 cljc. 
 
 * In the First Panegyric on Constantius — which, thongli dating from 
 a somewhat later period, viz. Nov. 355 a.d., represents to us Juhan as still 
 fettered at the court— we are surprised at the most meagre recognition 
 accorded to Christianity. Of Constantius' religious policy there is not one 
 syllable. The expressions used to designate the Deity are bai-ely neutral. 
 If historic truth prompted Jrdian to speak of Masimiau Hercules and Con- 
 stantine Chlorus as worshipping ' The Higher Nature ' only {rriv KpeirTova 
 <pv<nv, 7 b), he might have found some more decisively Christian phrase 
 than ' the deity bringing to happy fulfilment his destined end' (t^i/ ilfiapixiv-qv 
 reKiVTrfv tov Salfiovos /xaXa oXjiiav irapacrxovTos, 16 c) to describe the death of 
 Constantino the Great. The ' All-good Providence ' is another paraphrase 
 he employs for God : while Rome he describes (29 d) as ' the hill-top, where 
 is enshrined the image of Jupiter.' The text seems to have undergone 
 subsequent revision. 
 
 3 Newman, Avians <i-c., postpones the exile of Liberius till 356. But the 
 council of Milan sat at the very beginning of 355, and the proceedings 
 against Liberius followed immediately. The expression in the text is that 
 used by De Broglie, in. p. 272. 
 
 * ws ovv airo<pvywv eKeWev acr/xevo^ iiropfvd/j.rji' eVt ttJv rijs /X7]rpbs icrlav. 
 Ep. ad Ath. 273 b. In Or. iii. 118 b, Ionia seems designated by oiKabt, though 
 Athens eventually became his destination. Cf. also Ad Them. 260 a, diriuv 
 di i-rrl Tj]v'E\\dda wdXiv , oi'x uos iv iopri^j t§ nfyiarii ttjv tvxV ^TraLvuiu 
 
EDUCATION, AND CAESARSHIP. 57 
 
 wards, Liberius, chief bishop of the west, wending his way 
 
 to weary exile in Thrace, because he declined to condemn 
 
 a brother bishop unheard! 
 
 Thus we may consider that on JuHan's arrival at Athens Julian at 
 , . . ,. . „ /-<i • • • 1 1 Athens. 
 
 in the year 35o his prior alienation from (Jhristiamty had 
 
 changed into positive aversion. The death of Gallus, the 
 private and public bearing of Constantius, and the condition 
 of official Christianity had riveted irrevocably the sentiments 
 which Julian had derived from Macellum, from Nikomedia, 
 and from Ephesus, At Athens he appears to have been 
 initiated^ into the Eleusinian mysteries. Outward repres- 
 sion and self-constraint only made his inward excitement 
 more uncontrollable. The strange excited manner^, the 
 restless gait, the twitching shoulders, the dilated rolling 
 eye, the distended nostril, attracted the notice even of his 
 masters and fellow- students. At times he would fall into 
 reveries, and so with nodding head and swaying steps, 
 pass through the streets half-distraught. Then with a 
 sudden jerk, or a harsh peal of laughter, would turn 
 upon his companion with some strangely abrupt inter- 
 roo-ation. Never, not in the first moments of elevation to 
 the Caesarship, not in the perils of his Gallic wars, not in the 
 sole possession of sovereign power, can life have been more 
 intense to him than now. In the immemorial courts of 
 Athens those convictions were finally matured which have 
 given its permanent significance to Julian's life. There he 
 moved amid the most intellectual circles, and though of 
 royal blood proved not unable to hold his own with the 
 bravest in the peaceful combats of the schools. Amid stu- 
 dents of no common calibre, such for instance as the young 
 Cappadocians, Basil and Gregory, he shone by his own 
 
 i]McrTT}v 'i(prjv elvai rrjv aixoi^rjV i/xol Kal rb 5?) \ey6/J.€Vov 
 
 Xpvaea xa^fe^'^'', iKaTo/jL[Boi evvea^oiuv 
 'i(pT)v a.vTriXKa.xdai; compare App. B. note i. 
 
 1 For initiation Eiiuap. Vit. Max., Theod. iii. 3, Greg. Naz. Or. iv. c. 55 
 576 B, cf. Or. VII. 231 d, Soz. v. 2. Here again, tliougli the historicity of 
 the bare fact might well be disputed, Lame 80 pp. revels in romancing 
 every detail. 
 
 2 Greg. Naz. Or. v. c. 23, p. 692 b. 
 
58 Julian's boyhood, youth, 
 
 merit. Needless to say that by professors and rhetoricians 
 of the Pagan interest — though indeed, as Libanius^ assures 
 us, he was to be counted among teachers rather than taught 
 — he was at once instructed and caressed: but the true his- 
 tory of his University life survives solidified in the thoughts, 
 the writings, and the policy of maturer manhood. 
 
 To tliis same period we must refer the rise of another 
 feeling that laid strong hold upon Julian. He became 
 impressed with the sense of a mission '■*. He began to 
 regard himself as the siaecial instrument of the gods to 
 fulfil the predestined restoration of Hellenism. Vague 
 prophecies were current pointing to the imminent fall of 
 Christianity; 'Peter,' said one heathen oracle, 'had by magic 
 secured worship to Christ for three hundred and sixty five 
 years; but thereafter his kingdom should falP'. Dreams of a 
 Pagan Messiah floated through men's minds. Already the 
 fabric of Christianity, triumphant externally, began to crum- 
 ble from within, A seeming renaissance of Hellenism had 
 set in. Julian, suggested far-sighted philosophers, and with 
 growing buoyancy his own heart whispered the same hopes, 
 alike by position and by actual gifts was the elect of heaven 
 to consummate the change*. Such half-formed aspirations 
 chimed admirably with his imaginative nature. His mind, 
 like Constantino the Great's, was so tempered, that while 
 he yielded willingly to superstition, he found in it rather 
 a strength than a weakness. Julian could believe in a for- 
 tunate star, could credulously attribute each happy chance, 
 each trivial success, which was due clearly to his own fore- 
 sight, to the direct interposition of the gods on his behalf; 
 while at the same time he was never frightened by childish 
 omens, or cowed by superstitious fears from boldly facing 
 and resolutely carrying out enterprises that demanded all 
 
 1 F4ntaj)li. p. 532, cf. Zos. iii. 2, p. 123, 
 
 ^ It is to this stage that Theod. iii, 3 refers Julian's first aspirations after 
 empire, his consultation of oracles, and evocation of devils. With this 
 Liban. Epit. pp. 529, 565 fully agree. 
 
 ^ Cf. Augustin, De Civ. Dei xviii. 53, 
 
 "* Heurik Ibsen, in his elaborate, but in details very unhistorical drama, 
 The Emperor and the Galilean, draws this out powerfully. 
 
EDUCATION, AND CAESAESHIP. 59 
 
 his hardihood and natural resource. It was at this time^ 
 that he began to recognise the divine hand in each incident 
 of his career; to hear voices or dream dreams, which he 
 reverenced as supernatural monitors: to see in himself the 
 favoured knight of Hermes and Athene. In his own lan- 
 guage, from the day that he left Athens, the goddess was 
 everywhere his guide, and compassed him about with guardian adAth.2:5B 
 angels, assigned to him from the Sun and Moon. These 
 things were signs of a growing self-confidence^, presages of 
 powers that as yet lay undeveloped, and indeed unsuspected, 
 under the gauche exterior of the unprincely student. 
 
 It does not fall within the scope of this essay to follow Julian as 
 Julian on hi§ return from Athens to court, to unravel the 
 court cabals and the Imperial hopes and fears which resulted 
 in Julian's solemn investiture with the Caesarship and his 
 espousal of Helena, sister to the Emperor. Nor are we con- 
 cerned with the marches and counter-marches, that in three 
 brilliant campaigns reduced Gaul and the Rhine provinces 
 to entire submission to the young Csesar, and left him free to 
 devote his whole attention to administrative and economical 
 reform in the provinces entrusted to him. He had set out 
 under the ignoble espionage of his own officers ^ restricted in 
 all his powers, thwarted at every turn by privy conspiracies 
 and opposition, with a school-boy's manual* in his pocket 
 regulating his powers, his money allowance, his very diet, a 
 lay-figure dressed in purple to scare barbarians with the 
 terror of a name, a sort of shadow apparition king, wearing 
 'on his brow the round and top of sovereignty' and nothing 
 more^ In three short years his native force, his industry, 
 
 1 Cf. partiralarly Ep. ad Ath. 273 a, aud the narrative ibid. 275 b sqq. 
 The allegory of Or. vii., large selections from which are given later (Chap. 
 VI.), corroborates the text. 
 
 2 For his previous timorous self-distrust, see ad Them. 253 a b. 
 
 3 ad Ath. 281 d sqq. ■* Amm. M. xvi. v. 3. 
 
 s Ep. ad Ath. 278, iirLTpiirn /jloi j3adl^eLi' els to, ffTpcLTdweSa to ffXVI^o- 
 (cat rrjv ecKova nepioiaovTi T-ijv iavrov' Kal yap tol /cat tovto etpr)TO Kal 
 eyeypatrro, Srt rots TciXXots oi) §aai\ia dLduatv, dWa tov rrjv iavrov irpbt 
 (Keivovs UKOva KO/xiovvTa. 
 
60 JULIAN'S BOYHOOD, YOUTH, 
 
 and his tenacity of purpose, had secured him a commanding 
 ascendancy. His state of mind remained such as has been 
 already described, though growing years and a career of 
 ahnost unchequered success deepened no doubt his previous 
 religious convictions. In hfe and belief a Pagan, in outward 
 act a somewhat unpronounced Christian \ he adopted a 
 policy consonant with his ambiguous position. With, or 
 more probably without his consent, his name was appended 
 by Constantius to a law declaring it a capital offence to 
 adore or sacrifice to idols. He interfered as little as possible 
 with religious parties or disputes of any kind. Political 
 necessities required perhaps his formal acquiescence in the 
 banishment of Hilary, the young Bishop of Poitiers, from 
 Gaul I But this was an isolated act, the omission of which 
 must have alarmed the suspicions of Constantius and fanned 
 his growing jealousy. Julian was too astute to provoke 
 collision or give a handle to opponents by open professions 
 of Paganism. He satisfied the requirements of imperial 
 orthodoxy. Even after his army had by acclaim declared 
 him worthy of the supreme dignity of empire, when open 
 war was imminent, if not proclaimed, between him and Con- 
 
 1 The second Panegyric on Constantius, generally assigned to the year 
 357 A.D., startles us by its uumistakeable renunciation of Christianity, 
 The religious element introduced is Hellenistic to the core. Homer and 
 Plato are the authoritative exponents of morality and of the relations 
 existing between soul and body, God and man (cf. pp. 68 — 70, 79, 82 — 84, 
 &c.). Heathen myths are parabolic representations of truth. The Emperor 
 is said to be a kind of priest or prophet (68 b). Besides the more general 
 teaching and tone, -we find the distinctively Pagan expression ' the king 
 of the gods' (TiSv OeGv rbv ^acnXia, 90 a, cf. sqq. ), while the disapi^earance 
 of the traitor Marcellinus at the battle of Mursa is accounted for as the 
 work of some god or demon (i:i7r6 tov Oeuv rj dai/j.6i>wp Kpixpdeis, 59 b). The 
 ideal prince (Constantius) must be ovk dXlycjpoi depawelas dew (86 a). We 
 are almost forced to infer that the original writing was recast by Julian or 
 some editor's hand (De Brog. iv. 24 n.). Miicke p. 161 prefers to assign a 
 later date to the original publication (see Chronol. Tables in Aj^p. B). The 
 heathenism of Or. viii. 'Consolatory Eeflections on the departure of Sallust,' 
 •written early in 358 a.d., is more chastened— ^eo's for instance appears 
 throughout in the singular— but there too the court of spiritual and theolo- 
 gical appeal is Homer. 
 
 2 De Broglie, L'Eylise, Sec, iii. 362. 
 
EDUCATION, AND CAESARSHIP. Gl 
 
 stantius, the young Augustus was still to be found wearing 
 the ass' skin, and participating in Christian rites at Epiphany- 
 tide in the church of Vienne\ It was on the march to meet 
 Constantius that he publicly abjured Christianity, took the 
 title of Pontifex^ and conducted sacrifice in Pagan temples^ 
 Even then deference to the feelings of not a few of his soldiers 
 led him to temporise in some points*. But from Illyria he 
 can write joyfully to his foster-father in philosophy : 'We -Ky 
 worship the gods publicly; the whole army which is 
 following my fortunes are devout believers: we openly sacri- 
 fice oxen : with many a hecatomb we render thank-offerings 
 to the gods.' He issued to all true Greeks his Pagan mani- 
 festo^ Confident in his mission, fortified by assurance of 
 divine favour and looking for 'great fruit of labour,' amid !J>- 
 the plaudits of men and with heaven's smile, he set his face 
 eastward to regenerate a misguided world and by the gods' 
 behest 'to make all things pure.' '^• 
 
 1 Amm. M. x\i. ii. 5. Zon. xiii. xi. p. 22 says Christmas. * Sok. in. 1. 
 
 3 e. g. to Belloua, Amm. M. xxi. v. 1. Of. Jul. ad Ath. 286 d. 
 
 * Zouar. XIII. xi. p. 22. 
 
 » Tlie so-called Epistola ad S. P. Q. Atheriiensem, which Zos. in. 10 
 informs us was despatched to the Lacedajmoniaus, Corinthians and 
 Athenians. 
 
 I). 38. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 Bcligion So far as concerns pagan religion and philosophy, the 
 
 under the . i- t t i r j> 
 
 Empire, centuries preceding Juhan have been depicted in the Intro- 
 duction to this Essay as a time of exposure and disintegration. 
 Along with the gradual extinction of patriotism under the 
 incubus of an enormous centralised despotism, they witnessed 
 a decay of morals, a despairing surrender of primitive faiths, 
 and throughout the most honoured schools a trepidation, a 
 nerveless depression, and an impotence that presaged immi- 
 nent extinction. The heartiest attempt at conservation was 
 revived Platonism ; that* acknowledged the great truth of 
 the unity of God, and renounced the balder fallacies of idol- 
 worship: but it lacked sound basis and inherent vitahty; it 
 clung to extinct myths, and to solemn forms, and to edifyino- 
 survivals of ritual, out of which all virtue and meanino- had 
 departed for generations, and which had long since become 
 ' rudimentary' appendages. In the hour of distress Mystery- 
 worship with mischievous and ill-directed sympathy had 
 tried to drown men's legitimate and reasonable craviucs, and 
 to intoxicate them out of consciousness of their despair. 
 Christianity meanwhile had owed its strength and achieved 
 its progress by recognising the misery, the helplessness, the 
 degradation of the world, and by supplying it with a solution 
 of its misery, and also with a hope of redemption from it. 
 Neo- There was one other system which recognised the same 
 
 I'latonism. unsatisfied aspirations and present discontent, and strove not 
 
 1 Capes' Age of the Antonines, p. 180—1. By revived Platonism I mean 
 here and throuyliout the School of Plutarch &c. as distinct from Neo- 
 Platonism. 
 
NEO-PLATONISM. 6-8 
 
 altogether ineffectively to prescribe an explanation and a 
 remedy. This system was Neo-Platonism. Historically it 
 was collateral rather than antagonistic to Christianity. Its 
 genius was philosophical, not sectarian ; it was the intellec- 
 tual expression of that revulsion against scepticism and 
 materialism, which distinguishes third century thought. 
 Not only did Pyrrhonism and Epicureanism die completely 
 out, but the intellectual revolt against them took a positive 
 form. The craving after worship, after some sure ground of 
 belief, after communion with the deity, in a word the 
 spiritual element in man's nature reasserted itself, and 
 evolved a philosophic system at once reverential, dogmatic, 
 and spiritual. ' To scepticism the new philosophy opposed 
 dogmatism, to materialism an ascetic idealism.' The astound- 
 ing boldness of the attempt is one of its most striking 
 features. Starting from no historical basis, and claiming no 
 direct revelation, on the sole strength of intuitive belief, it 
 assumed its fundamental truth, and thence passing from 
 step to step, lost in excess of daring, framed a spacious and 
 elaborate theology, by which it strove to solve or elucidate 
 the inscrutable problems that on all sides confronted it. It 
 reposed upon complete subjectivity : the soul turned inwards 
 upon itself, and there read the nature of God and the riddle 
 of existence. * Perfect abstraction from all without, when the 
 soul centres upon itself, beholds beauty past understanding is 
 the realisation of the highest life and identification with the 
 divine.' It remains, if nothing else, a standing witness to the 
 permanent strength, the irresistible determination and the 
 boundless daring of the spiritual instinct of man. 
 
 In its original and most worthy cast Neo-Platonism was A religious 
 a system of philosophy. The satisfaction it offered wasj^;"''*°' 
 primarily intellectual, though it did not neglect, but indeed 
 gave a splendid primacy to the spiritual element in man. 
 In religious precision and definiteness of aim it towered 
 above previous tentative efforts. It threw its whole strength 
 of abstract thought and exposition into the fundamental 
 questions concerning the being and attributes of God, the 
 origin and existence of evil, the constitution and government 
 
64 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 of tlie phenomenal world, the nature and powers of the human 
 soul, and the relations connecting together matter, man and 
 Relation God. The foundation of the system was laid in a reconstruc- 
 ^Mhso"^^ tion or reinterpretation of Platonic teaching; but it claimed, 
 phies. and not unsuccessfully, to absorb into itself all previous 
 philosophies, all at least that acknowledged any active or 
 even potential communion between God and man. It 
 reconciled them not by arbitrary identification as offshoots 
 from a common Platonic or Socratic stock, but as varying 
 expressions of a single truth, which truth was declared to be 
 perfectly enshrined and secreted in Plato. It is this which 
 gives to Neo-Platonism its markedly eclectic character. It 
 assimilated mystic numerical formulae from Neo-Pythago- 
 reanism ; it accepted all that was truest in the syncretic 
 liberalism of revived Platonism : it endorsed the austere 
 morality of the Stoic, and by its emanation system appro- 
 priated his captivating Pantheism ; so far as mere reason was 
 concerned it admitted the contention of the sceptic ; it 
 practically borrowed from Aristotle his scientific methods 
 and forms of thought ; while its obligations to Plato require 
 no mention. It went further afield than Greek philosophy. 
 Its new and hazardous conception of God as above all quality 
 and specification, and its metaphysical separation of the 
 Divine Mind from the absolute God is found in germ if any- 
 where in the Judaeo-Alexandrine doctrines of Philo : its views 
 of matter, its account of the communication of the Deity to 
 phenomenal things through intermediate agencies and grada- 
 tions of being, its transcendental conception of the Godhead 
 itself exhibit striking analogies to Gnostic teaching, and at 
 least a superficial resemblance to the most original results of 
 Oriental speculation. But Neo-Platonism did not concoct 
 an undigested conglomerate of rival ideas, and call it a 
 philosophy. It gave organic unity to the elements it incor- 
 porated. If it assimilated the strength, it radically modified 
 the principle of Stoic Pantheism ; it gave up the hard 
 mechanical notion of the literal transfusion of the Deity 
 through all parts of the universe, for it justly appeared a 
 profane and illogical materialising of God to suppose him 
 
NEO-PLATONISM. 65 
 
 actually present as fire or air-current or animating soul in 
 all phenomenal objects. It substituted for this the more 
 elevated notion of a dynamic and not a mechanical inherence, 
 of an inward sustainment and impulse, an ever-present effect 
 of divine will constituting for each creature the law of its 
 being and the condition of existence. It recognised an 
 indestructible duality, where Stoics discerned an indissoluble 
 unity. To Chrysippus God was in all things ; to Plotinus all 
 things were in God\ Again, Neo-Platonism, we have said, 
 conceded, nay reaffirmed and emphasised the sceptic invali- 
 dation of reason ; but it escaped the Nihilism, which ap- 
 peared its logical corollary, by revealing and calling into play 
 a new faculty transcending reason, superseding it both in 
 scope and efficacy. Even to the dicta of Plato it yielded no 
 servile obedience : it selected and developed at pleasure. 
 Metaphysical hints from the Sophistes and Protagoras, 
 enigmatic allusions or metaphors from the Republic, specu- 
 lative imagery from the Timaeus equipped it with doctrines 
 which so exceeded as almost to efface much of Plato's most 
 essential teaching. Convinced of the untrustworthiness of 
 phenomena and sense-knowledge, Plato had taken refuge in 
 the Ideal theory. He had claimed objective reality for Thought 
 and Knowledge. They alone were real ; their embodied 
 forms peopled a suprasensual world of pure being. But the 
 Neo-Platonist improved upon this conception. To him the 
 Ideas^, the ' Intelligible Forms ' as he called them, were not 
 the highest and last grade. They retained indeed their 
 exaltation above the world of sense, but became intermediary 
 agents whereby the effects of the primal One, the First 
 Principle of all things, were conveyed to that world. In a 
 word, the Platonic dualism between Thought and Sense, 
 Pure Being and Phenomena, was superseded and merged in 
 
 1 Cf. Zeller, Phil. Griech. in. 2, pp. 376, 451, 497. Ueberweg, Hist. Phil. 
 I. 247. 
 
 '^ lamblichus placed the Ideas in the lower 'Intellectual' World, while 
 archetypes of them had a place in the ' Intelligible' world — a characteristic 
 expansion of Plotinus' doctrine that they are immanent in the Nous. Infr. 
 p. 68, and cf. Ueberweg, Hist. Phil. i. 248. 
 
 K. E. 5 
 
CG NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 a Unity transcending both. So far from asserting the truth 
 and absolute existence of thought, this theory accomplished 
 the reverse ; for it represented the ground of thought as un- 
 cognisable\ 
 riotimis. Some ninety years before the birth of Julian there 
 
 had come to Kome a stranger whose worn but philosophic 
 garb, whose bright though sunken eye denoted at once the 
 crenius and the ascetic. The wisdom of Zoroaster, and the 
 secret lore of India exercised it was said a strange spell over 
 his imagination, but his training had been in the Greek 
 philosophy ; he was an adoring pupil of the Alexandrian, 
 Ammonias Sakkas, who as an apostate Christian, under 
 colour of the faith he had abjured, gave catechetical instruc- 
 tion under a veil of Pythagorean secresy in the new doctrines 
 he professed. Plotinus, such was the stranger's name, 
 opened a school at Rome, and became the Chrysippus^ of the 
 Neo-Platonic philosophy. Disciplined austerity of person 
 combined with rare acuteness and intensity of mind, and a 
 philosophic fervour of conviction that bordered upon inspira- 
 tion attracted pupils of every grade and temperament : 
 emperors and titled dames mingled in his saloon with trained 
 philosophers or threadbare students. For many years his 
 characteristic and esoteric doctrines remained a secret, un- 
 committed to writing and but obscurely hinted in oral 
 discourse. At length the representations or feigned attacks 
 of favourite pupils, Amelius and Porphyry, induced hhn to 
 systematise his philosophy. The result was the Enneads. 
 Aim and The central aim of Plotinus was to explain and establish 
 
 ' y^^^'"" the connexion between God, man and the world. To this 
 he pertinaciously adhered. He disregarded Physics ; he med- 
 dled but little with Logic ; even his Ethics were rigidly 
 subordinated to his metaphysical inquiries. Only the 
 roughest outline of his system can be here attempted ; that 
 is a necessary preface to any understanding of Julian's piillo- 
 sophical position. 
 
 1 Zeller, in. 2, pp. ;577, 422. 
 
 - ri fj.li yap rji' Xpvffiinro^ OVK ui' 'jV crroct. 
 
NEO-PLATONISM. (j7 
 
 Spirit and Matter stand at opposite polos. Man in his Spirit ami 
 twofold nature implies the existence of both, testifies to the 
 connexion of tlie two, and craves after an explanation of that 
 connexion. Its nature and its mode are the problems set 
 before him. In the Spirit world, such is the answer of 
 Plotinus, there exists a triad — the One, Intelligence, and 
 Soul. These are not three persons or substances' of a co-equal 
 Trinity, but denote three descending orders of Spiritual 
 Being. At the summit of all, absolute, unconditioned, ^/"'Oh*'. 
 ineffable and incomprehensible stands the One. Unlike the 
 One or the Good of Plato, the One of Plotinus is not an 
 Idea, but rather the principle of all Ideas, itself raised above 
 the sphere of the Ideas, and transcending all determinations 
 of existence, so that neither rest nor motion, not even Being 
 or not-Being can be predicated of it. It transcends thought, 
 for thought implies a duality ; still less can it be the Good, 
 for that admits of a multiplicity of determinations. Its im- 
 perfect name, the One, is but an approximate description, 
 correct only so far as absolute Oneness excludes the attribu- 
 tion of any but negative predicates. The One is not all 
 things, but before all things. Unapproachable by thought, 
 it is known only in its effects. In what way all things, 
 the Many, were evolved from the One, transcends human 
 reason to conceive. It is the overflowing source of essential 
 Being, but as such even in emitting energy experiences no 
 change, nor is its pre-existent Oneness affected or impaired^. 
 
 From this excess of radiated energy, related to the One, A"""-'- 
 as the image to the original, the sun to light, proceeded 
 Nous or Intelligence. Classed next to the One, towards which 
 it constantly turns, it represents the smallest degree of de- 
 parture from absolute Oneness and perfection. Thought^ and 
 
 1 J. Simon'.s contention that they are (adopted by Lewes in his Hist, of 
 Philos. I. 388 pp.) seems rightly denounced by Zeller as ' eine auffallende 
 Verkennung der Plotinischen Lehre.' Cf. note in liis Pliil. tUr Griech. iii. 
 2, p. 450. 
 
 2 The activity imphod in this absohite and primary cansaHty contains of 
 necessity an idea of pluraUty. Plotinus strove to meet the difficulty by 
 regardiuf; it as describing a modification of us rather than of the first cause. 
 
 •' But Thought, be it added, abstracted fr^ni all thinking ; premiss and 
 
 .-. •) 
 
68 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 Being, the latter being the posterior of the two and definable 
 as Thought made stationary, are regarded as its fundamental 
 determinations. It is pure spirit still, hampered by none 
 of the limitations or imperfections that attend on matter, 
 independent of space or time, enjoying a repose which consists 
 in equable and unchanging motion, so that its whole being 
 is absolute activity. Emanating from the One, this Nous 
 becomes in its turn the basis of all existence, for it includes 
 as immanent parts of itself all the Ideas. In fact the whole 
 sum of Ideas, regarded as a unity, constitutes the NoO?, 
 which thus becomes the determining source of all being and 
 all thought. The spiritual order which it contains and 
 pervades is called the /cocr/io? votjto? or Intelligible World. 
 From this every element of phenomenal finiteness is absent, 
 and it combines in itself the apparent contradictories of 
 absolute plurality, as containing perfectly all forms of being, 
 and yet of perfect unity, with which it is imbued by the 
 primal One. Harmony with this NoO? is the highest goal to 
 which the spiritual part of man can attain. 
 Soul. The third factor in the Trinity, Soul, stands in the same 
 
 relation to Nous, as Nous to the One. It is the image or 
 reflection of Nous, as the moon's light to the sun's. It too 
 belongs still to the order of Spirit, but is as it were on the 
 outer fringe of the circle illumined by the central One. Nous 
 may be represented by an inner immovable sphere described 
 about the great centre of all Being, Soul as an outer mova- 
 ble sphere turning about the interior Nous. Spirit has now 
 by a series of acts of self- estrangement from its creative 
 centre reached the lowest gradation of which it is capable. 
 Light has reached the confines of darkness, and potential 
 connexion with matter has been secured : by another meta- 
 phor Soul is spoken of as extended Nous, which, just as the 
 point extended becomes a line, is now brought within touch 
 of matter. Thus Soul is made the link between the Many 
 and the One, Rest and Motion, Eternity and Time. Into 
 
 consequence being to Nous simultaneous without intervention of the think- 
 ing procesR. 
 
NEO-PLATONISM. 69 
 
 the subtler minutige of the double World-Soul, Earth-Soul, 
 and Separate Souls, it is needless to enter. The final 
 contact with Matter is established by emanative action analo- 
 gous to that by which the One passed into Nous and Nous 
 into Soul. On the nature of this so-called emanation it be- 
 hoves to speak shortly. 
 
 Emanation is only a clumsy mode, imposed by the Etmna- 
 limitations of human thought and expression, of represent- 
 ing a transcendental act or series of acts. It should be called 
 rather eternal procession, for it must not be regarded as 
 occurring in time at all. The divisions of the triad as just 
 described are all alike co-eternal ; so too is matter, and the 
 interdependence and relations of all these to each other. 
 Further in Neo-Platonic emanation there is no communica- 
 tion of being, passing into or calling into existence lower 
 intermediary orders : herein it is quite distinct from the 
 emanation of Oriental philosophies. The First Cause is in 
 essence incommunicable : there is a communication of force 
 or effect only, not of being. The One, Nous and Soul are 
 in themselves absolutely unaffected by any emanation to 
 which they give rise : it does not take place at their expense: 
 they are occupied solely with that from which they emanated. 
 Emanation is not even produced by any act of volition, 
 still less of self-impartition : it takes place by an internal 
 and natural necessity, which is a part of the nature of Spirit, 
 no more consciously exercised than gravity by a particle. 
 Lastly, each act of emanation represents a degradation : Nous 
 is lower than the One, and the Soul than Nous, though in its 
 proper sphere each is perfect. By such progressive stages of 
 imperfection is it alone possible to bridge the illimitable 
 gulf between Spirit and Matter. 
 
 With regard to Matter, some substratum appeared to Blatter. 
 Plotinus a necessary assumption involved by the existence of 
 the phenomenal world. This substratum he regards as the 
 absolute privation of all being or quality. As such it is 
 wholly unthinkable, and can be described by negatives only, 
 as formless, indeterminate, unqualified and the like. One 
 positive attribute it does appear at first sight to possess. It 
 
70 NEO-PLATONISM. 
 
 is tlie cause and origin of all Evil, which cannot by possibility 
 be derived from the spiritual nature of the emanative Soul. 
 This is explained however by representing Evil as a negative 
 quantity, a certain absence or deprivation of Good which 
 belongs properly to Matter. Into Matter so conceived Soul 
 entering by voluntary emanation produces the phenomenal 
 world, almost every degree of intermixture or rather propor- 
 tionate prevalence of the elements being provided for by 
 gradations descendingfrom angels, daemons and heroes through 
 men to animals and inanimate matter. 
 Ecsiasij. Of Neo-Platonic anthropology or ethics no analysis need be 
 
 given, but its most original and characteristic tenet demands 
 an allusion. Intelligence (vov<;) the highest rational faculty 
 of man might, as in the Platonic scheme, be trained more and 
 more to harmony with the supreme Nous. Yet by no con- 
 ceivable perfection of mere reason could the finite attain to 
 communion with the incomprehensible infinite. The nature of 
 the two things forbade it. Reduced by rigorous metaphysi- 
 cal reasoning to this result, and yet intuitively assured that 
 knowledge of the infinite was within the range of man, 
 Plotinus fell back on the doctrine of Ecstasy. Above reason 
 and above intelligence man, so he taught, possesses an 
 energy kindred to the One whereby he may attain to direct 
 communion with it. Leaving thought and spirit behind, 
 divesting itself of personality and individual consciousness, 
 the soul by an ecstatic elevation of being might enter into 
 actual unification or contact (aTrXwo-t?, dcf}^]) with God, and 
 become absorbed in the Infinite Intelligence from which it 
 emanated. For that rapturous space 'reminiscence might be 
 changed into intuition.' Weaned altogether from the flesh, 
 disenthralled of desire and lust, trained to the sincere 
 unalloyed contemj^latiou of the divine Ideas, four times in a 
 lifetime was Plotinus caught up to the seventh heaven and 
 admitted to this transcending and ineffable communion : 
 and once, when he was an old man of near seventy, the same 
 exalted privilege was vouchsafed to Porphyry \ For this 
 
 ^ lu records of lamblicbus the siiiritual ecstasy becomes degraded to 
 bodily levitation. His domestics allewd that duriu" liis orisons he woukl 
 
NEO-PLATONISM. 71 
 
 supreme end, this final term of knowledge, the Neo-Platonist 
 was invited to mortify the flesh, to pursue after virtue and 
 to purify the soul. Such was his incentive and his reward. 
 
 As regards all forms of religion Plotinus himself had the Popular 
 intellectual strength to take a singularly independent atti- 
 tude. The spirit of his system was doubtless antagonistic to 
 Christianity : that reposed on objective historical facts by 
 Avhich it declared God was brought down to man ; while Neo- 
 Platonism from a purely subjective basis claimed to enable 
 men to rise to God. The analogies that appear between the 
 two are moi-e verbal than real. On the other hand, Neo- 
 Platonism lent itself readily to current Pagan beliefs : its final 
 monotheism left abundant room for any amount of subordinate 
 polytheism. This Plotinus admitted without turning aside 
 to corroborate or refute details. To him Paganism was an 
 amj)lified and not always trustworthy commentary, which fell 
 short of deserving a place in his text. 
 
 Such is a rough outline of Plotinus' solution of the great Plotinui 
 world-problem. It attained its purest and most masculine ^'"■'^'^^^^'^''^• 
 development in his hands. His successor Porphyrins did 
 indeed add details and advance individual arguments a step 
 or two further, but was little more than a skilful and trusty 
 expositor : such real modification as he did introduce was in 
 the direction of co-ordination of Pagan beliefs with Neo- 
 Platonic philosophy, and the abandonment of the free posi- 
 tion taken by Plotinus towards all extant forms of religion. 
 But under lamblichus' the school entered upon what is justly 
 recjarded as a new stacje. Thous^h overflowing with Intel- 
 lectual pretentiousness he added nothing of metaphysical or 
 ethical value. To him the religious attitude of the philosophy 
 became all in all. He caught at numerical formulas of the 
 Pythagoreans, and though in that department he discovered 
 nothing new and misunderstood much that was old, pro- 
 claimed that there lay deep secrets of religion and philosophy. 
 
 be bodily raised to a height of 15 or 18 feet, his flesh and his robes 
 assuming meanwhile a golden hue. Eunap. Vit. Soph. lamhl. 
 
 1 Lewes, Hist. PJiilos. i. 383 seems hasty in writing, 'With Porphyry 
 and lambUchus Neo-Platonism becomes a sort of Church.' 
 
72 NEO-PLATONISM, 
 
 He multiplied Gods ad nauseam: he accumulated insipid 
 divisions and subdivisions of spiritual genera. In fact, he 
 'and the Syrian School used to fatal effect the mysticism which 
 Plotinus' own intellect had not always kept in bounds. They 
 employed Neo-Platonism as an engine against Christianity, 
 as the new and last stronghold of Polytheism. They con- 
 verted a school of inquirers into a church of believers. In 
 order to this they recklessly degraded their philosophy. In 
 attempting to popularise they also irremediably vulgarised : 
 they depreciated the intellectual side, to expand the mystical 
 or theurgic. They exalted Pythagoras and deposed Aristotle', 
 lamblichus, foiled in a dialectical discussion, coolly replied 
 that the intuitions of virtue were above logic. Julian fell 
 into the hands of this school when he was referred by his 
 first teachers to one who ' for the grandeur and power of his 
 natural intellect could discard philosophical demonstration*.' 
 In spite of the protests of the aged Porphyry, magic or 
 theurgy was made the highest branch of philosophy. 'The 
 philosopher' while admitting a true art of augury and divina- 
 tion, in a series of sceptical questions and doubts partly 
 practical and partly metaphysical, criticised many current 
 manifestations of the art as interposing material obstacles 
 between man and God, with whom the heart was the one 
 true organ of communion and revealer of oracles, and did not 
 conceal his perplexity concerning the modes, and causes, and 
 tests of divination depending on the strange material 
 mediums or adjuncts which were coming into vogue. Thus 
 in his Epistle to Anebon, the cygneus cantus of the dying 
 sage, lie enters his final protest against the new-fangled 
 hocus-pocus of priestcraft. But in vain : cabbalistic fatuity, 
 fantastic ceremonies, bloody initiative rites, miracles, evoca- 
 tion of spirits, theophanies, sorceries, with their accompany- 
 ing abominations came crowding in. Superstition and 
 philosophy signed an adulterous compact, and were made one 
 flesh. The intellectual ingenuity with which lamblichus 
 
 J Cf. lamblichus' Life of Pythagoras. 
 ^ Eunap. Mtiximus. 
 
NEO-PLATONISM. 78 
 
 made necromancy and thaumaturgy the handmaids of philo- 
 sophy only wakens a regret that his talents were not better 
 employed than in stultifying the learned and imposing on 
 the incredulous. 
 
 "With the third stage of Neo-Platonism, the acute but 
 sterile scholastic period of Proclus, an essay on Julian has no 
 concern. 
 
CHAPTEH IV. 
 
 Julian's theology, 
 
 "In tlie sileut mind of One all-pure 
 At first imagined lay 
 The sacred world, and by procession sure ^ 
 
 From those still deeps, in form and colour drest. 
 Seasons alternating and night and day, 
 The long-nursed thought to north, south, east, and west, 
 Took then its all-seen way." 
 
 Julian's The grouncl is now cleared for examiniug Julian's scheme 
 
 iheology. ^^ religions revival. The first step in this will be to master 
 its intellectual basis, in other words Julian's theology. 
 
 The One Julian nowhere in his surviving works developes his doc- 
 
 trine concerning the One with any fulness or precision. In 
 the incidental allusions which occur, he wavers as to the 
 rightful title to be assigned; whether this highest original 
 principle is to be regarded as ineffable and to be described 
 
 0;-. 4. 132CU simply as that which is beyond or transcending Nous {to 
 iireKetva rov NoO), or as the One, or in Platonic terminology 
 as the Good, or lastly as the Idea of all Existences, by which 
 he explains himself to mean the Intelligible (to vorjrov) in 
 its entirety. So far as he goes, he agrees with Plotinus in 
 cither assigning to it negative determinations only, or allow- 
 ing it by courtesy the imperfect title of the Good, or finally 
 treating it positively through the medium of its effects as 
 absolute causality. On the exact relation of the One to 
 Nous Julian is silent : in the above there seems a tendency 
 
THEOLOGY. 
 
 75 
 
 to confuse the highest Deity with either the first or second 
 members of the trinity of Plotinus. On the essential being o,-. i. no b 
 of the One Jnhan is sufficiently orthodox. It transcends all 
 human description or conception: it is from eternity pre-sub- 
 sistent ; it includes within itself g,ll Being; its very essence is 
 unity. Itself incomprehensible it is the sole unique in- 
 composite cause of the whole universe. Julian most fre- i32d,i33b^<;. 
 quently denominates it the Good. Itself the crown and 
 source of every existence, it enters into transcendental rela- 
 tions with the subordinate orders of Being. These are three 
 in number, and carefully differentiated by Julian. To dis- 
 tinguish them in English, recourse must be had to terms of 
 formal philosophy. The first and highest order is styled tlie 
 Intelligible (to votjtSv); the second, the Intellectual {to 
 voepov); the third, the Cosmic. This strict trinitarian con- 
 ception runs through the whole system : the triad involves 
 a pantheistic belief, since the lowest member of the trinity 
 includes the material world. It is with the first and most 
 spiritual alone that the Good has direct communication. In 
 that order, in other words in the Intelligible Gods\ it becomes 133 b 
 the author of the beauty, the essential being, the perfectness 
 and the unity which characterise them. Thus through them 132 d 
 it is said to originate in all existences their beauty and 
 perfection, their unity and power inexplicable. These In- 
 telligible Gods are not generally conceived to issue from 
 the supreme One, though such language is in loose usage 
 admissible. More strictly they cluster round'' the One, being 
 as it were with all creation a part of his ever-emitted ra- 
 diance. ' He transcends all things, round him are all things, i3o d 
 and for his sake all things are.' The One is not so much a 
 creator, as an everlasting well of existence : in the case of 
 the Intelligible Gods, immediately, elsewhere mediately, by or. 5. m u 
 virtue of essence transmitted to the Intelligible Gods. To ty/-. 58 
 such demiurgic functions committed to these last, and by 
 
 1 See iufr. p. 77. 
 
 2 Cf. ^a.(j\ia, wepl ov iravra ^cttiv. Or. 4. 132 c. twv avXuv Kal votitwv 
 d€<xiv, ol irepl rayadov eiffiv. Or. 4. 138 D. The two phrases are combined 
 iu "HXtos 6 irepl ttjv rdyadou yonfiov ovaiav i^ aldlov irpoeXOi^i/ 156 C, show- 
 ing emanation to be synonymous with eternal procession. 
 
76 JULIAN. 
 
 them in turn transmitted to the inferior grades of deities, 
 all orders of being are due, until contact is finally attained 
 with mortal perishable forms of matter. 
 Nature of The Gods, those at any rate of the two higher orders, the 
 Or. 4. 145 A ff. Intelligible and the Intelle.ctual, are unsubstantial (aiiXot) 
 and immaterial {da-co/xaTOL), Goodness, and that which is 
 good, is an inseparable part of their essence, and remains 
 142 D, 143 a. ever inherent in their very nature. No duality of nature, 
 corresponding to the spiritual and carnal elements in man, 
 is conceivable in the Gods. They are not to be regarded as 
 non-natural magnified men : for in truth the divine nature 
 is radically different from the human. It is indivisible, and 
 does not admit the analysis or the modifications to which 
 man's nature is liable. The kind of personality which they 
 possessed in Julian's eyes is a difficult matter to settle. They 
 combined strangely the impersonal nature of the Platonic 
 Ideas with the personality attributed to the polytheistic 
 deities\ There is a confusion of their persons one with an- 
 other, and a necessitarianism attributed to their whole mode 
 of being and acting, that converts them into forces rather than 
 living wills. Both the limitations and the powers of strict 
 personality, seem not seldom denied to them. But, on the 
 other hand, they are habitually feared, addressed, adored and 
 propitiated as though gifted with personal will, and the 
 power to put it into effect. With the Gods, will, power, 
 action, are one and the same thing, a part of their essence 
 142 c D and inseparable. ' Whatsoever a God wills, that he is and 
 can and does : he neither wills what he is not, nor is thwarted 
 in what he wills, nor is of the mind to do what he cannot.' 
 Fnt;/. Ep. 301 Good bciug a constant element of their essence, or rather 
 actually constituting their essence, they are in action, whether 
 towards one another or towards man, entirely and invariably 
 beneficent. This description, though vouchsafed primarily 
 of the higher orders of Gods, is applicable also to the lower 
 Cosmic Gods — the visible and sensible as contrasted with 
 the invisible and spiritual Gods — whose functions will be 
 
 ^ Naville, Jtil. VApost. pp. 72, 133 sq. 
 
THEOLOGY. 77 
 
 considered in due course. For to depict their true relations, 
 it is essential to treat of the Gods according to their proper 
 grades. 
 
 The highest sphere is, as has been repeated, the Intelligi- ^'HfJ^^^^ 
 hW. The Intelligible World is characterised by what Julian or. i. uo a 
 speaks of as an exuberant superabundance of life-producing 
 fecundity. As the superfluous energy of the One produced 
 the Intelligible World round about the One, so too does it 
 in its turn manifest a like exuberance. All that belongs to it uoc 
 enjoys pure, uncontaminated immaterial being ; nothing of 
 alien nature inheres in it, nor ever has or can approach it 
 from without. In attributes of beauty, eternity, absoluteness, 
 spirituality, or, if the term be allowed, intellectuality, it cor- 
 responds to the Platonic world of Ideas ; it is full of its 
 own proper untainted purity. It is peopled by the Intel- 
 ligible Gods, and by them alone. 
 
 Essentially the Intelligible Gods exist around the Good, by 139 a 
 eternal emanation from him. From the Good they inherit di- 
 rect all their gifts and powers ; he supplies them ungrudgingly 133 b 
 Avith beauty, with being, with perfection, with unity, in Neo- 
 Platonic language he ' contains ' them all, and illuminates 
 them with that aya6oeL8rj(; Bvva/xi<i, that inherited element 
 or faculty of the archetypal Good, in which their majesty 
 consists, and which they transmit in measure to subordinate 
 orders of being. Among these Intelligible Gods, and highest j 
 
 of them all, is ranked Helios, King Sun. 'AjAUJ^ 
 
 At this point a digression becomes necessary. One of j^Ziaw's 
 Julian's surviving works is a kind of devotional rhapsody— -^^"J^JJ",,^ 
 addressed to Salustius — in honour of King Sun. The address 
 is manifestly an effort of rhetoric rather than a spontaneous 
 effusion of devotion ^ Hastily', often confusedly put together, 
 and too pretentiously embellished, it yet remains the most 
 
 1 This particular triple arrangement, quite unrecognised by Plotinus, was 
 one of the elaborations of lamblichus. 
 
 - 'Partly plagiarised, partly parodied from lamblichus,' says Schlosser 
 bluntly. Jenaische allg., p. 126. 
 
 a It was the work of three evenings only (157 c), and covers nearly 
 forty pages. 
 
78 JULIAN. 
 
 fruitful quarry from wliich to extract Julian's dogmatic 
 beliefs. No doubt it exaggerates tbe functions and pre-emi- 
 nence of Sun, or rather throws them out of just proportion 
 as compared with those of other deities. Sun, his position 
 and his work, are in the foreground ; the rest are aside or 
 in the background, jumbled, slurred, and out of focus. But 
 from sources quite independent of this elogium, it is plain 
 that Julian did elevate King Sun, under one representation 
 or another, to the first place among Gods. Neo-Platonism 
 hailed from the East, and most grew and flourished there ; 
 it became deeply tinged with influences of the Mithras cult 
 and various forms of fire-worship, every one of which sprang 
 Ci/r.GOBc from, while most still acknowledged, Sun adoration as the 
 groundwork of religion*. Julian espoused the worship'with 
 devotion : it appeared to him instinctive ; it dovetailed with 
 his j)hilosophy, no less than it charmed his imagination. King- 
 Sun was the supreme deity, whom under many various names 
 all peoples of the world combined to worship. He was the 
 most tangible link by which Neo-Platonism gave unity 
 to Paganism, rendered Polytheism philosophical, and by 
 aid of which, minds like Julian's became reconciled to the 
 incongruous superstitions or bizarre confusions of popular 
 beliefs. Julian regarded him moreover as in a special sense 
 his patron ; and delights to call himself his follower, his liege- 
 man, or his devotee^ 
 Its mi/sti- Exaggeration or displacement of relations it will be easy 
 
 ^**"'' in the main to rectify. More misleading than either is a 
 
 lack of lucidity and inconsistency, tlie inevitable result of 
 a pervading mysticism of tone. If the writer himself was 
 mystified, it became his penalty, or perhaps duty, to mystify 
 his reader. The action of King .Sun in the Intelligible and 
 Intellectual spheres has to be spiritually derived from the 
 analogous action of tlie phcoomenal Sun in the world of 
 
 1 From the very beginning of the Empire this influence made itself felt. 
 Augnstiis professed peculiar devotion for Apollo. Aurelian and Heliogabalus 
 gave Sun pre-eminence in the Pantheon. Constantiue's Solar coins are 
 familiar to all. 
 
 2 Or. 4. 1.30 BC, l.'U n, 157 a, &c. i<tf., Or. 7. 220 pp. (see Chnjter T'/.j, 
 Caff!. ^?,C, c, F.p. 1:5, 3R, r.l, *c. Xc. 
 
THEOLOGY. 79 
 
 sense. Julian is at great pains to work out these analogies, 
 and contributes both knowledge and ingenuity to the task : 
 but he is for ever confounding metaphor with fact, and con- 
 verting analogies into modes of action; much in the same 
 spirit as when to the Alexandrians he insists upon the alter- kp. si 
 nations of summer and winter, the blessings of sunlight and 
 growth of plants, as evidences of the existence of Serapis 
 (the Sun God), constituting in his behalf a claim to adora- 
 tion. At times he seems purposely to confuse phenomenal 
 action with its spiritual counterpart, and throughout leaves 
 a vast deal to be interpreted by the spiritual intuitions of 
 the reader. Happily, a large residuum of solid information 
 is left. 
 
 King Sun himself, most frequently entitled ' King of the King Sun. 
 Universe *,' is himself primarily one of the Intelligible Gods, 
 and chiefest among them all. He is the immediate and or. i. 132 c, 
 trueborn offspring of the Good, emanating by eternal proces- u/v 
 sion from the One, or as it is elsewhere phrased, ' around the i56 c 
 fruitful essence of the Good.' * By virtue of its abiding and 
 initiative essence the Good produced from its own being and 132 d 
 in all things like itself Sun the most high God.' This ema- 
 native production must not be looked upon as an act of crea- 
 tion, or as realised in time. To every Neo-Platonic deit}^, 
 and to Sun if any, belongs eternal procession : he ' subsisted 133 b 
 from Eternity around the abiding essence of the Good,' and 
 thus is legitimately spoken of more than once as self-subsis- 139 d 
 tent {avOvTToa-Taroi;). 
 
 Among the Intelligible Gods, or as they are sometimes Sunavd 
 styled, Intelligible Ideas (etSr;), he not only himself shines ^tMi'lue 
 with pure uncontaminated radiance, but primus inter pares, Gods. 
 as incapable of admixture or impurity as light in the sensi- 140 d 
 ble world, holds predominance. He is the centre of the In- 
 telligible system ; he almost usurps functions which are 
 elsewhere attributed to the One ; at any rate, his action 
 begins at the point where the direct activity of the One 
 ceases; to his centrality is- imputed the emanative multi- issa 
 
 ' 6 ^ao-iXei's Twv oXuu. Cf. e.g. Or. 4. lir> c, 14G a, 149 n, 154 d, lof, c, 
 l.'S K. 
 
80 JULIAN. 
 
 plication of the divine Intelligible essence, which without 
 thereby receiving diminution or increase or any kind of 
 affection gives rise to the Intellectual order of existences. 
 His posi- It is not a little curious that in more than one passage^ 
 
 Gorfs^™""^ Julian speaks of Sun apparently as one of the Intellectual 
 Gods. His language, taken alone, hardly admits another 
 interpretation. Yet that Sun's position is such as has been 
 just described is undeniable. The fact is, that Julian has 
 three separate Suns, or phases of Sun in his mind, and is 
 Or. 4. 133 c not sufficiently precise in distinguishing them. In the actual 
 passage where he alludes to this tripleness, he makes it per- 
 fectly clear that the third Sun is the phenomenal Sun : as 
 for the two others, he leaves the reader in obscurity'*. Both 
 from the immediate context however and from the whole 
 oration the obvious interpretation is, that the first Sun is 
 King Sun himself, the Intelligible Deity, whose harmonizing 
 office in his own sphere almost intrudes upon that of the 
 Good itself; while the second Sun is the Sun regarded in 
 his action on the Intellectual sphere. This forms the subject 
 of whole pages of the treatise, and it is his sovereignty and 
 most intimate action among the Intellectual Gods of which 
 Julian is thinking, when he loosely classes Sun as one of 
 them rather than one above them. 
 Unity of Each of the three orders, Intelligible, Intellectual and Cos- 
 
 liaio^-d?^' ^^^> ^^i'^y^ perfection after its own kind. In the Intelligible 
 139 B c World there is a pervading unity, the gift of the One, which 
 inteiii- contains, conjoins or confederates the whole into a One or 
 World. perfect harmony. This unifying principle in the Intelligible 
 World is analogous to that Quintessence or Fifth Substance, 
 which, in constant motion round and round the heaven, by 
 virtue of such periphery contains and welds together all the 
 
 1 Cf. Or. 4. 132 D, 141 d— 142 a. Zeller, iii. 2, p. 629, admitting the mi- 
 certaiuty, speaks of Sun as belonging relatively to the first order, but 
 positively (comparing hints from lamblichus) to the second triad of In- 
 tellectual Gods. 
 
 2 Obscui-ity such that I suspect a lacuna or misreading of some kind in 
 the preceding lines. I have not been able to consult M, Tourlet's un- 
 successful elucidation of the matter, to which De Broglie refers L'Eglise, iv. 
 p. 129 u. Semisch, pp. 29, 30, stops short where the difficulties begin. 
 
THEOLOGY. 81 
 
 parts of the Cosmic order, and forbids separation or dissolu- 
 tion. The corresponding harmony that rules the Intellectual 
 World, is the immediate work of Sun, whose energies in that 
 sphere are as all-important as those of the Good in the higher 
 sphere, or of the visible Sun in the lower. This is the place 
 to examine these in detail. 
 
 First then the Intellectual Gods were derived from Sun (^^rades of 
 essentially. To Neo-Platonist thought the one mode of ^'"'^*' 
 origination was eternal emanation. But emanation was car- 
 ried on by successive stages. At the head of all being, the 
 one original Demiurge, from whom every entity and essence or. i. no a 
 is primarily derived, stands the One or the Good. He be- 
 comes immediately the principle or first cause of the whole 
 Intelligible order. From that point his demiurgic work is 
 carried on mediately. Later refinements of Neo-Platonic 
 theology subtilised the demiurgic succession into a series of 
 triads, each issuing from a monad. Phanes was selected in 
 the Intelligible triad' as the term from which emanated 
 the Intellectual triad, Kronos Rhea and Zeus^ From Zeus 
 issues the supramundane triad : at the extremity of which 
 comes Apollo, who produces a triad of so-called liberated 
 gods (Oeol aTToXvrot). Their extreme becomes the generative 
 monad of a triad of mundane gods. Julian nowhere endorses 
 m detail these refinements; he retails, by his own confession, isoc.isrr.. 
 but 'few out of many ' of the inventions of the divine lambli- 
 chus: in his classification of Gods there are marked divergen- 
 cies ; but the general principle is strongly asseverated. 
 
 King Sun, the arch-demiurge in the Intelligible World, <*?»« and 
 plays towards the Intellectual the same part that in the ^icctlli^' 
 
 1 lu a different terminology lamLliehus denotes the highest Intelligible ^°'^^' 
 triad, as Father, Power, and Mind {yiod%). His most symmetrical arrangement 
 provided three trinities for the Intelligible, and thi-ee for the Intellectual 
 order, and he appears to have extended a like classification to a lower 
 psychical order. The twelve superior Gods are thus tripled into thirty-six, 
 which are in turn multiplied to 360, and also by duplication branch into 
 the seventy-two orders of lower Gods. Cf. Jul. Or. 4. 148 c, and specific 
 references in Prokl. on Tim. 299 d e. Theodorus of Asine had the courage 
 to enlarge still further. For this and like flimsy theosophy, see Zeller, Phil. 
 der Griech. iii. 2. 620 pp. 
 
 ' Cf. Taylor's Pref. to lamblichus On Mi/stcnrs, p. vii. 
 
 R. E. Q 
 
82 JULIAN. 
 
 higher sphere is played by the Good, who there causes and 
 oc. 4. 133 c directs all things aright in accordance Avith presiding in- 
 Origina- telligence or NoO?. Thus, though metaphysically the Intel- 
 **^^ ^""jg'j lectual Gods share original co-procession and co-subsistence 
 with Sun, they are yet said to owe their being to him. This 
 means that without his agency their being would never 
 145 A B be realised. He supplies them, and in constant unfailing 
 measure, with what to the Intellectual God is the very con- 
 dition of being, viz. to voelv and voeiaOai. Without this 
 active and apprehended intelligence, their existence is but 
 potential ; they are as eye-sight without light. Nor does his 
 Regulative task end here with this creation, or more strictly actualisation 
 •power. ^^ their essential being and attributes. Having received 
 133 B, 135 A. from the Good dominion among the Intellectual Gods, he 
 actively and incessantly exercises it: they are as subordinate 
 135 B and inferior to him as the stars are to the natural sun ; 
 their whole being is directed by his providing guidance. 
 143 CD It is Sun that imparts its unity to all Intellectual being 
 throughout the universe. In technical phraseology he ' con- 
 156 D, 157 A. tains them intellectually' in himself, fills all heaven with 
 them, and himself becomes a unifying centre about which 
 their action is harmonised. He may be called a harmonic 
 mean or centre {/j,ecrov); not (Julian is careful to explain) 
 138 Das a mean between extremes, but as a central principle 
 everywhere infusing unity of action, perfecting and har- 
 monising diverse energies, and combining otherwise con- 
 flicting extremes into a single identity. Like the pheno- 
 143c, i3Sc. menal Sun he controls, adjusts and regulates the centrifugal 
 forces of the system. 
 Distribii- In addition to his originative and regulative functions, 
 
 ivepoiicr. ^^ exercises distributive powers on a royal scale. He is 
 directly commissioned to dispense to all Intellectual forms 
 i44d, 140 a. of being the rich endowments of perfectness- and beauty, 
 133 Bc which the Good originates and imparts among the Intel- 
 151 A B, 150 D. ligible Gods. Being, unity, illimitable beauty, productive 
 fecundity, perfected intelligence, all the divine attributes 
 Anaiofiy to -proceed from great Sun, His counterpart or image {elicoov) 
 mdSuii' "^ *^^® visible world acts imitatively as a revealing medium 
 
THEOLOGY. 83 
 
 whereby men may adore and imderstand the analogous work or. 4. 139 d 
 of sovereign Sun in the lutellectual order. Just as the 
 phenomenal Sun imprints harmony upon the visible uni- 133 c 
 verse, of which he forms the centre, as he regulates the iw c d 
 concentric motions of the spheres, guides the circling orbits 135 a b 
 of the planets at measured distances, and no less the change- 152 c 
 ful phases of the moon, as with creative energy he ministers 
 to earth her unbroken power of being, as he gives the beauty iss a 
 of day for work, and in turn the terror of night wherein men \u D-135 a 
 rest from their labours, as he briugs to pass storm and wind 153 c 
 and cloud and all atmospheric changes, so does the royal isi D-152 a 
 Sun act in the Intellectual world. The sincere uucon- iss d, 140 d. 
 taminated radiance of light, which Sun ever sheds abroad 
 in this world, which gives sight to the eyes as the artist 
 gives form to the marble, is but the counterpart of that 134 cd 
 undefiled illuminating Truth in which he bathes the Intel- 
 lectual forms of being. Light is to the visible as Truth to 133 a 
 the Intelligible. 
 
 Thus King Sun originates, impels and harmoniously ad- .Smh's 
 justs, endows and equips with appropriate excellences and '"""' ^"" 
 energies. He continues too to exercise a providing control. 
 But he is often my thologically represented as performing 135 a b 
 this by deputy. Thus he is said, having controlled the gods 
 to a single unity, to hand them over as a mighty army to 
 Athene Pronoia to do at her bidding their appointed work, iidab 
 She acts as his subordinate consort. Elsewhere his guiding 
 control finds a different personification as Promef/<em\ identi- 
 fied with the Mother of the Gods, and constantly in concert 
 with the higher deity -assuming preservative direction of 
 the Intellectual Gods. 
 
 Sun's influence does not end with the Intellectual sphere, The Coa- 
 and pass from thence by transmitted emanation only into the '""' "" "■ 
 Cosmic order. He exercises a direct palpable influence over 
 the Kosmos. His demiurgic power is active there. He isisss 
 said to have called the Kosmos into beinof, reserving for his 
 representative the central place, so as to secure ready and 
 equal distribution of goods and ordering of the heavenly uoc 
 1 With Or. 4. 135 ab, cf. Or. 5. 166 b, 170 n. 
 
 n— 2 
 
84 JULIAN. 
 
 bodies, the subordinate co-proceeding Gods. His demiurgic 
 
 action in the Kosmos occupies a central place between that 
 
 Or. 4. 140 A of the primal demiurge and the numerous lower demiurgic 
 
 deities : but no delimitation is attempted of the provinces 
 
 in which each acts. Eelatively to the Kosmos these inferior 
 
 creative agencies exhibit themselves in diverse and multi- 
 
 143b, plied activities; relatively to Sun they are uniform, 'crowning 
 
 the uncontaminated essence of the deity.' In regard to the 
 
 origination of the Kosmos one warning deserves repetition. 
 
 Its creation is not a chronological event. It might appear 
 
 such in the bold representations of Plato and lamblichus. 
 
 It is convenient to describe it so ; indeed hardly possible to 
 
 do otherwise. But the strict theological conception is that 
 
 things proceeded or rather were produced from eternity. 
 
 Sun procreated things visible from the invisible in the 
 
 Or. 6. 171 c infinite present, by the ineffable celerity and unsurpassed 
 
 power of the divine will. 
 
 King Sun Beyond this point it is hard to push with precision any 
 
 Zit Sr account of the functions of King Sun. They mingle inex- 
 
 tricably with those of his mundane representative. Julian 
 
 is so busy with tracing affinities, with extorting spiritual 
 
 correspondences from scientific analyses of the nature and 
 
 uses of light, with wresting astronomical arrangements and 
 
 speculations into allegorical representations of higher truth\ 
 
 and so often veils the transition from the sign to the thing 
 
 signified under an ambiguous 'Sun,' that it is impossible 
 
 without arbitrariness to decide whether the agency of the 
 
 Or. 4 131c, liiober or the lower deity is intended. Sun, for instance, is 
 
 lol D. O '' 
 
 described as being with man the joiht and universal begetter 
 of men : he gathers souls from himself and from other Gods, 
 and sows them on earth: in life ho ministers to them every 
 good, he judges, he directs, he purges thein ; finally, he 
 liberates them from their bodily tenement, reunites them 
 to the kindred and divine essences, converting the ethereal 
 
 1 From rorpljp-ins onwards Neo-PIatonists straugelj' mixed physical 
 and metapliysical speculations. According to Porphyrins Soul before its en- 
 trance on earthly existence inhabited the sphere of the fixed stars, and made 
 its descent to earth via that of the seven planets. 
 
THEOLOGY. 85 
 
 activity of his divine rays into a vehicle for their convey- 
 ance. These might seem duties worthily ascribed to the 
 sovereign Sun ; yet are almost unmistakeably transferred to 
 his lower representative. Can any other interpretation be 
 placed on these words: 'Just as Sun is author of day and -Bp- n. 
 night, and of winter or summer by his approach or retro- 
 cession, so is he most venerable of the Gods ; to him are all 
 things and of him are all things ; he apj)oints us rulers 
 during life, and after death apportions us governors'? Julian 
 is either enhancing the dignity of the cosmic Sun, or pur- 
 posely giving him the advantage of his name and confounding 
 him with his better. 
 
 It would be tedious to rehearse all Julian's praises of the Phnwme- 
 Sun apparent. He is leader and lord in the sensible world, or. iiiia 
 •He is the originative cause of heaven and the stars, and 
 upholds them with sustaining force. His vast productive, i^ii c, 142 b. 
 fertilising power is dwelt uj)on persistently. He supplies uo b, or. 5. 
 
 a never-ceasing stimulus of life to the earth by alternate ?'j ^- 1^7 d- 
 
 . . . lis \ 
 
 approach and retirement. He enriches men with equable 
 
 unceasing distribution of blessings, material and spiritual. 141 a 
 
 The simplicity of his motion betokens the excellence and iss a b 
 
 superiority of his power beyond that of all planets and stars 
 
 and heavenly bodies. His appearance, his position, his work, 
 
 his action upon natural phenomena j)roclaim his majesty. 
 
 This is the barest outline of Sun's specific work : but it (^osmo- 
 
 logy. 
 will be more instructive to view the Kosmos as a whole, and 
 
 range its different parts according to their proper dignity. 
 ' The divine and all lovely universe from the highest arc of 132 c, 145 d. 
 heaven to the utmost ends of earth is from everlasting to 
 everlasting.' 'It is a single animate whole, everywhere in- 
 stinct with SouP and Intellect, perfect and of perfect parts.' i39b 
 It is not the immediate work of the great First Cause, but c'yr. 58 
 
 1 This Neo-Platonio anima mundi differs materially from the Stoic con- 
 ception, as has been noticed p. 65. The soul does not physically or me- 
 chanically inhere in the body it animates, but dynamically, supplying a 
 certain force or effect, in the same kind of way as warm air feels the dynamic 
 effect of fire without any inherence of the heat-producing agent. Cf. Zeller, 
 III. 2. 519 pp. It is according to Plotinus an innate inclination of the 
 inferior generated product towards the generative power. Zeller, 585 pp. 
 
8G JULIAN. 
 
 of those Intelligible Gods to whom he has committed his 
 Or. i. 145 D Demiurgic Functions. Its orisfin is emanative, and it sub- 
 sists around the supreme God Helios or Sun. It is ruled 
 directly by the so-caiied visible or apparent Gods, of whom 
 phenomenal Sun is the chief. Moon, planets, stars are all 
 or.V'iiOD such apparent Gods, emanating from primal Sun, and coun- 
 terparts in the Cosmic sphere of the Intelligible Gods corre- 
 sponding to them in the higher order. Between the supra- 
 mundane and mundane Gods Julian draws no plain line of 
 demarcation. 
 Demon- Immediately beneath the Gods come the so-called 'divine 
 
 i4iEfi45c. hinds' of being. These ubiquitous spirits exercise super- 
 or. i. 233 D human agencies, and are distributed in various classes. Angels, 
 Daemons, Heroes and Separate Souls. The precise differentia 
 of dgemons, heroes and souls respectively had been one of 
 Porphyry's^ perplexities, and Julian does not emulate the 
 extravagances of lamblichus by any scientific analysis. He 
 teaches in general terms that all alike owe their innate 
 energy to Sun. Of Angels there are various classes ; the 
 14-^A lilc ^^^8'^^®^^ ^^'® Solar Angels {i)\iaKol ayjeXot), who are the first 
 creation of Sun about the Kosmos : there are also Lunar 
 adAth.275B. Augcls. One at least of their functions is to act as guardian 
 spirits^. The Di3emons too are active agents of the Gods. 
 Porphyry^ had assigned to them superintendence over dis- 
 tinct animal or vegetable or meteorological departments of 
 nature; had honoured them as patrons of particular arts, and 
 commissioned ambassadors between Gods and men. But 
 they are of uncertain character : exceptional dsemons may 
 be altogether beneficent, but as a rule the dfemon is not 
 
 1 Ad Aneh. with which cf. the answer as touching these points in the 
 tract TrepJ fji.v(7T7ipluv, I. 5 — 7, 20, ii. 1 — 3, 5, &c. 
 
 ^ The doctrine of guardian spirits was hard pressed by some Neo-Platon- 
 ists, who believed in separate daimous presiding over the different parts and 
 functions of the body, though in subordination to a central controlling 
 dfemon. 
 
 ^ Ad Aneb, 10. 16. According to Plotinus they combined divine and 
 material attributes. Tlieir body was composed of ' Intelligible Matter ' 
 (Zeller, 604 pp.); they could also manifest themselves as luminous bodies; they 
 possessed affections, sensibihty, memory and even language. For further 
 peculiarities, cf. Zeller, pp. 510, 511. 
 
THEOLOGY. 87 
 
 absolutely pure or perfectly good, like the Gods, but par- Ep. 59. 445 b 
 ticipates in some alloy of evil : some are no better than imps 
 or bogies. Daemons of distinct characters preside over 
 nations, acting under the superintendence of the patron God, 
 and helping to mould and perpetuate their national charac- 
 teristics. Conversely there is an appointed tribe of malicious 
 daemons^ who, guarding the honour of the eternal and sav- 
 ing Gods, delude the apostate Christians with dreams of 
 heaven after death, or drive them out as anchorites into the 
 wildernesses far from their fellow-men. The /xepca-ral -v/ru^at 
 or Separate Souls^ are products or effects of the great central 
 Soul, which pervades the All. Though in contact with mat- 
 ter temporarily individualised, they are yet one and the same, 
 just as Knowledge or Light though divisible into parts remain 
 nevertheless essentially wholes. So the Soul of the Universe 
 remains indivisible, though each individual soul derives from 
 it its pi-oj)er complement, when it accepts the self-imposed 
 limitations of time, space, and quasi-personality involved in 
 the combination with matter. 
 
 At this stage the world of matter is reached. Matter, in Material 
 Julian's belief, is eternal, subsisting beside the procreative 
 essence of the Gods, and generated by eternal co-procession or. 5. 170 c d 
 with the Gods, by virtue of that superfluous energy of pro- 
 creative and constructive powers, with which the Gods, no 
 less than the First Cause himself, are endowed. Matter in 
 its raw form consists only of negations ; it is the substratum 
 void of all attributes and incomprehensible to sense : it is 
 utterly lifeless and sterile, the filth, the refuse, the dregs of 
 existence ; no language can be too strong to express its 
 demerits. Potential determination of being is the sole attri- 
 bute allowed to what is in itself ' the absolutely non-existent.' 
 It requires to be animated by divine essence before it is or.i.wiopp. 
 raised to that degree of passible being, in which we appre- 
 hend it by sense. It then becomes materialised form {evvXov 
 
 1 Fracj. Ep. 288 a b, with which the views of Porph. De Abst. 11. 40 — 42 
 may be compared. Cf. Aug. Civ. Dei, x. 9. 
 
 2 Or. 4. 151 c. Compare Zeller, PJdl. der Griech. in. 2. 481, 484 pp. 
 aud 509, which set forth the correspondence between the views of Plotinus 
 and Porphyry. 
 
88 JULIAN. 
 
 e2So9). Thus the material world consists of so many junc- 
 tions of matter with immaterial cause, which confers on it 
 sensible being. Matter and spirit alike are primary and 
 necessary assumptions; the union of the two is inexplicable; 
 neither the mode nor agent of the combination is discover- 
 able : we only see the result. Some cause of the union there 
 must of course have been. That it was not blind chance we 
 
 Or. 5. 162 A may rest satisfied. Any Epicurean theory of fortuitousness 
 may be dismissed at the bare mention. Peripatetics attri- 
 bute the conjunction to the action of the Qtdntum Genus or 
 Fifth element. But this merely pushes the difficulty a step 
 back, not solving it. The earth is supported on the elephant, 
 the elephant on the tortoise, and the tortoise — -on what ? It 
 remains a final fact that soul is united with various forms of 
 material being. The mode or cause of union transcends 
 reason. It is best regarded not as an act of free-will on the 
 part of animating soul, but as necessarily arising from the 
 natural constitution of things \ Soul in a figure lying on the 
 outskirts of the supra-sensual world could not but illuminate 
 the darkness on which it bordered, formless matter, and 
 thereby brought into being before all time the phenomenal 
 world. The only reasonable explanation of the final dualism 
 that everywhere meets the philosopher is offered by the Neo- 
 Platonic scheme of eternally existent spirit and eternally ex- 
 istent matter connected by emanative processes. The union 
 
 Of. 5. 171 B is brought about solely for the improvement and elevation of 
 matter. Much as it may have to endure in the union, soul 
 
 Or. 2. C9 B, tijg superior nature, akin to God, can take no hurt or hin- 
 
 70 B. 1 
 
 drance from contact with its baser companion. If cause and 
 Or. i. in A effect be traced so far back it is thanks to Sun that the 
 ideas enter into combination with the vX')] : it is his co- 
 operating energy alone that prevents the dissipation of the 
 Ideas when they have ventured on the contact. The co- 
 herence of the combination is due to his unifying power. 
 CijheJe But a nearer insight into the stage, so to sj^eak, at which 
 
 "jUi/th. '* the connexion was divinely consummated is granted to us in 
 the myth of Attis'^ Therein it is recounted how Attis ex- 
 
 1 Zeller, Phil, der Gricch. iii. 2. 491 pp., 5l3 pp. 
 ' Jul. Or. 5. 105 B ff. Cf. Ovid Fast. iv. 221 vv. 
 
THEOLOGY. 89 
 
 posed beside tlie eddies of the Gallus grew to the perfect 
 flower of beauty; bow the mother of the Gods conceived a 
 passion for him, loaded him with gifts and crowned him with 
 stars; how afterwards false to that love he went down into 
 the cave and had intercourse with the nymph; whereupon 
 followed his mutilation, and the visitation with madness. In 
 this pi-egnant myth the initiated will discern the true ac- 
 count of the union between spirit and matter, and the origi- 
 nation of the material world. 
 
 The Mother of the Gods is the faithful handmaid of Kingf its- ivter- 
 Helios. She personifies his providing' control. As such she P''^*"''""- 
 
 ^ ^ ° Or. 5. 166 A B 
 
 directs and preserves the lower orders of Gods. She dis- 
 penses to them Sun's gifts, among others the prime gift of 
 demiurgic power, which she at once stimulates and guides. 
 Of this there are various grades corresponding to the grades 
 of Gods. Attis represents the lowest stage of demiurgic 
 productiveness, that namely at which the divine comes in 
 contact with the material. He is the last link in the chain leiD, i62a. 
 which unites earth with the superabundant fertility of the 
 productive principle. The Gallus beside which Attis lay 
 blooming is the ryaXa^lwi or Milky Way, which is confessedly igsc, itia. 
 the junction of passible substance with the imiDassible Quint- 
 essence. The Mother's love, her gifts, the crown of stars 
 show her at her proper work, elevating, stimulating, ethereal- leac 
 ising the demiurgic force and desire of the lower God, so as 
 to win it and wean it from its perilous inclination towards 
 matter. Spite of that preserving love Attis goes down into i<^5 d, in a. 
 the cave, forsaking heaven for earth, and impregnates the 
 nymph, who typifies the immaterial cause which converts 
 matter into material being. Such declension from divine 
 continence might argue Attis less than divine. He has been les a 
 called a demigod. But in reality it was a gracious, generous 
 condescension, a sacrifice for the sake of outcast matter. His in b 
 end achieved he returns to heaven. His emasculation has a 
 most real meaning. It signifies the restraint of his infinite 
 productive power, in other words the fact that in the material 
 world generation is limited by the demiuroic Providence to i?'". I'lo. 
 definite forms. So too has his ensuing maduess. The gene- 
 
90 JULIAN. 
 
 rative cause at the last stage, where the divine is brought 
 Or. 5. 1G7 1> into contact with matter, loses self-control : that is to say, the 
 material world is not self-subsistent, but subject to never- 
 ceasing change and decay. 
 Conserva- Such, temporally depicted, is the origination of the mate- 
 tion of the j.jg^| world. The combination remains ever active : otherwise 
 
 Material . . j • i 
 
 World. every organism (awfia) , matter that is to say mtormed with 
 
 Or. i. 137 D spirit, being neither uncreate nor self-subsistent, would revert 
 to abstract indeterminate matter (yXr]). Its whole Being is 
 but Becoming; in other words life depends on constant 
 change of conditions, the means towards which is supplied 
 from without. There is need of constant, outward sustain- 
 
 132 c, 137 c. ment, or as the Neo-Platonists prefer to say containment, by 
 divine power. Primarily this must be conferred by the 
 action of the sovereign One, secondarily by the Intelligible 
 order, but immediately the world is preserved or contained 
 by nothing else than that 'fifth substance' or Quintessence, 
 of which the principal component is the sun's ray. This 
 pericosmic Quintessence, not seldom spoken of as the cyclic 
 130 c substance, is incessantly busy at the borders of the universe 
 coercing and welding together all the naturally dispersive 
 
 Or. 5. 170 c elements. It belongs to the divine imjDassible portion of 
 
 being, being that part of it which comes in contact with 
 
 lower passible existences. The Milky Way marks the border 
 
 171 A line, where the creative reign of the higher Gods ends, and 
 
 that of Attis commences. 
 
 The Quintessence conserves being : it is not said to origi- 
 nate it. This function is constantly attributed to Sun. The 
 
 Or. i. 137 D, necessary influx and efflux of Being, which is essential to an 
 active existence, is provided by his ordered approach and re- 
 tirement. To take a specific instance man is, as Aristotle^ 
 
 131 c, 151 D. says, the offsjjring of man and of Sun, the former transmit- 
 ting the mortal material element, the latter providing for the 
 indwelling presence of Soul. The procreative Gods produced 
 Frnn-Ep. man, havinw from the bejjinning received souls from the 
 
 1 To tlie Neo-Platonist all phenomenal matter consists necessarily of 
 <rwfj.aTa: for use of word cf. Or. G. IH'2 d. 
 
 2 Ar. Phys. ii. 2, p. 194 b. 
 
THEOLOGY. 91 
 
 prime Demiurge. As to the act of creation, while admitting 
 as an alternative the Scripture account, he prefers to believe ^v-v. Ep. 
 that numerous couples and not one merely were created. It 
 would have been as easy to create many as one, and the dis- 
 tinctive characteristics of race, features, laws, customs, and 
 the like, no less than the vast numbers existing, point de- 291 d-292 c. 
 cidedly to the former as the true hypothesis. And not the 
 nobler parts of the Universe alone, not man or the celestial 
 bodies only, but every stick or stone is animate with its pro- 300 a 
 per complement of soul, without which it would be mere 
 formless undetermined matter. At the same time the nature 
 of the soul animating man, living creatures, plants and inani- 
 mate matter differs^ with the respective differences of the 
 body animated. Inanimate objects possess qualities only, 
 plants a living organism, animals soul, man a reasonable soul: 
 though it is a grave question whether the superiority is not Sic."^*^"' 
 one of energy rather than of essential kind. 
 
 As a brief summary of what may be called Julian's doc- ^'JI:^^^. 
 trinal theology, the grand ascription of praise which closes 
 his Hymn to the Sun deserves quotation. There he ad- or-i-issc** 
 dresses him as * before all Gods Sun himself, monarch of the 
 Universe, Who proceedeth from everlasting around the pro- 
 creative essence of The Good, midmost and in the midst of 
 the Intellectual Gods, Who before time was fulfilleth them 
 with cohesion^ and infinite beauty and procreative abundance 
 and perfect intellect and all good gifts together, Who in time 
 present radiateth light from everlasting into His visible and 
 proper seat that hath its course in the midst of the whole 
 heaven, Who imparteth of the intelligible beauty to all the 
 Universe, Who fulfilleth the whole heaven with all those 
 Gods whom He Himself intellectually containeth within 
 Himself, multiplying around Him in indivisible fellow.ship 
 and joined to Him in single unity, Who not less containeth 
 also the sublunar space by perpetual generation and the good 
 gifts ministered from His cyclic frame. Who careth for the 
 
 1 Or. 6. 182 D, to wliich Plot. Hent. 10 gives a useful parallel. Cf. also 
 Zeller, iii. 2, p. 590. 
 ^ avvox'h- 
 
92 JULIAN. 
 
 whole common race of men and for Rome our city in peculiar 
 wise, even as He hath supplied^ the substance of my soul 
 that is from everlasting, and hath made me His own 
 devotee.' 
 
 Vieio of It will now become plain at once that Julian did not 
 
 Mutho-'^ decompose the Hellenic mythology into representations of 
 lojy. nature worship, detecting in its tales so many transformed 
 
 and fossilised solar myths. For this he had not the mate- 
 rials with which Sanskrit and Zend mythology have supplied 
 moderns. An extract from Cyril's work will furnish the 
 most compact summary of Julian's doctrine concerning the 
 popular divinities. 'The Demiurge is common father and 
 cyr. ns D E king of all, but he hath moreover assigned all peoples to 
 Gods presiding over peoples and caring for commonwealths, 
 each of whom governs his allotment conformably to his own 
 nature. For seeing that in the Father all things are perfect 
 and all one, while in the separate deities one or another 
 quality predominates, tlierefore is it that Ares presides over 
 the bellicose, Athene over them that combine wisdom with 
 war, Hermes over them that are shrewd rather than adven- 
 turous, and the nations over which they preside follow each 
 the several natures of their proper Gods.' The language 
 here is plain; a fuller personality than usual is accorded, 
 and in itself the passage seems clear of ambiguities. But 
 one question remains. Into what part of this theology were 
 the current Pagan Gods fitted? 
 
 How far the Gods themselves, like the stories of Homer 
 concerning them, are mythical, and do but adumbrate tlie 
 Divine essences with which popular theology confounds 
 them, it is difficult to determine. The question indeed at 
 this point becomes one of terms: in short are the names 
 assigned true names or misnomers.? The answer is that 
 the names are of human invention, the beings denoted are 
 real. With very few exceptions they take rank among the 
 Intellectual Gods^ as subordinate helpers of King Sun. But 
 
 ^ viriffrrjcrev. 
 
 * Thus the real object of aJoratiou becumes the secoucl member — person 
 
THEOLOGY. 
 
 93 Jf 
 
 it would be a vain hope to search Julian's pages for a consis- 
 tent account of their respective relations, functions and 
 priority. He is too enamoured of arbitrary allegorising from \ 
 Homeric genealogies, of subtle inferences from oracular verses, 1 
 and of mystic interpretations of popular myths, to adhere to | 
 any plain uniform classification of deities. Their relations 
 to King Sun are as determinate as anything, and offer the 
 best standard of comparison. 
 
 Zeus is the highest God. In order to accommodate Hel- Th<' Hel- 
 lenic beliefs and revelations^ to the Neo-Platonic theology, 
 he is placed usually on an exact equality with Sun, though 
 here and there slight traces of inferiority are permitted to or. i. 232 c 
 appear. It is only in casual adjuration that great Sun is i> 38.415 a 
 allowed to stand second. Most commonly the two are iden- ll^im^^^ 
 tified as sharing single coequal sovereignty over the whole 1/^^ ^^1%^ 
 tribe of Intellectual Gods. The identification is actually '^^ * "-^ 
 justified by a Homeric genealogy^ To both alike is given i.>. k''*' 
 the title 'Father of the Gods.' Incidentally Serapis is 
 identified with Zeus or Sun, mainly on the strength of an cms. sio d 
 oracular verse; he is elsewhere spoken of as the brother of 
 Zeus. The only other God elevated to such rank is Hades. 
 He too must thank the oracle for his representation as the 
 gentle propitious deity' whose kindly hand dissolves that 
 
 we cannot say— of Julian's main triad. But I cannot follow Lam^, 235 pp., 
 and Naville (cf. p. 104) in supposing any intentional imitation of Christian 
 theology, or a desire to provide popular adoration with an object of worship 
 analogous to the Son, or the Word proceeding from the Father. The 
 analogy is far too latent and obscured to have had that practical aim, though 
 subsequently the Manichean exponents of Magianism, in their futile en- 
 deavour to engraft their own creed on Christianity, identified Christ, regarded 
 as the Logos, with the vivifying power of Sun. (Cf. Aug. contra Faust, xx. 2.) 
 The subject is touched and Baur quoted in Hilgenfeld's Zeitsch. filr wiss. 
 Theol. 1861, p. 411. Hei-werden's theory (p. 76), adopted by Naville, p. 114, 
 of a comparison between Asklepius — engendered by God, and made manifest 
 on earth as the universal Savioui- of men (cf. Or. 4. 144 c, 153 b, Cyril, 200 a b) 
 
 and Jesus, appears to me no less fallacious. Lami? preceded Naville with 
 
 like elaborated analogies : the task proved comparatively easy, after that 
 ' pour la thuologie hellunique, nous avons montre qu'elle ctait identique a la 
 tht^ologie chr^tiennc.' 
 
 1 Through Homer and others. ^ See infr. p. 97. 
 
 3 Or. 4. 13G A, 152 b. Cf. Tlat. Cratyl. xx. p. 403. 
 
94 JULIAN. 
 
 union between soul and matter, which it is the reciprocal 
 work of Sun to bring to pass. The Muses follow him as the 
 
 0,: 4 152 !>, leader of their choir, while Dionysus is the sou and consort to 
 caes. ssG^c whom Sun appoints his proper work. Horus and Mithras 
 are other names for Sun rather than coequal deities. None 
 other can claim a place among Intelligible Gods unless it be 
 Apollo. His identification with Sun can be only of a popular 
 character, but as consort with him he takes unsurpassed 
 
 Or. 4. i« A- rank, partaking of the same simplicity of intelligence, the 
 same stability of being, the same immutability of energy as 
 Sun himself. It is he who in joint ascendancy instructs 
 162 D &c. men by oracles, inspires them with wisdom, and adorns 
 societies with religious, constitutions, laws and civilisation. 
 The other Gods are definitely inferior to Sun, and assist in 
 special departments of his wide range of activities, personify- 
 ing as it were those activities. None transcend in dignity 
 Or. 5. 179 A Athene and the Mother of the Gods, between whom there is a 
 clear affinity. Each represents Sun's controlling Providence: 
 each may be spoken of as his consort, and acts in full com- 
 munion with the IntelHgible Gods\ The Athene myth 
 stereotypes anthropomorphically the direct emanation of 
 Athene from Sun or Zeus, and does not conceal her inferi- 
 ority. Justice has been already done to their controlling, 
 preservative custodianship of forces imparted to the Intel- 
 
 or. 4. 149 A, lectual Gods. Athene is moreover the wisest of goddesses, 
 
 o/-.5.'i6Ga- and virtue and wisdom and contrivance and statesmanship 
 
 C, 179 D, &C. . A 1 T 
 
 adAth.m D g^j.Q among her bounties to men. Aphrodite too consorts with 
 
 fssB.iaU: Sun, as a busy handmaid in his service. Among the heaven- 
 
 150BC ly Gods she acts as a combining principle; she is the concord 
 
 and unity of their harmony, and goes everywhere with Sun 
 
 tempering his creative work. On earth she sheds forth rays 
 
 of purest loveliness, brighter than very gold, melting men's 
 
 153 b souls with delight, and becoming to all living things the 
 
 principle of generation and the source of self-renewing life. 
 
 i44a-c,i52c. Dionysus represents and shares the disseminative productive 
 
 power of Sun, and is a loyal fellow-worker and ruler, whom 
 
 1 Or. 4. 145 0, Or. 5. 170 p, 17!) d, with which cf. Or. (i. 182 c, Or. 1. 220 a. 
 
THEOLOGY, 95 
 
 Sun regards with paternal love. Asklepius is begotten of 
 Sun in the Kosmos, to preserve the life and harmony offjg^-^^^- 
 which he is the author and sustainer. Though enjoying with 
 Sun a premundane existence, he was made incarnate oncyr. 2ooa 
 earth by the vivifying power of Sun, and endowed with human 
 form to heal both bodies and souls of men, with which bene- 
 ficent purpose he wandered — whether allegorically or no it is 
 hard to decide — through all the great towns of earth. The ^;.'-|J|° 
 Muses and the Graces are the offspring of Sun and serve him 
 as their lord. The lower demigods, such as Korybants, '^>-: s- isR b, 
 Satyrs, Fauns, Bacchants take rank as daemons. 
 
 These shadowy identities are gleaned submissively from Homeric 
 the preserves of lamblichus. Both in spirit and form Plo- ^^f "*^"* 
 tinus' identifications had been more' philosophic and rational, trusted. 
 though open to a charge of tameness from the monotonous 
 recurrence of personifications of the World-soul as manifested 
 in higher or lower spheres \ The obvious vagueness of this 
 survey, which minimises not exaggerates Julian's own lack 
 of precision, shows how shadowy and unreal his assumed 
 personifications are. They are of a random, caleidoscopic 
 character. The picturesque stir and life of the old Hel- 
 lenic Olympus is all gone. It has nothing in common with 
 the new-fangled mysticism but some borrowed names and 
 metaphors^ The Gods ai'e no longer living, breathing men 
 and women, active in love and in hate, girded with poetry, 
 ravishing to the sense. All individuality is lost. There is 
 no form and no colour left. The vivid lines and outlines are 
 smeared into a neutral expressionless smudge. Personal Gods 
 have been metamorphosed into scientific and theological con- 
 ceptions or mathematical ideas; mythology has become 'a 
 philosopho-cosmical and physico-astronomical system^.' One 
 
 1 Zeiii?, AiDbrodite (iu twofold manifestation), Here, Demeter, Hestia all 
 represent one or other pliase of this. Cf. Zeller, iii. 2, p. 561. 
 
 - Schlosser, Jen. allg. Literat.-Ztg. p. 127. 
 
 * Straiiss, DeriJojwajif. p. 190; and from the same work compare p. 192. 
 "In diesem Nenplatonischen Himmel dagegen ist nichts mehr fest, Alles 
 taumelt durcheinander, iu einer Gotterdiimmeruug gleichsam zerfliessen alia 
 scharfen Umrisse der Gestalten : Zens ist Helios, ist anch Hades und 
 Serapis ; Prometheus ist die iiber alles sterbliche waltende Vorsehung ; 
 
9(5 JULIAN. 
 
 effect of this is to invest the entire religion with a frigid and 
 laboured artificiality that must have chilled piety and lamed 
 all devout enthusiasm, even if it did not suggest a self-con- 
 scious insincerity. It showed the very opposite of the free 
 Hellenic spirit; it was forced instead of natural, exaggerated 
 instead of true, constrained instead of free. Amid this misty 
 confounding of deities one positive idea of some interest is 
 discernible. For the old republican constitution of the 
 Homeric Olympus with its independent and often mutually 
 antagonistic powers, with its jealousies and favouritisms and 
 animosities, there has been substituted a strict and ordered 
 hierarchy of graded deities, centering their aspirations and 
 even merging their personality in the supreme divinity, 
 whose sway represented in ideal perfection that absolute 
 dominion to which the Emperor of Rome only in theory 
 attained \ 
 Rdation to To discover hard and fast identities, or even principles of 
 
 popular arrancjement in this cloudland, is impossible. But it is easy 
 tlieology. » ' ^ i i i 
 
 to define the general position taken up towards the popular 
 
 theology. This was contained primarily in Homer, Hesiod, 
 and various collections of Hymns of the Gods. These the 
 Frap. Ep. now rcligion accepted as of divine authority, and written by 
 direct inspiration. Homer is habitually quoted in Julian's 
 works with the weight of an inspired authority. How keenly 
 the defectiveness of these as Sacred Books was felt by the 
 Neo-Platonists is shown by Porphyrins' endeavour to supply 
 the lacuna by a collection of the utterances of the Oracles. 
 Such as they were, however, Julian and his confederates ac- 
 cepted them, and adapted them to their purpose by an elastic 
 system of allegorical interpretation. It was in the myths 
 more than anywhere else that the popular religious concep- 
 
 aber classelbe ist anch Athene ; welche in cliesem Systeme Tocliter des 
 Helios heisst;" and p. 193, "Die Gotter bilden (das batte man der christli- 
 cben Trinitats-Terminologie abgebort) eiue Vielbeit ohne Tbeilung und eine 
 Einbeit ohne Vermischung; zu der absoluten Wirksamkeit des obersten 
 ''Gottes yerhalten sich alle iibrigen nur nocb als unselbststaudige Durch- 
 gangspunkte." Compare Or. 4. 1 19 d, 153 i>, 156 c— 157 a. Also Semiscb, 
 p. 33. 
 
 1 Strauss, Der Rein. p. 191, Scraiscb, p. 32. 
 
THEOLOGY. 97 
 
 tions were really enRhrined. Julian's treatment of these is -/i/i/f/*-?, 
 
 thciv i7it{^v* 
 
 bold and instructive : so bold that at times he seems almost pretation 
 to stand on his defence against a charge of irreverence. He ^'"''^- ^^^ ° 
 freely admits that many of the ancient myths were as they 
 stood grossly immoral and impious. But this very fact goes f^'"- « a b 
 to prove that they cannot be actually and nakedly true. 
 Venerable with the dust of antiquity, but stamped with the 
 brand of inspiration, they are handed down to us as apoca- 
 lyptic glimpses into those truths which the flagging intellect 
 of man can neither accurately grasp nor formulate. They 
 are sign-posts, not termini; their function is to excite the in- oc. 5. 170 a b 
 tellectual powers, not satisfy. Myths then, such is his theory, 
 stand to the intellectual sense much in the same relation as 
 images to the spiritual. They are but emblematic represen- or. 7. 206 c 
 tations of the truth, not literal statements of fact. Wrongly 
 regarded they infallibly obscure and misrepresent the inner 
 truth they allegorise. They are so to say concrete mental 
 projections into time and place of that which happened out 
 of all temporary or local relations. The very contradictions 
 or incongruities with which they abound are meant expressly o»-.5.i70a-c 
 to stimulate men to look behind the veil and decipher the 
 hidden mystery. From the necessity of the case they are in 
 every particular anthropomorphic in conception, whereas the o,-. 7. 220 
 truths and processes they adumbrate are wholly spiritual*. 
 The mythical birth oi Helios from Hyperion and Theia is not or. 4.136 cd 
 meant as an account of marriage and processes of generation 
 among the Gods, ideas which are wholly incongruous with 
 their very nature : its real signification is that Helios, first 
 among the Intelligible Gods, sprang by emanation from a 
 Cause yet higher still, that Cause to wit which is of all most 
 divine (6ec6rarov), and which wholly transcends (TTreplcov 
 going beyond, above) all comprehension, for Whom and round 
 Whom are all things create or uncreate. So again the pro- 
 cession of Athene from the head of Zeus, which materially o,-. 4. 149 b 
 conceived becomes meaningless blasphemy, sets forth in a^''^"*^" 
 figure the spiritual truth that she came forth entire by imme- 
 
 1 Julian of course is simply adopting the regular Neo-Platonic teaching 
 on Myths ; cf. e.g. Sallust, De diis et viundo, c. xiv. xviii. 
 
 R. E. 7 
 
98 JULIAN. 
 
 diate emanation from the highest God. The interpretation 
 of the myth of Cybele and Attis, which runs through so 
 much of Julian's Fifth Oration, is a more ehxborate and am- 
 bitious effort in the same direction. Under Julian's handling 
 it becomes in part a ' solar myth,' but primarily a more tran- 
 scendental revelation. 
 and ra- Myths thus regarded are a testimony to something of a 
 
 tionale. progi-essive revelation of God to man. As birds fly and fish 
 Or. 7. 20GA swim by instinct, with none to teach or guide the way, so 
 man too has his nobler instinct, that will not be denied its 
 satisfaction. The Gods have given him a soul, and that soul, 
 even in man's infancy, could not but flutter and try its wings. 
 Imbued with godlike affinities it tugged at the chain that 
 held it, soaring toward truth. Shadowy images, visions of 
 unknown glories floated before it. As the feathers^ sprouted 
 upon the infant soul, a strange tingling, half of pleasure half 
 of pain, thrilled it through and through. The soul itching 
 with intolerable desire found relief in myths. They were 
 like nurses rubbing the infant's gums at teeth-cutting, re- 
 lieving the irritation and quickening the growth. The itch- 
 ing was but the herald of growing powers, myths but the 
 foreshadowing of coming revelations. The full-grown philo- 
 sopher, while recognising that they may serve the infant still, 
 knows that they were presages of more solid supervening 
 0)-. 7. 207 a- abilities. They are of vise still maybe to spice moral teach- 
 ing distasteful in its severe simplicity, and so to sweeten 
 nauseous truths. But the perfect man has no need of sweets. 
 He seeks rather the strong meat and medicine, which the 
 sweet but obscured or rendered ineffective. 
 Popular Such was Julian's abstract dogmatic theology. It is no 
 
 af'Neo-^°^^ disparagement of his creed to say tliat it was imj^ossible to 
 Platonic present its loftier truths to the capacities of popular intelli- 
 gence. If theology is a science at all, it follows at once that 
 its deeper mysteries will be accessible to those only who are 
 versed in the science. The popular creed will remain a rough 
 ' and imperfect representation of the truths it but dimly per- 
 
 1 Julian here (Or. 7. 206) is almost quotiDg the Phaedrm. 
 
THEOLOGY. 99 
 
 ceives. By what modifications then or adaptations were 
 these religious conceptions commended to the public ? 
 
 In the fi.rst place, the purely intellectual side was per- inteUcc- 
 force left in the background. The doctrine of a trinity, the 2)iiiicatioii. 
 relation of emanating Deities to the incomprehensible First 
 Cause, the interdependence of Intelligible and Intellectual 
 Gods on each other and on the primal One were left to the 
 philosophers. But a far more vital modification than this 
 was adopted. Monotheism, which was in a sense the creed Moiw- 
 of the Neo-Platonist, and the language of which Julian con- ,julsed. 
 Stan tly employs in intercourse with his philosophic friends, e. g. i'p. «. 
 was in its popular representation wholly abandoned. It is / 
 metamorphosed into polytheism, pure and simple. Nor does 
 Julian attempt to conceal it. In temple-worship, lustrations, 
 sacrifices, indeed in everything, he says, the Jews are in 
 exact accord with the Pagans, except in the peculiarity of a cyr. 306ab 
 monotheistic belief. 'Their sole error is in doing a displeasure 
 to the other Gods by reserving their worship for the God j?i). 63. 454 a 
 whom they with barbarian pride and stupidity regard as 
 their special property, relegating the rest to the Gentiles 
 alone.' Monotheism is positively denounced as 'a calum- cyr. 155 c 
 niation of the Deity.' The transformation was as simple as 
 it was necessary to win the popular ear. It merely involved 
 a certain ignoring or rather reticence concerning higher 
 esoteric mysteries, which is not even chargeable with insin- 
 cerity. Philosophers themselves believed in the Gods as 
 emanating agents of the One God: nay more believed that 
 through them alone contact with the One was possible for 
 anything short of the highest philosophic intuition. 
 
 The whole genius of Neo-Platonism was essentially poly- rohjthc- 
 theistic. The Monotheistic element was subsidiary, a satis- '*'''"^ '''"*'" 
 faction and a secret for the philosopher, but for the multitude 
 at most a tenet never a belief, a theory not a motive power. 
 The One was incomj^rehensible, incommunicable, unapproach- 
 able by man ; the Gods who governed the universe about 
 him, who ruled him and his destiny, who heard his petitions, 
 who shielded him from evil, were subordinate, many in num- 
 ber, diverse in form and desires and powers. This concep- 
 
 7 2 
 
100 JULIAN. 
 
 tion had firmly embedded itself in the religion of mankind. 
 'Throughout the whole world you find one single concurrent 
 law and testimony, that there is one God, king and father of 
 all, and Gods many, sons of God and joint rulers with God. 
 This Greek declares and this Barbarian, this the dweller on 
 the mainland and the dweller by the sea, this the wise man 
 and the fool'.' In Julian's own language, 'The Demiurge of 
 Or. 4. 140 A the universe is one : the demiurgic deities, the denizens of 
 
 cf. Cyr. 65. ' '=' ... 
 
 heaven, are many.' It was a belief requirmg the concen- 
 trated forces of Christianity to extirpate it : within the 
 Church, in its last subtle phase of Ariauism, it only not 
 prevailed ; without, it was seized by Neo-Platonism, coordi- 
 nated with the highest reason and conscience of mankind, 
 systematised, sanctioned, and wielded in all its versatile 
 applications. 
 Adap. From this standpoint Julian was able to exhibit a ready 
 
 beliefs. ^^^ generous sympathy with whatever form of cult had 
 commended itself to the people with whom he might be 
 concerned ^ He assiduously emphasizes the value he at- 
 taches to the preservation of local rites or beliefs. Each is 
 in itself a revelation : to surrender an ancestral rite is to 
 fling away a fragment of revealed truth. Hence a scrupulous 
 Cyr. 116 a, revereuco for all traditional sanctities. Nations by a curious 
 131 Bc, . jj^^g^g-Qjj Qf fg^(.^g ^YQ regarded as representing, or as moulded 
 by, the character of their tutelar Gods. To Heliopolis must 
 be given back its Aphrodite-worship, to the Jews their 
 temple, to the shrine of Serapis the cubit of the Nile. 'In 
 F^ap.Ep. ^]^ijjgg jj^iy yfQ f[Q ^eii to preserve whatsoever ancestral 
 Ep. 63. 453 B custom proscribos : we must neither add thereto nor di- 
 minish a whit therefrom ; for that which is of the Gods is 
 everlasting.' High priests were directed to follow the same 
 rule in their visitations, never to extemporise new rites or 
 improve upon old, but to shun innovation above all things'. 
 In precisely the same spirit Julian systematically endeavours 
 
 ^ Maxim. Tyrius, Diss. i. 
 
 5 His teaching bere is in complete accord with Porphyry's. For passages 
 see Zeller, iii. 2, pp. 610, 611. 
 
 3 At the deification of Emperors, partly as unspiritual, hut much more 
 as an innovation, Julian launches a hitter sarcasm, Caes. 332 d. 
 
THEOLOGY. 101 
 
 appropriately to localise his references to the Gods. If he 
 
 writes to the Romans, he dwells on the special connexion of 
 
 Helios with Rome, reminding them how the great God by 
 
 his connexion with Venus and Mars becomes through Aeneas or.4. 154a— 
 
 and Romulus respectively the immediate patron of Rome : 
 
 how further the tale of the miraculous assumption of Quirinus, 
 
 and not less Numa's ordinance concerning the sacred fire 
 
 recognises him still as tutelar divinity of their favoured 
 
 town ; and how they are even reminded of the fact by the 
 
 measurement of months and the season of the opening of the 
 
 new year. If it is to the Athenians he addresses himself, it n'lAth.^iSA, 
 
 All- ^^''^• 
 
 is to Athene, the most wise Goddess, that he appeals. If he 
 
 takes up his pen to the Alexandrians, he exhorts them to a ^- lo. 378 c, 
 
 . 379 A. 
 
 better mind by the reverence that they owe their patron- -^> si. 
 saint and founder Alexander, or adjures them by the name 
 of Serapis their city-holding King and his maiden-consort 
 Isis. To the Jews, to take a yet more interesting sample of 
 the same spirit, he adopts their own monotheistic language. Ep. 25. 
 Their God, he sa.js, is the same all-powerful and beneficent 
 ruler of the universe whom we Greeks worship, though under Ep. 63. 454 a 
 varying names. After commending their faith and sympa- 
 thising with the maltreatment they had endured, he entreats 
 them to offer up prayers for him and for the Empire, 'to the £>.25.397c 
 most high God and Creator, who has deigned to crown me 
 with his undefiled right hand'; in his treatise against the 
 Christians he says in so many words, 'I adore always the cj-r. 354b 
 God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.' It is droll to watch 
 with what scrupulous consistency Julian carries out the 
 same principle even in playful and familiar correspondence. 
 If he writes to a philosopher, Hermes of reason, or the 
 Muses will be the Deity selected ; unless indeed he be in %^- ff- ^> 
 
 '' ' Ep. 34. 
 
 poor health, when wishes for his convalescence will be for- 
 tified by the name of Asklepius : while in a letter to an ^/'^,39. ^^^ 
 Egyptian ofiicial the name of Serapis naturally becomes the 
 appropriate vehicle for indignation. The changes in adju- -Ep. 6.376 a 
 ration that are rung remind the reader of Acres' device for 
 adding point and relevance to the formulae of oath\ 
 1 Cf. Sheridan, The Rivals. 
 
102 JULIAN. 
 
 Exoteric In his exoteric teaching Julian is perfectly content to 
 
 put forward the lower and more popular motive or expla- 
 nation, where he does not think an appeal to the higher 
 will wake a responsive echo. The appeal he thought must 
 
 Cms. 314 c be accommodatod to the audience. In the Caesars he gently 
 censures the stern uncompromising Probus for not thus 
 adapting himself to the people. Wise doctors mix bitter 
 draughts with honey to suit the unaccustomed palate : like 
 cows or horses, men are easiest led by wdiat they like. A 
 good instance of this occurs in one of his letters to the 
 
 EiJ. 51 Alexandrians : there in exhorting them to the Avorship of 
 
 Helios, he says no word of the theological position or rela- 
 tions of that divinity, but appeals simply to the natural 
 power of the visible sun, and bids them as they look on the 
 changing seasons, on the processes of birth and growth, and 
 on the ordered phases of the Moon, fall down and worship 
 the manifested and all-powerful Deity, 
 
 His popular as contra-distinguished from his philoso- 
 phical teaching on the nature and attributes of these Gods, 
 and the manner in which he desired they should be regarded, 
 leads naturally to a consideration of Julian's idea of personal 
 religion. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 JULIAN S IDEA OF RELIGION. 
 
 fj,iyi(TTOU tQv koKujv i] 6eoai^eia. 
 
 Julian. 
 
 In his religious teaching Julian does not commence with 
 evidences of the existence of God. God with him was a 
 primary assumption; the knowledge of God is intuitive in 
 man. 'By our souls,' he writes, 'we are all intuitively per- or. 7. 209 c 
 suaded of the existence of a Deity \' Thus assuming the 
 religious sense, he deduces from it the true relations of man 
 to God, and to his fellow creatures. 
 
 Julian's idea of personal religion is undeniably lofty: its -?'""«»■(? re- 
 elevation of tone again and again betrays the Christian '^"'"* 
 sources from which it was in large measure — and not seldom 
 confessedly — drawn. If Christian shortcomings inevitably 
 paved the way for a Pagan reaction, at least Christian virtues 
 determined the cast which that reaction must take. Soaring Duty to 
 beyond a utilitarian morality it recognised a duty to God as ^°'^' 
 well as a duty to man. Religion is the highest concern of F^rJi^'il^ '^ 
 man, the most essential factor of happiness. Knowledge of the or. 5. iso b 
 
 Or. 7. 222 c 
 
 Gods is more desirable than the Empire of Rome; likeness to O'-' i iss a 
 
 ^ ' Or. 7. 225 D 
 
 the Gods the crown of philosophy; devoutness and diligence ^''J''- i"i » 
 in the service of the Gods are the primary requisites for due Or. 2.86 a 
 discliarge of duty. Our souls — it is a noble Neo-Platonic 
 thought — are not our own, but rather lent by God for a F'-"!'- ^p- 
 
 "^ 302 r, 
 
 1 So too very explicitly the author of De Myst. 1. 3. 'Knowledge of the 
 Gods is an inherent impression inseparably implanted in us, co-operating 
 with the essential inclination of the soul towards the good, superseding 
 every judgment or deliberation, and antecedent to thought or argumentation 
 upon the subject.' 
 
104 JULIAN. 
 
 season. They are given to each man as genii or spiritual 
 Or. 2. 69 A powers, located as it were on the highest surface of the body, 
 
 so as to raise men from earth to the proper kinsliip that 
 oc. 6. i9Cd, belono^s to them in heaven. The soul is 'the God within us': 
 
 197. _ _ * 
 
 Or. 2. 90 B it is of heavenly birth, a colonist for a little space upon earth, 
 imprisoned in the human body as a sanctifying and elevating 
 power. And with this godlike element, waging unintermit- 
 ting warfare with the dark and murky powers of the flesh \ 
 we must make it our endeavour to attain to absolute devotion 
 Or. 5. 1V8 B c of heart to God. ' When the soul surrenders itself entire unto 
 the Gods, committing itself and all it hath to them that are 
 greater than itself; then if purification follows under the 
 guidance of the ordinances of the Gods, so that there is 
 thenceforth nought to let or hinder — for all things are in the 
 Gods, around them do all things consist, and of the Gods all 
 things are full — forthwith there shineth in such souls the 
 divine light; instinct with God they brace and enable the 
 kindred spirit, which thereby steeled as it were by them and 
 waxing strong is made salvation unto the whole body.' This 
 knowledge or spiritual recognition of God is not merely 
 Or. 2. 6s B worthy of a monarch or general, but lifts man almost to the 
 A,t. Them. Icvcl of diviuity itself. Imitation of the Gods, as evinced by 
 Cues. 331 A the suppression of human wants and weaknesses, and by 
 constant enlargement of virtuous activity must be the aim of 
 the believer. True holiness (eiae/Seia) is to live ever in the 
 Frap. Ep. practice of the presence of God. Unseen though they be, the 
 Gods are ever near, watching our every action : so that in the 
 words of the inspired oracle 
 
 Everywhere the ray of Phoebus darts its all-pervading light ; 
 Through the flint rocks unimpeded it pursues its nimble flight ; 
 Through the azure depths it courses; not the circling starry tlu-ong 
 Eanging heaven under sway of laws inexorably strong 
 Can escape it ; nor the toiling denizens of nether gloom 
 Whom dim Tartarus immureth, each according to his doom — 
 But in godly souls unto virtue given 
 299 D I have joy that passeth the joys of heaven. 
 
 - For conflict in man between body and soul, cf. Or. 4. 142 d, diTTj) yap 
 earl fxaxoixevi] (pvais ds iv KiKpanivq ^vxvs Kal cci/uaros, r'ijs fiev ddas, rov 
 5e (XKoreifov re Kal ^o^wdovs' ^oixi re ehai [xaxn Tis Kal crrdffts. Cf. Frag. Ep. 
 2')9 A, Or. 2. 70 a b, Or. 6. 184 a. 
 
 299 b 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 105 
 
 Thus God himself of his great kindness declares that he takes f^^^^- ep- 
 delight in the thoughts of the holy, which are dear to him as 
 heaven's self. This holiness or godly reverence must declare 
 itself in all our actions. Zeal in the small duties of life, in 293 d 
 whatsoever is given us to do, is the surest test of true holiness. 
 Among other parts of men's duty to God are enjoined piety, 293 a, 300 c. 
 chastity, solemn meditation on divine things, and honour 
 paid to God by holy worship. Prayer too is the duty of every 
 believer, and no less his privilege, for so ready is the divine 
 ear that 'the Gods prevent our prayers \' No precise rule for 
 laymen is laid down, beyond that prayer should be conducted Mis.nin 
 reverently and in silence; by his own example^ Julian would - 
 bid them pray at least in all great emergencies and crises of 
 life; but priests are expressly bidden to pray often, both in 
 private and in public, certainly thrice a day, or at least twice, 
 at daybreak and at nightfall, for it is not seemly that any 1^!;"^- ^p- 
 priest should spend day or night without a sacrifice. 
 
 In his conception of duty to man, Julian takes no less -DfUy to 
 high a tone. 'Ye are all,' he says, 'brothers one of another, ogiu^g's 
 God is the common father of us all.' From this fundamental 
 truth of the universal brotherhood of man follows by logical 
 deduction the obligation of charity to all. 'I maintain,' writes 
 Julian, 'though I speak a paradox, that it is a sacred duty to 290 d 
 impart raiment and food even to our enemies; for the bond 
 of humanity, not the disposition of individuals, regulates our 
 giving.' The duty of kindness, of almsgiving in the widest 
 sense, he emphasizes again and again. It is the homily put 
 ia the mouth of every joriest to every Gentile; the good iy' 1,^431 b 
 customs of fii-st-fruits and contributions to the service of the 
 sanctuaries had fallen into a shameful desuetude: Believers 
 had forgotten the undying precept of Homer, that 
 
 1 (pdavovji oi Oeol Tas ei'xas, Or. 2. 92 B. As regards the rationale of 
 prayer, its efficacy according to the Neo-Platouist scheme was bound up with 
 the sympathetic though unconscious coherence of all nature by virtue of 
 the one pervading soul. Doctrinally it stands on the same footing as magic 
 in its widest sense. See Zeller, Fhil. dcr Gr, iii. 2, p. 564, and De Myst. i. 
 15, V. 26. 
 
 2 So. before his exaltation ; for of coui'se as Emperor, Julian was priest as 
 well. 
 
106 JULIAN. 
 
 Zeus unfolds our hospitable door, 
 'Tis Zeus that sends the stranger and the poor^. 
 
 Frao-Ep. Eacli beofojar that goes about the street is, says Julian, an 
 
 289 D— 290 A . '^^ * . . 
 
 insult upon the Gods, It is our greed, not the unkindness of 
 the Gods, that leaves him in such a plight; and in passing 
 him by unaided we make ourselves the authors of untrue 
 concej^tions and unjust reproaches against the Deity. 'No 
 290 c man,' he continues, 'ever became poor from giving alms to 
 his neighbours. Often have I given to the needy and re- 
 ceived back mine own from them a hundredfold, and never 
 do I repent of having given aught.' We must give according 
 to the measure of our means, for the virtue lies in the dispo- 
 sition of the giver rather than in the amount of the gift. As 
 Julian borrowing almost the language of the New Testament 
 again and again bids the believer 'above all things practise 
 charity^ for in its train come many other goods,' there rings 
 in the reader's ears the familiar 'the greatest of these is 
 charity,' 
 Moral Personal chastity' is another moral obligation on which he 
 
 Fraf.'Ep. strougly iuslsts. All criminal or even unseemly self-indul- 
 l/i.%43Bc gence is prohibited to the moral man, who will abstain from 
 the exciting and often licentious spectacles to be witnessed at 
 the theatres or other places of public resort. To be in bond- 
 age to the grosser appetites or passions is to create for our- 
 selves a very hell upon earth. Sins of temper, hatred, 
 passion, abusiveness, are to be guarded against; patience, 
 forbearance and gentleness to be practised. Another re- 
 markable characteristic of Julian's religious code is the very 
 close connexion into which he brings observance of law with 
 religion. 'The law is the daughter of justice, a hallowed and 
 divinely consecrated treasure of the most high God, which no 
 
 1 Horn. Od. 14. 56, Pope's version. The same quotation recurs in a 
 similar context in Frag. Ep. 291 b. 
 
 2 (pi\avdpu}irla, love of the neighbour, in its fullest sense. Frag. Ep. 289 a. 
 ^ This obUgation formed part of the Neo-Platonic view of &<TK7]<ns : see 
 
 infr. p. 118, 133. Porphyrins denounced all sexual indulgence, first as directly 
 prejudicial to the soul and subjecting it to the dominion of sense, secondly 
 indirectly, as producing new forms of life in which spirit was tied to matter. 
 Zeller, iii. 2, p. 598. 
 
 Or. 6. 198 c 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 107 
 
 sensible man will undervalue or dishonour.' It is distinctly 
 
 a part of a man's duty to his neighbour to be submissive, ^^^^-^343 a, 
 
 respectful to the authorities, observant of law. 'The true 
 
 prince must be a prophet and minister of the king of the or.2.so\ 
 
 Gods,' for 'the laws are holy unto the Gods:' 'the guardians .{^''j'-^- ^^^• 
 
 of the laws are in a manner priests unto the Gods.' Service -'-"^ '^ 
 
 of the Gods and the laws are coupled together as equally ^^>- 343 a 
 
 essential to true morality {aaxppoavvr]) . 
 
 Such then were Julian's ideas regarding religion as an Outward 
 T T -I -If iii'i religion. 
 
 inward moral power, and such the rules oi conduct he laid 
 
 down. By way of sanction and confirmation these were to 
 be supplemented by ceremonial observances. The Pagan 
 convert was to be admitted — or readmitted — into his new 
 religion by rites of purification analogous to baptism, and 
 by prayer to the averting^ Deities. Julian himself was duly 
 initiated into the Eleusinian rites at Athens, and then or on 
 some other occasion washed off the taint of Christian baptism 
 with the blood of slain sacrifices ; as the Christian father puts 
 it, 'he purged off the laver with unholy blood, matching our 
 initiation with the initiation of defilement^' He declined to 
 admit to Pagan worship any Christian, who had not first been 
 purged in soul by solemn litanies, and in body by set lustral 
 rites. From thenceforth he was to become a regular attend- 
 ant at divine service, to revere the temples, groves and 
 images of the Gods, to the maintenance of which, as a pious 
 believer, he would naturally contribute. Indeed he was in 
 all respects to invest with its proper dignity and use that 
 elaborate ceremonialism and public ritual which Julian 
 laboured so energetically to restore. 
 
 For Julian, here palpably and confessedly plagiarising ThcPnest- 
 from Christianity, endeavoured to fortify his religious revival ^p.^ri. 450 c 
 by a restored and purified ceremonialism. He came forward 
 with a carefully prepared system of sacerdotalism. The 
 priesthood was no longer to be a kind of hereditary property, 
 transmitted as a social prerogative from father to son, irre- 
 
 ^ Ep. 52. 436 c, a.iroTp6iraioi 6eoL 
 
 « Greg. Naz. Or. -k. 570 e, with which cf. Soz. 5. 2, aud Jul. Or. 7. 231 i>. 
 V. supr. p. 51. 
 
108 JULIAN. 
 
 spective of the qualifications of the possessor. It was no 
 
 more to be confined to favoured families. Distinctions of 
 
 sosT ^^' poverty or wealth, high birth or low, were obliterated. The 
 
 qualifications required were henceforth to be moral not social: 
 
 the sole tests of fitness love of God and love of man : love of 
 
 ^^^ " God first, as displayed in the religion and godly bringing up 
 
 of a man's own household ; love of man second, as tested by 
 
 a ready and liberal charity in proportion to the means at 
 
 Training command. The most religious and best of the citizens being 
 of priests. , ,, -,„■,-, ■ -, • -j. 
 
 thus selected, were to be carefully tramed m a manner suit- 
 
 ^^^ " able to their high calling. A guard was to be set on their 
 300 c-301 B thoughts, no less than upon their tongues. For their intel- 
 lectual training, they were to avoid scrupulously not only 
 indecent and lascivious writings, the sarcasms of Archilochus 
 and the snarls of Hipponax, not only profane and sceptical 
 philosophies, but also all that was trivial and frivolous, such 
 as the Old Comedy, or love-tales, or works of fiction. They 
 should study history, and for their philosophical training be 
 reared on the pure milk of Pythagoras and Plato, and on the 
 sound meat of Aristotle, to which should be added judicious 
 selections from the religious teaching of Chrysippus and 
 Zeno. But no word of Epicurus or of Pyrrho must enter 
 their ears. For devotional training, besides private exercises 
 of prayer and attendance at public worship, they were to 
 ^^^ ° commit to heart and meditate upon the Sacred Hymns, the 
 direct revelations of the Gods. When thus duly trained 
 they were doubtless consecrated for their high functions by 
 a solemn ordination service. No positive directions have 
 chanced to survive, for Julian composed no formal Priest's 
 Manual, but left only a variety of pastoral letters, called out 
 by special occasions, and treating therefore of special points, 
 from which his complete system may be fairly gleaned. But 
 taking into account the common practice of Pagans and 
 Christians alike, together with the analogy of the lustral rites 
 of admission to the Church, it may fairly be assumed that 
 provisions for priestly consecration were not omitted in the 
 T^ .• r code of ritual elaborated bv Julian. 
 
 Diitief: of " •! 1 m 1 
 
 priests. The duties of the priest are carefully prescribed, io take 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 109 
 
 first his distinctly religious duties. Twice or thrice a day 
 must he sacrifice, not without prayer: when his turn for duty Frap. Ep. 
 in the public celebration of temple-worship arrives, he must 
 purify himself night and day : he must continually be at his 
 post within the temple for his term of office, which according 
 to the Roman custom at least extends over thirty^ days : 
 during that space he should neither visit the market nor go 
 to his own dwelling, but occupy himself wholly with divine 
 worship and philosophic meditations. For his private bear- PncsW 
 ing similarly strict injunctions are laid down. Among the ^'"'^ '^•^''' 
 first duties of a priest is that charity, on which Julian so 
 strenuously insists : it is an attribute of the Deity^, and 
 therefore precious in his eyes : it will exercise itself in liberal 
 almsgiving and ready hospitality. For active practical virtue sosn ^ 
 is the highest religion, and holiness the child of righteous 
 dealing. Habitual chastity, not only of person but in thought 
 and word^, holiness, which is to .say the constant realised IJy"^- j^J-^ ^ 
 sense of God's presence, modesty, forbearance and gentleness 
 of demeanour, and what is more vaguely termed goodness, Ep 63. 453 a 
 are among the duties specially inculcated. Further, there 
 must be always that gravity of demeanour, that sanctity, the 
 habitual assumption of which by the Christian priests has Ep. 49. 429 d 
 tended so effectively to promote their religion. In order to 
 this the priest will abstain rigidly from attendance at the Frap. Ep. 
 theatres : he will eschew all public games, horse-races, and Ep.%!^m b 
 the like : he will never frequent the wine-taverns, nor en- 
 gage in any kind of business that could bring contempt upon 
 his profession. Nay more, not content with these negative 
 protests against dissolute or careless living, he will be very 
 choice as to the society he keeps. Actors, jockeys and Fmr,. Ep. 
 
 1 La Bleterie in bis note observes tbat tbe minimum of residence en- 
 joined by local statutes to tbe prebendaries in most catbedrals is exactly the 
 same amount. The terms or rather duties of residence are certainly far less 
 arduous. 
 
 * (f)i\av9pwirla is Julian's word thrice repeated in Frag. Ep. 289 a b, of. 
 also Frac). Ep. 300 b, Ep. 49. 429 d. With it is conjoined xPVTTdTrjs in Ep. 
 63. 453 A. There can be httle doubt that Tit. iii. 4 was present to Julian's 
 mind, 17 xPV<'"''OTr]s Kal i] (piXafdputria tov a-(xiTTJpos tj/xuv Oeov. 
 
 » Frag. Ep. 300 c d, 302 d, cf. Niceph. x. 4. 
 
110 JULIAN. 
 
 dancers he will absolutely avoid; and while permitted to resort 
 Frap. Ep. froelv to the houses and entertainments of his friends, to en- 
 hance his priestly dignity he will but rarely frequent the 
 Ep. 49. 431 c market ; and will moreover seldom visit or meet municipal 
 dignitaries or officers, except in temples and places where his 
 sacerdotal position gives him acknowledged precedence : as a 
 general rule he will communicate with them by letter alone. 
 f^raf'sl^^ -^^^"^^ all he will bring up his own family in sobriety and 
 304 D, 305 B. ^YiQ fear of God : the women, children, and domestics of his 
 household will attend regularly the public services : a priest 
 failing in this deserves to be dismissed from his priestly 
 office. 
 Priestly Among the priests there is to be a regular discipline and 
 
 orders. various orders. Below the priest came the inferior orders of 
 Ep. 49. 430 c clergy, acolytes, and the like, who will be drawn from the 
 poorer classes, and as paid subordinates of the priests will 
 'serve' at the celebrations of temple-worship. While above 
 the priests, administering set districts or dioceses as over- 
 seers, will be the ' high priests ' or ' bishops.' These Julian 
 frequently chose from among the philosophers, who were his 
 personal friends and guides. Chrysanthius, for instance, was 
 named high priest of Lydia. It was their duty to conduct 
 regular visitations of their dioceses, to promote meritorious 
 Ep. c2. 451 c priests ; and, on the other hand, to exhort, rebuke, chastise, 
 or even dismiss the unworthy : at the same time he was 
 bound rigorously to abstain from personal violence ; ' a bishop 
 Ep. 63. 453 A must bo uo Striker.' Moderation and appreciative kindness 
 are the primary requisites. In one of his ' pastoral' letters 
 Ep. G3 Julian promotes the high priest Theodorus to such a position 
 Ep. 49 in Asia : another he addresses to Arsakius, who holds a simi- 
 j:p- 62 lar place in the district of Galatia ; while in a third, he 
 himself, in virtue of his high priestly authority, suspends an 
 unworthy priest for a term of three calendar months. In 
 this instance, as habitually in sacrifice and temjole-worship, 
 Frafj. Ep. Julian asserts very jDlainly his own sacerdotal prerogative : 
 i> 02. 451B {I ig as sovereign pontiff of the national Churcli, and as 
 mouthpiece of the Didymaean oracle that he pronounces 
 sentence. 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. Ill 
 
 His treatment of this question of unworthy priests is full DheipUne 
 of interest, and shows how strongly he was impressed with °'^^'"'* *" 
 the need and value of that ecclesiastical discipline which was 
 theoretically maintained in the Christian Church, though 
 among his own contemporaries it so often fell into abeyance 
 before the consuming blight of heresy and its attendant 
 spirit of faction. In his surviving Pontifical * Charge ' ho £™2- ^p- 
 dwells vipon it at length. The unworthiness of a priest or a 
 prophet cannot indeed cast any reflection upon the perfect- 
 ness of the God he unworthily serves, nor can any personal 
 demerit degi'ade the majesty of his ofiice. So long as he 297 a— c 
 bears the name of priest and ministers before the altar, he 
 must be regarded with a submissive and reverential piety as 
 the authorised representative of God, to strike or insult ^/'- 62. 451 b 
 whom IS sacrilege. He is no less consecrate to God than 
 the inanimate stones of which the image or altar is fashioned, 
 and like them is to be reverenced for his consecration's sake. 
 But if he is a notorious or open sinner, then the high priest Eju^.mxB 
 should first openly admonish and rebuke him, and if he still 
 persist, should chastise him heavily, and at the last strip him Fra.q. Ep. 
 of his priesthood as a reprobate. For the solemn anathema 
 with which the ancients accompanied such degradation Ju- 
 lian finds no divine, or as we may say Scriptural, authority. ii>.62. 451cd 
 
 Thus it is in our power to gather very fully Julian's con- Dirinity of 
 ception of the priestly office. It is a calling more exalted ^.'.'',„ e/T^' 
 than that of any citizen, for the lustre of the divine dignity is 2[!it ""'' ^' 
 reflected upon it. As the immediate servants and ministers 
 of the Gods, priests are in the truest sense their vicars or 
 representatives. They pray, they sacrifice, on behalf of the P'-au. sp. 
 congregation and in its stead. And no personal unworthi- 295 d 
 ness can derogate from their high office. It follows imme- 
 diately that corresponding honour must be paid them. In 
 the temple they are supreme, and take rank before all 296 cd 
 earthly potentates : the highest officer of state is but a pri- ep.kazici, 
 vate individual, and lower than the priest so soon as he 
 passes the threshold of the shrine. This inalienable dignity 
 it is the bounden duty of the priest on all occasions to as- 
 sert; no pious believer will contest it, be he an officer of 
 
112 JULIAN. 
 
 army, of city, or of State, unless he is puffed up with self- 
 conceit and vain-glory. 
 Priest- It will be Sufficient merely to mention the fact that 
 
 esses. priestesses as well as priests found a place, as always, in the 
 ranks of the Pagan ministry. A brief but interesting letter 
 Ep. 21. survives from Julian to the priestess Callixene ; all men, he 
 writes, sing the praises of Penelope for the constancy of her 
 love to man\ sc. Ulysses. Not less praise coiild be due to 
 Callixene for her love to God; and the constancy of her devo- 
 tion had stood the test of not ten but twenty years. As 
 a fittinof acknowledcrment of merit, Julian nominates her 
 priestess of Cybele at the famous shrine of Pessinus, in ad- 
 dition to the pi'evious dignity she held as priestess of De- 
 meter — a proof by the way that pluralists were tolerated in 
 the Pagan Church. 
 Tevijyie With a sound polytheistic basis thus firmly laid, a moral 
 
 licstora- j^^ annexed, depending for vitality on its purity and eleva- 
 tion, and an elaborate sacerdotal structure superadded, Julian 
 attempted to reanimate the decaying reverence for the tem- 
 ples, to revive the beauties of neglected precincts and the 
 splendour of the ancient festivals, to attract and awe the 
 public imagination by a more gorgeous ritual, to which the 
 genius of Hellenism so freely lent itself. The prophecy of 
 the blind hag who met him on his entry to Vienne^ and 
 hearing that it was Julian Caesar jDassing by, cried out that 
 he should be the restorer of the temples of the Gods, found a 
 very literal fulfilment. He did the work in part directly, in 
 part indirectly. In some cases he gave state subsidies, or set 
 apart local imposts, or contributed from the fiscal purse to 
 promote these objects, while at other places he encouraged 
 the people to restore the fallen fabric, or duly celebrate the 
 time-honoured festivals, by promises of his favour and patron- 
 Ep. 40. 431 D age, which not seldom took, as at Pessinus, the very substan- 
 tial form of remission of taxation, if they satisfied his wishes 
 Rebuild- in tliis respoct. Among the most famous of these attempts 
 ing of the j^^ 'Church restoration was the proposed rebuilding of the 
 
 leinple. ^ ^ 
 
 ^ (piXavSpla, not <piKav9puvia. 
 2 Amm. M. xv. viii. 22. 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 113 
 
 Jewish Temple \ Partly from a desire to signalise his reign 
 by lasting architectural memorials, partly from his habitual 
 partiality to the Jews, partly perhaps in the hope of giving 
 prophecy the lie, he took in hand the enterprise in compli- 
 ance with the petition of the Jews. The strange issue of the 
 undertaking, and the controversies that have raged around 
 it, have imparted a fictitious importance to this particular 
 attempt. In itself it was but one item in a long list, and one 
 too to which Julian himself has left but one or two passing 
 allusions'^. Everywhere throughout the realm, at Heliopolis, 
 at Pessinus, at Alexandria, at Antioch, at Cyzicus, he stimu- 
 lated like efforts^ Besides rebuilding the temples, Julian Festivals, 
 tried everywhere to restore* to something of their ancient '^' 
 splendour the solemn festivals, that had everywhere fallen 
 into disrepute. To forward this object he not only expressed 
 special delight, when such celebrations formed part of the 
 programme of his reception, but used himself to contribute 
 largely to the maintenance of their becoming magnificence. 
 At Batnce, a small Pasjan town east of the Euphrates, not ir^. 27. 
 
 ' ° -^ . 400 esq. 
 
 very far from Carrhse in Mesopotamia, he was overjoyed at 
 the excellent preservation in which he found the temples 
 and groves, and with unfeigned satisfaction contrasted their 
 Avell-to-do appearance with the simple structure of mud and 
 wood that served him there for a palace. As Emperor, care- 
 less of the offence he might give to a giddy population like 
 that of Antioch, he declined to give any of those frivolous or mli. m a 
 immodest exhibitions that most gratified the popular taste, 
 and confined his bounty to religious celebrations of various 
 kinds, the magnificence of which entailed a lavish outlay. 
 The Apostle of Paganism employed the imperial prerogative 
 to preach as well as practice. He made bold to go down in 
 person to the Council of Antioch, and deliver an indignant ii/'V. 362 b sq. 
 remonstrance at the scandalous neglect shown in the conduct 
 
 1 For accounts of. Amm. M. xxiii. 1, Greg. Naz. Or. 5, p. 668 sq., Chrys. 
 hi lud., Sok. III. 20, Soz. v. 22, Theod. in. 20, Philost. vii. 9, Theoph. i. 
 
 p. 80, Kedr. i. p. 537, Glyk. iv. p. 470, Nikepli. x. 23. Warbiirton's Julian ! 
 is a volume 300 pages long on this topic. 
 
 2 Frap. Ep. 295 c, Ep. 25, and perhaps Ep. 30. ^ Boz. v. 3. 
 ^ Lib. TTfpl TLfj.. 'loi'X. p. 57. 
 
 R. E, 8 
 
114 JULIAN. 
 
 of the yearly festivals. In their dinners and banquets, he 
 bitterly said, there was no stint of lavish expenditure : while 
 the poverty and meanness of their temple ceremonial would 
 have disgraced the remotest hamlet in Pontus. Nor was it 
 only to the conduct of special festivals that he devoted himself. 
 
 Eituai. "pi^e ordinary temple-service was to be rendered at once more 
 attractive and more imposing by an improved ritual. His 
 taste for music, and that general aesthetic susceptibility which 
 characterised him as a true Hellene, made him specially alive 
 to the advantage of such accessories to worship. In the 
 Ep. 56 great towns choir-boys were to be selected and carefully 
 trained in sacred music, their maintenance being provided 
 for at the public cost. These EjDhebi, or choristers, were to 
 M!s.m2/L be habited in white, richly "set off by ornamental appendages. 
 
 Ep. 27. 400 c Thus the charm of surplices, the steam of incense, the lines 
 of initiated hierophants and bearers of the sacred basket^ 
 would match or outvie the nascent pomp of Christian ritual ; 
 nor in allurements for the esthetic were the tastes of the 
 religious overlooked. However undevotional was the spirit 
 of fourth century Paganism, Julian hoped it might become 
 less so. Pulpits, with all the charm of novelty, swelled the 
 furniture of the sanctuary ; lectures Avere held and addresses 
 delivered by trained expositors of Hellenic dogma. The 
 
 m^-^i'iA officiating priest was to be robed very sumptuously, though 
 when not acting officially he was to wear the modest gar- 
 ments that befitted his humility, imitating the retiring 
 modesty of Amphiaraus, who when he went to the battle 
 bore no crest or blazon upon his shield. The holy vestments 
 were not to be made a public spectacle or gazingstock about 
 the streets : to do so were dishonour to the symbolised 
 majesty of the Gods : they must be seen and worn only in 
 the holy place, Avhere none but the pure in heart drew nigh. 
 
 Temple By example and precept alike Julian did his utmost to 
 
 SeTOJces. encourage, at times almost to enforce, regular attendance at 
 
 Mil. 344 c . . . ' O 
 
 religious services^ Worship he looked upon not as necessary 
 
 ^ Nikeph. x. 4. 
 
 '^.So, immediate]}' ou bis perversion, Soz. v. 1, cf. Amm. M. xxii. v. 2, 
 Sole. in. 11. 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 115 
 
 to the Gods, as though in any carnal sense they fed on the cacs. 333 d 
 smoke and reek of sacrifice: nor again as positively necessary 
 to man, for indeed the highest natures might rise above it; 
 but rather as the natural outward correlative of inward rever- o,-. 2. 70 d 
 ence and virtue, a due to the Gods, and not less a benefit and 
 delioht to ofodfearingf men. Their abandonment of sacrificial 
 practices is one of the allegations brought against the Chris- 
 tians, while the Jews are praised aloud for adherence to the 
 old rites \ Accordingly fixed days and hours were set apart 
 for public sacrifice and prayer^ No less important in his 
 eyes than regularity was reverential demeanour on the part f^-^p- Ep. 
 of those present: he longed to see the service conducted with j»/'>-365d 
 decency and quiet gravity: it was real pain to him to find a 
 disorderly crowd rushing to the temples to catch a good sight 
 of the Emperor, and receiving him it may be with vivas and 
 plaudits that honoured the sovereign to the dishonour of the 
 sovereign's God. He went so far as to deliver a public ^ns- 344 c 
 harangue against such desecration. The shortest and pithi- 
 est of his surviving letters is the order addressed to the 
 populace who cheered in the temple of Fortune : 'If I enter 
 the theatre unexpectedly, cheer ; but if the temple, then 
 keep silence, giving cheer to the Gods alone — nay, but the 
 Gods have no need of cheers^' 
 
 The whole rationale of reverence paid to temples, altars Idol wor- 
 and images, he expounds very clearly. Between his view of 
 the case and that of an enlightened Romanist at the present 
 day, there is little sensible difference*. He scornfully and 
 indignantly rejects the supposition that the worshipiDcrs c5n- Frarj.Ep. 
 found the sticks or stones they reverence with the God whom 
 these symbolise. Such a notion could emanate only from 
 the addled prejudice of a Christian. Jewish denunciations 
 of idols arise from pure misconception. Their prophets are 
 
 1 Cyr. 299, 305-306, 351 d; cf. Sokr. iii. 20. 
 
 2 Soz. V. 16. 
 
 3 Ep. 64. The play on ev4>ri/j.Lai cannot be satisfactorily rcprodueed. 
 
 * Mr J. Dimcombe translating large portions of Julian in the last century, 
 omits in his rendering of this Epistle those very pages of ' arguments equally 
 futile and Jesuitical,' which alone Mr W. Nevins, the more recent Roman 
 Catholic translator, selects as having the first claim upon his labours. 
 
 8—2 
 
116 JULIAN. 
 
 Fra(}. Ep. m reality like men who gaze through a cloud of mist upon a 
 light perfectly serene and pure: then in their short-sighted- 
 ness not discerning the purity of the light beyond, but 
 beholding only the illuminated mist, they mistake the mist 
 itself for fire, and screaming out Fire ! Murder ! Sudden 
 Death! and such alarmist cries, set to work to extinguish 
 what they suppose to be the devouring element. The true 
 and reasonable use of images is very different. They are biit 
 
 294 c human handiwork ; they are not the Gods themselves, but 
 symbolic representations of the Gods : material images of 
 293 DC deities who themselves are immaterial. Nay, they are ac- 
 knowledged to be an accommodation to man's creature limi- 
 tations; it is man's bodily nature alone that makes them 
 useful adjuncts of worship. Of the highest supreme Being 
 no physical representation has ever been attempted. Even 
 in the case of the second grade of deities emanating imme- 
 diately from the first, all corporeal embodiment and service 
 proved impossible ; for they are by nature unindigent of 
 such, and can be approached only by more exalted spiritual 
 communion. It is the third order of Gods alone that the 
 service of images can propitiate, and thus in this third grade 
 of worship only do they become effectuaP. But in their 
 proper sphere they are to be commended and to receive due 
 
 29.? D honour : they become evidences of alacrity in worship: like 
 
 294 A other rites they have the sanction of antiquity: our fathers 
 delighted thus to do honour to the Gods, in precisely the 
 
 293 c same way as we delight to do honour to kings or princes by 
 rearing statues or images to represent them. Thus images 
 
 294 care not to be regarded as mere bits of wood or stone, any 
 more than they are to be confounded with the Gods. What 
 they really are is simply what they set up to be, wood or 
 stones representing, symbolising the Gods. As such they are 
 entitled to reverence. A fond parent will take delight in the 
 294 CD likeness of his child; why? because it is stone? or because it 
 
 • Cf. Porph. Dc Ahst. ii. 84. 37, who says th<at to the highest God, man 
 must offer pure conteuiplation, to the iutelHgible Gods words combined with 
 contemplation, to the Universe and the other Gods bloodless sacrifice and 
 gifts as well a^^ prayers. 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 117 
 
 is bronze? or because it is his child? No, but because it is 
 stone or bronze representing and -recalling the likeness of his 
 child. A loyal subject will honour the statue of his sovereign 
 for precisely the same reason. Just as the parent loves the 
 likeness of his child, or the subject honours the statue of his 
 prince, so Avill the worshipper revere the image of his God, 
 and in its presence realise in trembling awe the unseen pre- p^«!J- p-p- 
 sence in whose gaze he at that moment stands. True of 
 course the Gods have no need of images ; neither have they 294 a 
 any need of prayers. The need lies with the worshipper. 
 It would be as reasonable to deny the Gods the service of the 
 lips, that is prayer, as that service of the hands which conies 
 to us with the sanction of thrice a thousand years and the 294 a 
 consent of all known races. It is needless Julian thinks to 
 refute the sorry argument of those who would discredit 
 images by acts of wanton insult or destruction. It is they, 
 not the image-worshippers, who are discredited by such exhi- 
 bitions of folly and crime. A wicked brutal man can easily 295 a 
 enough destroy the handiwork of a wise good man : that is 
 all that is done. Even then there remain the living unefface- 
 able images of the unseen essence of the Gods, even the im- ^'j"^'- ^p- 
 perishable stars which from everlasting to everlasting run 
 their courses in the heavens. 
 
 This survey of Julian's position with regard to the exter- Ahstu 
 nal expression of the religious sense would be incomplete selection 
 without a reference to his leaning towards observances which '^f meats. 
 are apt to be regarded as even more formal ceremonialism 
 than any yet alluded to. He approved and justified ceremo- 
 nial abstinence at stated seasons from certain kinds of food. 
 This was a genuine part of his Neo-Platonic creed, in more 
 than one branch of which Orphic influences' are clearly trace- 
 able. Plotinus had abstained almost entirely from meat, and 
 seldom touched even bread : subsisted indeed on the scantiest 
 diet that sufiiced to support life, and recommended similar 
 self-denial to his disciples^ One explanation of the name 
 
 ^ So again in the interpretation of myths : cf. Navillo, p. 128. 
 ^ Cf. the story of Eogatianus in Porphyry's Vita Plotini, c. vii. 
 
118 JULIAN. 
 
 Barai/ewTT^?^ applied to Porphyry is that he was a vegetarian. 
 Mis.350c Following in the same track, Julian, not content with him- 
 self acTopting sparse", if not vegetarian fare and fasting at 
 appointed religious seasons, recommends to others the ob- 
 servance of traditional rules about diet, and sees in them a 
 genuine and permanent symbolical significance. He takes a 
 Or. 5. Hi c D devout pride in the insight vouchsafed to him in these matters: 
 but does not press his theories intolerantly. The rules are 
 i"7 D for set times and certain persons, whex'e the means, the 
 physical condition, and the individual's will are favourably 
 disposed. The benefit to be derived is primarily moral, and 
 only indirectly physical. 'Purification'^ was a catch-word of 
 Neo-Platonic Ethics: and soul being in itself jierfectly pure, 
 and eveiy contamination derived from man's corporeal part, 
 mortification, asceticism and fasting availed naturally for 
 174 pp. personal holiness. In his Oration to the Mother of the Gods 
 Julian vents his opinions at length, prescribing minute dietary 
 rules for the religious observance of the Cybelean ceremonial. 
 With regard to vegetables, while cabbages, sprouts and the 
 like were permissible articles of food, seeds and all roots such 
 as turnips, were forbidden; while in the case of fruit, figs 
 received the preference over apples, pomegranates or dates. 
 Fish was prohibited, while birds of almost every kind were 
 approved. Among four-footed beasts the swine attained an 
 enviable monopoly of uncleanness. Julian proceeds to point 
 out the underlying significance of these at first sight arbitrary 
 restrictions. Seeds (except indeed the pods of leguminous 
 plants whose manner of growth secured them exemption) and 
 roots, no less than creeping plants, are forbidden as symbol- 
 ising a grovelling earthward tendency, while vegetable shoots 
 typify the opposite heavenward desire, always looking up- 
 ward to the pure sether. The apple or rather probably the 
 orange is too holy for consumption ; it recals the golden 
 
 1 More probably as born at Batanea in Syria. " Liban. EjJtt. p. 579. 
 
 ' Trdaa dperr] Kadapais. Plot. Enn. I. vi. 6, cf. ill. vi. 5, p. 308 A, and Zeller 
 III. 2, p. 538, on Plotinus. Porphyrins (cf. Zeller 59G pp.) went even farther 
 than his master, as may be read in his I)c Abstinentta, and lamblichus follows 
 in his wake in the fragment wepl ^vxvs, for which cf. Stob. Ekl. i. 1065 ff. 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 119 
 
 apples of the Hosporides, and has served as the guerdon and 
 symbol of mystic quests and triumjjhs. The pomegranate is 
 interdicted as a ground plant'; the sanctity of the date is 
 perhaps a survival from Phrygia, birthplace of the Phrygian 
 Mother's rites, where the palm grows not. But Julian rather 
 descries in it the fruit sacred to the sun, and which never 
 grows old. Fish are spared, first, in compliance with the 
 general rule that that which is not sacrificed to the Gods 
 is not to be eaten of men; and secondly, because they too 
 diving down into the depths signify those lower grovelling 
 desires which have been already attributed to the root-plants. 
 Birds, on the contrary, who constantly soar, seeking the 
 mountain-tops or the expanse of heaven, are fit food (except 
 such as be sacrosanct to the Gods) for the soul that would 
 aspire upwards. No wonder that the leprous pig is tabooed. 
 He is pursy of habit, fleshly, gross : he cannot, if he would, 
 turn his eyes heavenwards: he is fit only to be the victim 
 offered to the nether Gods. The seriousness and manifest 
 earnestness of the writer in tracing these rather droll symbol- 
 isms^ remind the reader of works like the Epistle of Barna- 
 bas, or later writers of the allegorical school with whom 
 Julian had little enough of common ground. Quite consist- 
 ently with this expression of his views, he lauds the rigidity 
 of Jewish abstinence in the matter of meats clean or unclean, cyr. 314 c 
 and denounces Christian laxity in this respect. It is to 
 this apparently as much as to anything that he refers, when 
 he charges the Christians with having abandoned the purer 
 portion of the law, and retained all that was less edifying, fyi-. ^o:;a 
 
 ^ Xdiviov (pvTov. I do not imderstaud xOl>viov. He alludes apparently to 
 the fact of the pomegranate growing comparatively low, though to call it 
 distinctly ground plant seems absurd. The other sense of x^o"'"?. 'in- 
 fernal,' is no more satisfactory, and the expression would moreover be ex- 
 tremely bald if taken to mean a plant sacred to the infernal Gods. The 
 pig is treated to the same epithet ; but it is not connected with the fact 
 stated immediately after that he is used in sacrifices to the x^oj/iots dtots. 
 
 Apples and pomegranates had an amorous signification, and their avoid- 
 ance was perhaj^s emblematic of chastity, though Julian gives more strained 
 interpretations. 
 
 - In one or two Julian has probably the Jewish law in mind, which the 
 Christians are sharply reitrimauded for ignoring. Cyril 314: c u, oi'i c. 
 
120 JULIAN. 
 
 Elsewhere drawing a nobler contrast, lie says that Pagan 
 coldness and unbelief is put to shame by those who display 
 
 Ep. 63. 453 D the burning zeal that would choose death rather than violate 
 the law of holiness, and that would suffer hunger and starva- 
 tion rather than eat of the flesh of swinq, or of meat that 
 had been choked or strangled. 
 
 O^itioard Yet while thus insisting on the consistent and prominent 
 
 and in- yecoo-nition of the value of externals in religion, Julian taught 
 ward rC' ^^^o •=' _ • p j 
 
 ligion. that these were after all secondary to that inner life and 
 
 spirit of which they were but the outward expression. With- 
 er. 7. 214 A o^^t holiness, he says, the hecatomb, aye and chiliomb as well, 
 On 6. 199 Bc, are waste only and nothing else. Sanctification of the soul 
 oa 7.' 239 B c was the first supreme necessity, the alpha and omega of true 
 philosophy. So completely did he recognise this, that he ex- 
 plains and defends the avowed contempt expressed by Dio- 
 genes the Cynic for the outward paraphernalia of worship. 
 Or. 6. 199b 'If any detect atheism in his not drawing near nor minister- 
 ing to temples or statues or altars, they are mistaken; none 
 such did he use, neither frankincense, nor libation, nor silver 
 wherewith to buy them. But if his heart was right toward 
 the Gods, that and that only sufficed; for with his true and 
 very soul he worshipped, giving them I ween the most precious 
 of all things he had, the sanctification of his own soul by 
 the thoughts of his heart.' Thus he obeyed the voice of the 
 oracle within and wisdom was justified of her child. The 
 mysteries as then conducted were one of those shams of cus- 
 or. 6. 202 sq. tom against which his whole life was a protest. It was his 
 very reverence for the universal Gods and his desire for com- 
 munion with them, that made him revolt against that narrow 
 Or. 7. 238 b c exclusivc ritualistic temper, that religious quackery which 
 limited participation in the mysteries to citizens of Athens. 
 This is a spirit so free and noble that only a chosen few can 
 attain to it: for the mass it is safer and more laudable to fol- 
 low obediently on the lines of religion laid down for them. 
 Theurgy. Neo-Platonism sought also to catch converts by more 
 
 questionable attractions, stored in the theurgic or super- 
 natural department. These were more effective than unin- 
 telligible mysticism, doomed to elicit from the masses nothing 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 121 
 
 but impatience or blank bewilderment. On Julian's own 
 mind tbey laid fast bold. Not only was belief in oracles, 
 dreams, propbecies, augury and divination a constituent part 
 of bis faitb, but tbe sorceries of tbe necromancer or spiritu- 
 alist^ encbained bim witb tbeir spell. But be never^ tbrusts 
 tbese forward as evidences of Paganism, nor in any single 
 passage of bis works adduces tbem eitber as corroborative of 
 tbe existence of tbe Gods, or as inducements to convert tbe 
 unbeliever. He appears to bave felt tbe dangers of popular 
 superstitions in tbese respects, to bave endeavoured to extir- 
 pate quackery in divination, and reduced the practice of it 
 to a science, governed by revealed and rigid laws, and ad- 
 ministered only by trained exponents. 
 
 His dogmas and rules of conduct were furtber enforced Future 
 by a doctrine of future retribution, not bowever very loudly •*'*''''''"^^- 
 or prominently put forward. Holding fast in person the 
 bope of immortality, allowing that hope as a motive to eftbrt, or. i. 234 c 
 and confronting witb a resolute denial those who believed 
 that tbe soul's life was as frail or frailer than that of tbe 
 body, be acknowledges tbat tbe life to come is veiled in 
 mystery, known to tbe Gods but unrevealed to man : ' men Ep. ez. 
 
 452 c D 
 
 do well to conjecture, tbe Gods must know.' Tbe retributive 
 punishment of vice commences in tbis life ; for if not all, at or. 5. its c 
 any rate most, and tbose tbe most virulent, diseases are tbe 
 result of spiritual aberrations or delinquencies^ Tbe child- o*-- 7. 229 a. 
 lessness of Constantuis Julian regards as a distinct dispen- -^^ ^ 
 
 1 Amm. M. xxix. i. 29 minutely describes processes that furnish a singu- 
 larly close parallel to some forms of modern table-turning. Neo-Platonist 
 references to levitation, materialised apparitions, &c. are constant. lambli- 
 chus, for example (Eunap. F/f. ),is credited with eliciting from the springs at 
 Gadara a living Eros and Anteros, incarnate in boyish forms. The effect on 
 his followers was striking: ' they believed everything ' (irdai-v iwlcTevov). 
 
 " His arguments on the Mysteries and temple-worshijs generally in Or. 6. 
 199 and Or. 7. 238 are purely defensive, and in these places he does not 
 touch on secret magic arts. 
 
 ■* In the fragment of the letter to Photinus (preserved from Facundus 
 of Hermiane and numbered 79 in Hertlein) Julian attributes to divine 
 retribution the bodily emaciation, the pallor and the sunken features which 
 Diodorus the Bishop of Tarsus owed in part to prolonged asceticism, and in 
 part to advanced consumption. 
 
122 JULIAN. 
 
 Frap. Ep. satioii of Diviiie displeasure. After death sinful souls will be 
 
 300 B . . . 
 
 imprisoned in the darkness of Tartarus ; but ' the pit itself 
 
 does not lie outside the omnipotence of God, for God knoweth 
 
 even them that are fast shut up in Tartarus,' and them that 
 
 draw nigh to him with godliness he will deliver. But Julian 
 
 loves far more to dwell upon the brighter side, to hail death 
 
 as the entering into rest\ and the cessation of the long con- 
 
 298 D, 299 A. flict, as the separation of body from spirit, which will then 
 
 caes. 336 c be remitted to the Gods from whom it came, and fare trust- 
 or. 6. isoc 
 
 fully forth under guidance of its tutelar deity ; or he will 
 picture the heaven which is reserved for the souls of the 
 
 Or. 4. 136 A B righteous, or tell of Hades the gentle beneficent God, who 
 sets souls free for the communion for which they pine. When 
 the conflict is all ended, he writes impressively, and the im- 
 mortal soul set free, when the dead body is turned to dust, 
 
 Frap. Ep. then will the Gods be potent to make good all their promises 
 to men ; and we know of a surety, that great are the rewards 
 which the Gods give unto their priests for a possession. The 
 immortality to which he taught men to aspire was not a 
 continuance, but rather an entire change of being to a new 
 and more perfect state which can at present be only spiritu- 
 ally imagined. Indeed, notwithstanding fugitive expressions 
 of an opposite character, Julian did not believe in personal 
 immortality. He rejected the Christian doctrine, in favour 
 of the Neo-Platonic supposition of pre-existent emanation 
 before life, and subsequent re-absorption into the ocean of 
 divinity. He held no doctrine of the resurrection of the 
 body, an idea absolutely alien to the Neo-Platonist. His 
 
 Or. i. 152 A. conviction of life after death was resolute; but the individual 
 
 life was merged in a higher life, assimilated by kindred and 
 
 divine essence : the emanative soul was once more absorbed 
 
 Or. 4. 131 c, in the spiritual order determined by its own choice and bias 
 158 B c. _ ^ , "^ 
 
 in mundane life ; unless it passed by self-determination into 
 other congenial phases of material connexion ^ The one 
 
 ' 7]<nixi.a 6 0di'aT6s icmv. Ep. 77. 
 
 ^ Trausmigration of souls was a genuine Neo-Platonic tenet. lamblichus, 
 following Porphyrius, denied the transmigration of human souls into brutes 
 or lower orders, though Plotiuus imposed no such disabilities. 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 123 
 
 Tartarus of physical suffering on which Julian dwells is of or. 5. its c 
 this earth : the horrors of alarmist myths are flatly discarded : 
 when the souls of the righteous are translated to the presence 
 of Serapis the unseen*, Hades the mild and placable ab- 
 solves them absolutely from the bonds of created being, and o,-. i. ise b 
 at their enfranchisement does not fasten them to other 
 material forms, as vehicles for chastisement and retribution, 
 but conducts and elevates them to the sphere from which 
 they Avere derived. There the separated souP is affiliated to 
 the inseparate essence with which it is most homogeneous. 
 
 Towards alien philosophies Julian adopted the normal Attitude 
 attitude of the Neo-Platonist. First of all with some charac- '"f!"''^^ 
 
 Fliiloso- 
 
 teristic inexactness of thought he strove to identify them all, phies. 
 all at least which he approved. Herein later Neo-Platonism 
 followed the same bent which it displayed in identifying all 
 the shifting forms of Paganism, and evolving theoretic mono- 
 theism from a ferment of active Polytheism. Here is Julian's 
 superficial generalisation: 'Truth is one and philosophy is oc. e. i84 c d, 
 one ;...all philosophers had one single end, which they reached is^a. 
 by different paths :. . .the tasks of Plato and Diogenes were not 188 c 
 different, but one and the same;... why should we erect par- 
 tition walls, and separate men conjoined by love of truth, i89 a 
 disdain for popular prejudice, and aspiration after virtue?' 
 By this route Stoicism is but a form of Cynicism, and both issc-isga 
 of Platonism. At the same time minuter differences were 
 partially recognised, and two philosophies at least were de- 
 nied a place in the goodly company. The Neo-Platonist 
 estimate of philosophies corresponds very closely to the ap- 
 preciativeness displayed by them towards current religion •\ 
 Epicureanism was the most open and bitter foe of Paganism, 
 Scepticism a less violent but as insidious an opponent, Stoic- 
 
 ' diSrj : punning on the name Hades ("AiStjs) with whom by oracle Serapis 
 is identified. Or. 4. 136 a. 
 
 ■■* fiepi(jT7) ipvx^ i^ ^^^ normal term employed of the individnalised souls 
 or portions of soul, which animate matter, and are the second essential 
 element in the compound nature of man. Supr. p. 87. 
 
 •^ As traced in the Introduction to this Essay, § 2. 
 
124 JULIAN. 
 
 ism a friendly neutral, Platonism and Pythagoreanism bold 
 Epicure- and ardent supporters. To Epicureanism accordingly Julian 
 ^'cepti-^"^ never gives one kind word. To refer the creation or genera- 
 cisiii. tiou of the material world to the impulse of blind uncaused 
 
 forces in accordance with the Epicurean theory, he accounts 
 the reductio ad absurdum of a philosophic system. Epicurean 
 ad Them. moralitv likewise with its scientific selfishness and apathetic 
 
 255b c . "^ 1 . , 
 
 indifference he condemns most strongly ; while as for the 
 
 dogmatic teaching of Epicureanism and Pyrrhonism alike, he 
 
 Frati. Ep. tliauks God that nearly all the treatises of these schools have 
 
 301 c . "^ 
 
 Stoicism, perished. Stoics on the contrary he treats with modified 
 
 ad Them. approval. While criticising their doctrine of happiness, he 
 admires their stern self-control and self-denying virtue; this 
 he could to the full appreciate, and regarded with no less 
 admiration the deeply religious sentiment which pervades 
 their greatest masters' teachinjj on the Gods. He even re- 
 
 Fmp. Ep. commends extracts from Zeno and Chrysippus as useful 
 devotional manuals for priests, notwithstanding that some of 
 their professed opinions were dangerously heterodox or im- 
 
 caes. 309 moral. In the satirical Ccesars Zeno finds admission and 
 patronage in heaven, where no Epicurus or Pyrrho may 
 enter. Octavian there makes his appearance, his colour 
 changeful as the chameleon's, now pale, now red, now black 
 and dark and lowering. Silenus jocosely suspects that there 
 is mischief in the beast, but Apollo rebukes him with these 
 words, ' Hush ! nonsense, Silenus ! I will consign him to 
 Zeno's charge and will forthwith make- of him pure gold. 
 Come, Zeno,' said the God, ' take my child in charge.' Then 
 Zeno hearkened to his bidding, and sang over him catches 
 from the dogmas, like the incantations of Zamolxis, and 
 made him a wise good man. 
 
 Cynicism. Much that attracted Julian in Stoicism was present also 
 in Cynicism\ The sixth and seventh Orations are a full expo- 
 sition of Julian's views on Cynicism true and Cynicism false. 
 As a rebound from the utilitarianism and insincerity of those 
 about him, its self-abnegation and reality laid hold of him 
 
 ^ Their close affiuity he dwells upon iu Or. 6. 185 c — 180 A. 
 
IDEA OF RELIGION. 125 
 
 with peculiar force. With all its defects and one-sidedness, oj-. 6. 194,195. 
 its mistakes as to the true nature of happiness, and its 
 failure to acknowledge the real claims and needs of soul as 
 opposed to body, it yet remained a worthy monument of 
 genuine philosophic zeal. For the poor self-deceptions and 
 the low worldliness of his own day, no better physic could be 
 prescribed than the old Cynic maxims of self-knowledge and 
 war against all shams. TvayOi aeavrov — Trapa-^aparTe ra^'-l'i^s 
 vofii<7/u,aTa — Know thyself — Down with convention — let men 
 guide their lives by that twin rule, and brighter days would 
 dawn for all. In true Cynicism, though least of all in that 
 base counterfeit of the original which did but ape the out- 
 ward ugliness of the Silenus mask and contained no God, o,-. e. ist b 
 Julian recognised a stalwart protest for the truth, more 
 articulate than speech. Such Cynicism was an acted creed, 
 a sermon written in the life. Julian reaches the very bounds 
 of praise when he declares the genuine Cynic to be a kind of 
 incarnate Platonism. Indeed Julian was himself, if the term mu. zss, 339. 
 may pass, a rationalising Cynic; latitudinarian enough to 
 reject its eccentricities and indecencies, though viewino- them 
 not without tenderness, but faithfully following the principles o,-. 6. is: d, 
 of the school as adapted to his own times and position, and 
 repudiating the extravagance which disparaged all book- 
 learning as compared with the practice of virtue. 
 
 The Peripatetic philosophy is rated higher than any of Aristotle. 
 the preceding. On the moral side Julian considers that it 
 has hardly received full justice as compared with Stoicism. 
 In one of his letters, after quoting an Aristotelian adage, 
 'Better a brief span of right, than a life-time of wrong,' he Ep.17.mA 
 adds, ' Whatever people may say the Peripatetic teaching is 
 as high-souled as the Stoic. The only difference is that 
 Peripateticism is less habitually cool and prudential, while 
 Stoicism commends itself permanently to the intelligence of 
 its disciples.' But intellectually, if not morally or theolooi- 
 cally, Aristotle stands side by side with I'lato ; in a brief Ep. 55 
 note to two fellow-students Julian urges them to concentrate 
 their efforts on the doctrines of Aristotle and Plato, to make 
 them 'the base, the foundation, the walls and the roof of 
 
126 JULIAN. 
 
 all knowledge. But with all this exalted respect for Aristotle he 
 Or. 5. 162 B dares criticise and at times reject Peripatetic teaching, as well 
 Plato. as compare it eclectically with other systems. For Plato such 
 criticism or comparison, even by way of commendation, were 
 an insult : far better strain an interpretation or distort an 
 argument, than correct an error, or acknowledge a defect. 
 Plato is an infallible guide. He is quoted, lauded, imitated 
 in almost every treatise Julian wrote. His ipse dixit is 
 absolute. He is the perfect seer, standing on the pinnacle 
 of truth, the sure guide for this world and the next. lam- 
 blichus himself cannot soar higher than to be an alleys Plato. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JULIAN S PERSONAL RELIGION. 
 
 Ovt6s eariv 6 fiepiaas avrov tov ^lov «ts re rets virkp rOiv oXojv 
 ^ov\ds el's T€ Ttts vepi rovs /3co/xoi)s diarpL^ds. 
 
 LiBANIUS. 
 
 It will be useful to supplement the last chapter by some juHaii's 
 
 details of Julian's own personal religion. This will serve in P'^^f'^!^^^ 
 J- » religion. 
 
 some measure as a test of the sincerity and efficacy of his 
 teaching, and also exemplify its working. In the main he 
 strove conscientiously to carry out the ideal which he set 
 before others. Recognising the grand truth that increased 
 opportunities imply increased responsibilities, he endeavoured 
 in imperial measure to perform the duties of a private indi- 
 vidual. As a citizen he had been liberal to the destitute; when, Frw,. Ep. 
 
 290 D 
 
 in days of comparative poverty, his grandmother's estate, long 
 forcibly withheld, was at length secured to him, of his little 
 fortune he gave ungrudgingly to those in greater need than 
 himself: raised later to princely power, his alms must be 
 princely. It is almost with despair that he contemplates the 
 accumulated responsibilities of an emperor. He numbers up 
 the virtues that are required of the man, whose highest func- mis. us ct> 
 tion it is to be the servant not the ruler of his subjects: 26i a 
 modesty and sobriety, gentleness and goodness, humility and 254 a, 
 patience, impartiality and conscientiousness, unswerving jus- 206 c. 
 tice and philosophic foresight ; these and a thousand others, ^''- *'2- ■^^^ ^ 
 and coupled to them all, an entire self-abnegation ready to 
 forego every indulgence, to shake off all sloth, and to make 
 the whole life a sacrifice to others' welfare : and then as he 
 thinks of the mountainous heaps of abuses everywhere rife, he 
 
128 JULIAN. 
 
 a! Them. cries out ill half-despair that it is verily a Herculean task 
 thus throughly to purge earth and sea of prevalent vice, and 
 258 A sq., that the true king must in soher reality, as Plato has fabled 
 'and Aristotle reasoned, be no man but a demi-god. Yet 
 Seif-dis- tremblingly conscious of the magnitude of his task, he 
 trust. faced it bravely. Not, it may safely be said, without stern 
 ml Than, effort. Early and late, in 3G3 A.D. no less than in 356 or 
 Ilia ''''''^^' 3G1 A.D., he confesses the shrinking reluctance with wliich he 
 entered upon power. His lonely frostbitten boyhood pro- 
 duced an acute, not to say morbid sense of personal defici- 
 ad Them. eucies. Tliis was only partially removed by his collegiate 
 5!56cD,2b6c. g^^g^^jQQ. [j^ continued to paralyse energies as yet untested 
 and therefore undeveloped. He shrunk instinctively from 
 254b active life; he mapped out for himself the student's career, 
 singinsf Attic tales to solace the ennui of existence'. The 
 Epicurean maxim 'Live and let live'^' seemed life's best 
 oc. 7. 230 a motto. There were moments when suicide appeared the 
 a<iAth.2:5A readiest solution of unhappiness. On leaving Athens for the 
 Csesarship he wept 'fountains of tears.' One letter of that 
 Ep. 63 epoch or earlier is preserved. It is addressed to the philoso- 
 pher lamblichus and closes thus dejectedly: — 'Do thou re- 
 main at home, and fare thou well, and never forfeit the peace 
 thou now enjoyest; we for our part, w^e will bear with forti- 
 tude whatever God may dispense; for good men ought, they 
 say, to cherish hopefulness, and do their duty while they 
 follow destiny.' The last phrase is eminently true to his 
 ad Them, frame of mind at the time. He seemed fortune's toy; she 
 ^^^ " for good or for evil was mistress of man's acts and destinies. 
 
 He accepted provisionally a Stoic idea of duty, but accepted 
 it perfunctorily: for Stoicism with its summons to action, 
 perseverance, fortitude for their own sake, with its arbitrary 
 definitions of happiness, with its reversal of all ordinary 
 standards of success looked to him a bleak disappointing 
 25r, A-c, cf. creed invented to disguise the failures of its best exemplars. 
 2goa,262b. jj^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^.^_,^l^ ^^^ p-^^^ failed? At the moment when 
 
 the insignia of pomp were conferred, there rose to his lips the 
 
 1 Ad Them. 253 b, 202 i>. Cf. Libnn. Epit. p. r)27. 
 ' ^Lwaavra XaBeiv, ad Them. 265 B. 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 129 
 
 line of Homer \ that on its prey 'purple death lays hold and 
 mastering fate.' The burden of his constant presentiment 
 was that now 'he should die busier^' 
 
 But no sooner was power in his hands, and he by short Enrrfiy 
 trial made conscious of his real aptitudes for command and '^^'^'^ 
 influence, than these nightmares passed away. Now or never 
 was the time to justify his old boast, to give the lie to those Ep.z5.iiov 
 who assumed that good philosophers must be indifferent 
 citizens, and to show that even a student might be cast in a 
 'princely and courageous' mould. It would be travelling too or. 2. 86b 
 far aside to depict the young Cassar as soldier, combining 
 dash with prudence, shaming cowardice, regenerating disci- 
 pline, inspiring devotion in his friends and terror in his foes; 
 or to review with any fulness his exploits or mistakes as 
 legislator, as administrator, as economist, as judge, as orator 
 or as student; but the moral gist of his whole bearing as 
 Caesar and as Augustus claims some summary. 
 
 No stress need be laid on his easier excellences, manli- Self-far- 
 ness, courage, generosity, fidelity to friends, and such like : '^'j,;.^". "^" 
 they belonged to the man, and were little affected by his 
 creed. — Of his more strictly moral virtues the most striking is 
 his unselfish, untiring devotion to work. At the close of his 
 first year of power he pictured the virtuous prince as one 
 * laborious and of capacious mind, allotting their proper tasks or. 2. 86 c 
 to all, reserving for himself the largest share, but without 
 reserve distributing the rewards of peril among the woi'kers.' 
 Five years later his panegyrist^ speaks thus: — 'Our most vir- 
 tuous emperor spares nothing to make us live as our station 
 demands, abounding in all things needful, leading chaste 
 but cheerful lives. Other emperors have been either chafed 
 by hard work or enervated by sloth. The strenuous have 
 
 failed in graciousness, the gracious in earnestness Our 
 
 emperor spares himself no trouble and no fatigue ; but exacts 
 neither from his friends. His toil secures others' leisure. 
 He is the dispenser of wealth, the eager recipient of cares, 
 
 ^ fWaSe iropipvpeos Oavaros Kal fioipa Kparairi. Horn. II. v. 83 in Amm. M. 
 XV. viii. 17. 
 
 ' Amm. M. xv. viii. 20. ' Mamert. 12. 
 
 R. E. 9 
 
130 
 
 JULIAN. 
 
 Julian's 
 Motives. 
 
 Or. 2. 87 c 
 
 Kindli- 
 ness. 
 
 Frag. Ep. 
 291 A 
 
 readier always to discharge the most irksome oflSces in person 
 rather than impose them upon others.' But testimonies' to 
 his indefatigable self-denying industry are too common to 
 multiply; the more as it will appear abundantly in the sequel. 
 Physical weakness^ renders this elastic energy the more ad- 
 mirable. The motive wdiich impelled him was partly a high 
 Neo-Platonic sense of duty and religion; partly a deep_ con- 
 viction of the power of his example, as it is written in Plato, 
 'Rulers and elders must practise modesty and temperance, 
 that the people may see and be beautified:' partly too, it is 
 just to add, an intense love of applause, degenerating at times 
 to vanity, wilfulness and egoism I Another characteristic of 
 Julian was kindliness: it is prominent both in public and 
 private relations. One striking instance of leniency was his 
 treatment of Constantius' adherents, who were about him 
 when proclaimed Augustus: at that critical hour he neither 
 committed nor allowed a single execution, though more than 
 one declared personal enemy was in his grasp*. Few usurpers 
 of the Empire could say the same. It is hardly less rare to 
 find an autocrat pleading for clemency of treatment to pri- 
 soners in gaol previously to sentence being declared: to the 
 innocent it is a due ; to the guilty it will do no harm. Most 
 victors would agree with Julian in the policy of relentlessly 
 pushing and harrying a foe till he acknowledges defeat, but 
 not all, of his age not many, would have seriously called it 'a 
 pollution' to strike or slay the enemy who asks for quarter. 
 But his gentleness appears not only in lenient treatment of 
 enemies, nor only in the general indulgence of his rule, and 
 his affectionate solicitude for the welfare of his subjects^ but 
 quite as prominently in more personal relations: in courtly 
 
 1 For instance Amm. M. xvi. v. 4 — 6 : and in war even more than in 
 peace. 
 
 2 In his private letters it is by no means uncommon to find Julian suffer- 
 ing from severe indisposition. Cf. Ep. 44, 48, 60. 446 d— 447 b. Cf. Ad 
 Them. 259 d. 
 
 3 See Semisch, p. 19. who well quotes Amm. M. xxii. vii. 3, xxv. iv. 18. 
 
 * Schlosser, a hard critic, selects this for special praise. Uebersicht dcr 
 Gesch., &c. HI. ii. p. 337. • ■ 
 
 5 Cf. Mis. 345—6, Or. u. 86, Eutrop. x. 10. 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 131 
 
 deference towai'ds officials'; in affability towards councillors, 
 with frank acceptance of wise rebukes ; in devotion to 
 teachers, such as Maximus, Libanius, lamblichus; in grati- 
 tude to benefactors, such as Eusebia; in private life, as for 
 instance in the kindly letter, by which he hopes to console the Ep. 37 
 bereaved Amerius for the loss of a young wife: the news had 
 'filled his eyes with tears.' But natural lenity did not shove 
 justice aside. Julian was just, yet not afraid on occasion to Jmtice. 
 temper justice^. Rigidly exacting of pi^oof, he presumed 
 innocence till guilt was substantiated. When an angry ad- 
 vocate, baffled in his indictment, cried impatiently, ' Can any 
 one be found guilty, if denial is to clear him?' Julian 
 promptly responded, 'Can any one be found innocent, if asser- 
 tion is to convict him^?' He aimed at being 'slow to condemn, Ep. <\ 
 but slower still to relax a sentence once given".' Moreover 
 an habitual earnestness armed him with great power of 
 righteous indignation at acts of unjust oppression. At no 
 small risk he manfully shielded the provincials from the 
 exactions of Florentius, a prefect appointed in Gaul by Con- 
 stantius. Hear his own words' to his private friend and 
 physician: 
 
 'He thought to implicate me in his own infamy, by sending 
 me his knavish infamous memorials for signature. What was I 
 to do] hold my peace or show fight? The first was a feeble, 
 cringing, debasing course ; the second was honest, manly, and free, 
 
 though circumstances made it inconvenient Was I to 
 
 abandon an unfortunate population to the mercy of thieves, or to 
 the best of my ability defend them, reduced as they are to the last 
 gasp by the villainous machinations of rogues like him ? To me 
 it appears cruel injustice to put military tribunes on trial for 
 
 1 Mamert. 28, 30, with which cf. Amm. M. xxii. vii. 1, 2. 
 ' For instances, cf. Amm. M. xvi. v. 12, 13. 
 3 Amm. M. xviii. i. 4. 
 
 * Amm. M. xxii. ix. 9. ille iuclicibus Cassiis tristior et Lycurgis, causarum 
 momenta aequo iure perpeudens, suum cuique tribuebat. In xxii. ix. 9 — 12, 
 XXII. X. and other passages referred to on p. 186, notes 1, 2, 3, may be fonnd 
 corroborating testimony. 
 
 * Ep. 17. The official is not named ; Heyler and others following Petau, 
 insisting on a particular term of abuse {tov niapod avopoyvvov), suppose the 
 eunuch Eusebius is alluded to, but La Bleterie seems more right in referring 
 the account to Florentius, concerning whom cf. Ep. ad Ath. 280 a, 282 c sq., 
 as well as Amm. Marc. 
 
 9—2 
 
132 JULIAN. 
 
 leaving their post, to punish them with immediate death, and re- 
 fuse them burial ; and then myself to desert my post as champion 
 of the unfortunate, when called on to fight against thieves like 
 these, and that too with God, who gave me my commission, con- 
 tending on my side. — Well, if it should turn out ill, it is no 
 small consolation to have a good conscience for a companion.' 
 
 The Virtu. Thus as a ruler he sought to be a faithful shepherd of the 
 ous Prince, flo^}^ entrusted to hiui. He regarded a-cocbpocrvvn as essential 
 
 Or. 2.86 D ° /' ' . 
 
 to the true monarch, and he gave to the term a dauntmg 
 comprehensiveness. By his definition it included 'conscious 
 active subjection to the Gods and the laws\ frank recognition 
 
 Mil. S43 A B of the claims of equals, courteous acknowledgment of superior 
 merit, watchful precautions against class oppression, with 
 constant readiness to brave prejudice, passion and abuse; all 
 this moreover with unruffled resolute composure, disciplining 
 and controlling every passionate impulse.' It included too 
 'abstinence from questionable pleasures of all kinds, even 
 from those tolerated by an elastic public opinion, in the con- 
 viction that private personal indulgence is the sure outcome 
 of public laxity and frivolity.' 
 
 Chastity. It is time now to inquire into his more inward practice 
 
 of virtue and beliefs. First then his personal chastity stands 
 above reproach. No Christian writer^ has impugned it, 
 
 1 This is well illustrated by Amm. M. xxii. vii. 2, 
 
 2 Contemporary or ancient writer I mean, for modems have been found 
 less charitable. The best, La Bleterie, Gibbon, Lardner, De Broglie (with 
 some qualification), as of course Miicke, Semisch, Mangold, Kode, &c., clear 
 Julian of aU incontinence. Tillemont it should be said takes an opposite view. 
 Auer's more vicious attempt to blacken Julian into a false husband and 
 a treacherous assassin by ransacking the fathers, by adopting everywhere 
 the unkindest construction of passages, and by adding hypotheses of liis own 
 as prurient as they are baseless, deserves no detailed refutation. Not con- 
 tent with hinting that Julian was the author of Constantius' death, and 
 asserting that he was the father of bastard children, he does not even spare 
 the reputation of Eusebia, and wantonly asperses the pure and (to both) 
 most creilitable relations that existed between the gentle empress and 
 JuUan. Cf. Auer, Kaiser Julian, ii. §§ 4, 5, 6. Lame, be it said by the way, 
 makes quite siu-e (p. 09) that tl e gifted Eusebia designedly ' set her cap ' at 
 the taking and gifted young student, in preparation for the eventuality of 
 Constantius' death. Nothing can be added to the data discussed by La 
 Bleterie on llisoj). 345 c, and De Broglie, iv. p. 51 n. Briefly, if the most 
 unfavourable interpretation be put on ws eiriirav of Mis. 345 c, the broad 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 133 
 
 while Pagans with one mouth extol even if in some cases 
 almost deprecating it. 'Purer than a Vestal' is the descrip- 
 tion of Mamertinus, while Libanius and Ammian* are to 
 modern reserve indelicately precise in their emphatic ac- 
 quittals of Julian from all frailty: to Zonaras he seemed 
 unnaturally fastidious. In Julian's own eyes personal purity 
 was a part of that entire subdual of the flesh, which his 
 philosophic creed inculcated. When first introduced to the Personal 
 highest mysteries of Neo-Platonism, he was told that such "*'"''''"^' 
 were the ecstatic revelations reserved for the initiated, 
 that he would shortly blush to own the nature and name 
 of man. He should be like Plotinus, who would neither 
 hear nor make mention of his parents, his country or his 
 birth; who replied to the disciple who desired his portrait, 
 that it was enough to bear the image in which nature had 
 veiled us, without perpetuating it for posterity. Julian was 
 a humble follower in the same track. Not only did he prac- 
 tise strict continence, and abstain from the frivolities of the 
 theatre and the exciting or bloody spectacles of the amphi- 
 theatre with resolute determination, but in his private life 
 practised a strict asceticism. Abstemious in diet, stinting 
 himself of sleep, rejecting downy coverlets for the coarse 
 carpet rug and palliasse, he guarded against the first ap- 
 proaches of effeminacy^; in the hardest winter he went 
 
 irony of the whole piece disarms it of strict evidential value. As to the 
 curious notice of ' his cliiklreu's nurse ' or ' attendant ' (d rpotpevs) in Ej}. 40, 
 417 c and Ep. 67, it is probably a pleasantry to which the clue has been lost. 
 Some, e.g. Lardner, have supposed the iraldes or iraioia to mean slaves, or to 
 refer to certain chikh-en adopted or at least cared for by Julian. This is 
 more plausible than the impossible supposition that they were bastard 
 children elsewhere unmentioned and unknown. At the same time it can 
 hardly be right. The rpocpeus is on both occasions engaged in the irrelevant 
 occupation of travelling about the empire : and on both occasions has letters 
 in charge : in fact he turns out to be a confidential courier or postman. 
 The childi-en whom he ' nursed ' were an Athene offspring of Julian's own 
 head, his epistles to philosophers. This gives a tangible force to the efiavrov 
 both times repeated (twj' ifxavrov waiSluv — twv e^xavrov Tral8<xjv) which the 
 other alternative denies it. [La Bleterie's idea that the Tpo4>evs was husband 
 to the midwife who attended at Helena's unhappy confinement some six 
 years previously is desperately far-fetohed.] 
 
 ^ Amm. M. xvi. v, xxiv. iv. 27, xxv. iv. 2, 3. 
 
 ' Mis. 340 B c, Libau. Epit. p. 579, Amm. M. xvi. v. 4, 5, Ac. 
 
13 4 JULIAN. 
 
 Mis.mBc without fires: striving in every way by constant discipline of 
 the flesh to follow out those precepts of Plato and Aristotle 
 which from childhood he had imbibed. 
 
 Belief in His religious life demands a closer scrutiny. The first most 
 
 dence'. noticeable trait is his ever-present belief in an overruling Pro- 
 vidence. ' For it is against all reason,' he writes, ' that a man 
 who commits himself wholly to the Almighty should be dis- 
 
 or. 8. 249 A regarded of him and left utterly desolate: rather, God shelters 
 him with his own arm, endues him with courage, inspires 
 him with strength, teaches him ail he ought to do, and deters 
 him from all he ought not to do.' Like professions recur 
 again and again in the pages of his writings. They appear in 
 
 ac{ ^;ft. 276 A his state manifesto to the Athenians. Human wisdom, he 
 tells them, is powerless to change the past or foretell the 
 future : even for the present it is not infallible, and may be 
 content with a comparative exemption from error. But the 
 far-reaching wisdom of the Gods, with its omniscient gaze, 
 knows and does always what is best; for the Gods themselves 
 are the authors of the future no less than of the present. 
 To their guidance men may entrust themselves without re- 
 serve. The same belief is reiterated till it becomes a common 
 
 j\fu. s52d, place in his devotional works. It meets us in his Satires. 
 
 And perhaps no religious thought recurs more frequently in 
 
 his private correspondence. Writing immediately after the 
 
 ^p- 13 death of Constantius to his uncle Julian, he says that all his 
 
 actions had been prompted by an immediate impulse from 
 
 the Gods : he had been but a passive agent in their hands : 
 
 had the issue been put to the stake of a battle-field, he 
 
 should have trusted all to fortune and the Gods, awaiting 
 
 such issue as might seem good to their love. To the provi- 
 
 Ep. a dence of the all-seeing God he attributes his falling into sick- 
 
 Ep. 66 ness, no less than his recovery from it. From Him comes all 
 
 Ep. 27. success and all disaster. The saying^ * Deo volente ' slides as 
 
 39y D, 68. . . . 
 
 naturally into Julian's correspondence as into the letters of a 
 
 modern Christian. 
 Fatalism. Not uufrequently indeed this present sense of an over- 
 or. 7. 232 d ruling Providence is exaggerated into a kind of semi-Fatalism, 
 
 from excesses of which however Julian's masculine sood sense 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 135 
 
 preserved him. He speaks of conduct 'regulated bot by vir- '^fJJ^'"^ 
 tue only nor resolute free choice, but far rather controlled by 
 an ever-rulincr fate constraininsr the bent of action to its will.' 
 Once again dwelling on the active power of fate, he quotes 
 with approval the dictum of Plato, which in his own experi- 257 d 
 ence he has found true — ' God is all things, and with God's 
 help fate and circumstance control all human action.' In 
 this connexion, for the sake of the insight it gives into 
 Julian's religious life, it will be useful to cite long extracts 
 from the allegory^ in which Julian has described the phases 
 or crises of belief which he passed through. Nothing could 
 show more vividly how completely Julian regarded himself 
 as an instrument in the hands of the Gods, from whom he 
 had derived an altogether special mission. 
 
 Having portrayed Constantine under the image of an AutoUo- 
 imscrupulous rich man^, and described the scenes of disorder ^J^iggory. 
 and crime that ensued upon the distribution of his vast 
 wealth to his unworthy heirs, he represents Zeus and Helios 
 takinsf counsel together to counteract the mischief and im- 
 piety that had resulted from the insolent pride of these heirs. 
 A consultation with the Fates results in the weaving of a 
 new thread of life for Julian. 
 
 " Then Zeus addressing himself to Helios says, * Behold this or. 7. 
 young child ; kinsman tliough he is, nephew of the rich man of 
 whom we spake and cousin to his heirs, he is just flung aside in 
 utter neglect ; yet is this child thy offspring. Swear then by my 
 sceptre and thine, that thou wilt take him in special charge, wilt 
 tend him and heal him of his sickness. Thou seest how he has 
 been as it wei'e begrimed with smoke and filth and soot^; and that 
 the flame which thou liast sown in him is in danger of being 
 quenched, unless tlioio gird him with strength. To thy charge I 
 and the Fates do commit him. Take him hence and nurture 
 him.' Thereat King Helios was glad and took pleasure in the 
 babe, seeing yet alive in him a tiny spark of his own fire, and 
 
 ^ It forms a part of Orat. vii, levelled against the Cynic Heraklius as his 
 penalty for 7«is-allegorisiug. 
 
 * The opening ' A rich man had many flocks and herds and droves of 
 goats ' looks like a direct imitation of 2 Sam. xii. 2. 
 
 3 The reference is to Julian's Christian training. 
 
13G JULIAN. 
 
 from that day forth he nurtured the young child, and withdrew 
 him 
 
 From blood and the war-din and slaughter of men. 
 
 And father Zeus bade Athene too, born without mother and ever- 
 virgin goddess, aid Helios in the nurturing vip of the tender 
 child. Now as soon as he was nurtured and come to youth's 
 estate 
 
 With the down on his chin, and in youth's fresh bloom, 
 
 when he surveyed the multitude of wi-ongs that had been wi-ought 
 upon his kinsmen and his cousins, his impulse was to fling himself 
 down to Tartarus in horror at the magnitude of those wrongs. 
 But of his good grace Helios and Athene of Providence cast him 
 into the slumber of a deep sleep and banished that design ; then 
 when he had awaked he went into a wilderness. Now it came to 
 pass he lighted there upon a stone, where he rested for a space and 
 considered Avith himself how he might escape the throng of all his 
 woes: for so far everything looked to him vintoward, and there 
 •was no good thing anywhere. Then Hermes, whose heart was 
 wholly towards him, appeared to him in the form of a young man 
 as one of his associates, and accosted him affectionately and said, 
 ' Come hither, and I will guide you along a smooth and more level 
 track, as soon as you have surmounted this little space of crooked 
 broken ground, where every one, as you see, stumbles and then 
 makes his way back again.' Then the young man turned and set 
 forward very warily. Now he had with him a sword and a shield 
 and a lance, but his head was still quite bare. Trusting to his 
 guide he pushed forward by a smooth unbroken path, beautifully 
 clean and teeming with fruits, and many goodly blossoms, such as 
 the Gods love, and with shrubs of ivy and bay and myrtle. 
 
 So he led him to a great and tall mountain, and said, ' Upon 
 the crest of this mountain sits the father of all the Gods. Take 
 heed therefore : here is your great peril : first worship him with all 
 reverence, then ask from him whatever you desire ; raayest thou 
 choose, my sou, that which is best.' When he had said these 
 words, Hermes hid himself again. Now he would fain have in- 
 quired of Hermes what thing he ought to ask of the father of the 
 Gods; but when he did not see him near, he said. His counsel 
 was good, though incomplete. Let me therefore with good suc- 
 cess make entreaty for the best gifts, though I do not clearly 
 behold as yet the father of the Gods. 'O father Zeus, or by 
 whatsoever name thou delightest to be called, point me the way 
 that leadeth upwards to thee. For yonder regions where thou 
 dwellest are incomparably beautiful, if I may divine their beauty 
 that is at thy side from the pleasantness of the path which I have 
 already travelled.' When he liad prayed thus, there fell upon him 
 a kind of sleep or trance. And the God showed him Helios him- 
 self. Then the young man, astonished out of measure at the sight, 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 137 
 
 exclaimed, ' To thee, O father of the Gods, in return for these and 
 all thy other gifts, I offer and conseci'ate myself.' Then casting 
 his hands about the knees of Helios, he laid hold of him and be- 
 sought him to be his saviour. Then Helios called Athene, and 
 bade her first examine the arms that he carried. Now when she 
 saw the shield and the sword and the spear, she said, ' But where, 
 my son, is your regis and your helmet'?' Then he made answer, 
 ' Even these I had work to procure ; for in my kinsmen's house I 
 was despised and flung aside, and there was no man to be my 
 helper.' 'Know therefore,' said gi-eat Helios, 'that thou must 
 assuredly return thither.' Then the youth entreated him not to 
 send him thither again, but rather keep him ; otherwise he should 
 certainly never return again, but perish of the ills he suffered 
 there. And as he besought him importunately with tears, the 
 God said to him, ' Nay, you are young and uninitiated. Get you 
 therefore to your own folk, that you may be initiated and dwell 
 there in safety : for you must go hence and purge away all those 
 iniquities, praying for aid to me and to Athene and to the other 
 Gods.' As soon as the young man heard that, he stood still in 
 silence. 
 
 Then great Helios led him to a certain eminence, whose top 
 was full of light, but the lower parts of fold on fold of mist, 
 through which the light of the brightness of King Helios pierced 
 dimly as through water. ' Do you see,' asked the God, ' your 
 cousin who hath the inheritance?' ' Yea,' said he. 'And yonder 
 herdsmen too and shepherds '? ' Once more the young man an- 
 swered in the affirmative. ' What like, pray, is he that hath the 
 inheritance 1 and what like are the shepherds and herdsmen 1 ' 
 The young man made answer, ' Methinks he is sodden with sleep, 
 and keeps himself close and is given over to pleasure : and the 
 dutiful Shepherds methinks are few, for the most are bad and 
 bx'utal. For they both devour and sell the sheep, and so do double 
 wrong to their master. For they destroy his flocks and bring in 
 small returns from ample means, and grumble for wages and make 
 complaint. And yet it were better to secure their wages in full 
 than to desti'oy the flock.' ' Suppose that I and Athene, at the 
 behest of Zeus,' said Helios, 'were to make you steward of all 
 these in the room of him that hath the inheritance 1 ' Then the 
 young man clung to him once more, and besought him greatly 
 that he might remain there. But he said, ' Be not very rebellious, 
 
 Lest the excess of my love be turned to the fierceness of hatred.' 
 
 So the young man answered, ' Most mighty Helios, and thee 
 Athene, and Zeus himself, I do adjure, do with me what ye will.' 
 After this Hermes, suddenly re-appearing, filled him with new 
 courage, for now he thought he had found a guide for his return 
 jom-ney, and his sojourn on earth. And Athene said, 'Listen, 
 most goodly child of mine and of this good sire divine ! This 
 
138 JULIAN. 
 
 heir, yoix see, finds no pleasure in the best of his shepherds, while 
 the flatterers and rogues have made him their subject and slave. 
 Consequently the good love him not, while his supposed friends 
 wrong and injure him most fatally. Take heed therefore when 
 you return, not to put the flatterer before the friend. Give ear, 
 my son, to yet a second admonition. Yon sleeper is habitually 
 deceived ; do you therefoi-e be sober and watch, that the flatterer 
 may never deceive and cheat you by a show of friendly candour, just 
 as some sooty and gi'imy smith by dressing in white and plastering 
 his cheeks with enamel might finally induce you to give him one 
 of your daughters to wife. List now to a third admonition. Set 
 a strong watch upon yourself: reverence us and us alone, and of 
 men him that is like us and none other. You see what tricks 
 self-consciousness and dumb-foundering faint-heartedness have 
 played with yonder idiot.' Great Helios here took up the dis- 
 course and said, ' Choose your friends, then treat them as friends ; 
 do not regard them like slaves or servants, but associate with 
 them frankly and simply and generously ; not saying one thing of 
 them and thinking something else. See how distrust towards 
 friends has damaged yonder heritor. Love your suljijects as we 
 love you. Let respect toward us take precedence of all goods : 
 for we are your benefactors and friends and saviours.' 
 
 At these words the young man's heart was full, and he made 
 ready there and then to obey the Gods implicitly always. ' Away, 
 then,' said Helios, ' and good hope go with you. For we shall be 
 with you everywhere, I and Athene and Hermes here, and with 
 us all the Gods that are in Olympus, and Gods of the air and of 
 the earth, and all manner of deities everywhere, so long as you are 
 holy toward us, loyal to your friends, kindly to your subjects, 
 ruling and guiding them for their good. Never yield yourself a 
 slave to your own desires or theirs. And now, besides the armour, 
 in which you came hither, take this torch from me for your 
 journey, that even on earth its light may shine mightily before 
 you, so that you will desire nothing ui^on earth ; and as fair 
 Athene's gift take this fegis and helmet, for she has many another 
 gift, you see, and she gives to whom she will. Hermes likewise 
 will give you a golden wand. Go thei'efore furnished with this 
 armour, over land and over sea, stedfestly obeying our laws ; and 
 let none, neither man nor woman, nor friend, nor stranger, per- 
 suade you to neglect our precepts. So long as you cleave to them, 
 you will be dear and precious to us, reverenced by our good ser- 
 vants, and the terror of miscreants and evil-doers. Know that 
 your poor body hath been bestowed on you for this service ; for 
 from respect to your fathers we will cleanse you your father's 
 house. Remember therefore that your soul is immortal and born 
 of us, and that if you follow us you shall be a god, and with us 
 shall behold our father.' " 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 139 
 
 The last words of the extract emphasize Julian's belief in Immor- 
 immortality. This has already been discussed, but it will be ^"'**2/- 
 pertinent to remark that his personal belief was more than a 
 dim transient hope, useful to grace a philosophic period, and 
 remained with him unshaken, his solace in the hour of death. 
 When the fatal wound had been received, and Julian faint 
 with loss of blood and conscious of approaching death, lay in 
 the tent amid the sorrowincj throng of friends and comrades 
 who surrounded the bedside, he addressed them all. The 
 time of departure he said was at hand : like an honest debtor 
 he must render back to nature the life that she had lent. 
 Death he could face with joy rather than sorrow, remember- 
 ing that it was the most precious gift of the celestial Gods to 
 pious souls. He had nothing to repent of, and no wilful 
 wrong to regret : alike in the obscurity of youth and in the 
 exercise of sovereign power he had striven to keep his hands 
 unspotted with crime. The tranquillity for which he had 
 long yearned would now be his; that thought filled him with 
 an almost exultant joy. He had long foreseen his end : none 
 could be more happy or more glorious. As he had been 
 ready to live, so he did not fear to die. His strength was 
 ebbing fast. His latest prayer was that a virtuous ruler 
 might be found to succeed him. During the brief span of 
 life that yet remained, he discoursed with Maximus and 
 Prisons on the exalted nature of the soul, till at midnight the 
 gush of blood came which painlessly set him at rest. In spite 
 of philosophic affectation, and a characteristically Pagan self- 
 complacence, it is hardly gross exaggeration to say that his 
 death was ' not only, like that of Sokrates or Marcus Aurelius, 
 resigned and dignified, but full also of faith and hope and 
 spiritual exaltation and passionate yearnings for his celestial 
 abode\' 
 
 Throughout the whole of the above extract stands promi- Comvm- 
 nently forward Julian's pervading sense of intimate personal '^'°^' ^ 
 communion with God. ' Though I tremble before the Gods,' or. i. 212 b 
 
 ^ Lam^, Jul. VApost. p. 193. The wjicliristian aspect of it is admirably 
 given in a passage well worth perusal in Newman's Idea of a Univ. p. 194. 
 Amm. M. xxv. iii. 15 — 23 is the one prime authority. 
 
140 JULIAN. 
 
 he elsewhere writes, ' and love and worship and hold them in 
 awe, yet alway and in all things do they deal with me as 
 gentle masters, as teachers, as fathers, as my owi kin, yea, 
 in all things it is always so.' The same trait manifests itself 
 in his earnestness and regularity in prayer, which reappears 
 often quite incidentally at most of the great crises of his life. 
 When summoned from Athens, to the throne or the scaffold, 
 
 adAth.2'5A he scarce knew which, he relates how he lifted up his hands 
 to Athene's consecrated mount in passionate entreaty that 
 she would not desert nor betray her suppliant, but suffer him 
 if it might be even to die in Athens. Once more, in Gaul 
 when the sound fell upon his ears of the voices of soldiers 
 
 aci ^<ft. 284 c proclaiming him Augustus, there in the upper chamber he 
 fell upon his knees in prayer to Zeus, and called upon the 
 God not unavailingly to guide him by a sign. And it was so 
 in the small crises no less than in the great. He would con- 
 stantly rise at midnight and in secret pray to Hermes, the 
 God of sound judgment, as the best preparation for his official 
 duties on the coming day\ 
 
 Julian's As a specimen of Julian's prayers, it cannot be wrong to 
 
 prayer. q^Q^e the supplication with which he concludes his address 
 to the Mother of the Gods : — 
 
 Or. 5. 179- ' Mother of Gods and men, consort and partner in the throne 
 
 of mighty Zeus, Source of the Intellectual Gods, thou who farest 
 ever with the undefiled essences of the Intelligible Gods, who 
 receivest from them all the common source of being and dost 
 transmit it to the Intellectual Deities, life-bearing Mother, thou 
 Wisdom and Providence and Creatress of our Souls, thou who 
 lovest great Dionysus, who didst succour Attis when exposed, and 
 didst raise him again after his descent into earth's cavern, thou 
 who dost minister all blessings to the Intellectual Gods, and satis- 
 fiest with all things the sensible Universe, who givest to us all 
 things alway good, vouchsafe to all men happiness, whereof the 
 chiefest element is knowledge of the Gods : grant unto the Eoman 
 people at large, first and foremost to wipe off the stain of atheism, 
 and next thereto grant also that favouring fortune may guide the 
 helm of state for many thousands of years ; and to mine own self 
 vouchsafe as the fruit of my service toward thee, truth in my 
 views about the Gods, perfectness in theurgic art, and in all 
 things, to whatsoever tasks of peace or war I lay my hand, virtue 
 
 1 Amm. M, xvi. v. 5, and cf. Libau. Epitaph, i. 564. 
 
 180, 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 141 
 
 and happy fortune, and to the end of tliis life peace within and a 
 fair name without, with a good hope for the journey that shall 
 bring me to the Gods.' 
 
 One letter is interesting as showing Julian's belief in Interces- 
 intercessory prayer : it is that to the Jewish Council, where f,"^^.^^ 
 remarking that in the press and worry of business princes Ep. 25 
 had but brief leisure to pray, he begs that public supplica- 
 tions may be offered in his behalf for God's blessing and 
 guidance in the affairs of state. 
 
 His punctilious regularity at public worship* is so cha- Attend- 
 racteristic a trait of his life as to deserve renewed emphasis, worship 
 It was a part of that scrupulousness in all religious matters ^''^■ 
 which is stamped on every portion of the religious revival 
 which he led. It provoked the amusement of friends and 
 the derision of enemies. He is at pains to justify it more 
 than once in his own writings. But he does not make it 
 sufficiently clear, how far it was as a devout layman, and how 
 far in his imperial character as high priest that he admitted 
 and fulfilled obligations of worship. It was his custom to 
 offer public sacrifice morning and evening^ He erected a 
 shrine to the sun within the palace walls : he ' initiated and 
 was initiated.' When he and his little philosophers' clique of Mis.3i5o 
 seven came to Antioch, they went nowhere at all, ironically 
 writes the ringleader, but to the temples, and just now and 
 then by detachments to the theatres. ' He divided his life 
 between political occupations and service about the altars^.' 
 So prodigal were his sacrifices that the people of Antioch 
 nicknamed him ' the Slaughterer*.' During his campaigns 
 he endeavoured to secure the attendance of the soldiers at Ep. 38. 415 c 
 these celebrations. Such a practice, on the authority of a 
 trustworthy historian, was not without its abuses : the mul- 
 titude of oxen and smaller cattle, not to mention birds, offered 
 almost daily by Julian was such, that according to Ammian 
 
 1 Soz. V. iii. 2, Liban. Ad lul. Hyp. 394, 395, Monod. 509, &c. 
 ' Ep. 27. 401 B, corroborated by Liban. E2}it. i. p. 564, Ad. lul. Hyp. 
 p. 394. 
 
 3 Lib. irepl ti/jl. 'IouX. § 22, p. 56. 
 
 * Amm. M. xxii. xiv. 3, Zonar. xiii. 12. 
 
14f JULIAN. 
 
 his troops, more particidarhj the Petulantes and the Celts\ 
 gourmandized so freely on the victuals and drink thus libe- 
 rally furnished, that many of them had to be carried home to 
 their quarters on the shoulders of bystanders. The supply of 
 animals threatened to run short : the witty epigram com- 
 posed against another philosopher emperor could not but 
 recur to the minds of the spectators : 
 
 We the white hulls hid Marcus Cfesar hail ! 
 Win hut one victory more, our kind will fail^! 
 
 Perhaps it was no wonder that Julian found his soldiers very 
 Mis. 346 B religiously disposed ! Here is the ironical description of his 
 conduct, put in his own mouth in the Misopogon : ' The Em- 
 peror, to be sure, offered sacrifice once in the temple of Zeus, 
 again in that of Fortune, and then marched off thrice run- 
 ning to Demeter's. For I have lost count of the number of 
 times I resorted to the shrine of Daphne, that august fabric 
 which the negligence of its warders betrayed, and the pre- 
 sumption of the atheists demolished. The Syrian kalends 
 are here, and the Emperor is off again to Zeus Philios; then 
 comes the state festival, and with it the Emperor on his way 
 to Fortune's precincts : and no sooner is the one fast-day 
 over than he is once more paying his vows to Zeus Philios.' 
 Ep.ii His letter to Libanius descriptive of his doings during the 
 opening days of the Persian expedition reads like the ac- 
 count of a religious rather than a military campaign. So 
 great was his conscientious, but dispiriting waste of energy! 
 It amounted to a nervous excited assiduity ill calculated to 
 express contained and restful piety, induced it has seemed 
 to some^ by misgivings rather than fulness of conviction. 
 
 1 Amm. M. xxii. xii. 6. The touch is graphic, and may be looked upon as 
 an ' undesigned coincidence ' confirming the general statement. Ammian 
 here writes as an eye-witness. 
 
 ' ol /36es ol \evKol MapKcp T(j3 Kalffapi xo-^P^i-"- 
 
 av TToKi VLK-qcrjS, Afx/JLes dirta\6iJ.e0a. 
 Quoted Amm. M. xxv. iv. 17. The ivhite bull is the particular sacrifice 
 specified in Ep. 27. 399 d as offere.d to Zeus at Bercea: it was the recog- 
 nised triumphal sacrifice. 
 
 3 ManRold. Jul. der Ahtr. 21. 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 148 
 
 His religious activity found another vent in proselytizing juHaii's 
 efforts. He employed not merely example, nor only the ob- P''o^^^y*'^^- 
 vious indefinable methods, which thickly strew a monarch's 
 path, of making new converts, but active preaching and ar- 
 gument as well\ and not less, if occasion served, ridicule or 
 sarcasm, or even hard cash. Perhaps the most sterling wit- 
 ness is his elaborate work against the. Christians, which occu- 
 pied so many of his long winter nights, and remained to the 
 death of Greek Paganism the text-book of Pagan evidences ; 
 but the tale of his relations with Csesarius will illustrate it 
 more graphically^ Success had smiled upon the accom- 
 plished Cffisarius from early youth. He was the brother of 
 Gregory of Nazianzus, and seems to have shared his talents. 
 Medicine was the profession he had chosen. Of a br-illiant 
 address, and a singularly ready kindness, the young physician 
 was soon the darling of Constantinopolitan society. He was 
 well known at court, and on Julian's accession, like other 
 Christians, received a share of his favours. In spite of the 
 apprehensions and adjurations of his brother ' Gregory, the 
 young doctor, stout Christian as he was, did not decline the 
 Emperor's advances. Anxious to gain such a convert, Julian 
 one day, before the assembled court, held a set conference 
 lasting several hours. Not till all arguments were exhausted 
 on either side, and Cassarius still declared, ' I have been, I 
 am, I will be a Christian,' did the Emperor desist with a 
 good grace from his self-imposed task. In like manner he 
 harangued the leading men of Antioch on their remissness, j/,>. 363 
 and dehvered a religious address to the Council at Beroea; Ep.11. mo 
 but on neither occasion apparently with much happier effect 
 than in the case of Csesarius. Of less generous proselytizing 
 attempts, if such they were, notice will be taken presently. 
 Finally, what has been happily called his 'pastoral' corre- 
 spondence, a unique phenomenon amid the despatches of 
 Roman emperors, shows the living interest and force he 
 spent in the effort to inoculate others with his own beliefs 
 
 1 Lilian. Epit. pp. 5fi2, 578. 
 
 = The story may be gathered in the main from Greg. Naz.'s Seventh 
 Oration, which is a funeral panegjaic on C;i;sariuB. Cf. too Greg. Ep. 7. 
 
144 JULIAN. 
 
 and aspirations. Borrowed as it was from Christianity, the 
 idea of thus grafting a fruitful Church life on the stock of 
 Paganism, is Julian's best claim to originality, if not to great- 
 ness. In the close union he assumes between religion and 
 politics, he becomes the precursor of a Louis IX. or a Crom- 
 well. He persuades us almost against ourselves that he 
 quite believed, and believed in, his own creed. 
 
 One last noticeable trait is Julian's faith in the various 
 sources of communication between God and man. It serves 
 to show the weaker and more superstitious side of his cha- 
 racter and his religion. He was a genuine disciple of lam- 
 blichus' credulity', which is only the more debased by its 
 veneer of philosophy. His admirer Ammian, himself far 
 from a complete rationalist in these matters, numbers it 
 among his faults, and compares him in this respect to the 
 Emperor Hadrian ^ 
 Oracles. Oracles he regarded with implicit reverence^ as due to the 
 
 Or. 4. 152 D (Jirect agency of Apollo. In his works their utterances are 
 quoted with credulous respect, as decisive in most questions 
 of philosophy or theology. One instance of his curiosity and 
 pertinacity in consulting oracles was his attempt to disinter 
 the sources of the Castalian fount near Antioch. The power 
 of these waters had first communicated to Hadrian his future 
 accession to the throne. To prevent any repetition of the 
 prophecy to other applicants, Hadrian choked the fountain 
 mouth with masses of stone; the subsequent interment of 
 Christian martyrs hard by had further hallowed, or dese- 
 crated, the spot. Julian's solemn exhumation of these with 
 Prophe- purificatory rites led to issues anytliing but oracular. Pro- 
 phecies again he reverently accepted : nor did he regard them 
 as a lost privilege of former ages^ By his own account he 
 
 1 Zeller, in. 2. 6S0 pp. 
 
 * Amm. M. xxv. iv. 17. No better comment on the gist of this allusion 
 could be given than Julian's own description of Hadi'ian in the C<esars. 
 There he is introduced (a little sarcastically of course) 'with a flowing 
 beard and a confident mien, an expert in music and all the arts, ever 
 and anon gazing on the heaven and preoccupied with strange secrets.' 
 Caaars, 311 d. 
 
 3 Theod. HI. x. 1. ■• Amm. M. sxi. i. 
 
 cies. 
 
PERSONAL RRLTOTON". 145 
 
 received distinct predictions botli of Constantius'^ death and 
 his own^ As soon as he heard that the place where he 
 lay wounded was named Phrygia, he knew that the wound 
 would be to death; for an oracle (as usual true in letter, 
 and misleading in spirit) had predicted he should die 
 there. Such soothsaying power he attributed to denizens 
 of the spirit world, over whom Themis presided'. But cyr. i98 ( 
 both prophecies and oracles were rather irregular and 
 intermittent than ordinary channels of Divine communi- 
 cations. Inspiration had spoken most clearly in the past, 
 and the day of seers was wellnigh gone. Oracles yielded 
 so to say at periods of time, lying fallow in the interim. 
 Their place was supplied by omens and sacred arts, skill Omens. 
 in which was derived from divine illumination. To these, 
 whether given by divination or by augury, or by other 
 means, he yielded willing cr edenc e*, seeing in them a merci- 
 ful gift of the Gods. The philosophical basis on which to 
 his mind the art of divination® rested, was that adopted by 
 the Platonists of the preceding century. Auspices" are not 
 gathered from the will of silly birds; but the kindness of the 
 deity governs their motions and their cries in such a way as 
 to make them simificant to those who can read the sign : 
 ultimately they depend upon the sympathetic unity of the 
 whole universe which is secured by the all-pervading activity 
 of the central world-soul. Divination obtained a new lease 
 of popularity, and the emperor was constantly attended by ^ 
 soothsayers, augurs, and interpreters of dreams'. At the same 
 time he did not suffer himself to be weakly dismayed by 
 superstitious fears ; he was unfeignedly pleased if Zeus 
 favoured him with gracious signs^ or if by happy omen the 
 garland from some triumphal arch fell and rested on his 
 
 ' Ep. 17. 384 B c. Cf. Lib. Epitaph, p. 561. Ainm. xxi. ii. 2. Soz. v. 1. 
 
 * Amm. M. xxv. iii. 9 aucl 19, xxiii. iii. 2, 3. 
 
 2 Amm. M. xxi. i. 8. * Liban. Epit. p. 582. 
 
 ' In his work against the Christians he defends the proprietj"- of divina- 
 tion and preferences of method by Scriptural quotations and arguments. 
 Cyril 343 e, 347, 356 c, 358 c— e. 
 
 « Cf. Amm. M. xxi. i. 9, 10. 
 
 ^ Amm. M. xxi. ii. 4, xxii. i. 1, xii. 7, xxiii. iii. 3 and v. 10, xxv. ii. 7, 8. 
 
 ** Ep. 27. 399 D, and cf. the stories in Amm. M. xxiii. iii. 6, v. 8. 
 
 R. E. 10 
 
1 46 JULIAN. 
 
 liead\ but gaily discarded less auspicious presages, or showed 
 a felicitous readiness in construing favourably omens which 
 at first sight might seem adverse. When, after his proclama- 
 tion as Augustus, during martial exercises at Paris his shield 
 of a sudden broke leaving nothing but the handle in his 
 grasp, he reassured the dismayed bystanders with the prompt 
 interpretation, 'Let no one fear: I hold fast what I held 
 before^' He would boldly defy auguries when in conflict 
 with his better judgment : as Ammian^ phrases it, 'he thought 
 it unadvised to put faith in forecasts, that events might 
 falsify.' In the Persian war, when the Etruscan divicers were 
 for ever seeing stars and discovering unpropitious portents, 
 'the emperor fairly struck against the whole science of vatici- 
 nation^' On the eve of his expected conflict with Constantius, 
 as Julian was mounting his horse, the soldier who was help- 
 ing him to the saddle suddenly slipped and fell. 'See,' cried 
 the Emperor, 'he has fallen who raised me to my present 
 elevation^.' As his army marched through Illyria, though 
 vintage time was past, unripe grapes hung still upon the trees. 
 Boding hearts prognosticated for Julian marred hopes and 
 premature death; but to him the unswelled clusters spoke 
 only of fortunes still to ripen^ If in the prepared entrails a 
 cross appeared surrounded by a ring', Julian interpreted it 
 not as the circle of eternity, but the emblem of circumscrip- 
 tion that enwreathed the symbol of Christianity. Here too 
 consciously or imconsciously he adopted the teaching of 
 Maximus. That gentleman, when Julian's invitation to court 
 reached him, at once consulted the auspices : on these 
 turning out villainously unfavourable Maximus observed to 
 his fellow, the alarmed and chagrined Chrysanthius, that it 
 was the lesson of a life-time 'not to succumb to the first 
 repulse, but if need were to take the kingdom of heaven by 
 
 1 Sok. III. i. 29, Nikeph. x. 1, &c. 
 
 ' Amm. M. sxi. ii. 2. ' lb. xxii. i. 2. 
 
 * lb. XXIII. V, 10, 13, XXV. ii. 8. 
 
 ' Amm. M. xxii. i. 2. The story of the fall of Julian's horse 'Babylon' 
 Amm. M. xxiii. iii. 6 is in spirit exactly similar. 
 
 6 Soz. V. 1. 
 
 7 lb. V. 2, Greg. Naz. Or. iv. liv. p. 577 b. 
 
PERSONAL RELIGION. 147 
 
 violence\' Perseverance triumjilied : Maximus' persistent 
 efforts were rewarded with success; and presently to court he 
 went. Is it something of this sort that Libanius means, 
 when he speaks of Julian in the Persian war being 'his own 
 Pythia'? His boldness in this respect is credible enough 
 when we read of the rebuff he laid upon an unconciliatory 
 God. Outside Ktesiphon^ one of ten bulls offered to Mars 
 the Avenger had the independence to break his bonds, resist 
 his sacrificers, and finally after death display most unfavour- 
 able omens; therefore Julian swore to let Mars go without 
 victims for the future, and faithfully kept his word^ 
 
 Magic rites and the paraphernalia of Neo-Platonic theurgy Theurgy. 
 exercised from the outset a strange spell of fascination over 
 Julian's mind. Christian theology of the fourth century 
 probably enough familiarised him with belief in the existence 
 of angels and a hierarchy of demoniacal powers*. His teachers 
 laid hold of these conceptions. 'The nature of daemons and 
 of the beings who formed and preserved this universe' was 
 his iutroductory lesson in Neo-Platonism'^, mystic intercourse 
 with familiar sjoirits his constant occupation and delight^ 
 Maximus was the representative of this charlatan department 
 of philosophy, and to his dying breath Maximus remained 
 his most trusted friend. Apparitions, coming as mysterious 
 visitants from the spirit world, thrilled and attracted him 
 with a vague irresistible awe. We read^ how he went down 
 to subterranean caverns to face the summoned spectres; yet 
 how when they stood before him, the sign of the cross invo- 
 luntarily made scared them away. Such tales may well have 
 a foundation in truth. It is as likely that shrewd sorcerers 
 
 ^ IJ.T) TrafTws iLKiiv Toh TTpLOTOis av av T q/xaa- Lv , dW e/npLa('€cr6aL rrjv tov delov 
 4>\>cnv. Eunap. Vit. Max. - Amm. M. xxiv. vi. 16. 
 
 3 LanK^, Jul. VApost. p. 195, in the fictitious death-bed discourse with 
 which he has supplied Julian, explains tliis as a patient acquiescence in the 
 will of the Deity. The God was not to be pestered with inquiries to which 
 he had already vouchsafed a plain response. 
 
 * Cyril '22-4 e, cf. Naville, pp. 80—82. 
 
 » Lib. Epit. 528. « Lib. wepl rifi. 'lovX. § 22 p. 56, Presb. p. 460. 
 
 7 Greg. Naz. Or. iv. Iv. p. 577. Soz. v. 2. Idle rumour no doubt pro- 
 pagated secrets which assuredly neither .Julian nor Maximus would have con- 
 fided to Christian ears. But rumour does not always largely err from truth. 
 
 10—2 
 
148 JULIAN. 
 
 contrived the show as that Christian historians invented it. 
 Ep. 3s. 415 b In Julian's remains the direct alkisions to mystery worship 
 
 and tlieurgic practices are rare. He treats the matter with 
 
 reverent reserve, as unsuited to popular exposition, When- 
 or. 5. 173 a, ever he does mention it, it is with a worshipful approval that 
 
 speaks volumes. Without theurgic instruction God's prophets 
 Frap. Ep. and spokesmen cannot attain to excellence. Theurgy makes 
 
 295 D, Or. 7. -1 . . . . ^"^ 
 
 213 B. msuci divine; it is the way of perfectness, which in prayers 
 
 for divine guidance comes prior to every kind of outward 
 gifts or successes. 
 
 Dreams. In the numerous references to direct communications 
 
 from the deities to himself, dreams appear to have been 
 the ordinary channel. What the sign {r€pa<i) was\ by which, 
 at a sudden crisis and in open day, the Gods in answer to 
 prayer directed his conduct, on his soldiers proclaiming him 
 Augustus, we cannot tell ; but it was by a dream that heaven 
 
 ad .-itt. 275 c warned him against sending an imprudent letter which 
 he had composed to the Empress Eusebia : and in a dream 
 that the shining figure communicated the warning which 
 foretold the death of Constantius. In one letter where 
 he expresses a strong belief in revelations by dreams, he 
 £p. 17 recounts to his friend Oribasius a vision foreshowing his 
 own rise and the imminent death of Constantius. We are 
 not surprised to find this particular prediction recurring more 
 than once in various formsl The final and most detailed 
 version of it occurred at Vienne, on the eve of Julian's final 
 march against Constantius. He was ia a state of grievous 
 indecision, sorely troubled at the thought of civil war, when 
 in the night watches a form of superhuman splendour stood 
 before him and pointed to the stars, and recited in Greek 
 hexameters these verses': 
 
 1 Lamd, Jul. I'Apost. pp. 108—117, alone is in the secret, and describes 
 with every minvitia the room, the preparations and the prayers of Julian, 
 together with the appearance and utterances of the Gods. De Broglie, 
 UEglise, <fcc., iv. p. 81, treats it as the waking vision of an ecstatic enthusiast ; 
 of. Ep. ad Ath. 284 c, 285 a with Amm. M. xx. v. 10. In Epitaph, p. 579, 
 Libanius talks of his beholding Zens visibly at midday (cf. Presb. p. 460), 
 and this loan. Mai. Clirov. xiii. p. 827 embellishes appropriately. 
 
 ^ Amm. M. xx. v. 10, xxi. i. C, cf. xxii. i. 2. 
 
 3 The dream is given in full, with unimportant differences, by Zos. iii. 9, 
 Zonar. xm. 11, Amm. M. xxi. ii. 2. 
 
PERSONAL RELIOrON. 149 
 
 When Zeus the Waterer's broad domain invades, 
 And Kronos thrice eight tracks across the Maid's 
 Hath drawn, lo Asia's laud shall mourn her king 
 Sweet life to churlish death surrendering. 
 
 A not less famous dream* is that which intimated his own 
 approaching death. Julian dreamed that a young man, 
 dressed in consular attire, met him in a tent near Ktesiphon, 
 in a place called Rhasia, and wounded him with a spear. 
 When he received his fatal wound, Julian asked those about 
 him 'What is the name of the place where my tent is set 
 up?' On receiving the answer 'Rhasia^,' he exclaimed, 
 'Sun, thou hast undone Julian!' 
 
 1 Chron. PascJi. i. p. 581. 
 
 ' 'Asia' in Magnus and Eutychian and cf. loan. Mai. Chron. p. 327, 
 while Amm. M. xxv. iii. 9, supported by Zon. xiii. 13, gives Phrygia as the 
 name. In xxv. ii. 3, 4 he recounts other portents which warned Julian of 
 impending death. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Julian's administration. 
 
 " ductor fortissimus armis, 
 conditor et legum, celebenimus ore manuque, 
 consultor patriae, sed non consultor habendae 
 relligionis, amans tercentum milia divom. 
 perfidus ille Deo, quamvis nou perfidus Urbi." 
 
 Prudentius. 
 
 Julian's When Julian on his march from Gaul first publicly an- 
 
 Apostasi/. j^ouiiced his apostasy, and took the title of Pontifex Max'imus\ 
 men paid small heed to the avowal. Technically he was but 
 Caesar still, and not Augustus : and at least he had a Chris- 
 tian colleague and superior to hold his zeal in check. The 
 declaration was assumed to be a political stratagem, and 
 nothing more. Men's politics in those days made them Arians 
 or Eusebians or Anomoeans, and by the same token Pagans 
 as well. Even as a political move its dextei'ity was ques- 
 tionable. Licinius forty years previously had done the same 
 thing. In his final rupture with the Christian emperor, he 
 had used the name of the 'Gods of our fathers' as an effective 
 war-cry. Licinius' discomfiture before the father was a poor 
 presage for Julian's success against the son. But when 
 Julian sole Julian's proclaimed apostasy and march into Illyria was fol- 
 Emperor. jo^ed by Constantius' sudden death ^ at Mopsukrenae, and 
 the young pretender stood alone at the head of Empire, 
 Christians must have watched anxiously, and T^etliought them 
 
 1 Sok. III. 1. 
 
 * Apart from ingenious combinations and inferences, and that ' reading 
 between the lines ' which he recommends to the student, Dr Auer's elaborate 
 attempt to fasten the guilt of Constantius' death on Julian rests solely on 
 the on (lit to which Gregory of Nazianzus is pleased to give his approval. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 151 
 
 of the days' when they groaned beneath a Galerius or a 
 Maximin. In spite of Constantius' cunning suppressions, 
 and free fabrication of lying despatches, the sound of Julian's 
 exploits, and the praises of his troops had ere now traversed 
 East and West alike. The cause which had seemed forlorn'' 
 was, without one blow, Triumphant. People might be ex- 
 cused for ascribing his triumph to the direct intervention of 
 God, or — the Gods. 
 
 His earliest care was the funeral of his illustrious prede- Constan- 
 cessor. It was conducted with becoming pomp of royal and quies!^'^^' 
 Christian ritual^ The entire army joined in the procession, 
 and multitudes of citizens thronged without the gates of Con- 
 stantinople to meet the imperial cortege. The emperor him- 
 self as chief mourner took part in the procession, wearing 
 the purple, but with the diadem reverently removed from 
 his head. So with night-long chants, amid the blaze of 
 torches and the homage of multitudes, the corpse was 
 brought to its own chosen resting-place in the Church of the 
 Holy Apostles. The death of Constantius took place on Duration 
 Nov. 3, 302'*; the obsequies were completed in the same "■^Z^"^''"'''* 
 month. The latest recorded law of Julian belongs to the 
 middle of March 363 A.D., when he was already moving east- 
 ward on his Persian campaign. Thus the period of his legis- 
 lative and administrative activity as sole Emperor is confined 
 within narrow limits of less than a year and a half. And 
 though, according to La Bleterie, no Emperor made so many 
 laws in so short a reign, his legislation is hot alarming in 
 bulki^ IFTs our business in the present chapter to examine 
 it, more particularly in its bearing on Julian's attitude to- 
 wards the religions of his day. 
 
 The earliest acts of_the_j'oung Emperor were reassuring. EcUgious 
 A religious amnesty was proclaimed\ Bishops, orthodox or '*'""'^*''^' 
 heterodox, were recalled from banishment, and no doubt 
 
 1 Liban. Epit. p. 502. ^ Amm. M. xxi. vii. 3, xxii. ii. 3. 
 
 3 Philost. \i. vi, Greg. Naz. Or. v. 16, 17, pp. 158—9, whom Libau. 
 Epitaph, pp. 561, 562 corroborates. 
 
 * See Appendix B, Note 5. 
 
 5 Eufin. I. 27, Amm. M. xxii. v, cf. Sokr, ii. xxiviii. 23, in. i, xi. 3, 
 Soz. V. 5, Thcod. in. 1, Tbilost. vi. 7, vii. i. 
 
152 JULIAN. 
 
 reinstated in their sees if vacant ; heretics of all shades were 
 invited to return from exile. The breadth of his toleration 
 has been manufactured into an accusation : he has been 
 abused for recalling not only the orthodox bishops, but also 
 ^ suffering Arians, Semi-Arians, and Novatiana to flock back 
 unhindered, and even rehabilitating Donatists^ and Circum- 
 cellions in the political rights of which preceding Emperors 
 had deprived them. For such a course it is easy to impute 
 sinister motives ^ but it would have been a breach of prin- 
 ciple to penalise opinions, and most certainly a hard matter 
 to draw the line between their civil and their dogmatic 
 offences ; restitution of their rights was the most equitable 
 course, leaving it perfectly open to any one to prosecute the 
 heretics for any criminal misdemeanour. Julian, no doubt, 
 had the political sagacity to leave Arians and Catholics and 
 Sects to fight out their own quarrels, but it is unfair to make 
 that the motive of his policy of toleration. Invitations to court 
 were addressed not only to Neo-Platonists and Pagans, but 
 to Prooeresius the Christian professor, to BasiP, whose piety 
 and learning already marked him out as bishop designate of 
 Csesarea, and to Aetius* the Arian, subsequently bishop of 
 Constantinople. Nothing could be fairer than the monarch's 
 Ep. 12. professions of tolerance : nothing warmer than his letters of 
 invitation. Basil is to come 'as friend to friend*'; to stay as 
 long as he pleases, and as soon as tired to be sent on his way, 
 
 1 Aug. Contr. Petil. ii. c. 83 and 92, Optat. ii. 16. 
 
 2 Cf. Kuf., Philost., Sok., Soz., Tlieod. as just cited, and Amm. M. 
 XXII. 5. De Broglie's remark {L'Eglise, tfcc. iv. 133 pp.) that .Julian always 
 took the side of the sectaries against the Catholics is plausible, and, if only 
 we had the sectaries' side of the question as well, would be weighty. 
 
 ^ Basil had as early as 358 adopted the life of a recluse on the Neo- 
 Csesarean hills. Called to deacons' orders in 3G0, in protest or sorrow at 
 the heresy of Dianius he once more retired to his sequestered monastery, 
 where Julian's invitation must have reached his hands. La Bleterie denies 
 on grounds of style the genuineness of all the reputed letters from Julian to 
 Basil, or vice versa. In the ease of Ep. 12, no particular objections are 
 intimated, and none are patent. It is generally regarded as the one genuine 
 letter surviving from Julian to Basil, the Great Basil. De Broglie, iv. p. 205, 
 Eode, p. 62. 
 
 * Ep. 31, Soz. V. V. 9, Nikeph. x. 5, &c. 
 
 * Julian quotes playfully from Plat. Mcncx. 247 c. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 153 
 
 where he will : both he and Aetius are allowed to travel at 
 the state's expense. In fact Julian's court was to be of an Ep. 12 
 entirely new model. Wise councillors and skilled admin- 
 istrators should be his courtiers. Titles of servile respect 
 were to disappear^ : hypocrisy, envy and sloth to be replaced 
 by the candour of outspoken friendship and the energy of 
 beneficent co-operation ^ 
 
 Butjn^ his desire for peace Julian did not weakly overlook Chaicedon 
 cri minal of fences. He appointed a commission' to investioate „°'"-^„ 
 and chastise the official misdemeanours and crimes of the late 
 reign. It was composed of Mamertimis and Nevitta, consuls 
 for 362, of Arbitio an ex-consul of known severity, of Agile, 
 and of Julian's own master of the horse Jovinus. Over these 
 presided Salustius prcetorian prefect, and in the ensuing 
 year Julian's colleague in the consulship. Cases of spolia- 
 tion were investigated, prompt restoration enforced, and 
 where reparation was impossible, severe penalties inflicted. 
 No elevation of rank secured immunity. The infamous fa- 
 vourites of "Uonstantius, the tribes of informers who had 
 thronged his court, were among the earliest victims*. Euse- 
 bius, the Chamberlain, as prime instigator '^ of the murder of 
 Gallus, expiated his crimes on the scaffold. Apodemius, the 
 vile agent who had concerted the death both of Silvanus and 
 Gallus, was burned alive; Paul, the infamous notary, sur- 
 named 'the Chain,' a kind of Titus Gates, shared the same 
 cruel fate. More innocent victims also fell, or suffered banish- 
 
 1 3Iis. 343 SetTTTOTTys, se. dominus, on which La Bleterie's note in loc. ia 
 interesting. 
 
 2 Or. VII. 233 A c. Cf. Liban. Epit. p. 585, Presb. p. 455. Not that 
 JuHan was by any means unsusceptible to flattery when rightly couched. 
 Far from it ! 
 
 3 Amm. M. xxii. 3 gives the fullest accounts of its proceedings: cf. 
 Liban. Epit. p. 572. 
 
 ■' In Ep. 25. 397 b, Julian dwells more savagely than is his wont on 
 having ' taken with his hands and thrust into the jDit the barbarians in mind 
 and atheists in heart, who had sat at the table of Constantius.' De Broglie, 
 IV. 331 71., follows earlier Edd. in rejecting this letter on the strength of this 
 sentence, but Teuffel's defence in Schmidt's Zeitsch. filr Gesch., 1845, Vol. iv. 
 156 pp., appears quite adequate. Hertlein inserts without comment. 
 
 6 Cf. Jul. Ep. ad Ath. 272 n, Sok. in. i. 49, Soz. v. v. 8, Philost. iv. 1, 
 Zonar. xiii. 12. 
 
154 
 
 JULIAX. 
 
 Palace 
 
 Retrench' 
 
 vient. 
 
 meut\ Information once invited is hard to curb or control 
 perfectly; the guillotine once set in motion ne va pas mal; in 
 that active discouragement of Christianity which the Em- 
 peror approved, his agents probably" transgressed the strict 
 observance of justice which he enjoined in the same breath ; 
 but it is fair to say that the Commission if not happily 
 selected", was honestly required, honourably intended, and 
 removed only too punctiliously from the immediate sphere 
 and influence of court, that there might be no suspicion^ of 
 Julian's personal sentiments unfairly prejudicing his enemies. 
 Years before attaining to the supreme power he had laid it 
 down as a theory of governmenf*, that the wise prince, while 
 taking strict personal cognisance of minor ' remediable ' 
 crimes, ought rigorously to abstain from sitting in judgment 
 on capital offences. These should be tried by proved impar- 
 tial judges, whose verdict could neither be warped by preju- 
 dice, nor impaired by unjudicial haste. In this edict then 
 he carried out in practice a principle which had approved 
 itself to his calm judgment, and may be acquitted without 
 reserve from the odium of wilful persecution. 
 
 Jus^ticB-iiatisfied, or at least a way to its satisfaction duly 
 prepared, Julian devoted himself to reform. His charity be- 
 gan at home. The severest retrenchments were enforced in the 
 palace expenditure^. On his accession Julian found in occu- 
 pation a thousand cooks and barbers, butlers and serving-men 
 innumerable, and eunuchs 'thicker than summer flies'^.' At 
 a blow he dismissed them all, and turned the palace into a 
 
 1 Amm. M. xxii. 3. Greg. Naz. Or. iv. G-1, p. 106. 
 
 2 The writer in Hilg.'s Zeitschr. fur wiss. Theologie, 1861, notices (p. 409) 
 the undue predominance of the military element in the Commission. Gib- 
 bon shows how unimpeachable was Salustius, how self-satisfied Mamertinus, 
 and how violent the remaining four. 
 
 * This was the object of their holding their sittings across the water at 
 Chalcedon, Cf. Jul. Ep. 2.3. 
 
 * Or. II. 89 c D. The monarch, he adds, should be like the queen bee 
 who carries no sting. 
 
 5 Amm. M. xxii. 4, Sok. iii. 1, Zouar. xiii. 12, Mamert. 11, Liban. Epit. 
 p. 565. Schlosser, Uebers. der Gesch. in. ii. 342 (cf. also iii. 15 2)p.), condemns 
 this policy, and so too Robertson, Hist. Christ. Church, Bk. ii. c. iii. p. 341. 
 
 * Libau. Ej)it. p. 565. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 155 
 
 desert. Fur the cooks, he wanted, he said, but simple fare, 
 and the preparers of it to dress like cooks, not senators : for 
 barbers, one was enough for many (which was all the more 
 true, no doubt, in days when the Emperor wore the philoso- 
 pher's beard, and the courtiers followed suit): for eunuchs, he 
 wanted not one, for his first wife was dead, and he had no 
 mind to marry a second \ So a general cataclysm swept 
 away the whole army of domestics, retainers, official detec- 
 tives and spies (the so-called Curiosi), and other parasites 
 who had jDreviously clung about the person of the monarch. 
 That the bulk of the servants of Constantius were Christians 
 is no mere conjectured Doubtless that royal barber who^ 
 waited on Julian so daintily apparelled, and in addition to 
 his handsome salary and perquisites received daily rations 
 for twenty squires and as many horses, was a pronounced 
 Christian. Whether this be so or no, the abuse was flagrant, 
 the reformation just, and no blame attaches to the reformer 
 if Christians were the principal sufferers. The sole ground 
 for complaint is that their places were refilled in great mea- 
 sure by that ' conflux of so-called philosophers,' for whicli Sophists, 
 Sokrates* denounces the Emperor. Sophists, litterati, quacks '^'^' 
 and .soothsayers, they came pricking in hungry swarms from 
 three continents, thirsting for a share of the spoiP. Each 
 had his special claim on the new monarch, his special suf- 
 ferings for the good cause to recount, or his special quali- 
 fications for useful work in the future. The philosophic 
 maxims of their obscurity were forgotten or abjured with a 
 marvellous readiness. Ascetics turned Sybarites, and Neo- 
 Platonists Epicureans. Maxiraus himself, dropping the Cynic's 
 cloak and stick'', appeared attired in silk and gold; was at- 
 tended by his train of slaves ; feasted luxuriously ; received 
 sumptuously, and in all respects affected Asiatic pomp. Nor 
 
 1 Zouar. XIII. 12, Sok. in. i. 50, cf. Misop. 349 c. 
 
 2 Cf. Greg. Naz. Or. iv. p. 58G. 
 ^ Amm. M. xxii. iv. 9. 
 
 * Sok. III. xiii. 11, 
 
 5 Tovs iravraxn TJyev -q <pr,fj.-q jSpva^ouras iirl to. jSacriXfAa, Sok. in. i, 56, 
 cf. Jul. Or. VII. 224. 
 « Ep. 37. 114 D. 
 
156 JULIAN. 
 
 were imitators slow to follow where the master led. Others, 
 by a more refined flattery, adopted the coarse dress and the 
 T.T.z^'^' ''' ^^^^S^y beard of the Cynic, but at that point ceased to be the 
 followers of Diogenes. They neither bridled the appetites, 
 nor kept under the sensual passions, nor subdued covetous- 
 ness and self-seeking. Their exterior was Cynic, but their 
 heart Cyrenaic. Julian's worst foes were of his own house- 
 hold. Personally he did what he could : by word and look 
 and act he protested. He wrote an indignant tirade^ against 
 false Cynics ; his dress and appearance grew more and more 
 severe ; above all he strove by example of active self-denial 
 to shame these courtier-philosophers into worthier ways^ 
 His diet became more spare ; his devotion to business more 
 unremitting ; his reforms and edicts more rigorous. No rngja 
 could say that he spared himself ^ 'Always abstemious, and 
 never oppressed by food, he applied himself to business with 
 the activity of a bird, and despatched it with infinite ease*.' 
 He would write, dictate, and give audience at the same time^. 
 His ministers came to him by relays ; as soon as one retired 
 to rest or sleep, another was admitted, and then the next, till 
 perhaps the circle began again. When the rest of the palace 
 was wraj)ped in sleep the Emperor'' sat alone in his library 
 despatching correspondence, composing orations, framing de- 
 crees, or composing elaborate philosophic lucubrations. Yet 
 in the grey of morning he might be found receiving compli- 
 mentary calls, hearing petitions, or giving audience to his 
 consuls'. 'He multii^lied time by subtracting from leisure*.' 
 
 ^ Orat. 6 Eis tovs airaioevTov^ Kvva% belongs to the spring of 362 : cf. 
 181 A. 
 
 * On his fastidious self-restraint of a physical kind Zonar. xiii. xiii. 
 p. 1156 has this curious notice ; rjv irepl T7]v diairav eyKparrji wore Kal ret 
 <f>v(riKa TavTO. (oJra, ?) 5La(l)vyydv€i.v, ws fiaXiara. ipvyds Kal rds (KKplaets ras 
 did. aTo/xaTos. 
 
 ^ ' Nihil somno, nihil epulis, nihil otio tribuit ; ipsa se uaturalium neces- 
 sariarumque rerum usurpatione defraudat, totus commodis publicis vacat.' 
 Mamert. 14, and cf. 12, with which cf. Amm. M. sxv. iv. 4, and Mis. 338 c, 
 340 B. 
 
 ^ Duncombe's version, i. p. 232 note. Cf. Liban. Epit. p. 580. 
 
 '^ Liban. Ejnt. p. 580. « Sok. in. i. 54. 
 
 7 Mamert. 28. « Ibid. 14. 
 
ADMINISTEATION". 157 
 
 The few hours that he doled out to sleep, were passed often mis. m b 
 upon the hard ground \ Under such circumstances censure 
 will be lenient if the prince was able to bridle only, not 
 eradicate the rapacity of his followers. Numbers of these 
 impostors, on an enemy's testimony*, went disappointed 
 away, cursing their own folly, and the deceit, as they were 
 pleased to call it, of the Emperor, in not following up his 
 invitation with more substantial rewards. While recognising 
 his liberality, impartial historians^ add that towards un- 
 worthy recipients he was less indulgent in favours than his 
 position was supposed to demand. 
 
 But Julian's projects of retrenchment were not limited to Financial 
 the palace of Constantinople: nor again to mei'e sumptuary 'y'"'"**- 
 laws*, feeble attempts to cure only and not prevent. They 
 took a much wider sweep. His legislation testifies to un- 
 ceasing activity in this_ department. His Gallic administra- 
 tion EacTyielded him varied large experience ; if in his first 
 years he spent 'summer in the cam j), winter in the tribunal V 
 during his last year in that country financial and judicial 
 reform had engrossed his whole attention. In nothing had 
 he been more successful than in reducing the burdens'^ of the 
 overtaxed provincials, and reinvigorating industrial enterprise : 
 during his brief sojourn at or near Sirmium he had engaged 
 in the same good work for the Illyrian and Dalmatian dis- 
 tricts^: from Hadria to Nikopolis his life-giving hand had 
 touched decaying industries. Now sole Emperor he extended 
 like efforts^ through the realm. The two great principles 
 that guided~IiTs legislation were the withdrawal of immuni- 
 ties from f;iv()nrc(| classes or individuals, and the prevention 
 of corrupt exactiuus or returns by the official collectors of CoUcction 
 
 of taxes. 
 
 1 Amm. M. xvi. v. 5, xxv. iv. 5, Liljan. Epit. p. 613, In lul. Hyp. 400 sq. 
 ' Greg. Naz. Or. v. xx. p. 689. 
 
 3 Eutrop. X. 16. Schlosser, Uebers. der Gesch. iii. ii., 'rightly notices that 
 none hut Maximus and Priscus ranked among his councillors. 
 
 * Such as Cod. Just. viii. x. 7. 
 ' Mamert. 4, 8. 
 
 « Amm. M. xvi. v. 14, xxv. iv. 15. ^ Mamert. 9. 
 
 * So at Antioch, of. Mifop. 365 b, 367 a d, Zos. hi. 11, and Thrace, cf. 
 Ep. 47. 
 
158 JULIAN. 
 
 „tax€S. To this last end his earliest and his latest edict^ are 
 alike directed, and others reinforce them in the interval. 
 The principal provisions are for the transmission of exact and 
 speedy returns^ to the provincial governors, who in turn for- 
 warded the reports to the emperor: nnpunctuality is made 
 pinrisliable by a considerable fine. Falsification of the returns 
 by the official collectors (rationales) is visited with bodily 
 pains and penalties^: and without the imperial leave no 
 new impost may be introduced, nor existing one modified*. 
 Further, a quinquennial tenure of office is prescribed, 
 after which is intercalated a non-official year, to the express 
 end that comi^lainants may appeal unawed by the terror 
 of official persecution and revenge°. Other regulations are 
 directed against official bribery and corruption ^ and against 
 abuses of judicial procedure in the case of public fiuic- 
 tionaries''. While adopting these precautions against 
 official extortion, Julian displayed still greater energy in 
 the direct relief of the provincials, chiefly by rigid limita- 
 tion of diverse forms of immunities. Constantius, following 
 Excmp- but exaggerating his father's method, had accorded exemp- 
 tions. tions on the largest scale to the Christian clergy. Not only 
 monks, not only religious communities of virgins and widows, 
 not only the higher clergy, but even the lower orders in the 
 Church were wholly or in great part exempted from the ordi- 
 nary burdens of the subject. Indeed, if the letter of Julian's 
 decree may be pressed, the conclusion would be that the bare 
 profession of Christianity in some cases bestowed pecuniary 
 advantages. Not seldom too, besides special endowments of 
 churches and the like, the clergy received fixed allowances of 
 the public corn without payment. The system was unmis- 
 takeably pernicious. It crippled the State and burdened 
 
 ' Theod. Cod. viii. i. 6, issued at Coustantinople in Jan. 362. Thcod. 
 Cod. XI. XXX. 31, issued Mar. 13, 363, a week after Julian's departure from 
 Antioeh on bis expedition against Persia. 
 
 2 Theod. God. xi. xxx. 31, i. xv. 4. 
 
 3 Theod. Cod. Tin. i. 6, cf. Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 75, p. 113. 
 * Theod. Cod. xi. xvi. 10. 
 
 6 Theod. Cod. viii. i. 6, 7, 8. 
 
 « Thcod. Cod. II. xxix. 1. " Theod. Cod. ix. ii. 1. 
 
ADMINISTRATION, 159 
 
 industry; it paiipemed aad not-less-^orrupted the Church by 
 mating Christianity a form of money investment. Julian at 
 a stroke did away with this large class of immunities. He 
 TIecfeed , not indeed of any conscious kindness to the Church, 
 that all decurions who as Christians claimed exemption from 
 public burdens, should be restored to the tax-roll \ Though 
 a few more vehement advocates decried the enactment as 
 persecuting, its substantial justice is tacitly admitted by 
 soberer ecclesiastical writers. No other edict preserved in 
 the Theodosian Code mentions the Christians by name; 
 obviously these need no defence, as they merit no reproach. 
 When Julian went beyond this^ and conferred immunities 
 and allowances of corn on Pagan priests, he swerved from 
 strict justice and sound economy, though merely adopting, be 
 it remembered, the practice of all his predecessors. In the 
 one case where details are furnished the corn and wine dues 
 are not granted to the priests for their own support,- but for 
 distribution among the sick and needy, the alleged motive 
 being that Jews and Christians may not have all the good 
 almsgiving to themselves. Nor was it Christians alone whom 
 he robbed of their exemptions. Their due share of taxes is 
 exacted from all hereditary holders of estates^ and from all 
 landowners, all private arrangements between vendors and 
 lessees and tax-collectors being strictly prohibited^ On the 
 other hand certain exemptions are accorded. One edict of 
 the kind guaranteeing large vested immunities to privileged 
 persons^ appears wide in scope. Anotlier secures the cus- 
 
 ^ Theod. Cod. xii. i. .50, siii. i. 4, aud Jul. E;j. 11 : ef. Soz. v. v. 2, 
 Philost. VII. 4, Nikepli. x. 5. 
 
 ^ Soz. V. iii. 2 makes the charge, which Cassiod. vi. 4 transcribes ami 
 Nikeph. x. iv. 13 rehearses. So too Philost. vii. 4. Ep. 49. 430 c grants 
 30,000 jwoffi/ of corn and 60,000 pints (t^crrat) of wine yearly to Arsakius high- 
 priest of Galatia. 
 
 =* Theod. Cod. xi. xix. 2. So in particular at Antioch : Misop. 367 v>. 
 
 * Theod. Cod. xi. iii. 3, xi. iii. 4. 
 
 ^ It extends to all without exceiDtion, qnicumquc capitadonis induhjcntiam 
 immunitatemque meruerunt. Theod. Cod. xi. xii. 2. I do not know how 
 large a class the provision included, or by what extraordinary services the 
 privilege had been acquired. The ensuing sentences teach us the require- 
 ments of .Julian. 
 
IGO JTJLIA!^. 
 
 tomary privileges of physicians of the highest grade', Nei^ 
 exemptions are accorded only to limited. claas.es— and in 
 ackTrowledgment of special services to the state. Military 
 service would seem to take precedence. Three years of mili- 
 tary service exonerate all agentes in palatio^ from subsequent 
 curlal functions ^ while ten years suffice to do tliasame for 
 all of curial descent ^ There are but two other exempting 
 enactments preserved in the Theodosian Code. The first is 
 characteristic and runs thus: "First of all things comes war; 
 second, letters the adornment of peace. Therefore on all 
 ensfasfed in the service of our scrinia, we bestow the second 
 place in privilege: all who have served for 1.5 years in the 
 office of records and in the due custody of despatches and 
 charters shall be, every liability notwithstanding, excused 
 from curial obligations*." The one remaining immunity 
 granted is very complete; for it absolves even from assess- 
 ment as a decurion; its attainment in the fourth century must 
 have been indeed exceptional, and perhaps not ill-deserved; 
 it was the guerdon reserved ior fathers of thirteen children^! 
 
 In his imperial progresses Julian was used to confer privi- 
 leges on special towns. But these took most generally the 
 form of increasecl municipal privileges — for Julian did his 
 utmost to foster a healthy spirit of independence and self- 
 government*^ — or of special rights or freedoms for the promo- 
 tion of trade or the encouragement of religion. No instance 
 is reported of the remission of the ordinary taxes. Church 
 
 ^ Theod. Cod. xiii. iii. 4, and Jul. Ep. 25 b, which does not limit the 
 exemption from curial services to dpxi-o-Tpol alone. 
 
 2 Tlieod. Cod. ti. xxvii. 2. An additional clause, the motive of which is 
 unexplained, bestows the same privilege on the agentes gaining their dis- 
 charge from tlie services during Julian's fourth consulship, sc. 363 a d. 
 
 '■^ Theod. Cod. xii. i. 56, by an obvious error assigned to 363 instead 
 of 362. 
 
 * Theod. Cod. vi. xxvi. 1. Tliere were four departments of the Sacra ' 
 Scrinia or Record Office — memoriae, epistolanan, libeUorum, epistolariim 
 Graecaruni. 
 
 5 Theod. Cod. xii. i. 55. 
 
 " Cf. Mamert. 24, Blisop. 365 a with many indications in the same piece 
 of liberties vested in the Ciuaa of Antioch : also his reconstruction of the 
 Senate of Constantinople, and other benefits conferred on the town : Zos. 
 III. 11, Hiraer. Or. 7. See further (iibbou, eh. xxii. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 161 
 
 writers* complain, and not improbably with some truth, of 
 jiartiality displayed towards Pagan cities, but as specific 
 instances® are not alleged, and the murmurs are withal rare, 
 this can hardly have been very aggravated, and would pro- 
 bably, could the truth be discovered, resolve itself into indirect 
 favours conferred on cities possessed of famous sanctuaries'. 
 Th at he did not confine his favours to Pagan cities is certain 
 from his treatment of Constantinople and Antioch. By origin 
 and tradition Constantinople was Christian to the backbone. 
 At Julian's accession alone among great cities it had not even 
 one temple: yet he showered benefits upon it. Than Antioch 
 there was no more 'protestant' city in the Empire, nor any 
 more defiant against Julian personally. Yet he by no means 
 withheld from it wise favours, and was able to make there 
 large abatemenLs of taxation'*. It is observable that while 
 Julian ^ thus carefully restricted immunities, and exacted their 
 due quota impartially from all holders of property, and while 
 he constantly bore in mind the needs and welfare of his 
 poorer subjects, he did not rush into the opposite extreme of 
 grinding down the wealthy. In the absence of much indirect 
 taxation there was a dangerous tendency to this in Imperial 
 finance. No class in the state were so heavily taxed in 
 proportion to their means as the ciiriales: accordingly Julian 
 while fining severely all evasion of their duties was careful in 
 the same edict to protect them from undue exactions ^ In the 
 same way he declined to levy either from senators or others 
 forced contributions to the so-called 'Crown Gold,' declaring 
 it by edict voluntary in fact and not in pretence alone. 
 
 If it was to general principles, to annulling exemptions PtihUc 
 and enforcing honest punctual collection of the taxes that^^'"'-' 
 Julian devoted his fullest energies, he did not neglect surveil- 
 lance over minor matters and removed at least one burden- 
 some abuse with a very firm hand. Throughout the empire 
 
 ' Soz. vTiii. 2, with Nikeph. x. 4. 
 
 ^ Cf. however, Julian's award between Maiuma and Gaza, inf. p. 18a, and 
 his answer to Pessinus (see p. 112) in Ep. 49. 4.31 d. 
 3 Cf. Lib. Epit. p. 565. 
 * Zos. III. 11, 3Iisop. 365 b, 367 a d. 
 ' Theod. Cod. xii. i. 50, cf. xiii. i. 4. 
 
 R. E. 11 
 
162 JULIAN. 
 
 one of the normal demands made upon the subject was the 
 repair of roads and the provision of horses for the pubhc 
 service of the district. Rising from small beginnings, the 
 charge had reached formidable dimensions: it had become 
 the fashion for not merely the highest functionaries, but for 
 all provincial magnates or petty officers of state to travel 
 hither and thither at the public expense. Not content with 
 the modest one-horse vehicle, they required their two and 
 their three horses as the case might be, or perhaps a train of 
 carriages to transport their wives, children and baggage to 
 boot. To such a pass had things come, that even the trans- 
 port of bulky wares, the conveyance of blocks of marble for 
 the enrichment of private edifices, and suchlike gratifications 
 of luxury were charged ui^on the suffering pi-ovincials\ The 
 system had become a crying scandal: the poor were sinking 
 under the burdens it involved: the whole administration of 
 the public post threatened to break down under its own 
 weight. More than one vigorous decree^ copes with this evil. 
 The privilege is restricted to certain defined officials; none 
 but the governor is permitted to use it at discretion: on all 
 others very definite limitations are imposed both as to the 
 character of the vehicle and the frequency of use: no exten- 
 sion of these is allowed except under the Imperial hand. 
 Bishops, it appears, had under the regime of Constantius 
 been among the most hardened offenders. Ammian^ singles 
 them out as the chief culprits, and if so they would be among 
 the sufferers, or rather the losers by Julian's decree. But so far 
 as the edict itself particularises, it is 'the inordinate requii'e- 
 ments and restless peregrinations' of 'prefects, magistrates and 
 consulars' that are assailed: nothing but prejudice can ex- 
 pound this legislation by religious sympathies or antipathies. 
 Financial On the whole, though Julian — as his Antioch Corn Laws 
 Hon. testify — was not infallible enough to escape every economical 
 
 error, it cannot be gainsaid, what even his vilifiers* admit, that 
 
 1 Theod. Cod. viu. v. 15. 
 
 » Theod. Cod. viii. v. 12, 13, 14. Cf. Sok. in. 1. 
 ^ Amm. M. xxi. xvi. 18. 
 
 * (popQv dveaii aud kKottwu iwiTi/xrjaLS are both accorded to him by Greg. 
 Naz. Or. iv. c. 75, p. 113. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 163 
 
 he relieved the overtaxed provincial, that he checked official 
 avarice, that he diminished pauperism, and gave honest 
 industry its rightful due, in fact, that to the extent of his 
 powers and knowledge he laboured, without fear and without 
 favour, to protect without pampering the poor, to toll without 
 plundering the rich, to economise yet not stint imperial ex- 
 penditure'. 
 
 Over Julian's judicial legislation, apart from the alresidy judiciary 
 recorded Chalcedou Commission, there is no call to linger. ^'"''"*" 
 It aims at improving the procedure of courts ^ at preventing 
 partialities'', at mitigating the position of debtors*, at protect- 
 ins;' minors and amendinsj the marriag'e laws, but can nowhere 
 be twisted to a suspicion of religious partisanship, unless 
 indeed the abolition of the irregular Church jurisdiction" that 
 had already sprung u}? for the settlement of wills, the appro- Ep. 52. 437 a 
 priation of property, and the arbitration of suits, by episcopal 
 courts can be included in that category. 
 
 With regard to administration the case stands differently. Governors. 
 Statements diverge concerning Julian's choice of his subordi- 
 nates. Rufinus" declares that Julian debarred Christians 
 from becoming governors of provinces, on the ground that 
 their law forbade them to inflict capital punishment; others 
 dilate on the rapacity, arrogance and inhumanity of his 
 prefects and officers. It is true that in parting spite he 
 inflicted a rough governor on the recalcitrant Antiochenes. 
 But the fellow seems to have frightened his troublesome 
 vassals into order without any great enormities^. On the 
 other hand even Gregory of Nazianzus®, though maligning 
 Julian's creatures, and averring that apostasy was the royal 
 road to office, seems elsewhere to admit some sort of justifi- 
 
 1 Eutrop. X. 16, in provinciales iustissimus : et tributorum, quateuus 
 fieri posset, repressor, civilis in cunctos : mediocrem liabeus aerarii cnram. 
 
 * Theod. Cod. i. xvi. 8 ; 11. v. 1, xLi. 1 ; v. xii. 1 ; xi. xxx. 29, 30 ; xv. i. 
 8, 9. 
 
 ' Theod. Cod. ix. ii. 1. * Theod. Cod. xi. xxviii. 1. 
 
 5 Theod. Cod. in. i. 3, xiii. 2. 
 
 « Kuf. I. 32, and so Sok. in. xiii. 2, Soz. t. 18, Nikepb. x. 24. 
 
 ^ Amm. M, xxiii. ii. 3. with wbicH cf. Liban. Ejnst. 722. 
 
 8 Or. IV. 75, p. 113. 
 
 11—2 
 
164 JULIAN. 
 
 cation for the pride Julian took in liis selection of agents, 
 and Mamertiuus' avers that in selecting governors lie looked 
 not to intimacy of friendship, but to blamelessness of cha- 
 racter. The most natural conclusion is that, as might pnma 
 facie be expected, Julian's appointments were for the most 
 part or perhaps altogether confined to Pagans, but that in 
 making his choice he used all possible discriminationl In 
 cf. or.2.91. theory, if not in act, he certainly laid much stress on the 
 duty of careful selection of his ministers by the monarch. 
 What diligence he displayed in providing against preventible 
 abuses of power has been already shown. This very diligence 
 exposed him to misrepresentations: he enacted a salutary 
 decree^ that any one of whatsoever rank or order who had 
 attained to public functions of any kind whatsoever by irre- 
 cailar or underhand methods should forthwith forfeit all 
 
 o 
 
 emolument therefrom derived. As a matter of course the 
 officials, who were nominated by Constantius, were by pro- 
 fession Christians to a man. And Christian writers were too 
 apt to regard as martyrs for their faith men whose degrada- 
 tion was really due to far less honourable causes. Artemius* 
 secured a decent or even honourable niche in ecclesiastical 
 records; even Bp. George himself was supposed to have been 
 transfigured into the titular saint and patron of English 
 chivalry. 
 Funerals, There is in the Theodosian Code one Statute which may 
 
 '^'^' fairly be traced to religious differences. It is a sort of police 
 
 regulation against trespass and desecration of grave plots^ 
 
 1 Mamert. 25. Cf. Amm. M. xxii. vii. 6, 7. 
 
 2 It is just to say that Amm. M. xxi. x. 8, gives a very poor character to 
 Nevitta, one of Julian's most favoured nominees. Cf. Or. ii. 87 c. 
 
 3 The decree is worth quoting in full, for its decision and thoroughness. 
 Quicumque cuiuslibet ordinis, dignitatis, aliquod opus publicum, quoquo 
 genere, obscura interpretations meruerit, fructu talis beneficii sine aliqua 
 dubitatione privetur. Non solum enim revocamus, quod factum est, verum 
 etiam in futurum cavemus, ne qua fraude tentetur. Theod. Cod. xv. i. 10. 
 
 * Artemius, infr. p. 184. About George, Gibbon there can be no doubt 
 blundered : the saint's pedigree is better traced in Baring Gould's Curious 
 Myths of the Middle Ages. 
 
 5 Rifling of graves became at this time a common practice. Muratori 
 {Anecdota Graeca) collected eighty short copies of verses by Greg. Naz. 
 against the violators of tombs. Cf. De Bleterie on this decree. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 165 
 
 accompanied by a clause prohibiting funerals by day, as 
 inauspicious and unpleasant to the living, without any gain 
 to the dead. Though the philosophy of the decree is ex- 
 plained and justified in a lengthy rescript^ quite in Julian's 
 own manner, in which he expounds the natural affinities 
 between Darkness and the Grave, Sleep and Death, and the 
 probable diversities between the Gods Celestial and the Gods 
 Infernal, with some enlargement on the dissonance of funerals 
 with the market, the law-court, the daily round of town life, 
 and above all the worship of the Gods, the date of the decree, 
 Feb. 12, and the place, Antioch, irresistibly compel us to 
 connect it with the famous removal of the bones of Babylas, 
 and the impulse thereby given to converting public funerals 
 into Christian demonstrations. So viewed the decree re- 
 mains legitimate enough, rather a wise safeguard against 
 irritating disorders than in any sense persecution. 
 
 Julian's legislation on property touched the Church on Restora- 
 one of its tenderest sides. The acre of endowments, of masr- ^'""^ °-^ 
 
 ■n 1 -1 T Pill property. 
 
 nincent buildmgs, of landed estates and propertied communi- 
 ties had commenced. The fervour of acquisition, which late 
 emperors had so fostered, received from Julian a rude slap. 
 He decreed" in^general terms that municipal property which 
 duringlate troubles had passed into private hands should be 
 restored to the townships, to be leased out at a just valuation. 
 Equitable as was the spirit of the decree, its practical execu- 
 tion involved many hardships and aroused fierce resentment. 
 Much of the property in question, probably by far the greater 
 portion, had passed into the hands of Christians, not seldom 
 for directly religious purposes^ During the later years of Con- 
 stantius, when fortune had sunned him into a full-blown 
 tyrant, capricious, arrogant and intolerant. Pagans had every- 
 where felt the weight of the displeasure of their most Christian 
 king. Never perhaps was monarch served by more unscru- ■ 
 pulous ministers: his organised system of espionage drove 
 
 ' Ep. 77 in Hertlein, disinterred by him from a MS. [36G] in S. Mark's 
 library, Venice, and first edited in Hermes, Vol. viii. pp. 1G7 — 172. 
 " Tlieod. Cod. x. iii. 1. 
 ^ Liban. Epit. p. .'504, So?:, v. o. 
 
1C6 JULIAN. 
 
 every true man from his court and his service : if such a one 
 held to his post, he soon became, like Silvanus, the victim of 
 the plots of the wretched underlings whose interests he 
 thwarted. Men of the Eusebian stamp were everywhere busy 
 at their work of spoliation and embezzlement. Independ- 
 ently of these private depredations, an almost official pillage ^ 
 of temples was carried on. Some were rifled, some closed, 
 some completely demolished'^ Now the edict decreed the 
 restoration of all these. It was enforced upon Christian 
 Bishops, like Eleusius of Kyzikus, no less than upon unprin- 
 cipled speculators. Injustice once committed, nothing is 
 harder than to repair it. Reparation too often involves 
 injustice hardly less grievous than that which it attempts to 
 cure. Of this the present edict is an instance. That the 
 original owners should receive compensation was fair and 
 reasonable : that the existing owners should give the com- 
 pensation by no means followed. In many cases the property 
 in question had been put up to open sale, and the title of the 
 owner was perfectly legitimate. The real defaulter had long 
 ago disappeared, or wasted the proceeds, or perhaps met his 
 proper doom. A case in point is that of Theodulus, a Chris- 
 tian gentleman of Antioch. He had the misfortune to buy 
 (at its full price) a plot of ground fraudulently come by: he 
 had beautified it by a palatial residence, which formed a new 
 ornament to the town. The site had now to be restored to 
 the city authorities, and all that was upon it mercilessly 
 confiscated or destroyed. Another Christian, Basiliskus by 
 name, who in their darker days had befriended Pagan fellow- 
 townsmen, found himself on similar grounds called upon for 
 an enormous compensation; nothing but the leniency of his 
 creditors stood between him and absolute penury. These 
 are instances furnished by Pagan evidence: they serve to 
 
 1 The closing of temples is actually decreed in a law (Just. Cod. i. 
 xi. 1) supposed to date from 353. But the absence of date as well as a 
 (perhaps clerical) mistake in the Consular names appended, casts some doubt 
 on the actual publication of the edict. 
 
 2 For the systematic spoliation and demolition of temples by the state 
 authorities, cf. Liban. Pro Tempi, pp. 1(;3, IH.'., ,tc. and Kjyp. G07, G73, 1080. 
 Christian writers, e.g. Soz. in. 17, quite bear out the statements. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 167 
 
 show the incompleteness of a decree in its main tenor per- 
 fectly equitable. 
 
 There is one class__pf cases, in which the complications 
 were jrreater still. There was no commoner destination of 
 the sites, materials or embellishments of heathen temples 
 than their conversion to the use of Christian sanctuaries. 
 Often enough the holders had no real vested right of owner- 
 ship: some unprincipled patron had perhaps handed over to 
 the church, by way of atonement for his sins, a rich site or a 
 handsome edifice torn from the rightful proprietors. One 
 ordinary sample will illustrate the action of the edict. At 
 Tarsus, on his way to the Persian war, Artemius, priest of the 
 temple of ^sculapius at ^gse, represented to Julian that 
 the chief Christian minister of the place had taken away the 
 temple columns and employed them in rearing a Christian 
 Church. The emperor forthwith ordered restoration of the 
 stolen property at the expense of the bishop^ In this and 
 analogous cases a real grievance, not the less real because it may 
 be dubbed sentimental, was involved. However faulty the 
 title, the place had now become holy, set apart by episcopal 
 benediction, sanctified by the feet of worshippers, consecrated 
 maybe by the tombs of martyrs. The rare marble that held 
 the holy water or formed the altar slab had been torn per- 
 chance from Pagan shrines, yet had not the sacramental 
 water rested there and the holy elements reposed upon it ? 
 The gold of the chalices and the jewels that sparkled round 
 them had graced the thankoffering to some heathen God, 
 yet now had not the blood of Christ made them for ever 
 sacred? It is easy to imagine the strength of passions stirred 
 by such associations, and the bitterness of disputes into which 
 they entered. In some cases a compromise might be effected 
 by pecuniary compensation; in others this was impossible; in 
 others refused. No better illustration could be found than 
 the story of Mark of Arethusa^ He had taken advantage oi Mark of 
 Constautius' proclivities to demolish an ancient and much 
 
 1 Zouar. xin. xii. 25. After Julian's death the disputed cohimn (one 
 only had been as yet removed) returned to the Christian sanctuary. 
 " Greg. Naz. Or. iv. c. 88, 122 pp. Soz. v. 10. Theod. in. 7. 
 
168 JULIAN. 
 
 revered temple, and on its site had reared his metropolitan 
 church. The order came that he should restore the site and 
 rebuild the shrine; or as an alternative provide the equiva- 
 lent sum according to fair valuation. He refused to do either. 
 Avoiding the fury of the rabble, at first he fled. The mob 
 then turned upon his followers. Hearing of the danger to 
 which he had exposed his flock, the old man returned to 
 brave their rage. His grey hairs won him no reverence, nor 
 his stately bearing. There were magistrates and philosophers 
 and ladies there; but none raised a hand in his defence. He 
 was stripped naked and dragged through the filth. Wanton 
 women jeered him; schoolboys pricked him with their pens, 
 or leaped upon him. When abuse and insult had exhausted 
 themselves, the holy man, bruised, bleeding, torn, but still 
 alive, was smeared with honey and treacle, and hung up as 
 the prey of bees and wasps. But his spirit rose at every 
 affront; his tone grew higher each moment. Suspended 
 there he told them scornfully that he was higher than they. 
 He rejected every overture*. Not one penny, he said, could 
 a Christian bishop contribute to the cost of a Pagan shrine. 
 He would as soon pay the whole as a single penny. Nothing 
 could move him, or extort one word of compromise. His 
 stubborn patience turned the laugh, says Sozomen, against 
 his persecutors; and even among the highest officers of state 
 new souls that day were added to the Church. 
 
 This may serve as a sample of the working of this famous 
 edict. Though his stedfastness of faith, and his courage 
 imder torture may condone his fault, clearly Mark was in the 
 wrong. The original aggressor he was bound to make full 
 reparation. Cases analogous to these and few in number 
 hardly merit the name of persecution. Yet during the open- 
 ing months at any rate of his reign it is difficult to adduce 
 others against Julian. In the enactment of this edict an 
 impartial judgment will acquit him of bigotry or wilful per- 
 secution. The worst charge that can be brought is that of 
 haste and indiscretion, a serious but more venial allegation. 
 
 ^ By Gregory's admission the Paf^'ans abriilged their deiiiauds to a charge 
 little sJKirt of nomiiiiil. (ireg. Naz. Or. iv. !t(). Ho Theod. iii. vii. 10. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 1G9 
 
 No bare edict could meet the case. A permanent commis- 
 sion could alone have examined and adjusted conflicting 
 claims, for which Julian's own enactment rightly laid down 
 the general rule. In places doubtless acting magistrates 
 exceeded their commission, but this must not be laid entirely 
 at Julian's door. It was the fear of Julian's displeasure 
 which more than anything else restrained the mob of Are- 
 thusa from the worst extremities of violence. Mark was the 
 bishop who had saved ^ him when a child of six from the 
 clutch of the murderers. From respect for Julian's wrath 
 even the infuriated mob dared not put him to death: nor 
 did the emperor subsequently withdraw his sheltering segis'. 
 Thus even this horrible tale becomes a testimony to Julian's 
 personal tolerance rather than his violence. 
 
 It is time to pass to Julian's directly religious legislation. Religious 
 In that department his policy was, it need hardly be said, J^/^* "'' 
 reactionary. Historians^ impute to him an eagerness to undo 
 the work of Constantius. If Constantius had exiled Chris- 
 tians, Julian recalled them : clerical immunities which Con- 
 stantius had granted Julian rescinded ; his favours are said 
 toTiave been more marked towards the sects or the indi- 
 viduals, who had been visited by his predecessor with the 
 severest tokens of disjoleasure. If there is partial truth in the 
 charge that Constantius' adoption of one policy was in itself 
 a recommendation of the opposite to Julian, he certainly did 
 not hamper his action by this petty negative conception. 
 His idea of the true relations of Church and State was too Church 
 large, too positive, it might almost be said too dogmatic for "'"' '''''"'''• 
 such a procedure. He may justly be called the Constantine 
 of Paganism. Not merely because in his religious legislation 
 
 1 On this the silence of the historians casts some doubt ; Valesius to 
 satisfy a chronological clifEculty as to the death of the first Mark (of. note 
 on Soz. V. X. 10) assumes a second Mark to have succeeded to the same see. 
 Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 91 identifies the two without misgiving. The orator 
 questions whether Mark's sufferings were not a just, though imperfect, 
 retribution for his misplaced act of humanity. 
 
 - Liban. Ep. 730. Theoph.'s romance (i. p. 7.'J) of Mark's entrails being 
 torn out is a useful warning. 
 
 ' E.g. Soz. V. 5. 
 
170 JULIAN. 
 
 he_ returned to the lines laid down by the edict of Milan, 
 with this difference, that while free toleration was accorded 
 to all, the weight of State favour and material support was 
 transferred from the Christians to the Pagans : but also be- 
 cause he did endeavour in some sort to realise a Pagan 
 Church \ to create a mutually helpful union between the State 
 and the new Church, at once imparting religious sanctions to 
 services undertaken for the state, and conversely conferring 
 recognised civic rank on the ministers of religion, in a word 
 to establish Paganism. But though prima facie the Constan- 
 tine of Paganism, he was actuated by a more religious spirit 
 than the Christian Constantino. Both hoped to effect a 
 spiritual as "well as temporal unity in the Roman Empire. 
 But with Constantino the union of Church with State was 
 attempted primarily in the interests of the latter. Julian 
 conceived religious unity to be no less important than poli- 
 tical. The achievement of the former was of the two the 
 higher task. The priest took precedence of the magistrate ; 
 Julian as Pontifex Maximus, Pope Julian as one writer calls 
 him, was a more exalted personage than Julian Imperator: 
 the suppression of Germany, the overthrow of Persia were 
 preliminaries to the reconstruction of Hellenism. This re- 
 construction aimed at nothing less than a federation of all 
 existing cults into a Pagan Church Catholic, realising its 
 intellectual unity in the doctrines of Neo-Platonism, its ad- 
 ministrative in the person of the Emperor its head. 
 Paganism His conception of this Pagan Church will be presently ex- 
 amined : at this point its relation to the body politic alone 
 comes under discussion. All persecution of Paganism was 
 as a matter of course forbidden : the destruction of Pagan tem- 
 ples became a criminal offence, an attack upon the property 
 of the State. The official observance of Sunday and Christian 
 feasts was at once discontinued. But much more positive 
 steps were taken. The world-stage witnessed a veritable 
 
 1 It is odd enough to find Neander's translator (The Emp. JuUa7i, p. 107) 
 shrinking from the collocation •which Neander had correctly supplied, and 
 devoting a naive note " Kirche in the German ; but I cannot render it 
 Church...'!." to an avowal of Bhyness. 
 
 establisli 
 ed. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. l7l 
 
 transformation scene. It _ was one of Julian's first acts to 
 ensure the re-opening of the temples*; he did not confine him- 
 self to exhortation or example : charges were laid upon the 
 Christian destroyers, grants were made from the Imperial 
 treasury, in aid of restoration^; worshippers, in the army if 
 not elsewhere, were officially remunerated*; immunities were 
 granted to priests, or at least privileges conferred upon them. 
 The srreat festivals of heathendom, the Ludi Saeculares for in- 
 stance, were reinaugurated with historic pomp. The Emperor, 
 as Pontifex Maximus, became in virtue of his office head of the 
 Church, Defender of the Faith: he turned the palace into 
 a temple: at sunrise and sunset he offered libations^: he ap- 
 pointed prfests; established grades and orders; distributed 
 provinces into dioceses; visited or deprived unworthy priests; Ep.ci 
 prescribed rules of Church Discipline; regulated vestments, 
 precedence civil and ecclesiastical, celebration of festivals, > 
 indeed everything short of doctrine, which was left to national i 
 or congregational predilections. 
 
 Nor was it within the Church alone, as distinct from Paganism 
 State, that he manifested this activity. The Church was to ^irmy. 
 be a definitely recognised factor in the State, almost another 
 aspect of the State itself. Now the first duty of the State, 
 almost its raison d'etre, was war®; from a Roman point of view 
 that function took undisputed precedence of all arts of peace. 
 In so far, the Emperor himself excepted, the army was the 
 truest as well as the most tangible representative of the State. 
 It was there that Julian made the most consistent efforts 
 to reviYe Eagamsrri, and that his efforts were most rewarded 
 with success''. Religion wath the army had always been in 
 the main a matter of discipline; Constantino had made ser- 
 vices a part of drill. Re-conversion was easy. Soldiers 
 rendered very unquestioning adhesion to the creed of a suc- 
 
 1 Amm. M. xxii. v. 2, Sok. iii. i. 48, xi. 4, Soz. v. 1. Lib. Epit. 
 p. 564, Hepl Ti/JL. 'loyX. p. 57. In this paragraph I restate in its legal con- 
 nexion what has been already treated in its religious aspects. 
 
 - Soz. V. iii. 1. Nilieph. x. 5. ^ Liban. Ejiit. lxxxi. p. 578. 
 
 * Liban. Ejnt. lx. p. 564, Ad lul. Hyp. p. 394. 
 
 * Cf. Thcod. Cod. vi. xxvi. 1, supra, p. 160. 
 
 * Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 64, p. 106. 
 
172 JULIAN. 
 
 cessful and thoroughly popular commander: and a little pious 
 adjustment of decorations and promotions would produce a 
 most rapid and sensible effect. When Christianity was pub- 
 licly adopted as the state religion, such religious requirements 
 as army discipline recognised were modified suitably to the 
 emergency. Now that Christianity yielded in turn to Pagan- 
 ism, the reverse process ensued as a matter of course. The 
 religious observance of Sunday was officially ignored. The 
 Labarnm^ was in turn supplanted. The genius of Rome 
 replaced the figure of the Cross. Statues of the Emperor 
 were surrounded with Pagan emblems^; he was represented 
 as receiving from Jupiter the purple and the diadem, or 
 going to battle with the approving smile of Mars. Christian 
 writers, new and old, have combined to interpret this as a 
 cunnino- plot, worthy of the Apostate, to catch men unawares 
 and render them unconscious perverts. In reality it was 
 nothing of the kind; it was the most obvious and the only 
 consistent carrying out of Julian's first principles. Rather, 
 it would have been duplicity to do otherwise. Jiilian did 
 not conceal his Paganism : he paraded it. To have played 
 the Pagan as an individual, as legislator, and as Pontifex Maxi- 
 mus, and then to have flinched from the part as Imperator 
 would have been sheer childishness. He claimed the right, 
 which in Roman law and public opinion he indubitably pos- 
 sessed, of regulating the religious ceremonial of the State. 
 The view that such representations as those just alluded to 
 were crafty traps to contrive that men, in doing obeisance to 
 their Emperor, should in the act pay homage to the heathen 
 Gods, is a clumsy aspersion, far less consonant with the 
 character or the political position of Julian. It is on a line 
 with that reading of history, which can only explain Julian's 
 abstinence from persecution, by assuming that he grudged 
 Christians the honour of martyrdom. 
 The Dona- There is one occasion' at least, which has been somewhat 
 
 <»'^« coloured by Gregory's rhetoric, on which state ritual evoked 
 
 Mutijvj. 
 
 1 Cf. Euiuart, Passio Bonod et Maximiliani, Soz. v. xvii. 2, Greg. Naz. 
 
 .Or. IV. c. 66, p. 107. 
 
 - Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 80, 81. pp- Hfi, 117- Soz. v. 17. 
 
 3 Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 8S, p. 118 k(1(1., Soz. v. 17, Tlieod. iii. 16. 17. 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 173 
 
 rebellion. It was usual to celebrate great festivals on the 
 Emperor's natal day by a donative to the praetorian troops. 
 It had been the immemorial custom, in loyal acknowledg- 
 ment of the gift, to sprinkle frankincense upon the altar 
 prepared in readiness. When Julian's day of distribution 
 came, the antique custom was adhered to. The ceremony 
 was made easy even to the scrupulous. No Pagan image 
 was there, no Pagan God invoked. There was mere compli- 
 ance with a piece of military etiquette. So those that hesi- 
 tated were assured, and so the judicious reader may still be 
 ready to believe. At the time not a man seems to have de- 
 murred. Afterwards, however, when they had returned to 
 quarters, as they sat at mess^ significant inuendoes were flung 
 out, whether by the zeal of indiscreet Pagans or the malice of 
 renegade Christians. Over the cups words ran high: con- 
 sternation and uproar ensued. Some of the more vehement 
 Christians, carried away by excitement, rushed to the palace, 
 loudly proclaiming their loyalty to Christ. It was an act of 
 mutiny; and Julian was too wise and strict a disciplinarian 
 to allow such military insubordination to pass unnoticed. 
 Christianity was the last pretext that he was likely to accept 
 as an excuse for license. He ordered the ringleaders to be 
 flogged. But this sentence, in deference we are given to 
 understand to popular feeling, he subsequently commuted for 
 exchange to a less favoured military post^ 
 
 An analogous policy was pursued in the empire at large — Coinage. 
 Pagan emblems were re -adopted in the Imperial mint; in the 
 
 1 Johnson, Answer to Jovian, p. 202, shrewdly observes, ' This terrible 
 Legion... consists of a dozen or fourteen Men at the most, for they all rose 
 up from one Table.' The ' Theban Legion ' became a byword in these 
 seventeenth century controversies on Passive Obedience. 
 
 2 Theodoret embelhshes his account with more romantic details. By his 
 reading the offenders were led out to execution. The eldest generously 
 besought the executioner to begin with the youngest, for fear the death 
 of his elder comrades might sap his courage. The sword was bared, the 
 youngest of the number, Eomanus by name, was kneeling to the blow, when 
 the reprieve came. ' So Eomanus then,' said the intrepid youth, ' is not 
 worthy to be called Christ's martyr.' Theod. m. 17. Eode, p. 63, points out 
 with perfect justice that the whole proceeding affected only the praetorian 
 troops, and not the army at large. 
 
174 JULIAN. 
 
 strictly Roman coinage impersonations of the Glorj', the 
 Valour, or the Safety of Rome predominate; but on the Alex- 
 andrian the commonest of impressions is the Serapis head, 
 with some personification of Nilus, Anubis, or Isis, on the re- 
 verse; the latter very variously figured, sometimes crowned 
 with the lotus or holding the sistrum, now standing on her 
 galle}^, or drawn in her hippopotamus car, or once again mount- 
 ed on wolf or dog, or suckling the infant Horus. On the few 
 surviving specimens of Antiochene coinage occurs more than 
 once the veiled Genius of Antioch with her turreted crown 
 and at her feet a river God, while Apollo is portrayed on 
 the reverse. Even more distinctively Pagan than these is 
 the die representing the sacrificial bulP with twin stars 
 above the victim's head. Strangely enough no single coin 
 with the impress of a heathen God bears Julian's name^ 
 P^,hUc Public buildings received a similar treatment. The great 
 
 edifices, public fountain at Antioch for instance was dedicated to 
 heathen Gods. Theodoret^ scents a plot to incriminate Chris- 
 tians in the guilt of eating meats or drinking from vessels 
 that had been sprinkled with the lustral water of a heathen 
 deity. A less unfavourable construction is more in accord- 
 ance with the facts. Julian did but reassert the right assumed 
 by Constantino, the right namely of the Emperor to share 
 that religious liberty which was the privilege of his subjects. 
 But the Emperor was in many respects the individual repre- 
 sentative of the State. He was so in religion as in other 
 things. The State religion was in other terms the religion 
 of the Emperor, not the religion of the majority, or of any 
 representative body. With a change in the Emperor's 
 
 1 Oil this cf. Soli. III. 17, Soz. v. 19, Mis. 355 d, and notes on Mis. 360 d 
 in Duncombe's translation (p. 278). I have figured this interesting histori- 
 cal coin as frontisi^iece. The two stars are unexplained ; as symbols of the 
 Dioskuri they would here seem rrrelevant ; Mr King suggests to me that they 
 may have reference to the notion (still prevalent in the East) of the world 
 resting on a bull's horns, and being tossed at times from one to the other. 
 The specimen engraved is in Trinity College Library, Cambridge, and in 
 respect of the full legend HERACLA seems unique. 
 
 " He and his wife are more than once represented as Serapis and Isis. 
 
 3 Theod. HI. 15, repeated in the Acta of luvcntinua and Maximinus. 
 (Ruinart, p. 523.) 
 
ADMINISTRATION. 175 
 
 religion came necessarily a cliange in the State ceremonial, 
 wherever religion came into play. It was a matter of course 
 that at Julian's accession the State religious ceremonial 
 should change. He had as perfect a right to restore Pagan 
 ensigns as had Constantino to introduce the Labarum. It 
 was no more mean of Julian to set Jupiter over the head of 
 his statues than of Constantine to be portrayed with the 
 Cross. It was as natural for him to dedicate public buildings 
 to heathen Gods as for Constantine to dedicate them to 
 martyrs. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PEESECUTION UNDER JULIAN. 
 
 8<T0i t' eyifovTO Sit5/cTat 
 TTpbadev Kal fxeriweLTa koI v<TTaTioi(7L xpovotffi, 
 (Lv ■KVfj.aTov Trpwrdv re, KOLKhv BeX/ao ^ipedpov, 
 heivhv 'lovXiavoio Kparos, xj/vx'^" oXeriipos. 
 
 Geeg. Naz. 
 
 weldeiv fiiv ^irix^LpQv ^id^eadai. ?ii ovk d|twv avrds ouS^i' 
 6<j)(\os eSpLffKS TTJs avdyKTjs- Libanius. 
 
 Division 
 of reign 
 into 
 periods. 
 
 Section I. 
 
 Acts of Persecution. 
 
 The quotations that head this chapter show that no sHght 
 discrepancies must be faced in considering the question 
 Avhether and how far Julian deserves the title of persecutor. 
 The Christian historians appear, if but roughly, to recognise 
 two distinct periods in Julian's reign, or at least a change of 
 policy, which though it cannot be assigned definitely to a 
 very precise time or place, yet stamped the beginning and 
 close of his reign with distinguishable characters. At the 
 outset of his reign, writes Sokrates', 'the emperor Julian was 
 indulgent to all alike, but as time ivent on he began to display 
 partialities.' And Theodoret^ is hardly less explicit. True 
 the materials have been so ill labelled and sorted, that only 
 approximate correctness can be attained': but something 
 
 1 Sok. III. 11. ^ Theod. ni. 15. 
 
 3 Sozomen, after rehearsing the main instances of martyrdom which had 
 come to his knowledge, says candidly, v. xi. 'For the sake of clearness 
 I have recounted all together, even where the various occasions differed from 
 each other.' 
 
PERSECUTION. 177 
 
 will be gained in precision it" we refer to the period of the 
 residence at Antioch such incidents as demonstrably fall 
 within it, grouping the rest together even at the risk of 
 sometimes unduly anticipating. Further, in considering ciasi^ifica- 
 charges of persecution during the earlier part of Julian's ^ases! 
 reign, it will be well to discriminate various classes into which 
 the alleged instances naturally fall. First, instances of local 
 outbreaks of popular violence^ : secondly, official acts of perse- 
 cution by local governors : thirdly, cases in which the emperor 
 was directly implicated. Under our first head might fall the 1. Lnmi 
 sufferings of Mark of Arethusa, which have already been °" '^'^" "'" 
 recited. A more notorious instance is the fate of the virgins 
 of Heliopolis^ In this town had flourished a famous temple Heliopo- 
 of Venus, in connexion with which the inhabitants used to 
 drive a vile but lucrative trade in their daughters' virtue. 
 Constantine had closed, and apparently destroyed the shrine 
 on the score of the licentiousness of the rites there practised. 
 A church was erected in its place: a community of holy 
 virgins replaced the 'priestesses' of Venus. This Christian 
 travesty of what had been, bitterly galled the Pagan patrons 
 of the shrine. For years tliey brooded revengefully, but im- 
 potently. On the accession of Julian, leave was given to 
 leopen the temple. The elated Pagans were wild with joy. 
 The time for retaliation had come. Cyril the deacon who 'in 
 the reign of Constantine, fired with godly zeal, had broken in 
 pieces many of the sacred idols V was seized, killed and dis- 
 embowelled by the savage mob. Fitly to inaugurate old 
 forms of Venus- worship, the holy virgins were stripped naked, 
 publicly exposed, and after every indignity ripped up, and 
 
 ^ Soz, V. XV. 13 marks the clistinetion. ' Evoii in such outbreaks,' ho 
 adds, ' one must ascribe the blame to the Emperor ; for he did uot put the 
 laws in execution upon such offenders : from aversion to Christianity, while 
 pretending to rebuke, he really encouraged the wrong doers.' Persecutions 
 at Bostra are cited by way of example, 
 
 ^ No precise mark of time is given, but perhaps there is a reasonable 
 probability that the Heliopolitans did not v.ait for more than six months of 
 the new regime before restoring their temple. Authorities are Greg. Naz. 
 Or. IV. 87, p. 016 B, Soz. v. 10, Theod. iii. 7, Thmph. i. p. 78, Cliro}i. raxcli. 
 I. p. 510, Ruinart, p. 507, Kedren. i. p. 5.S3. 
 ^ Theod. III. vii. 3. 
 
 R. K. 12 
 
178 JULIAN. 
 
 their entrails flung to the pigs. Such is the account of 
 Sozomen, and we do not hear of condign punishment being- 
 inflicted on the offenders. 
 Ascalon Theodoret^ gives a very similar story of outrage on Chris- 
 
 and Gaza. ^^^^ priests and virgins at Ascalon and Gaza. In case of the 
 latter we have a more particular account of the martyrdom 
 of the brothers Eusebius, Nestabus and Zeno^ In the dark 
 days of Paganism the three had been conspicuous for the 
 insults and injuries they heajDed on the temples and images 
 of the Gods. At the time of the reaction tliey were im- 
 prisoned and then scourged. Their taunts and mutual 
 exhortations enraged the bystanders to such heat, that women 
 with their bodkins, cooks with boiling water, and roughs 
 with sheer force of hauling and tossing and bruising worried 
 to death their helpless victims. What is important to notice 
 is that the whole affair was an unpremeditated outburst of 
 passion, not any systematised persecution: and further, that 
 'the perpetrators, as soon as sober reflection revealed the true 
 nature of their excesses, seriously dreaded sharp chastisement 
 from the imperial justice: reports of Julian's vexation went 
 abroad, and that he even thought of decimating the mob who 
 Avere implicated ^' The sequel, as Sozomen gives it, must 
 in fairness be added. The rumour of the Emperor's anger 
 turned out mere gossip. So far from even blaming the popu- 
 lace, Julian deposed the governor of the district of his oftice, 
 giving him to understand that his previous leniency [pre- 
 sumably towards Christians] looked suspicious, and that he 
 had exceeded his rights in putting the ringleaders of the riot 
 under arrest. 'What need to arrest the fellows,' he said, 
 
 1 Theod. III. vii. 1. It is clear tliat borrowing from Greg. Naz. lie has 
 referred to Gaza the incidents which Sozomen locahses at Heliopolis. 
 Gregory's account is open to either rendering. 
 
 - Soz. V. 9, Theoph. i. p. 73, Nikeph. x. 8. Their Acts are found in 
 Euinart. Here once more chronological precision is unattainable. Thei'e 
 seems quite as much probability that the outrage was the sequel of the 
 Maiuma and Gaza award, recounted later, p. 185. The anxiety however of 
 those implicated suggests perhaps an earlier date, so — to be sure of not 
 treating Julian too handsomely — I have placed it here. Miicke takes ad- 
 vantage of Soz.'s ' so it is said ' to reject the tale. 
 
 3 Soz. V. 9. 
 
PERSECUTION, 170 
 
 'for retaliating on a few Galileans for all the wrongs tliey 
 had (lone to them and the Gods?' Here therefore, if Sozo- 
 men's tale be triie\ we have an ex post facto implication of 
 Julian in a passionate outburst of persecution. 
 
 The records of acts of desecration are curiously scanty; D<'.?<'cra- 
 perhaps from their very commonness^ they became so much a ''""' 
 matter of course, that to enumerate them was beneath the 
 dignity of history. Samples however are not wanting. In- 
 dependently of the confiscation of church vessels, as at Antioch 
 or Csesarea, accompanied by acts of grossest profanation, 
 Sebaste^ was stripped of her treasured relics, the reputed 
 bones of Elisha and of John the Baptist, while at Emesa* the 
 Pagans burnt the martyrs' shrines and rededicated the church 
 to Dionysus Gynnis (yvvvL'i), setting up withal a grotesque 
 image of the androgynous deity; some similar profanation 
 took place at Epiphania^ in Syria, and Ambrose® speaks of 
 two Christian basilicas being fired by the Jews. At Paneas' 
 (Caesarea Philippi), the miracle-working statue of Jesus was 
 thrown from its pedestal in the sacristy of the Church, and 
 ruthlessly broken in fragments. 
 
 Under our present head no other instances of pei-secution Summary. 
 witb bloodshed are alleged with any pretence to exactitude, in 
 the earlier months of Julian's reign. To summarise then the 
 results so far obtained. First, the instances are surprisingly 
 few, three at most: secondly, individuals only were assailed, 
 not classes: thirdly, each case is of the nature of an outburst 
 of passion, nothing approaching methodical persecution 
 
 ^ The story, coming on Sozomen's sole authority, reads curiously enough ; 
 he appears to be thinking of an anecdote of Greg. Naz. against Julian, which 
 belongs to a different time and occasion, viz. the destruction of the Temple 
 of Fortune at Cassarea (cf. Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 92, 93). We are not told 
 who formed th^ deputation, or in what di'ess the facts were brought before 
 the Emperor. 
 
 2 Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 86, 613 c. 
 
 3 Philost. VII. 4, Theod. in. vii. 2, Chron. Pas<-h. i. p. 546, Glykas, iv. 
 p. 470. Elisha (cf. Nikeph.) appears to be a later addition, and is probal)ly 
 a mere mistake for ' the second Elisha.' 
 
 ■* Theod. III. vii. 5, Chron. Pasch. i, p. 547. This was the work of the 
 townsmen, not officials. Misop. 357 c, 361 a. 
 
 s Chron. Pasch. i. p. 547. « Amb. Ep. 40, p. 949 sq. 
 
 " Philost. VII. 3, S<iz. V. 21, Glykas, iv. p. 470, Kedr. i. p. 534. 
 
 12—2 
 
180 JULIAN. 
 
 occurs: finally, every instance is distinctly retaliative, and the 
 provocation given was considerable \ On the whole we infer 
 that during Julian's earlier months there were quite remark- 
 ably few cases of intolerance proceeding to bloodshed: and 
 that the Emperor's influence must have been, as more than 
 once we have proof that it was, strongly exerted on the side 
 of peace and toleration. 
 2. Official We have next to handle the reported instances of official 
 tion^'^^'^' persecution, and to consider how far they reflect upon Julian. 
 S. JEmi- The first case for notice is that of S. ^milian. He was 
 
 Doroito- a young soldier, resident at Dorostolus, a town in Thrace. 
 Ills. Pagan worship, for some time in abeyance, having been rein- 
 
 augurated there under the impulse of court favour, iEmilian, 
 indignant at what he deemed a sacrilegious insult, made his 
 way into the temple, overturned the altars, and flung sacri- 
 fices and libations right and left. For this offence he was 
 brought to the bar of Capitolinus, scourged, and put to a cruel 
 death by burning. His punishment calls for two remarks. 
 First, by medieval and more modern use death by burning 
 became more -or less the monopoly of religious misdemea- 
 nours, but Roman law appears to have recognised it still as 
 a penalty for purely j)olitical offences^. Secondly, as to the 
 severity of the punishment. The Church has canonised S. 
 iEmilian, we are told^, owing to the disproportion between 
 
 1 It may also be noticed that all the instances are drawn from the East. 
 To insist on this too strongly would be unwarrantable. The fact is, writers 
 themselves as a rule have repeated for the most part the charges of 
 Gregory of Nazianzus, whose sources of information were confined to the 
 East. Kuinart, Acta Mart. p. 507, alludes to martyrs at Rome, mentioning 
 the names of the brothers John and Paul, but all evidence is wanting. 
 A mass is appropriated to them in the Gelasiau Missal, but their pretended 
 Acts are apocryphal. Tillemont, Hist. Eccl. vii. 350 pp., mor§ than exhausts 
 the subject. De Broglie (L'Eglise, dc. iv. p. 294 note) is probably right in 
 concluding that there was little or no persecution in the Western Empire. 
 
 - Cf. Amm. M. xxii. iii. 11. From Jul. Ep. 74, where there is an allusion 
 to the burning of Paul ' the Chain,' the Emperor might appear to have dis- 
 approved and even abrogated death by burning. But the old barbarian 
 aidovvra must give way to avdovvra, and the reference consequently becomes 
 obscured if not obliterated. 
 
 ^ Cf. De Broglie, iv. p. 182, wliere the narrative is as iisual somewhat 
 richly coloured. Sokr. and Soz. do not mention, while Theod. in. 7 devotes 
 
PERSECUTION. 181 
 
 his offence and its chastisement. Now sacrilege by the 
 Roman code was by no means a venial peccadillo : still more, 
 at a time when public feeling was perilously tense, when a 
 taunt or a prank might have proved the signal for a general 
 riot, exploits like that of ^milian could not but become 
 dangerously incendiary in character, and merit corresponding 
 severity of treatment. 
 
 Another cardinal instance of savage zeal against Christian Amacldus. 
 sacrilege is that of the prefect Amachius\ At Merus in 
 Phrygia the decaying temple had been by official order re- 
 stored, and the statues belonging to it cleaned and replaced. 
 Such proceedings incensed the Christians, and one morning 
 the guardian of the temjale woke to find the cherished •» 
 
 statues shivered in pieces. The prefect was not unnaturally 
 enraoed: to shelter the innocent from his angler, the real 
 perpetrators, three young Phrygians named Macedonius, Theo- 
 dulus, and Tatian, generously surrendered to justice. They 
 were granted the option of offering sacrifice, but scornfully 
 refused thus to redeem their guilt. They suffered torture 
 with great constancy, and as the terrible penalty of their 
 sacrilege were slowly roasted to death. 
 
 Ankyra was another place at which the strife of parties Anlajra 
 appears to have been both violent and confused. Perhaps ^_ Basil. 
 the prospect or the realisation of the Emperor's presence in 
 the town stimulated zeal into fanaticism. We read^ of a 
 certain Busiris, of the sect of the Encratites, who for insults 
 against the Pagans was arrested by order of the Governor, 
 tortured and imprisoned, and only released on the news of 
 Julian's death. Genellus, we are briefly told, was crucifiedl 
 But in the case of S. Basil of Ankyra we have far more pun- 
 gent particularities \ This fiery young presbyter * had been put 
 
 only two lines to iEmiliau. S. Jer. in Euseh. Cliron., Chron. Pasch. i. p. 549, 
 Nikeph. x. 9. 
 
 1 Sok. III. 15, Soz. V. xi. 1—3, Nikeph. x. 10. 
 
 - Soz. V. xi. 4—6. ^ Euinart, Acta Mart. 507. 
 
 * Euinart, Acta Mart. 510 pp., Nikeph. x. 10. 
 
 5 He had aspired to the see oi Ankyi-a, and the recent elevation of 
 Eudoxius to the office proved a considerable mortification to him. rhilo.st. 
 7-:. H. IV. R. See Soz. v. xi. 10, 11. 
 
182 JULIAN. 
 
 under arrest for insults publicly otiered to persons engaged in 
 sacrifice, and for seditious preaching in the streets. Brought 
 before the bar of Saturninus the Proconsul, and exhibiting 
 nothing but the most uncompromising defiance, be was 
 floocred and imprisoned. There he was visited by a special 
 imperial commissioner Pegasius, whom he taunted with 
 apostasy. After a second hearing before the Proconsul, Basil 
 was remanded until the arrival of the Emperor \ Julian sum- 
 moned the saint before his tribune. His efforts to convince 
 him of the foolishness of Christianity were met with re- 
 proaches and anathemas, 'Misguided man,' said the Em- 
 peror at last, 'I wished to set you free; as you do but reiterate 
 insult, and spurn my advice, and treat me to one affront 
 after another, the dignity of Empire requires that seven strips 
 be flayed from your body every day.' In the sequel we are 
 told how the confessor cast one of the ordained strips in the 
 Emperor's face, saying, 'Take, Julian, the food you relish.' 
 His indignant warder forthwith made the daily flaying more 
 sevei-e, and on Ju.lian's departure for Antiocb ended his slow 
 torture by execution. When brought to the block all traces 
 of the martyr's scars had miraculously^ disappeared, so that 
 his body was presented to the executioner pure and whole 
 as his soul was to the Saviour! As the irons heated white 
 hot were plunged into his entrails, he fell into a sweet sleep 
 and died! The Acts intimate, what Sozomen's more sober 
 account states explicitly, that his death was contrary to the 
 Emperor's will. 
 Siimmari/. The evidence^ is now duly ranged and marshalled, which 
 will enable the reader to distinguish equitably between 
 Julian and his subordinates. In times of great religious 
 excitement embittered partisans invariably outrun their 
 orders. It was so at Ankyra: it was so later at Alexan- 
 dria, where fines and corporal punishments were inflicted, 
 
 ^ This fixes the date to June 362, when Jiiliau was journeying from 
 Constantinople to Antioeh. 
 
 " The miracle might cause temporary uneasiness to the most credulous. 
 
 ^ It will be observed that there is no recorded instance of official perse- 
 cution of the Christians on the score of religion, without aggressive provoca- 
 tion on their part. 
 
PERSECUTION. 183 
 
 we read, 'beyond the Imperial instructions\' In such cases 
 their party is made responsible for their excesses, and not 
 altogether unjustly. But an individual leader of a party is 
 morally innocent, if he has neither inflamed nor approved 
 such outrageous exhibitions of zeal. By this standard, no 
 man can rate Julian's culpability very high. On the whole, 
 whether we regard the dealings of citizens with one another 
 or of governors with their subordinates, we may fairly con- 
 gratulate all parties concerned on the general restraint put 
 upon actions in an age when sectarian animosities, alike in 
 feeling and in word, ran very strong. Since the promulga- 
 tion of the Edict of Milan principles of tolerance bad made 
 enormous strides. Christians as a body, whatever may have 
 been the conduct of a Constantius or of not a few schemino* 
 prelates, had not yet renounced tenets which during three 
 centuries of oppression they had urged importunately. It 
 had come to the turn of the Pagans to advocate like prin- 
 ciples in their own interest — and this was done now as before 
 not only by Julian, but by most leading Hellenists, eminently 
 by the most representative of all, Libanius. Hence it came 
 about that only a few individual, and it may almost be added 
 I^ardonable, instances of persecution resulted from the spas- 
 modic reintroduction of an abandoned State-religion, in 
 defiance of the sentiments of the subjects at large. For these 
 stories of persecution entirely corroborate what is certain 
 from other sources, namely, that Christianity was at this time 
 consciously the winning religion. They prove that the bureau- 
 cratic machinery of a perfectly centralised despotism was 
 impotent seriously to check Christianity, nay had a struggle 
 even to vindicate its proper rights and secure respect for its 
 established ceremonial. Where persecution did occur, it was 
 provoked, if not necessitated, by Christians: Christians took 
 the initiative in intolerance. Nor need this surprise. There 
 is a noble intolerance which Christianity has always avowed; Christian 
 laying claim to be universal, she has never patiently acqui- "**°^^- 
 esced in the triumph or coexistence of a rival: never, except 
 when palsied by corruption or indifference. It is theoretically 
 ' Sok. III. 14. 
 
184 JULIAN. 
 
 impossible for any universal religion to make truce with 
 rival systems. To do so were an abdication of right, a con- 
 fession of falseness. But Christianity has too often forgotten 
 the sphere to which alone this noble intolerance may extend. 
 She has confounded with it a bastard intolerance, unchris- 
 tian in aim and action, intruding itself beyond the proper 
 sphere of religion into outer spheres of thought, or science, or 
 law, or policy, or even brute violence. Such was the case 
 with Christianity at this epoch. No sooner had it attained 
 legal equality with other religions than it claimed superiority; 
 no sooner had superiority been granted, than elate with 
 success it claimed autocracy and summoned State pohce to 
 its assistance. A Pagan reaction, a reassertion of trampled 
 superstitions, was a startling surprise. Astonished Christians 
 used illegitimate means of resistance; not only breach of 
 courtesy or breach of charity, but stubborn breach of law, was 
 accounted a fair weapon for the fight. Nay even offensive 
 
 cr.Ep.M. tactics were adopted: Pagans had to seek protection from 
 the law. Christianity had mistaken her right sphere of 
 intolerance, and needed to be taught her error. For this 
 end severe punishments were often necessary. And perse- 
 cution is no right name for the assertion of the paramount 
 majesty of law over the freaks of unruly citizens. 
 
 JiiUan'it Finally, confining ourselves still to the earlier months of 
 
 Xm.'"*' the reign, we consider Julian's personal implication in acts of 
 persecution. The tenor of his laws, and to some extent his 
 idea of the relations between Church and State are already 
 before us. The simple remembrance of the principles therein 
 embodied will explain many damaging charges. Oct. 20 was 
 consecrated by the Greek and Latin Churches to the memory 
 
 Artemivs. of Artemius, military prefect in Egypt, whom Theodoret' re- 
 presents as stripped of his goods and beheaded by 'the most 
 humane' Emperor for his zeal against idols in the days of 
 Constautius'''. In reality, a worthy successor to Sebastian, he 
 
 1 Theod. III. 18. 
 
 2 Chron Pasch. similarly records his death, which Nikeph. x. xi. further 
 imputes partly to his ha\'ing conveyed the bones of S. Andi'ew, S. Luke and 
 S. Timothy from Patrro, Achaia, and Ephesus to Constantinople. It did 
 not take place till after .Tiiliau's arrival at Antioch. Amm. M. xxii. xi. 2. 
 
PERSECUTION, 185 
 
 Avas the detested abettor of the infamous Bp. George, whose 
 iniquities and exactions' he upheld by military violence, and 
 was put to death for civil not religious offences, one main 
 allegation being complicity in the death of Gallus. 
 
 At Kyzikus the Novatian Church had been destroyed by Kyzikus. 
 Eleusius the orthodox bishop of the town^ He was peremp- 
 torily required to rebuild it, and at a subsequent period was 
 apparently banished by the Empei"or from his see. At the same 
 time Sozomen^, who gives us the information, does not conceal 
 that the assigned cause was political agitation. The offences 
 named are desecration, and damage inflicted on Pagan 
 shrines; institution of widows' houses, and establishments for 
 sisterhoods; proselytism; introduction of bodies of Christian 
 partisans into the town; organisation of anti-Pagan demon- 
 strations, more particularly among the important guilds of 
 the wool-workers and coin-casters. 
 
 Julian was naturally brought into constant contact with 
 Christianity in his judicial functions. In one instance a 
 whole town is said to have been prejudiced by the unjudicial 
 religious animosities of the judge. Maiuma, the Piraeus* of j/antwd. 
 Gaza, for its devotion to Christianity, was elevated by Constan- 
 tine to the rank of an independent city, and was christened 
 Constantia after its benefactor's son. The Pagans of Gaza 
 were violently jealous of their upstart dependents. The story 
 of Eusebius and Nestabus has shown what extremes religious 
 feuds reached. The independence of Maiuma was an injury 
 as well as an insult, and one too ever present in a galling 
 form. On Julian's accession the Gaza^ans laid a plea before 
 the Emperor. Be it that, as Christian historians say, he 
 
 1 George appears to have levied arbitrary dues on baptism, burial, and 
 other church rites, besides enjoying profitable monopolies in saltpetre, salt 
 and paper. De Broglie, L'Eglise, iLv. iv. 75. Mr Johnson, p. 47, summa- 
 rising Artemius' virtues, writes, 'The whole business amounts to no more 
 than this, that he was a Good, Godly, Lawful, Wicked, Profane, Sacrilegi- 
 ous Image-breaker!' Cf. Amm. M. xxii. xi. 2, Nikei^h. x. xi. p. 30. 
 
 ' Sok. III. 11, Soz. V. 5. 
 
 3 Soz. V. 15 supported, or rather quoted, by Nikepli. x. v. p. 17, x. xx. p. 44_ 
 
 ■• Soz. v. 3, Nikeph. x. 4. The harbour suburb stood some two and a half 
 miles from the main town. This piece of arbitration is usually, and I do not 
 doubt rightly, referred to Julian's rewideuce at Antioch, but I know of no 
 evidence absolutely defining the exact date : see however, p. 17H, v. '2. 
 
the bench. 
 
 186 JULIAN. 
 
 took especial delight in undoing the work of Constantine and 
 Constantius, or rather that in pursuance of his avowed policy 
 he desired to disconnect political and material advantages 
 from religious creed, Julian rescinded the privileges and im- 
 munities conferred by Constantius. At the same time while 
 unifying the municipal organisation, he retained the twofold 
 episcopal jurisdiction initiated by Constantine. The decision 
 does not bear the stamp of a very violent odium theologicum, 
 and taken alone cannot substantiate a charge of persecution 
 against Julian. 
 
 Julian on In his personal demeanour as a judge Julian aimed at 
 preserving rigorous impartiality. He was too loquacious and 
 argumentative, too fussy* and inquisitive, perhaps even too 
 sensitive and too anxious after certainty, to be a really power- 
 ful judge. But he spared no pains and prided himself on his 
 <i strict fairness. It was characteristic of the man to inquire* 
 of each pleader what religion he professed, if only to certify 
 to himself as well as to others his superiority to all preju- 
 dice. Anecdotes even like that of S. Basil of Ankyra, stripped 
 of their sensational appendages, fairly bear out Ammian's 
 verdict that 'neither religion nor anything else made him 
 swerve from the path of equity^' 
 
 Maris, Bp. As an individual moreover, even when most nearly touched, 
 
 of c hake- j^g seems to have exercised the same self-control as in his 
 don. 
 
 official guise. Considering the impetuosity of his character, 
 
 and not less the vanity which again and again peeps through 
 the philosopher's mask, the following incident* does Julian 
 no small credit. The scene is laid at Constantinople, the 
 imperial city. There the Emperor before assembled multi- 
 tudes was doing public sacrifice to the Genius of the City. 
 An old blind man is led in, Maris, the bishop of Chalcedon. 
 Interrupting the solemn service, he brands the Emperor aload 
 with the title of Heathen and Apostate. Julian with charac- 
 teristic® want of dignity, taunted him with his blindness. 
 
 1 'In disceptanJo aliqnotiens erat intempestims,' says Amm. M. xxu. 
 X. 2, criticising him as a judge, but cf. p. 131, n. 4. * /^^mm^ m. xxii. x. 2. 
 _;^^^3^mm. M. XXII. x. 2 ; cf. xviii. i. 2—4; xxii. ix. 9—12, x. 1—7; xxv. 
 iv. 7—9, 19. 
 
 * Sok. III. 12, Soz. V. 4, Tlieoph. i. p. 74, Zonar. xiii. 12, Kedr. i. p. 535. 
 
 •'' At the same time the story we must remember has passed through the 
 
PEKSEL'UTION. 187 
 
 'Be sure,' lie said, 'your Galilean God will never heal you.' 
 'Nay,' answered Maris, 'I thank God for my blindness, that 
 has spared me the sight of an apostate!' The Emperor had 
 by this time recovered his composure, and without a word 
 passed quietly out of the building. Of these earlier months 
 better words could hardly be found than the terse summary 
 of the Christian chronicler, who describes Julian's policy as 
 'a gentle violence that strove to win not drive \' 
 
 But as months went by Julian, we are told, grew em- Julian 
 bittered. In the words of Theodoret, 'Then did Julian begin ^J'l^^/f^j^ 
 more openly or rather more shamelessly to wage war upon 
 the faith. Wearing a mask of clemency, he set snares and 
 pitfalls to catch the unwary and bring them to everlasting 
 perdition.' There was much to tempt it. In his policy of 
 persistent toleration he stood almost solitary. It proved 
 neither so easy nor so triumphant as he had anticipated. It 
 was too often interpreted as conscious weakness by enemies, 
 as a stupid scrupulosity by friends. Pagans besieged him 
 with importunities ; Christians nettled him by ingratitude. 
 As fear subsided, sectarian animosities swelled more turbu- 
 lently. Julian set out for the East bent on maintaining the 
 same policy he had hitherto pursued. In his progress through 
 Asia he was met constantly by indifference, not seldom by open 
 derision. He was compelled to avoid or hurry by the more 
 Christian towns. Arrived at Antioch, his tone assumes a 
 sterner type. Writings and acts alike betray his mortification. 
 It is this period we must now examine more minutely. His 
 changed temper is evident in his correspondence. He chafes 
 more irritably under opposition; he condescends to pettier 
 expedients. Vexation sours his generosity : irritation distorts 
 his sense of justice. His imperial acts faithfully reflect the 
 personal asperities into which he was galled. 
 
 An instance of this is furnished by Julian's letter to the Juiianand 
 people of Bostra^ dating from the earliest part of his residence ^j-^^g""^"' 
 
 mint of Sozomen. Perhaps Julian alluded to liis physical infirmity as a fair 
 emblem of the moral or intellectual darkness that encompassed him. 
 
 1 'Blanda persecutio illiciens magis quam impelleus ad sacrificandum.' 
 S. Jer. Eu-teb. Chron. pp. 503, 504. 
 
 ■■' Ep. 52. Little is added by Soz. v. 15, Tlienph. i. p. 71, Ac. 
 
188 JULIAN. 
 
 at Antioch. It can hardly be omitted in the present con- 
 nexion, though strictly it involves meanness, rather than 
 violence, in the endeavour to put down Christianity. At 
 Bostra^ much party rancour had been displayed. The rival 
 religious factions were numerically well balanced, and the 
 clergy seem to have incited the mob to various misdemea- 
 nours. Titus, however, the bishop, had at any rate done 
 his utmost to appease irritation, and, the storm having abated, 
 wrote to Julian to say that tbe Christians, though a fair 
 match for the Pagans, had been restrained by his exhortations 
 from any excesses. Thereupon Julian, trumping up a paltry 
 charge against Titus of stigmatising the citizens to belaud 
 himself, advises the Bostrenians to drive out their bishop as 
 a slanderer. So petty a piece of backbiting was received, it 
 may be hoped, with the contempt it merited. In such con- 
 duct the Pagans found an incentive to persecution, outweigh- 
 ing many maxims of toleration ^ 
 Julian and Referring at a venture to this same period^ the letter that 
 deals with the Cliristians of Edessa, we have in it another 
 display of signally bad taste, if no worse charge is involved. 
 Constan tins'* had handed over the great basilica of the place, 
 dedicated to S. Thomas the Apostle, to the Arian faction. 
 The Valentinians however formed a considerable party in the 
 town. Internecine war raged between the two sects; till the 
 weaker were suppressed by a series of atrocities, disgraceful 
 to any civilised community. Hereupon Julian made the 
 wealthy Arians feel the weight of imperial displeasure, by 
 handing over the ecclesiastical funds to the resident military, 
 and confiscating the church domain to fiscal uses. The 
 punishment may have been deserved"^, but whether that be 
 
 1 Tourlet, whom Talbot follows, supposes the Bostra in Ai'abia (cf . Amm. 
 M. XIV. viii. 13) is the town addressed. 
 
 2 Soz. V. sv. 13. 
 
 3 There appears no satisfactory evidence as to the exact date of the 
 letter. On the way to his Persian expedition Julian hurried past Edessa, in 
 displeasiu'e at the Christianity of the townsmen (Soz. vi. i. 1), a more rea- 
 sonable prejudice perhaps than Soz. or Theod. (in. 26) would lead us to 
 suspect. 
 
 •* Sok. IV. xviii. 
 
 '' There art? piood reasons for interpreting Julian's conduct thus favour- 
 
 Ep. 43. 
 
PERSECUTION. 189 
 
 SO or not, Julian had no right to add the scornful remark 
 that such a deprivation of goods would minister for them a 
 readier entrance into that kingdom of heaven for which they 
 looked. It is just such a pettish unjudicial remark as reflects 
 doubt on the justice of the sentence itself. 
 
 Julian's treatment of Csesarea, in time^ probably as in Julian avd 
 kind, belongs to this period. This town^ the metropolis of ^'^"'''^"■• 
 Cappadocia, had in years gone by been adorned with three 
 handsome temples, two of which, those namely of Jupiter 
 and Apollo, had been razed during the reign of Constantius. 
 When Julian's policy of toleration became known, the town- 
 council proceeded to demolish the surviving shrine sacred to 
 the Genius of the State. Julian, indignant at this open 
 defiance of his known sentiments, avenged the breach of state- 
 law by penalties similar to but severer than those inflicted 
 at Edessa. Not only were orders given for the immediate 
 restoration of the temples, the confiscation of the ecclesiasti- 
 
 ably. The fanaticism of parties at Edessa is exemplified by the stubborn 
 zeal of Christians there in the reign of Valens. The basilica of S. Thomas, 
 as well as the other churches, being in the hands of the Aiians, the orthodox 
 CathoUcs used to muster in a plain immediately outside the walls (Soz. vi. 
 18, Sok. IV. 18). Valens, with the concmTence it may be assumed of the 
 Arians, ordered a general massacre : whereupon women and children hurried 
 to the spot, that they might not miss the glory of expected martyrdom. 
 Further, none of the Church historians adduce Julian's treatment of Edessa 
 as an instance of persecution : this would be decisive, were it not that here- 
 tics were the people affected. 
 
 ^ Soz. V. 4, dates these occurrences vaguely as about synchronous with 
 Julian's arbitration between Gaza and Maiuma (see p. 185), but implies that 
 they did not long precede Julian's death. The spurious letter announcing 
 to BasU the penalties inflicted on the town may be cori'ect in its assumption 
 of being written on the eve of the Persian campaign. The letter in question 
 {Ep. 75) is derived only from the collection of letters of Basil (the Great), 
 and is rejected by the best editors. It is not the least in Julian's style : it is 
 filled with the strangest bombast : it introduces tribes unknown to geo- 
 graphies, and words unknown to lexicons : it contains more than one gram- 
 matical solecism, and closes with a well-known jeu d'e.tprlt of Julian, which 
 in the context is absolutely deprived not merely of point, but of bare sense. 
 Neither Gregory nor the Church Historians were cognisant of its contents. 
 Teuffel in Schmidt's Zeltsch. fur Gesch. 1845, Vol. iv. 160 pp. refers it on the 
 internal evidence of language to a Christian hand. * 
 
 - Soz. V. 4, Nikeph. x. 4, Theoph. i. p. 73. 
 
1 90 JULIAN. 
 
 cal estates, and the imposition of a fine of 300 lbs. of gold', 
 
 but a capitation-tax was levied on all Christians, the prefect 
 
 was deposed and banished, and the ecclesiastics degraded to 
 
 the most costly and humiliating kind of military service'^. 
 
 We are told^ conjecturally that a certain noble, Eupsychius, 
 
 was put to death with others of his co-religionists, but against 
 
 the will of the Emperor. If Sozomen is correct in his facts, 
 
 the penalty decreed was certainly severe*, though hardly 
 
 exceeding the provocation. 
 
 Julian and To turn from Asia to Africa, Alexandrian politics® engaged 
 
 Aiexcm- ^ considerable share of Julian's attention. At his accession 
 ana. 
 
 George of the see was occupied by the unscrupulous George. Armed 
 (Mu! violence of Constantius' agent had banished the lawful bishop 
 Athanasius, and replaced him after horrible scenes of outrage 
 and desecration by this infamous successor. The adherents 
 of Athanasius, numbering all the better Christians of the 
 town, had perforce tolerated the bishop whom in their hearts 
 they hated: meanwhile in secret they were guided by the 
 councils, and looked longingly for the return, of the fugitive 
 Athanasius himself. George's real support was derived first 
 from the Arian Court which had nominated him, afterwards 
 from the rude soldiery who obeyed the governor's beck. No 
 sooner had this governor Artemius, and some of his most 
 guilty accomplices in crime expiated their past misdeeds 
 before the bar of Julian's special tribunal, than George was 
 left at the mercy of the citizens. For indeed Bishop George 
 was yet more execrated by Pagans than by orthodox Chris- 
 tians. He violated their sanctuaries alike in word and act; 
 he forbade their worship, openly threatening to set light to 
 'the death-vault,' as he contemptuously designated the prin- 
 
 ^ Ep. 75 converts 300 into 1000, and threatens to raze the entu-e town, 
 building temples and shrines from the ruins of the principal edifices. 
 
 - Commentators are at a loss to explain this. The lowest form of 
 military service, sc. the cohortalis, was the least expensive. Doiibtless 
 Gregory (Or. iv. p. 92 a) means the worst remunerated. 
 
 =* Soz. V. xi. 7, 8, Nikeph. x. 10. 
 
 4 How much of the decree was executed and how much 'prevented by 
 Juhan's death ' is not left very clear by Soz. 
 
 5 Amm. M. xxii. xi, Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 86 and xxi., Philost. vii. 2, Sok. 
 III. 2 — 4, Soz. v. 7, Theoph. i. p. 72, Nikeph. x. vi — vii. 
 
PERSEGUTIOxX. 191 
 
 cipal temple' of the place. A certain plot of land too, the 
 site of the ancient Mithrium or temple of Mithras, had been 
 made over to him for the erection of a church. In clearing 
 the foundations a subterranean vault was found, in which 
 numerous skulls were discovered, and a variety of grotesque 
 implements were found, employed formerly for the inspection 
 of livers, and for various bloody and obscene rites that cha- 
 racterised the Mithras cult. The bishop wantonly and mor- 
 tally exasperated the heathen population by parading these 
 through the streets amid the jeers and hoots of assembled 
 crowdsl Kiots followed, resulting in the incarceration of the 
 bishop : subsequently watching their opportunity, the Pagans 
 stormed the prison, dragged out the bishop, and kicked or 
 trampled him to death. The disfigured remains they jaaraded 
 through the streets on a camel, finally burning them and 
 casting the ashes into the sea. Two imperial officers ^ who 
 had abetted his crimes, shared his fate. The Christians, 
 little caring to defend so unworthy a chief, remained as a 
 body passive spectators, certain of the more violent partisans 
 of Athanasius actually compromising themselves among the 
 Pagan rioters*. To complete the tale, Julian, while acknow- 
 ledging and denouncing the criminality of the detestable 
 George, rebuked the Alexandrians for their precipitate vio- 
 lence in anticipating the hand of justice, and warns them 
 that by' their inhuman atrocity they had forfeited the good 
 opinion of them he had but so lately expressed. He purposed 
 at first sharp punishment, but eventually, beyond this rather 
 faint reprimand, took no steps to bring the conspicuous cul- 
 prits to justice, from respect, he says, to the God Serapis, and 
 
 1 A temple consecrated to the Genius of the town. Amm. M. xxir. xi. 7. 
 It was a common gibe, first invented by the Christians, but after the days of 
 martjTS effectively retorted upon them by Pagans, to call places of worship 
 Td<povs. 
 
 2 Eode, p. 90 note, rather arbitrarily rejects all this as a fiction of Sokrates. 
 On the chronology see Note 6 in Appendix B. 
 
 3 One, Dracontius, had pulled down the altar of Moneta, while the other, 
 a zealous church builder, had forced the tonsure upon ungrown boys. Amm, 
 M. XXII. xi. 9. 
 
 * Proved by Greg. Naz. Or. xxi. 20, while Amm. M. mentions Pagans 
 only as actively concerned. 
 
192 JULIAN. 
 
 to their late governor Julian his uncle. In discerning Pagan 
 partialities, which indeed are not far to seek, in this behaviour, 
 we must remember that it would have been an extremely 
 delicate task to single out the ringleaders and to apportion 
 punishments rightly, and further that Roman emperors from 
 Csesar downwards had learnt to recognise and, if possible, 
 conciliate, the passions of the Alexandrian mob. Julian 
 therefore contented himself with providing for the restoration 
 and due conservation of George's valuable books to swell his 
 private library. 
 
 Up to this point Athanasius had remained in conceal- 
 ment. Not even Julian's edict in favour of banished bishops 
 had tempted him out of the deserts of the Thebais: his 
 advent could but have embroiled matters and initiated new 
 disturbances and schisms. No sooner however Avas George 
 murdered, than Athanasius re-appeared. His return to the 
 city was an ovation. A Christian father^ daringly compares 
 his entry into Alexandria to that of the Lord Christ into 
 Jerusalem. He came riding on the foal of an ass ; before 
 him people cast flowers and branches and rich tapestries, 
 and shouted in acclaim. He soon showed that he had lost 
 none of his old vigour ; and yet had added to it increased 
 forbearance and discretion. As peacemaker, as pastor, as 
 evangelist, he carried all before him. Chagrined at the 
 Julian deadness of Pagans, Julian was exasperated at the vitality 
 nasius.' ' of 'the Galileans.' The impotence of his own revival was 
 a dark contrast to the triumphs of Athanasius. He con- 
 tracted a jealous hatred against that great man. He sel- 
 dom speaks of him without some opprobrious epithet. 
 Scoundrel, knave, adventurer, intriguer, accursed — such are 
 J^^Ib the habitual terms of description^ He formally charged 
 Athanasius with insulting and contumelious defiance of law 
 
 1 Greg. Naz. Or. xxi. 29. 
 
 2 6 To\fn]p6TaTOi viro tov ffvuifjOovi enapdeh Opduovs, Ep. 26— o Oeoh ixOp6?, 
 6 iJ,Lap6s, Ep. G — dvaae^ris, Travovpyos, TroKvirpd.'yp.wv, ovbk dvrjp dW dvdpwirla- 
 Kos evreX-iqs, Ep. 51 — are the epithets by which Julian, even iu state docu- 
 ments, describes the great bishop, in whom he discerned only /xox'''?/"'tii' and 
 ■ivrpix'^ia.v (Kp. 51). 
 
PERSECUTION. 193 
 
 in thus returning to his see. The edict in favour of 
 exiled bishops, he said, contemplated only return to their 
 countries, nut reinstatement in their sees\ It was an in- 
 stance of his habitual lawlessness thus to re-usurp his so- 
 called episcopal throne without express permission from the 
 Emperor^ Doubtless his conduct was displeasing to all God- 
 fearing^ citizens, and he w^as to depart forthwith from the city, 
 the very day, says Julian, on which the letters of our clemency 
 come to hand. Disregard of the order would entail a severe 
 punishment. A more frank and no less imperious missive Ep. 6. 
 was at the same time* addressed to Ekdikius the prefect. 
 The impious Athanasius, it said, had actually dared to bap- 
 tize Pagan ladies of illustrious rank, and that while Julian 
 was on the throne. He must forthwith be chased not from 
 Alexandria merely, but beyond the confines of Egypt. In 
 default of this a fine of 100 lbs. of gold should be levied 
 on the prefect's division. The emperor added with his own 
 hand a violent postscript closing with the curt fierce male- 
 diction, SiQ)K€a6a) — 'persecute him".' But the 'God-fearing' AlexandH- 
 citizens of Alexandria, so far from being displeased with their uh part 
 prelate, sent a deputation to the Emperor expressly to appeal ""^^ «^^ 
 for the revocation of the edict. It was in reply to this depu- 
 tation that Julian wrote the well-known despatch in which, £:p. 51. 
 contrasting the fatuity of the words of Jesus with the splen- 
 dour of the deeds of Alexander of Macedon and the Ptolemies, 
 he cries shame on the Alexandrians for their degenerate de- 
 clension to that sect, whose spiritual ancestors (nobler far 
 than their progeny) had been slaves to the very people whom 
 
 ^ Soz. V. XV. 2. 
 
 - Julian in bis pragmatical way urges that Athanasius might at least 
 have waited for one edict of recall to annul the viany edicts of banishment. 
 
 ^ deoffepeis, sc. Pagans, as alwaj's in Julian's vocabulary. 
 
 ^ By previous writers Ej). 6 is sirpposed to have been evoked by Athana- 
 sius' contemptuous disregard of Ej). 26 : but Eode, p. 80 7iote, cleverl}' urges 
 that the contents of Ep. 6 do not bear this out, and that evidence of Atha- 
 nasius' passive disobedience is wanting. He suggests that both letters be- 
 long to the same time, the first being a despatch to the Alexandrians, the 
 second a private memorandum to the governor. 
 
 5 The old reading Staxcecr^aj, which Gibbon retained, gives impossible Greek 
 and feeble sense. Apparently some MSS. omit the word. 
 
 R. E. . 13 
 
194 JULIAN. 
 
 the Alexandrians had subjugated. As for the scheming 
 Athanasius, the villain, with whose shifty wiles and teaching 
 they were so enchanted, the order for his expulsion^ not from 
 Alexandria only but from all Egypt was emphatically re- 
 peated. Athanasius once more left his see an exile^ with the 
 prophetic words that it was a little cloud which would soon 
 blow over. Julian's death put a stop to further proceedings; 
 but in this case undeniably Julian's antipathies led him first 
 to sojjhistry, which set forced interpretations on plain decrees, 
 and then to bitterness which found vent in ill-mannered and 
 undignified abuse, and which practically pledged Julian to 
 open persecution. In fact no sooner had the bishop been 
 chased away, than government ofiicials proceeded to enrich 
 themselves at the expense of Christians by exactions ^ which 
 though unauthorised by Julian and indeed unconstitutional, 
 were, if not connived at, at least unpunished by the Emperor. 
 Juiianand If such was Julian's temper in dealing with outlying 
 Antwch. -t^Q-^jjg and provinces, what treatment did he accord to the 
 disputatious townsmen of Christian Antioch? His residence 
 there was an unbroken series of petty mortifications: they 
 came to a head in what may be called the Babylas riot, which 
 The Baby. [^ significant enough to merit detailed description. At the 
 stration. hamlet of Daphne adjoining* Antioch was the famous oracular 
 spring of Castalia, which since the days of Hadrian had 
 remained sealed from the eyes of menl The prophecy that 
 he should one day be Emperor was the last it had been 
 suffered to announce. Julian, with the morbid curiosity and 
 superstition that characterised him, desired to consult the 
 
 1 According to Theod. iii. ix. 2, Julian ordered the execution of Athana- 
 sius. No other historian corroborates the charge— (the Narrat. ad Ammon. 
 in Athan. Op. p. 979 speaks only of his expecting a sentence of death)— 
 while Julian's own despatches contradict it. Even if they are incomplete, 
 Greg. Naz. (cf. Or. xxi. xxxii. p. 407) would certainly not have passed over 
 the decree, had it been historical. Theoph. i. p. 74 expressly attributes 
 the sentence of banishment to pressure exercised on Julian by Hellenes. 
 
 - Euf. I. xxxiv. p. 259, Theod. iii. ix. 2, Soz. v. xv. 3, Sok. in. xiv. 1, 
 Kedr. i. p. 536. ^ Sok. iii. xiv. 7. 
 
 * The grove was some five miles from the centre of the city, Soz. v. xix. 
 17: according to Eufinus i. 35, nearly six. 
 
 "> Amm. M. xxii. xii. 8, Soz. v. xix. 11. 
 
PERSECUTION. 195 
 
 sacred fount. He ordered the stones to be removed. The 
 oracular voice was dumb; from the pollution, 'twas said, of 
 bodies that lay within the holy precincts. Sacrifices and liba- 
 tions could only extract a muffled reiteration, 'The dead! 
 The dead!' Among the bones that lay there, were those of 
 the holy Babylas of Antioch, martyr and bishop \ In their 
 presence demons could find no voice to speak. By the Em- 
 peror's order, the spot was to be disenchanted of the spell by 
 the most approved propitiatory rites. The removal of the 
 honoured bones gave occasion for a mass demonstration on 
 the part of the Christians of Antioch. Men, women, and 
 children gathered in organised procession, and as they wound 
 along the streets, behind the bier, sang aloud in chorus of 
 antiphonal chanting, 'Confounded be all they that worship 
 graven images, and that delight in vain gods.' Again and 
 again the triumphant denunciation of the Psalmist rang along 
 the streets, as in the old time when Israel welcomed the ark 
 to the hill of Sion. But the monarch was not now among 
 the dancers or singers. As he listened to that chorus of 
 menace he rued bitterly the ill-judged order he had given; 
 he issued an edict ^ prohibiting funerals in the day-time : they 
 were, said the decree, inauspicious, inconvenient, and to by- 
 standers distasteful: henceforth obsequies were to take place 
 at night, and to be occasions for mourning, not for parade or 
 ostentation. This was not all : he pondered schemes of 
 counter demonstrations, or revehge. While he thus brooded, 
 a still more stinging injury trod close upon the last^ 
 
 The magnificent shrine of Apollo stood sequestered amid TewpJe of 
 deep groves of cypress, myrtle and bay, commemorating the ^^^I^^J'"^ 
 metamorphosis of Daphne. Within, at the very s23ot where 
 the kind earth had sheltered the nymph from her amorous 
 pursuer, towered a colossal figure of the god overlaid with 
 gold, and bending earthward with the golden libation cup ; 
 the statues and fountains had been renovated; the gardens 
 
 1 Sok. III. 18, Theod. iii. x. 2, Eupcb. H. E. vi. 20. They had been 
 transferred to the spot by Julian's brother Galh;s, on purpose to confound 
 the demons and their worshippers. For following details cf. also Ruf. i. 35, 
 Philost. VII. 8, Soz. V. 19, Theod. iii. 10—11, Amm. M. xxii. 13. 
 
 - Theod. Cod. ix. xvii. 5. ^ Amm. M. xxii. xiii. 1. 
 
 13—2 
 
361c. 
 
 196 JULIAN. 
 
 smiled with choice exotics; all had been done to charm back 
 the tutelar deity to his consecrated haunt. One night ^ the 
 city was roused by the glare of a conflagration; at daybreak 
 nothing of the great temple remained but charred walls and 
 blackened columns standing amid a heap of ashes. How the 
 fire arose was never ascertained : one probable account^ asserts 
 that a Pagan philosopher had left a burning taper on the 
 altar where he had placed his offerings. Whatever the true 
 cause^, accident, malice, or as the Christians said the descent 
 of fire from heaven, Julian at least had no doubt it was the 
 handiwork of 'the atheists.' The principal church of Antioch 
 His. 346 B, was closed*, and the sacred vessels- removed : at least one young 
 Christian hero^ was placed on the rack. For the livelong 
 day, from dawn till the tenth hour, hung Theodore upon the 
 cruel horse, bearing the stinging torture of the harrowing 
 hooks and the smart of the branding iron. Again and again 
 he chanted the triumphant refrain, 'Confounded be all they 
 that worship carved images;' and in after times would tell^ 
 how there had seemed to stand -beside him in those hours of 
 trial a young man who wiped away the sweat of agony with 
 a fine linen cloth, and sprinkled over him cool water, so that 
 the rapture of the vision took from him all sense of pain. 
 From such a sufferer as this no information could be gained; 
 
 ^ I have found the statement repeated that the fire took place on the 
 night preceding the grand feast of inauguration, but have not come across 
 it in ancient writers. Nor again do I know Gibbon's authority for saying 
 the fire took place on the night following the Babylas demonstration, but 
 I suspect the less precise ' eoclem tempore ' of Amm. M. xxii. xiii. 1. 
 
 2 Amm. M. xsii. xiii. 3. 
 
 3 Cf. Philost. VII. 8, Theod. iii. xi. 5, Soz. v. xx. 5. Libanius in his 
 ' Monody on the temple at Daphne ' adds no facts, and hardly an opinion ; 
 and this though he was resident at Antioch at the time. 
 
 4 Theod. III. xii. 1. 
 
 5 The Acta in Euinart are derived from Paifinus i. 36, from whom Sok. 
 III. 19, Soz. V. 20, Theod. in. 11, Aug. de Civ. Dei xviii. 52 and others take 
 their accounts. 
 
 ^ Eufinus, the historian, heard the tale from the lips of the aged con- 
 fessor. Euf. I. 36. The most impartial Kode, p. 74 note, accepts only the 
 arrest and flogging of Theodoras as historical, and supposes that Theodorus' 
 pride over his Confessorshif) was rather too much for his exact veracitj', so 
 that lengthened memory magnified facts. 
 
PERSECUTION. 197 
 
 he was released by irapei-ial command, nor do we hear of 
 other Christians^ being imprisoned or tortured. 
 
 If the purification and the burning of the temple oi Publia. 
 Daphne were the affronts on the largest scale that Julian 
 had to bear, pettier aggravations were not lacking. In a 
 principal street of the city lived Publia^ one of the most pro- 
 minent Christians in the town : she was mother of John, 
 chief of the presbyters, who had more than once declined 
 elevation to the Apostolic see of Antioch : herself a widow, 
 she had founded a seminary for holy virgins, and superin- 
 tended their training in person. Chanting was one of their 
 accomplishments : and whenever the Emperor passed, they 
 were bidden to sing at the top of their voices : 
 
 "The idols of tlie heathen are silver and gold, 
 The work of men's hands. 
 They that make them are like unto them : 
 So is every one that trusteth in them." 
 
 The Emperor ordered the singing to stop when he was pass- 
 ing by. Publia, disregarding the injunction, on the next 
 occasion incited her choir to strike up, 
 
 "Let God arise, and let his enemies be scattered;" 
 
 and succeeded in eliciting from the Emperor a public repri- 
 mand. 
 
 John Malalas and the Paschal Chronicle^ yield an uncor- S. Dome- 
 roborated account of the death of the hermit St Dometius. '"*' 
 The holy man had taken up his abode in a certain cave in 
 the district of Cyrestica. Crowds resorted thither, to be 
 healed of diseases. Julian told him to adhere to his self- 
 imposed life of solitude : but the monk responded that he 
 could not hinder them that came to him in faith. Then the 
 Emperor ordered the cave to be walled up : and the saint 
 remaining within died there. 
 
 1 The Pagan aeditui were subjected to the question, and also the presbyter 
 Theodoritus if indeed he be a real historical personage. I discuss tliis point 
 in a Note at the end of this Section. Zonar. xiii. 12, p. 26 and Kedr. 
 1. p. 537 speak of the presbyters Eugenius and Makarius reaping the crown 
 of martyrdom, but whether in immediate connexion with the burning of the 
 temple is not clear. " Theod. iii. 19. 
 
 3 loan. Malalas, Chroiwg. xiii. p. 328, Chron. Pasch. p. 550. 
 
anus. 
 
 198 JULIAN. 
 
 Persecu- It remains to consider a certain class of acts of persecu- 
 
 !^°jm " "'^ ^^°^ • tliose, namely, directed against military offenders. The 
 standard instance, that of the soldiers at Constantinople\ has 
 been already commented on. It has been shown that the 
 punishment inflicted was exacted by the laws of military dis- 
 cipline, just as the original ground of offence was a natural 
 outcome of the existing relations between Church and State. 
 But though neither the punishment of the Constantinopo- 
 litan troops, nor kindred instances, deserve to be classed as 
 persecutions, it will at least be fair to set them before the 
 reader. 
 Valentini- Valentinianus, the future Emperor, was, say the historians, 
 Captain of the Jovians^ the ' crack corps' of the Imperial 
 Guards. As such he would walk immediately behind the 
 Emperor on public occasions. One festival-tide he was thus 
 in attendance on the Emjoeror, as he visited the temple of 
 Fortune. At the entrance the sacristan sprinkled him with 
 the lustra! water. Like a good protestant, but a bad soldier, 
 he ostentatiously shook off the drops, and rent away the 
 polluted portion of his uniform, by one account actually 
 abusing and striking the keeper of the shrine. Julian sub- 
 sequently relegated him to the provinces for a military 
 offence, but without degrading him from the armyl 
 
 1 Supr. p. 173. 
 
 '^ He appears really not to have filled this post till later. Philost. vii. 7 
 styles him Tribune of the Coruuti. So too Chron. Pasch. p. 549, 555. For 
 authorities see also Euf. ii. 2, Aug. De Civ. Dei. xviii. 52, Theod. iii. 16, 
 Sok. IV. 1, Soz. VI. vi. 4 — 6, Glykas iv. p. 473. 
 
 3 Theod. dramatically makes the exile the immediate punishment of this 
 particular act of insubordination. If, as Soz. precisely affirms, the scene of 
 the incident was Gaul and Yalentinian was banished to Armenia, we have a 
 certain and undesigned proof that the offence and the supposed punishment 
 were 7iot immediately connected, for Julian would not at the crisis of his 
 fortunes have driven one of his ablest officers to the camp of Constantius. 
 Philost. makes Thebes in Egypt the scene of his exile, and speaks of his 
 banishment to Mesopotamia as inflicted by Constantius. But Egypt no less 
 than Armenia was under Constantius' jurisdiction. Miicke, p. 249, 282, 
 discredits the whole tale as neither Ammian (in spite of his full accounts), 
 nor Greg. Naz., nor Sokrates corroborate it. It seems clear that from 357 
 (cf. Amm. M. xvi. xi. 6) until Joviau's accession, when Yalentinian re- 
 appears as a tribune, he was not serving near Julian's person : and tliis 
 tiu-ued out a handy peg for the above good story. 
 
PEESECUTION, 199 
 
 The names of Juventinus and Maximiniis are^ enshrined Jmentinus 
 in a homily of Chrysostom. They were legionaries and Chris- JJ^Jisf"'^*" 
 tians. At some drinking bout, their hearts and tongues 
 were enlarged to cry out against the abominations of the 
 heathen reaction: quoting Scripture'* they said, 'Thou didst 
 deliver us into the hands of an unjust king, and the most 
 wicked in all the world.' The mutinous words were reported. 
 They were arrested and put upon their trial, at which they 
 stiffly maintained the spirit of their previous utterances. 
 Finally, on the charge of being drunk and disorderly, and 
 having been guilty of treasonable language, they were put 
 to death. Jan. 25 was kept holy as their day at Antioch^, 
 the scene of their martyrdom. 
 
 Many others are said to have resigned rank^ or left the Military 
 
 service, rather than deny the faith. The names of three <^°"^^«- 
 
 '' _ sors. 
 
 future Emperors, Jovian, Valentinian, and Valens are given. 
 Valentinian's case has been discussed. Jovian held one of 
 the highest commands^ in Julian's own army at the time 
 of the Emperor's death in the Persian campaign. About 
 Valens corroborative evidence is lacking. To these names 
 Paulinus adds that of a certain Victricius®. How easily 
 charges of persecution might falsely intrude in such cases is 
 
 ^ Chrvs. hi luv. et Maxim. Mart.; cf. J eta in Euinart drawn from 
 Theud. III. XV. 4—9. Cf. loan. Mai. Chron. xiii. p. 327. 
 
 ^ Son(j of Three Children, v. 8. Theod.'s version (/SauiXet trapapo/j-Cj) 
 airoardTT) irapa irdvTa to. i6vrj to. ovra iirl ttjs 777s) is more pointed than the 
 Lxx or E. V. If they could talk to such edification in a tavern, is the com- 
 ment of Chrys., what manner of men must they have been in domestic privacy ! 
 
 3 This would be the place to insert the sufferings of the soldiers Bonosus 
 and Maximihan, said to have been tortured before Count Julian (not the 
 Emperor) for declining to remove the Christian emblems of the lahariim. 
 But the Acts, derived from a solitary MS. belonging to the monastery of Silva- 
 maior, and unsupported from any other quarter, seem, with their hotch- 
 potch of horror, miracle and prediction, wholly unworthy of credence. Pref. 
 to Homily in Migne. Cf.-Ioan. Mai. 
 
 ^ Sok. HI. xiii. 3. Cf. Euinai't, Acta Mart. The expression ^wvtjv airorl- 
 deffdai, sc. cingulum deponere, though normally used of retirement from the 
 service, might mean only some form of degradation, cf. Zos. iii. 19. Sokrates, 
 if we compare his comments in iii. xiii. 2, 3, perhaps only means that men 
 professed themselves ready to retire rather than seem to apostatise. 
 
 5 He was ' domesticorum ordinis primus.' 
 
 8 Ap. Ruinart, Acta, p. 508. 
 
200 JULIAN. 
 
 clear from the story of S. Martin. Enlisted at the age of 
 fifteen, as a young man of twenty he was serving as a private 
 in Julian's army. On the eve of an engagement conviction 
 smote him of the wrongfulness of the soldier's calling. There- 
 upon he declined the donative distributed by the Caesar to 
 encourage his troops, and announced his resolution to be 
 God's soldier alone. To rebut an undeserved taunt of cow- 
 ardice, the Saint professed his readiness to take his usual 
 place in the ranks unarmed, relying for safety on the sign of 
 the Cross alone. The danger blew over, and Martin re- 
 nounced the service. How easily might this incident, which 
 belongs to the period of Julian's Ca?sarship^ when he still 
 professed the faith, be twisted into a charge of persecution ! 
 As it is he by no means escapes hard names from the pious 
 narrator. 
 Alleged Julian's educational policy is so important as to demand 
 
 persecu. ^ section to itself. The compliance with set forms of the 
 *^o"- State religion exacted from the imperial troops admits ob- 
 
 viously a different interpretation to that assigned to it in 
 this work. With these, no doubt important, exceptions, the 
 category of charges brought to affix on Julian the name of 
 persecutor is complete ; for Ave cannot seriously notice tales of 
 the inspection of human livers, more particularly of uvigrown 
 boys and girls, sacrificed for the purposed Nor again shall 
 we give credence to Theodoret's statement that the Emperor, 
 havinsf summoned Publia into the streets of Antioch, ordered 
 one of his hody-guard to box her ears and scratch her cheeks l* 
 or his still wilder figments that, after the Emperor's death, 
 chests filled with heads were found at Antioch, and in a 
 
 1 The story is drawn from Sulpic. Severus' Life of S. Martin. It is very 
 likely fictitious in all details. The scene is localised at Worms (ajjud Vangi- 
 omim civitatem, c. iv), and it seems impossible to fit in the narrative of the 
 impending engagement with any surviving account of Julian's campaigns. 
 The argument in the text remains sound, if inapplicable to this particular 
 instance. 
 
 2 Sok. III. xiii. 11 accepted and quoted byNikeph. x. 24. The traditional 
 sites of these atrocities, Alexandria and Athens, would exculpate Julian 
 personally. 
 
 =* Theod. III. xix. 5. It is possible of course that in resisting the soldiers 
 she received some slight external injury. 
 
PERSECUTION. 201 
 
 temple at Carrha?, last visited by the Emperor and sealed till 
 his return, the corpse of a woman suspended by the hair and 
 ripped up to expose the fatidical reading of her liver\ Some 
 vague ^ charges have been left unrehearsed, besides those 
 'considered in the account of Julian's legislation. Theodoret^ 
 for instance, says that all Christians were expelled from the 
 army, while others modify the statement to expulsion from 
 the household troops, the most privileged branch that is of 
 the service*. The history of the Persian campaign renders 
 both charges demonstrably untrue. That to secure funds for 
 the Persian campaign fines were levied on all who refused to 
 sacrifice is highly improbable^ though we can readily be- 
 lieve^ that Pagan tax-collectors did not abate their legal 
 claims in assessing Christian contributors. Sozomen^ in- 
 forms us that Julian replied to the ambassadors of be- 
 leaguered Nisibis, that if they wanted help they must first 
 revert to Paganism : but answering this unproved imputa- 
 tion stands the solid fact that in his Persian campaign Julian 
 did despatch aid to Nisibis, 
 
 With the above reservations no single allegation of real Condu- 
 weight^ has been consciously omitted or underrated. The col- 
 lection of so many scattered charges into a single focus neces- 
 sarily tends to intensify their real magnitude^ But on judicial 
 survey of the whole evidence in array it is just to conclude — • 
 
 1 Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 92 hints at similar atrocities, but without attempting 
 to specify or substantiate his charges. Kedreuus i. p. 525, and also Grlykas 
 IV. p. 472, improve on these tales at pleasure. 
 
 2 Greg. Naz. Or. xxv. ix. p. 461, Philost. E. H. vii. f. 
 
 3 Theod. III. viii., supported by Chrys. In luv. et Maxim. Mart. p. 573, 
 § 1, loan. Antioch. Frag. 179. 
 
 4 Sok. III. xiii. 1 (of. iii. xxii. 2). Julian probably to some extent purged 
 the troops about his person of Christians. Motives of personal security 
 would prompt the step. 
 
 * The charge appears in Sok. iii. xiii. 9, xvii. 1, Nikeph. x. 24, Theoph. 
 I. p. 81. 
 
 <5 Sok. III. xiii. 9. "^ Soz. v. 3. 
 
 8 I cannot retail quite all the gossip of later centuries. For instance 
 though Theoph. i. p. 74 murders Bp. Dorotheus of Tyre at 107 years of 
 age, I allow him to die a natural death. 
 
 " Justice plainly demands some deduction from the representations of 
 the various Church historians. For, apart from all conscious insincerity. 
 
202 JULIAN. 
 
 1. That no organised or widespread persecution prevailed 
 during Julian's reign. 
 
 2. That the sporadic instances which occurred were in 
 almost every case provoked, and in part excused, by aggres- 
 sive acts of Christians. 
 
 3. That, while culpably condoning some Pagan excesses, 
 the Emperor steadily set his face against persecution \ 
 
 4. That he never authorised any execution on the ground 
 of religion; that, where his conduct amounted to persecution, 
 he did not abjure but set a strained interpretation on the 
 laws of toleration which he professed. 
 
 Note. 
 
 On the torturing of Theodore, &c. 
 
 Independently of conflicting accounts of the whole matter, a curious 
 question of identity arises. Not only Julian was implicated in these 
 events, but also his uncle and namesake, who was resident at the time 
 in Antioch as Conws Orientis. If Julian gave the order for closing the 
 Church of Antioch, to his uncle alone is imputed desecration of the 
 holy vessels, defilement of the sanctuary, and brutality to the presbyter 
 in charge, conduct censured by Julian himself, 2Iis. 365 c. Theod. and 
 Soz. expatiate on the revolting details of the malady with which Divine 
 retribution compassed his death. It seems possible that he too was 
 responsible for the torture of Theodoras (v. infr.). Eufinus, Sokrates, 
 Sozomen and Theodoret agree in representing Theodorus as arrested for 
 his share in the Babylas demonstration, and the Emperor as authorising 
 the arrest, which was executed against his own judgment by Salustius 
 
 they wi-ote at a time when the persecutions they record had become matter 
 of history or hearsay, not of autoptic testimony, and were envhoned and 
 magnified by the glamoiu- of fading Paganism ; they were credulous and 
 uncritical in sifting evidence ; they accepted as literal truth the declamation 
 of Gregory of Naziauzus, from whom they largely quote ; and they com- 
 menced with strong bias against the Apostate. On the other hand, to regard 
 with Mil eke the silence of Eufinus (or Ammianus Marcelliuus) as disproof of 
 the charges qf Sokrates and Sozomen is to give up writing history. (Miicke 
 p. 333.) 
 
 1 There is no place where Julian more plainly insists on abstinence from 
 persecution and violence, than that very letter to the people of Bostra, which 
 has been quoted already as a signal instance of Julian's meanness. 
 
EDUCATION. 203 
 
 the prDctorian prefect. According to Theod., only Salustius' repre- 
 sentations prevented additional arrests and violence. Torture was 
 inflicted by Salustius. The order for release came from the Emperor. 
 Both Theod. iii. xi. 4 and Soz. v. xx. 5 make these events prior to the 
 burning of the temple. I have ventured to adopt a slightly different 
 sequence of events. 
 
 There seems reason for thinking that it was really in connexion with 
 the fire that Theodorus was put to torture. For (1) Amm. M. xxii. 
 xiii. 1 (and so Theod. and Philost.) connects the Babylas demonstration 
 very closely with the fire. ' At the same time,'' he writes, ' on the twenty- 
 second day of October there was a sudden conflagration, &c. ;' (2) on that 
 occasion tortm'e was employed to discover the truth ; (3) the custodians 
 of the temple and others (A. M. xxii. xiii. 2, Theod. iii. xi. 5) were put 
 to the tortiu-e by Julian, the uncle of the Emperor (Theod. III. xi. 5) : 
 while the only presbyter mentioned (Soz. v. viii.) as maltreated by the 
 said Julian, was named Theodoritus, or by another reading Theodorus : 
 this certainly suggests confused identity. In Ruinart, Theodoritus is 
 credited with a separate Fassio, professing to come from the hand of 
 one who lived in the palace at Antioch, and took part in the Persian 
 campaign. Of the three (anonymous) MSS. from which it is derived 
 I know nothing, but Mabillon, the earliest compiler, seems half to 
 suspect them; the Acta Martyrum are not highly trustworthy docu- 
 ments : in this particular Passio various confusions of dates and persons 
 occur : the whole reads like an insipid compilation from the notices of 
 the historians, interspersed with appropriate conversations and portents. 
 To Julian personally, though at the expense of his uncle, the Fassio is 
 favom'able. 
 
 Section II. 
 Educational Policy. 
 
 LibanUis. This princely youth is dangerous to the cause of knowledge. 
 Basilius. Prince Julian is dangerous to many things. 
 
 Ccesar the Ajiostate, Act ii. Heneik Ibsen (trans, by C. Eay). 
 
 But of all Julian's proceedings levelled directly or indi- Bomnn 
 rectly against Christianity, none is more noteworthy than his ^j^^',"''"" 
 educational policy. Paganism and the old culture were to 
 Julian's mind inseparably bound up together. The venerable 
 
204 JULIAN. 
 
 mother who had- produced so choice an offspring must now 
 lean on her child as her chief support. It was through the 
 sophists and in the schools, not less than by the priests and 
 in the shrines, that the great polytheistic revival was to be 
 achieved. The conversion of one sophist was in Julian's eyes 
 worth that of a hundred unlearned folk. Nor in so thinking 
 did he exaggerate the truth. The power of the sophists must 
 have been almost incalculable; the whole higher education 
 of the Eoman Empire was in their hands; the moral charge 
 and training of students no less than the intellectual was 
 their province. Every great city, nay every country town^ 
 had its schools or school. At the head of the school was the 
 sophist who frequently held the position of state of&cial, 
 appointed sometimes by the crown direct, sometimes by the 
 municipality, sometimes by informal plebiscite among the 
 citizens themselves. In the large towns teachers could set 
 up on their own account, but it needed unusual brilliance^ to 
 compete successfully with the prestige and assured emolu- 
 ment of a Regius Professor. The curriculum of teaching was 
 strictly 'classical'; the main staple of education being rhe- 
 toric and philosophy. Homer and Virgil, Demosthenes and 
 Cicero, Plato and Aristotle were then as now the models 
 proposed for imitation ^ ' Thus the text-books of education 
 were entirely Pagan: the object of the schools was secular 
 not religious: they aimed at training young gentlemen to 
 exact thought and facile expression, combined with some intel- 
 ligent knowledge of law and history. When that was achieved, 
 their work was done. No 'religious difficulty' had as yet 
 been raised to complicate educational arrangements: the 
 moral and doctrinal training of its members was left to the 
 discretion of the church to which they belonged. Yet to 
 many Christians educational work had seemed an honourable 
 
 1 Libanius at Constantinople successfully emptying the class-room of 
 Nikokles is one notorious instance. 
 
 2 Cf. Capes' University Life in Ancient Athens, 81 pp. At Athens atten- 
 tion was confined to Greek only, to the contempt of Latin {ibid. p. 82), 
 but in the Western Empire, especially the schools of Gaul, this was not the 
 case. 
 
EDUCATION. 205 
 
 calling. It was no more distinctively Christian than the bar 
 or the army, but certainly it was not less so : men of so lofty 
 and uncompromising a type of Christianity as Basil of Ca^sa- 
 rea and Gregory of Nazianzus were among the chief orna- 
 ments of the profession \ When Basil was appointed to the 
 chair of rhetoric at Csesarea, the great Libanius himself had 
 written congratulating the Cappadocians on having such a 
 master and himself such a colleague. 
 
 Julian shrewdly perceived that here was a most powerful Julian and 
 engine ready to his hand. Each school might become an fcssors. 
 active centre of Pagan propagandism. Paganism should no 
 longer fall a victim to arrows winged from her own feathers I 
 In an evil hour for his own reputation he conceived a belief, 
 that by cutting off Christians from the higher culture of the 
 day, he might effectually if gradually checkmate Christianity. 
 Apparently it was in his power to do so, provided that the 
 Christians made no forcible resistance. It would be difficult 
 to name a law prohibiting Christian professors from keeping 
 open schools upon their own account; but both from the 
 terms of Julian's edicts and from the resignation of their 
 chairs by Christian occupants, the inference seems clear that 
 it was at the Emperor's discretion that each professor held his 
 seat, or might keep open lecture-rooms. His first educational First 
 edict^ issued May 12, 362 A.D., merely confirmed the existing 
 privileges of all doctors of medicine and professors, and their 
 immunity from public burdens. So far the new Emperor's 
 educational policy was conservative. Shortly however it • 
 shewed a reforming tendency of the paternal government 
 type. The new edict, five weeks* later in date, runs thus: — 
 
 " Seeing that it is expedient that all masters and teachers be Second 
 pattei-ns not less of morality than of eloquence, and seeing that I Edict. 
 cannot be present in person in each individual township, be it 
 enacted that whoever desires the work of a teacher, do not intrude 
 into the office suddenly or rashly, but that after orderly examina- 
 tion held his appointment be sanctioned by decree of the curiales, 
 
 1 In Sozomen's language v. xviii., they ' cast all others iuto the shade.' 
 
 2 Theod. III. 8, 9. 
 ("^^heod. Cod. xiii. hi. 4. 
 
 ^~f Issued June 17, shortly before hia arrival at Anticch. Thcod. Cod. 
 XIII. iii. 5. 
 
206 JULIAN. 
 
 with consent and confirmation of the optind. Such decree shall 
 be transmitted to me for endorsement, that under ovir sanction 
 teachers may with more exalted honour conduct the studies of the 
 townshi2:)s." 
 
 Its effect. Due allowance being made for the bureaucratic system of 
 
 the Empire, for the personal prerogative of the Emperor, and 
 for Julian's own activity of supervision in all departments of 
 state, the enactment is unobiectionabla_._ At the same time 
 the preliminary clause concerning morals (mores) might 
 arouse suspicion. For religion was at least an admissible 
 interpretation of the word, and thus the preamble might 
 cover and portend an assault upon Christian teachers in the 
 Schools. However as the election of professors was left in 
 the hands of the municipal authorities, subject only to the 
 Imperial veto, the Christians might still hope, where in a 
 majority upon the Council, to secure such teachers as they 
 desired. Doubtless court influences would be strong, but 
 Christian unanimity might counteract them; for the present 
 at any rate, there was no open grievance on which to ground 
 an agitation. The decree proved far less, or less speedily, 
 effectual than Julian hoped. It was too timid and tentative 
 to do much. It was quite clear that no conciliar resolution 
 would dismiss the aged Marius Victorinus, on whose lips for 
 more than forty years the youth of Rome had hung: yet no 
 Christian sophist was of greater mark. It must have been 
 the talk of every drawing-room, as well as the joy of every 
 ■ Christian, when the venerable professor, in the white robe of 
 the catechumen, made in open church the baptismal profes- 
 sion and was marked with the sacramental sign of allegiance 
 to Christ^ The edict indeed contains no provision for dis- 
 missaL Christians in possession remained untouched. Even 
 if they did not outlive the law itself, their disappearance 
 would be provokingly slow. It might be difficult too, if not 
 engender serious troubles, for the imperial veto continually 
 to exercise itself on Christian nominations. It would be 
 better, so at least it seemed to Julian, to show his hand, 
 trusting to the weakness of the adversary for victory. Julian 
 1 Augustiuo narrates the story in his Confessions, viii. ii. and v. 
 
EDUCATION. 207 
 
 possessed that impatient, restlesSjjiervonstemperameDt which 
 can never be content to play the waiting game. Hardly any 
 trait in his character is more marked. In war, in religion, in 
 the conduct of public business it is always there: it betrayed 
 itself in the glance of his eye, nay in his very gait. He had 
 none of that calm, still reliance, that serene intrepidity, that 
 imperturbable nonchalance, that characterised no one more 
 vividly than his great contemporary Athanasius. Julian could 
 never stand long on the defensive, or fight from behind lines: 
 better, if need were, to burn his ships and at all risks go for- 
 ward. Accordingly the following remarkable rescript^ shortly c. f ^ 
 appeared, on this occasion radical enough in tone ; — 
 
 "Right education^ we take to consist not in outward polish of 
 phrase and expression, but in a sound disposition of intelligent 
 thought and in just notions touching virtue and vice, honour and 
 shame. Whoever thinks one thing, but teaches his scholars another, 
 falls sliort from an educational, no less than from a moral point " 
 of view. If the difference between the mind and the tongue 
 of the teacher extended only to trifles, his dishonesty, though 
 objectional)le, might yet be tolerated. Bvit where the subject is 
 all-important and the teacher instils the exact contrary of his 
 own convictions, it becomes nothing less than intellectual huck- 
 
 ^ Ep. 42. It is matter for regret that the date of this rescript is uncertain. 
 De Broglie, iv. 210, iu his rather rhetorical manner speaks of it being posted 
 upon the walls of Constantinople, and hesitatingly assigns it a date very 
 shortly succeeding that of the May [sic) edict. Alike in charity and judg- 
 mfent I assign it (with M. Desjardins) to Julian's later Autioch legisla- 
 tion. For, first, the June edict -(De Broglie errs in saying May) falls out- 
 side the close of Julian's residence at Constantinople ; he left Constanti- 
 nople in May ; at the end of July he was already legislating at Antioch. 
 Secondly, notwithstanding De Broglie's argument from the natural correla- 
 tion of the two, surely some interval is requned, if only to suggest the 
 afterthought or to give trial to the previous experiment, between the June 
 edict and this. Thirdly, its contents relegate it to the latter part of Julian's 
 reign when he was growing embittered against Cliristiauity. Fom^thly, 
 Amm. Marc, whose arrangement is throughout chi'onological, does not 
 alliide to it till after Julian's arrival at Antioch. One indirect piece of 
 chronological evidence supports this view. Eunapius (born 347) went to 
 Athens we know at the age of sixteen, that is in the year 363, with the 
 intention of studying under Proseresius. On his arrival Proaresius had 
 but just been suspended from his functions as professor. This seems to 
 point conclusively to 363, or the very end of 362 as the date of the edict. 
 
 2 I find one more version of this notorious edict appended to G. A. 
 Denison's Notes of my Life. 
 
208 JULIAN. 
 
 stering, the immoral and shameful trade of men who teach most 
 enero-etically what they contemn most completel}^, to cajole and 
 inveigle by sham commendations those to whom they wi«h to 
 dispose of their own — I can give it no better name — bad stuff. 
 
 'All would-be educators must be moral, and must sincerely 
 hold o]nnions not antagonistic to current beliefs ; more espe- 
 cially those who are engaged in the education of the young, as 
 expounders of the old classical autlioi-s, whether as rhetoricians, 
 or grammarians, or, above all, as soi)hiHts. For sophists, apart 
 from other claims, affect to be teachers of morals as well as 
 language, and claim social philosophy as their proper province. 
 How far this is true or untrue we need not stay to inquire. But 
 in commending the lofty aim of their professions, I could com- 
 mend them more highly if they spoke the truth, and did not 
 stand self-convicted of believing one thing and teaching their 
 hearers another. And in tliis way : — Homer, Hesiod, Demosthenes, 
 Herodotus, Thukydides, Isoki-ates, Lysias, found in the Gods the 
 source of all learning. Some esteemed themselves priests of 
 Hermes, others of the Muses. I hold it absurd and imi>roper 
 for those wlio undertake to expound these authors to dishonour 
 the Gods whom they honoured. I do not say — it would be 
 absurd to do so — that they are bound to reform their opinions and 
 remain instructors of the young. I leave them the option of not 
 teaching what they consider vicious, or else, if anxious*to continue 
 teaching, of primarily and bond fide impressing upon their scholars 
 that neither Homer nor Hesiod nor any other author, whom in 
 their teaching they have charged with irreligion and theological 
 folly and error, is such as they have represented. Otherwise in 
 drawing the fees for their support from the works of such authors 
 they own to a mean sordidness, that for the sake of a few pence 
 will go all lengths. 
 
 ' Hitherto there have been many reasons for not attending at 
 temple worship : the prevailing terrorism furnished some excuse 
 for disguising the truest religious convictions. But now that the 
 Gods have granted us liberty, it is monstrous for men any longer 
 to teach what they do not believe sound. If they acknowledge 
 the wisdom of those whose writings they interpret, and whose 
 prophets as it were they are, let them first of all imitate their 
 piety towards the Gods. But if they feel that they have gone 
 astray concerning the Gods, the most adorable, then let them go 
 to the churches of the Galiheans to expound Matthew and Luke, 
 in obedience to whom ye are bidden to abstain fi-om holy rites. 
 And may your ears', as ye would say, and your tongue be born 
 again to those doctrines, to which I pray that I and all that love 
 me in thought or deed may ever cleave. 
 
 'To guides and instructors of youth this is the law that I 
 
 1 Julian uses scofGngly the Hellenistic or Hebraistic o-kom. The u'j ai' 
 vixfii eiiroiTe clearly cannot bo levelled at the i^avayevprjd^vai.. 
 
EDUCATION. 209 
 
 ordain for all. None that desire to attend lectures are debarred. 
 
 For it is as unreasonable to debar from the right path children t . 
 
 ignorant as yet whither they should turn, as to drive them by ' ^ 
 
 fear ami by force to the religion of their fathers. Indeed it would 
 
 be right to treat them like imbeciles and heal them against their 
 
 will, only that allowance has to be made for all afflicted with this 
 
 kind of malady. Fools are better taught than punished.' 
 
 The form in which this remarkable production has been The Re- 
 preserved deserves notice. It is numbered among the letters, ^ticked^^' 
 It finds no place, even in an abbreviated form, in the Theo- 
 dosian Code, In other words it is a Greek rescript, in some 
 sort of private or special application \ not an Imperial law 
 promulgated in Latin, and circulated throughout the realm. 
 To pass from the form to the matter; the preamble, having 
 indulged in some very proper philosophic moralising on the 
 function of the teacher, next assumes that all sound educa- 
 tion must take for its basis the old classical authors. The 
 preliminary 'fencing testifies to some sense of constraint in 
 the writer, to an awkward misgiving with regard to the next 
 step in the argument. However the plunge is made. By a as illogi- 
 reckless leap it is asserted, with the complacent pretentious- ^" ' 
 ness of an axiom, that it is absurd, that it is improper, to 
 teach the classics yet reject their theological beliefs. To make 
 money by such a course is the depth. of meanness and dupli- 
 city. The ensuing flourish about toleration and liberty of 
 belief forms an odd prefiice to the undignified taunts that 
 follow. Argument degenerates into sneers, and they to pro- 
 fanity, till the document gracelessly concludes with conces- 
 sions couched in the form of insults. Altogether the perfoi-m- 
 ance is as little creditable a one as Julian ever penned. It 
 is as clear as manner can make it that Julian was at heart 
 dissatisfied at the part he was playing, even if he afterwards 
 flattered or argued himself into self-approval. Persecuting 
 
 1 The documents with which in form it is to be compared are the de- 
 spatches to the Alexanch-ians {EpiJ. 10. 2G. 51. 58), to the Jews (Ep. 25), 
 to the Bostrenians (Ep. 52), or to public functionaries (e.g. Epp. 6. 9. 50. 56). 
 To treat it (cf. Eode 04) as Julian's interpretation of his June decree, for the 
 benefit of some particular officer. or township, does not appear to me justi- 
 fiable. Schriickh assumes a second edict corresponding to Ep. 42, and to 
 the statements of Christian historians. 
 
 R. E. 14 
 
210 JULIAN. 
 
 enactments of this kind are never bettered by shallow at- 
 tempts at self-justification: which merely go to prove the 
 conscious weakness and embarrassment of the author. Julian's 
 brief was really hopeless, whatever special pleading he might 
 adopt. To impute hypocrisy to Christian teachers was ridi- 
 culous. The real grievance against them was that they 
 discredited the classics. Whatever admiration they expressed 
 for their eloquence or their poetry, they never for one instant 
 canonised their creed. In their eyes the futility of their 
 religious teaching hardly merited exposure. Thus Julian 
 has to invest them with his own beliefs (which they loudly 
 disavowed) by way of peg for the imputation to hang upon. 
 From an earnest if narrow Christian point of view much 
 might have been said, as to the propriety of making these 
 heathen authors the staple of education. Much might have 
 been urged, as Tertullian had urged, as to the demoralising 
 tendency of the obscenities and vulgarities with which they 
 abound; much too, in the days when Paganism was still a 
 living power, against the unsettling influence of the poly- 
 theistic teaching \ And among contemporary Christians there 
 were not wanting warm advocates of such views. But this 
 whole field of argument was cut off from Julian. He could 
 not in consistency say one word against the fables of Homer 
 or the morals of Hesiod. Nay, with one breath he asserted 
 that these were the sole possible staple of a sound education 
 whether moral or intellectual, and with the next forbade any 
 Christian man to teach them, and by the same token, as he 
 knew well, any Christian boy to learn them. Out of an as- 
 sumed regard for Christian consciences he would decline to 
 suffer that which their conscience did not disapprove. His 
 objections may have been honest, but he was not in a proper 
 position to object. Because Scripture on Julians showing 
 forbade all access to the classics, therefore Christians were 
 denied that classical training which their own interpretation 
 of Scripture allowed. Julian, in the same sentence, enforces 
 and ridicules the authority of the Bible, To such shifts had 
 prejudice reduced the philosopher. And for the matter of 
 
 1 Sok. III. 16. 
 
EDtJCATION. 211 
 
 conscience, who was Julian that he should be an arbiter 
 among the people? What were his claims to sit in judgment 
 on the Church, to pass a verdict on the liabilities of Chris- 
 tians? Christianity had dared long since to lay under con- 
 tribution the treasures of the wisdom of the ancients, and in 
 the name of Christ claimed philosophy and science, in joint 
 possession with the heathen. As its hand passed along the 
 chords it could evoke, says Gregory', new music of its own, 
 and attune those grand old melodies to unison with the 
 Gospel theme, which ruled the whole. Since the time of 
 Origen and Clement at any rate no Index Expurgatorius laid 
 its ban upon the myths of Pindar or the theology of vEschy- 
 lus: no Apage Satanas closed the Phsedrus or the Ethics 
 against the Christian student. The leaders of Christian 
 thought had lacked the nice discernment, the wise vigilance, 
 the scrupulous consistency, that would have shunned the 
 polluting touch of unclean philosophies. They had not 
 that Mohammedan zeal, which believed that all literature 
 beyond the Bible was useless from its identity or baneful 
 from its superfluity. They had not even the Pagan fer- 
 vour, the counterpart of Julian's own, to desire the annihila- Ep. 9. 
 tion of all that heathen polytheistic lore. So in the 
 latter days an Apostate Christian forsooth must arise and cj/r. 229 c 
 expound to them what it was fitting for a Christian to teach 
 and what not. 
 
 In this edict further lurks the fatal flaw that necessarily as ineffec- 
 mars every edict of persecution. The blow would prostrate ' 
 the honest conscious Christian, while the dishonest need but 
 bow his head and he would remain unscathed. Though in 
 this particular instance, where the aim was so unworthy, 
 this might have proved a not undesired result. A percentage 
 of false disloyal Christians might be no ill leaven among the 
 teachers, whom it behoved to be a pattern of morals as well 
 as learnino:. And once again it defeated its own ends in 
 depriving Christian lads of the sole cure of their infatuation 
 that Julian could offer. The merest tyro in politics could 
 foresee that Christian parents would not send their sons to 
 1 Greg. Naz. Or. iv. lOG, p. 135. 
 
 14—2 
 
212 JULIAN. 
 
 'denominationar schools, which were the confessed organs of 
 Pagan proselytism; while that Julian was not in a positioii to 
 enact a statute for compulsory state education \ the insulting 
 regret which closes his rescript frankly enough declares. 
 
 as short- Finally, the edict was unwise in its own interests. The law 
 died with its author. But had its provisions endured and 
 proved effective, it needs small wit to discern the result. 
 The Church has never been backward in 'devising and exe- 
 cuting schemes of education, the value of which she from the 
 earliest days so fearlessly recognised. A displacement of all 
 Christian teachers from State Schools would liave been the 
 signal for the rise of unnumbered Church Schools, which 
 would soon have disarmed Paganism of its most effective 
 weapon of offence. Even as it was efforts in this direction, 
 though not of the wisest kind, were quickly made. The two 
 Apollinares^ devised a wholly new curriculum: the father not 
 only composed a Christian Grammar, but turned the Penta- 
 teuch into twenty-four books of heroic verse, and selections 
 from the historical books into tragedies, while the son reduced 
 both Gospels and Epistles to the form of Platonic dialogues. 
 
 Thfi Edict Such was the edict which for his hero's sake Ammianus' 
 says must be ' plunged into everlasting silence,' as the darkest 
 blot left upon the reign of Justice that he tried to renovate 
 on earth: and wdnch more than one Christian writer settles 
 upon as before all else entitling him to the name of perse- 
 cutor. There is no one act, where his personal responsibility 
 is clearly established, which does so more justly. 
 
 Practical It is easier however to criticise the words and character 
 
 Edict. of the decree than to estimate its exact practical effect. The 
 June edict* certainly applies on the face of it to schools 
 throughout all the municipal towns of the Empire. The 
 rescript under discussion proclaims itself a general law for 
 
 ^ From a passage in Blisop. .356 it seems that at Antioch at any rate 
 Julian made futile efforts in this direction, to which the Christians, and not 
 least the Christian women, made a determined opposition. 
 
 - Snk. III. 1(), Soz. V. 18, combined at length by Nikeph. x. 25 sqq. 
 
 3 Illud inclemens, obruenduin i)orenni silentio. Amm. M. xxii. x. 7. 
 
 ■» Supr. p. 205. 
 
 persecut 
 ing. • 
 
EDUCATION. 213 
 
 all instructors and teachers* : as such it is treated by the 
 Christian writers who animadvert upon it. Gregory of Na- 
 zianzus, a well-informed if partisan witness, writes thus : 
 ' He ousted us from letters (Xcycov) like so many pilferers,... 
 fearing the confutation of heathen errors'; and adheres to 
 the same language, when he speaks of the Christians being 
 deprived, defrauded, or debarred from school learning^ 
 Rufinus^ testifies that Christians were forbidden to study 
 Pagan authors, admission to the schools being confined to 
 worshippers of the Gods and Goddesses. Sokrates* describes 
 the law as one 'prohibiting the Christians from education'; 
 Sozomen^ states that Julian forbade the children of Chris- 
 tians to study the Greek poets and orators, or to attend 
 Pagan schools : and Theodoret'' invests the prohibition with 
 a similar latitude. Ammian's'' censure of the decree cer- 
 tainly implies no less gross a violation of the liberty of the 
 subject, and in another passage^ iie states in the broadest 
 way that public abjuration of their faith by Christian teach- 
 ers and rhetoricians was indispensable to their continuance 
 in office. 
 
 Were not the evidence so full, and on the whole so Its real 
 hannonious, it might plausibly be argued that Julian's legis- "'" "''■ 
 lation was applicable only to a definite class of State Pro- 
 fessors. In favour of this might be urged, the peculiar form 
 of the rescript itself; the difficulty of supposing that there 
 was in existence any such complete and centralised system 
 of Imperial education, as would admit of effective super- 
 vision and control by the Head of the State ; lastly, the in- 
 controvertible fact that the Christian subjects did at once 
 design, if not institute, some form of voluntary schools, in 
 
 ^ Tois KadriyefiSffL Kal SidaaKoXois Koivbs Ketrai vofios, Ep. 42. 
 
 ^ TcGf \6yuv T]fias dwrfKaaei', Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 5, p. 79. Cf. to \6ywv 
 d-rroffTeprjcraL Xpioriafow, Or. IV. 101, p. 132, with ensuing chapters, and so 
 tQv \6yoiv diroKKeiaOivTes, Or. V. 39, p. 174. 
 
 3 Euf. I. 32. 
 
 * Xpicrrtai'OL'S TraiSeucrews /i/; /xexe'xeti', Sok. III. 12; tov% 'Kpicria.voiis 'EXXtj- 
 viKrjs TraiSeias /iCT^x^"' efaiXue, ih. ill. IG. 
 
 5 Soz. V. 18. 
 
 6 Theod. in. 8, cf. too Nikeph. x. 25, 20, pp. i34— 60. 
 
 <■ Amm. M. xxii, x. 7. ^ Ibid. xxv. iv. 20. 
 
214 JULIAN. 
 
 which works similar to those of the Apollinares would form 
 
 a part of the curriculum. 
 
 Possihle Had Julian limited his measure to that recognised class 
 
 extenua- ^f Professors, who obtained their chairs and derived their 
 
 tion of the 
 
 edict. emoluments direct from the state, that is to say from the 
 
 imperial treasury, and not from the contributions of local 
 tax-payers, his policy would deserve a milder censure. By 
 such action he would merely have asserted a principle, which 
 was later destined to obtain unquestioned acceptance : 
 namely, that no heretical, still less atheistical, teaching could 
 be authorised or supported by the state. To a sincere 
 Pagan, whose hands ruled the machinery of state education 
 with autocratic power, it might well seem legitimate to turn 
 it to the end which he thought best^ It appeared unrea- 
 sonable for the state to subsidise teachers for inculcating 
 that the state Gods were devils, or for the Pagan parent to 
 contribute towards the training of his son as a Pheidippides, 
 to whom in old age he might play Strepsiades. What would 
 make the particular application of the principle culpably 
 gross in Julian's case is, first, that in his age, as necessarily 
 under every extended polytheistic dispensation, religion, or 
 at any rate the choice of a religion, was far more an open 
 question than in medieval or even modern times; secondly, 
 that it was a very large section, in many places an enormous 
 majority of his subjects, in the teeth of whose convictions 
 he legislated ; and thirdly, that it was an entire innovation 
 to make education at all a vehicle for religious proselytism. 
 The Edict Still had Julian stopped here, he would have deserved 
 genuine j^iore tender condemnation. But a candid review of the lan- 
 tion. miaore of the actual edict, of the testmionies of historians, 
 
 and of the practical action taken by the Apollinares and 
 other educational leaders, appears to supply demonstrative 
 proof that Julian deliberately resolved not merely to purge 
 the imperial Professorial chairs of unorthodox occupants, not 
 merely to impose a conformity test on all teachers in the 
 public municipal schools, but penally to prohibit Christians 
 from teaching or publicly reading the master-pieces of Pagan 
 1 Ullmann, Greg, von Naz. 85 pp. defends Julian's action. 
 
EDUCATION. 215 
 
 literature, and thereby to cramp if possible and lastingly im- 
 pair the training and intellect of Christian children. The 
 act was one of genuine, if refined, persecution. Nothing 
 could justify such a prohibition short of proof that the effects 
 of Christian teaching were openly and scandalously immoral. 
 If Julian at times hints, he never seriously offers to substan- 
 tiate so untenable a charge. Prejudice in this instance 
 betrayed him into sophistries, culminating in a form of per- 
 secution quite as unjustifiable as those coarser methods 
 which in word and act he constantly repudiated. 
 
 How far the edict was executed, materials for forming' an Actual 
 opinion are few. To judge from the outcry it caused among ^'^p'^^^ °J 
 the Christians and the prominence accorded to it even in 
 anti-Christian writers, it remained by no means a dead 
 letter. Nor were its provisions evaded, as they might have 
 been, by cowardly reticence. Doubtless not a few Christian 
 professors, trimmers such as Hekebolius, must have preferred 
 apostasy to ruin. The clause in Julian's edict which spoke 
 of the removal of terrorism, and the free avowal of religious 
 beliefs must have rung mockingly enough in their ears. But 
 in the main the Christians seem to have met the challenge 
 nobly: by general consent they chose to surrender their pro- 
 fession rather than their faith ^ : one or two conspicuous ex- 
 ample^ emerge from the number of unrecorded witnesses. At 
 Rome Marius Victorinus could not forswear the God who had 
 given his tongue its eloquence : at Laodicea the Apollinares, 
 father and son, commenced their classical reconstructions of 
 Scriptures : Musonius^ proved staunch : Proeeresius", first of 
 the Athenian Professoriate, the former tutor of Julian, re- 
 ceived from his ex-pupil an assurance that in his case the 
 authorities would not enforce the decree, no doubt with some 
 implied hope of reciprocal forbearance on his part. In a like 
 spirit Constantius had offered money to Liberius to support 
 him in the exile he had himself inflicted. Proasresius, like 
 Liberius, rejected not without disdain the proffered gratuity. 
 
 1 Or. VII. 30, 
 
 ^ Vita luUani app. to Mamertinus' Panegyric iu Migne, Patrol. Lat. 
 vol. 18. 
 
 ^ Euuap. Vit. Soph. I'ruaeresii, Jer. Euseb. Citron. 
 
216 JULIAN. 
 
 Fame has recorded the doings of these Coryphaei of the 
 Church : of many another true man, who faced temporal loss 
 as nobly, no record is inscribed upon the tablets of history. 
 
 Section III. 
 
 Estimates of Julian. 
 
 The evidence of facts that have affixed the name of per- 
 secutor on Julian has now been so far as possible sifted. The 
 upshot of the whole is, in a word, that Julian ' persecuted 
 Christianity rather than the Christians \' and to the best of 
 his strength, though with sporadic failures here and there, 
 impressed a like policy upon the empire at larg'e. His 
 tolerance to the individual was, as his treatment of the 
 system declares, in the main not a moral sentiment rooted 
 in large-hearted equity, but a calculated system of policy. 
 It will now be instructive to cite the more important testi- 
 monies that bear upon the point, and see how far they cor- 
 roborate the conclusions drawn from the facts. For this 
 Juliari's purpose Julian's own works must be assigned the fullest 
 writings, ^gig.]^^^ ^nd consisting as in no small part they do of informal 
 instructions to subordinates and of letters to personal friends, 
 it is impossible to suppose that they contain only hypo- 
 critical representations of his true sentiments. In public 
 documents such as the Epistle to the Athenians, a politic 
 mask of toleration might be assumed ; and no decisive stress 
 could be laid on them. On the other hand despatches to 
 offending towns or individuals are absolutely reliable evidence 
 of Julian's public policy, and confidential letters to ministers 
 and private friends no less so of his real intentions. In case 
 of all historical characters the survival of their correspondence 
 is the surest touchstone of their worth ; Julian can happily 
 be subjected to the ordeal, and issues from it, if not scathe- 
 less, yet cleared of the most damaging charges. Throughout 
 
 1 Cf. Wiggers in Zeitsch. fur die Hist. Thcol. 1837. By this rather thin 
 epigram, which is the text of his discourse, he means that Julian strove 
 rather to dethrone the system than to do personal violence to the individual. 
 
PERSECUTION. 217 
 
 his letters there is on the whole nothing so blackening to 
 his fame as the education rescript, which has just been so 
 fully discussed. The general principles he avows are usually 
 most irreproachable. He makes frequent appeal to the 
 clemency of his enactments. 
 
 'So kindly and tenderly,' he writes to Hekebolius', 'have I 
 dealt with all the Galileans, that I have sutfered no man any- 
 where to be violently dragged to the temples or put to any other 
 such despite against his own free choice.' 
 
 Again, in one of his most spiteful letters, writing to a 
 city conspicuous for the turbulence engendered by religious 
 factions, and writing too from Antioch when the year 8G2 
 was more than half spent, while forbidding riots and clerical 
 mob-demonstrations, he expressly confirms to the Christians 
 of Bostra their unrestricted right of assembling together, 
 and practising all such devotions as they pleased. After 
 rebuking sectarian animosities and reprisals, and calling on 
 Pagan worshippers not to injure or plunder the houses of 
 those who are led astray by ignorance rather than choice, he 
 declares^ that men should be convinced and instructed by 
 reason, not by blows or assaults or bodily violence, and closes 
 thus : 
 
 'Again and again I charge all votaries of the true worship to Ep. 52. iSSn 
 do no wrong to the Galilean masses, neither to raise hand nor 
 direct insult against them. For those who go wrong in matters 
 of the highest import deserve pity, not hatred, for religion is 
 verily chiefest of goods, and irreligion the worst of evils.' 
 
 Without qualification or misgiving he contrasts his own Ep. 52. 436 x 
 treatment of Christians with that of his Christian prede- 
 cessor, and recites the sufferings of the heretics of Samosata 
 and Kyzikus, and the depopulation of the fairest provinces of 
 Asia, to make his own leniency stand in clearer light against 
 that background of shadows : and in the MisojJogon, the 
 latest perhaps of all his works, written at Antioch in 363, 
 he challenges the citizens to adduce against him a single 
 
 1 Not the Sophist (who was amongst Julian's correspondents, cf. Ep. 19), 
 but the Governor of Edessa. 
 
 2 Exactly similar sentiments are attributed to him. Liban. Epitaph. 
 p. 562. On this topic, cf. Beuguot, 187 pp. 
 
218 JULIAN. 
 
 instance of religious persecution. One short letter^ states 
 
 his view so very frankly and succinctly, that it shall be 
 
 rendered entire. 
 
 ' /,' he begins emphatically, ' / by the Gods want no Galileans 
 killed, or wrongfully scourged, or otherwise injured. Godly ^ men 
 I do desii-e to be encouraged, and plainly say they ought. Tlais 
 Galilean folly has turned almost everything upside down : nothing 
 but the Gods' mei-cy has saved us all. Therefore we ought to 
 honour the Gods and godly men and cities.' 
 
 It is perfectly true that there are passages in a different 
 tone. In number they are comparatively few, and to each 
 of them in their proper place, whether to domineering acri- 
 moniousuess towards Athanasius, or to malicious spite against 
 Titus of Bostra, or to acrid gibes upon the Christians of 
 Edessa, attention has been fully and faithfully called in the 
 foregoing jDages. It remains true that, the education rescript 
 excepted, throughout the surviving works of Julian there 
 remains not one passage counselling or legalising persecu- 
 tion, that on the contrary, in every case where his own tone 
 is most bitter and might most seem to countenance, if not 
 suggest, persecution, he is careful to say that neither theoreti- 
 cally nor practically does he regard it as a suitable engine of 
 conversion. Higher praise cannot with justice be given. 
 Julian neither practised nor claimed to practise an impartial 
 toleration. He went as far as abstract justice seemed to 
 demand ; but not a step further. He recognised no call for 
 generosity, no claim to a perfect equality of position for all 
 creeds. In dealing with his Christian subjects, justice, a 
 niggard justice, once satisfied, this is his tone — 
 
 Ep. 49. 432 A No law requires that they my care should prove 
 
 Or pity, hated by the Gods above*. 
 
 Christianity should exist on sufferance only. 
 
 1 E-p. 7, addressed to a certain Artabius otherwise unknown. 
 ^ deo(T€^e1s. Julian's 'godly men' (cf. Ohver Cromwell's phrase) are of 
 coui'se ' Pagans.' This official note is, by La Bleterie and others, attributed 
 to Juhan's earlier months. De Broglio {L'Eglise d;c. iv. p. 277) is perhaps 
 more correct in dating it from Antioch. 
 
 3 oi) yap fioi OifJus earl KOfiL^i/xev oi'S' f\ealp£ii> 
 
 df^pas, o'i Ke Oeolan' dirlx^^^vT^ dOavdroiffiv. 
 The lines are quoted or rather perverted from Od. x. 73. 
 
PERSECUTION. 219 
 
 In the works of the historians there is much to lead to Julian's 
 similar results. It would be idle work to rehearse the con- ^^[f^^''' 
 ventional praises of Pagans or the vague defamations of 
 Christian writers. The admissions of both will be far more 
 instructive. From the Pagan side there is little or no hint Pagan. 
 of guilt of persecution, butAmmian^ does most emphatically, 
 and not once only, except the education edict from his general 
 verdict. Eutropius no doubt alludes to the same in his brief 
 declaration that Julian persecuted the Christians, but re- 
 frained from shedding their blood. Praises of leniency are 
 of course plentiful in the mouth of Mamertinus or Himerius, 
 Libanius or Eunapius. 
 
 Turning to Church writers as more copious mines of in- Ecdesias- 
 
 . . . tical. 
 
 formation on this point, amid Gregory's unrivalled violence Qj.gg j^^z. 
 of denunciation, passages of the following kind are to be 
 found ^ 
 
 'Authority lias two departments, persuasion and force ; the 
 more brute element of despotism Julian delegated to the populace, 
 whose recklessness goes all lengths of unreasoning inconsiderate 
 impulse. He issued indeed no 'public ordinance; but non-repres- 
 sion of excesses converted his wishes into unwiitten law. The 
 milder and inore royal department, of persuasio7i, he made his oivn 
 prerogative : yet did not adhere to it completely : for the leopard 
 cannot change his spots, nor the Moor his skiix, nor fire its burning, 
 nor the Evil One, who is a murderer from the beginning, his 
 malice, nor Julian his naughtiness.' 
 
 The quotation has been carried so far to avoid giving a 
 mere garbled extract, and to show also that it was not some 
 sudden weak relenting that betrayed Gregory into admis- 
 sions which he elsewhere seems to forget. In other places 
 he is evidently at a loss for charges to drive quite securely 
 home the charge of persecution in its narrower sense. Such 
 surely are the two following passages : 
 
 * Julian omitted no kind of impiety ; by persuasion, by threats, 
 by sophistries he di-ew men to himself, not only by guile but also 
 
 ^ If controversy has not demonstratetl pro and con that Ammian was a 
 Pagan, at least no intelligent Christian reader can doubt it. 
 2 Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 61, p. 105. 
 
220 JULIAN. 
 
 by force*. But by no sophistical disguises could lie conceal Lis 
 persecution.' 
 
 Here the categoiy of modes of persecution clearly needed 
 some climax, which is certainly not supplied by the explana- 
 tory afterthought. In the last words too there is conscious 
 weakness of accusation. 
 
 One passage more will suffice^ : — 
 
 'Of all persecutions ever made, Julian devised the most in- 
 human : for he mingled persuasion with tyranny, grudging his 
 victims the glory of martyrdom, and casting doubt upon the zeal 
 of the fearless.' 
 
 This is a valuable comment on Gregory's poetical flights^, 
 when, after mention of Cain and the Sodomites, of Pharaoh, 
 Ahab, and Herod, he apostrophises Julian thus : — 
 
 Mid all that swell the persecutors' line, 
 
 Early or late or in the after time, 
 Latest yet first, preeminence is thine, 
 
 Slayer of souls, Satan's foul sink of crime, 
 TjTaut accursed ! 
 
 Rujimis. Rufinus, whose writing, though full of hostility to Julian, 
 
 bears generally an impress of honesty and veracity, says* 
 that Julian, 
 
 ' Craftier than all other persecutors, avoiding violence and tor- 
 tures, by rewards and distinctions and flattery and persuasions 
 wrought upon more part of the people than if he had made 
 violent assault upon them. He forbade Christians to study 
 Pagan authors, and admission to the schools was reserved for 
 such only as worshipped the Gods and Goddesses.' 
 
 SoJcrates. With this declaration Sokrates is in marked accord. At- 
 
 tention has been already directed to the distinction which he 
 draws ^ between the outset of Julian's reign, when he was 
 ' indulgent to all alike,' and the subsequent period when he 
 •began to display partialities'; but the historian, while dwell- 
 
 1 Greg. Naz. Or. xvin. 32, p. 353. ij3id^€To is so far ambiguous that 
 'by constraint' would be as faithful a rendering as 'by force.' 
 - Greg. Naz. Or. xxi. 32. 
 
 =* I'oem. Lib. i. § ii. p. 323. In Laud. Vlrg. 1. 454 — 458. 
 i liuf. I. 32. 5 yok. III. ii_ 
 
PERSECUTION. 221 
 
 ing on his vehement encouragement of Paganism, speaks a 
 little later thus in quite general terms*: — 
 
 ' He went cleverly to work. Having seen what honour was 
 paid to the confessors in the persecution of Diocletian, and 
 knowing the forwardness of many to become confetisors, he re- 
 venged himself by taking the other line. He eschewed Dio- 
 cletian's harsher way, though he by no means kept clear of per- 
 secution ; for all troubling whatsoever of peaceable men I call 
 persecution; and he troubled the Christians thus : — by prohibitive 
 educational laws ; that they might not, as he said, whet their 
 tongues and be a match for Pagan disputants.' 
 
 Thus Sokrates supports Rufinus in his general verdict, 
 and in representing Julian's rescript on education as the 
 crown of his persecutions. 
 
 Sozomen as usual goes farther still in candour of state- 
 ment on Julian's behalf ^ He says that the Emperor, 
 
 ' while minded in every way to support Paganism, accounted the 
 compulsion or pimishment of unioilling worshippers ill-advised;^ 
 
 and at greater length writes in these terms ^ : — 
 
 ' From the first, though devoid of all feeling for the Christians, 
 he showed himself more humane than preceding persecutors ; their 
 example proved that penalties were of no service to the establish- 
 ment of Paganism ; nay, were the surest promoters of Christianity, 
 which won lustre from the courage of willing martyrs for the 
 faith. In jealousy not in mercy, he thought it unnecessary to 
 work conversions by fire or by sword or by mutilations, or by 
 drowning or burying alive, or such like favouiite means. He 
 hoped to pervert the masses to Paganism by ai'gument and ex- 
 hortation, and expected easily to compass his end by eschewing 
 violence and adopting an unexpected policy of indulgence.' 
 
 Theodoret is too consistently hostile to extenuate thus his Theodoret. 
 bill of indictment, but S. Jerome'* admirably sums up Julian's Jerome. 
 system as 'a gentle violence that strove to win not drive,' 
 while Orosius^ finds the Apostate guilty of assailing Christi- Orosivs. 
 anity by craft rather than repression, making perverts by 
 stimulating their ambition, not by playing upon their fears. 
 
 1 Sok. m. 12. 2 goz. V. sv. B. » Soz. v. iv. 6, 7. 
 
 * Jer. Euseb. Chron. p. 504. * Oros. vii. 30. 
 
222 
 
 JULIAN. 
 
 Sumnianj. The allegations adduced to prove Julian a persecutor 
 have now been fully marshalled. The bulk of them ap- 
 peared, even in combination, insufficient to convict Julian 
 of personal responsibility for persecution in its extreme 
 forms ; in individual cases he allowed justice to be overruled 
 and as it were cozened by prejudice ; more than once he 
 winked at barbarities of Pagans more fanatical than him- 
 self; in one notable instance he degraded himself to genuine 
 persecution, though the pains inflicted were not of a corporal 
 kind. The evidence of reported facts has next been com- 
 pared with confessions extracted from Julian's own writings, 
 and with admissions extorted from the principal witnesses 
 on either side : these have on the whole remarkably corro- 
 borated the previous conclusions ; and if details here and 
 there furnish matter for doubt, on the whole assurance of 
 the main truth has been attained, and but few contradictions 
 remain unreconciled. 
 
 Julimi's 
 intentions. 
 
 Here then the inquiry would naturally end. But the 
 writings of previous historians seem to force upon us the 
 unwelcome question, 'Would Julian have become an open 
 persecutor, had power remained longer in his grasp?' A 
 complete answer would entail a thankless and distasteful 
 discussion, necessarily arriving at no sure result. The evi- 
 dence, if indeed it can be called evidence, is meagre enough. 
 It consists of surmises and inferences and laborious deduc- 
 tions of Gregory and his copiers : Julian's vague menaces 
 uttered, or maybe not even uttered, in moments of irri- 
 tation, have been reported^ and magnified. He was said to 
 have threatened on his victorious return from Persia to pro- 
 claim war to the knife with all Christians : the hand of God 
 was traced in the dart that pierced his side. But it is not 
 before Jerome^ that the precise statement occurs that Julian 
 on marching against the Persians had devoted the blood of 
 the Christians to the Gods after the victory : it was reserved 
 for the insight of Jerome's pupil, Orosius^, to lay bare the full 
 
 1 E.g. cf. Euinart, Acta de Sancto Theodora confessore. 
 
 2 Jer. Euseb. Chron. p. 504. ^ Oros. vii. 30. 
 
PERSECUTION. 223 
 
 blackness of his guilt : reiterating the master's words, he 
 corroborates them thus : 
 
 * For he actually ordered the restoration of the amphitheatre 
 at Jerusalem, intending ou his return from Parthia to cast the 
 bishops and all the holy monks' of that district to the beasts and 
 make a spectacle of their sufferings!' 
 
 Modern historians^, with few exceptions, have argued in Accepted 
 the same direction. Inference and assertion are as easy as 
 they are unsafe ; ' of all forms of lying prophecy is the most 
 gratuitous.' There is no doubt not a little to be plausibly 
 urged in support of such a view. Throughout Julian's tenure 
 of power a growing liitterness of tone is patent, manifesting 
 itself in act and word alike. It was from Antioch he chas- Julian at 
 tised the Cesareans, and wrote his contemptible letter to the 
 Bostrenians ; from Antioch that he penned his savage letters 
 against Athanasius ; at Antioch once more that he composed 
 the Misopogon, commenced his work against the Christians, 
 and wrote his satirical jeu d'esprit the Ccesars, which closes 
 with the bitterest and most cold-blooded of all his scoffs at 
 Christianity. Corresponding to this change in his own tone, 
 increased remissness is displayed in curbing the excesses of 
 imperial officers, and in one case at least deliberate con- 
 nivance in the torture of Christians, which was warranted by 
 suspicions only and not actual facts. 
 
 But there remains on the other side the broad indispu- 
 table fact that throughout the empire at large religious 
 toleration was both the law and the practice. In the West 
 there was absolute freedom from persecution ; in the East 
 
 ^ Compare the droll tale of Julian's tame devil and the monk Publius in 
 Kedrenus i. p. 526, Glykas iv. p. 472. Cf. also Kedr. p. 531. 
 
 2 Lame, Jiilien VApostat, p. 163, goes perhaps furthest, and predicts with 
 pleased assurance that Julian would have persecuted hard and persecuted 
 successfully. 'Si les persecutions des autres empereurs n'avaient point 
 empechiS le nombre des chr^tiens de s'accroitre, c'est qu'ils frappaient les 
 corps sans pourvoir aux besoins des esprits ; Julien avait pris I'ordre in- 
 verse Une persecution dirigee par Julien se fiit done accomplie dans les 
 
 meilleures conditions pour le succfes; I'extinction du paganisme par I'epee 
 des empereurs Chretiens prouve qu'il est possible de supprimer une religion 
 par la violence, pourvu qu'on ait su la remplacer en lui prenant tout ce 
 qu'elle avait de bon.' 
 
224 JULIAN, 
 
 extremely little, and that little induced by local disturbances 
 or the bias of individual magistrates. If it be true that a 
 relentless doom would have driven Julian to the last huge 
 wrong, it is beyond dispute that to the end he struggled 
 hard against that Nemesis of apostasy. It would have been 
 hard to devise a fiercer ordeal than a prolonged stay at 
 Antioch. Alone in policy, in sympathies, in patient and 
 heroic efforts to restore virtue to a soulless corpse, encircled 
 by flatterers and deceived by knaves, secretly ridiculed by 
 Pagans and openly defied by Christians, meeting with no 
 allowance for mistakes and no response to leniency, the 
 young impetuous Emperor might have been sick at heart 
 and fretted into outrage, even in some secluded retreat. 
 But at Antioch these feelings must have been aggravated 
 to tenfold force. The town where men had been first 
 called Christians retained its old character ; it was a nu- 
 cleus of Christianity still, the very core of Church life in 
 Asia. But its Christianity was of a type specially offensive 
 to a disbelieving philosoi^her. It was noisy, turbulent, de- 
 monstrative. Nowhere, unless at Alexandria, did party spirit 
 rim so high. The town was usually split into rival camps. 
 Many a stormy council had met at Antioch. It was the 
 nursing-mother of Arian ^ disputants, the prolific birthplace 
 of heretic^ creeds : not five years before Julian's arrival the 
 most violent Anomoeans of the East had chosen Antioch as 
 the rendezvous from which to send their synodal congratu- 
 lations to Valens the Anomoean of the West. The very year 
 before his appearance the appointment of a non-Arian bishop' 
 had caused a tumult in the open church and been the signal 
 for a schism, which lasted out the century. Apart from 
 religious feuds the mob ten years previously had first kicked 
 
 1 Cf. Newman's Arians of the Fourth Century, Chap. i. § 1. 
 
 2 At the Council of Dedication at Antioch 341 a.d. five new creeds were 
 drawn up, succeeded in 345 by the so-called macrostich. 
 
 ' Meletius, chosen by the Arians, disappointed his partisans by an 
 orthodox confession. He was banished, and Euzoius elected in his stead. 
 The unfortunate attempt of a commission headed by Lucifer of Cagliari to 
 restore peace, ended in his setting up a new party, which bore his name and 
 survived for fifty years. 
 
PERSECUTION. 225 
 
 the life out of an innocent governor, and then torn in pieces 
 his mangled remains. Such scenes were hardly uncommon \ 
 A spirit of rancour was abroad among all classes, high and 
 low. Julian was constantly called to face and endure this. 
 He was the butt of ribald jeers, of seditious libels^ of curses, 
 of damnatory prayers^. Publia and her virgins regaled him 
 with abusive Psalms; irreligious wags nicknamed him 
 ' Slaughterer ' ; rude scoffers at philosophy dubbed him 
 'Goat'^; squibs, lampoons, scurrilous rl^ymes ran riot. How 3/^. 364 b c. 
 galling these petty insults were it is not easy to picture : 
 measures of conciliation, generous attempts to cripple ex- mis. 365 
 tortion and alleviate distress, all met with a like response. 
 Pagans and Christians, rich and poor, landowners and sales- 
 men, combined® to hinder the Emperor's designs and thwart 355, 357 n. 
 
 . ® . 365 A. 
 
 his measures of reform. He tried to stem vulgarity and 
 immorality ; to break the tyranny of capitalists, and check 
 the noisy Sansculottism of the mob : jeers, misrepresent- 
 ations, abuse, were all the thanks he got. The giddy 
 populace were to be won only by frivolous and degrading 342 b 
 exhibitions® such as their conscientious ruler declined to 
 give. To them the Emperor, his friends, and his views were 354 c 
 strangers and intruders. Much as he despised these 'frogs 358 a 
 of the marsh,' Julian smarted sorely under the unpopularity 
 and contempt with which his overtures were met. He felt 344 b 
 himself unappreciated ; he knew that he deserved better of 
 the unworthy citizens. He was altogether misunderstood, 
 underrated, despised, and he dwelt on it bitterly. Every 
 line of the Misopogon is saturated with this feeling. He was 
 aware moreover that it was the very elevation of his aims, 
 
 1 Amm. M. xiv. vii. 0, 3/?s. 370 c, cf. Amm. j\[. xiv. vii. 16. 
 
 2 Mis. 36i B, 301 A. 
 
 ^ Mis. 344 A, with which cf. Greg. Naz. Or. xviii, c. 32, and Soz. \i. 2 
 concerning Didymus. 
 
 "• QvT-rji, Tpayoi, Zonar. xiii. 12. For the ktter cf. Mis. 339 a.; for both,, 
 with otliers to boot, Amm. M. xxii. xiv. 3. 
 
 ^ Cf. specially the conduct of the merchants during the scarcity of pro- 
 visions at Antioch. Sok. in. 17, Soz. v. 19, 3Iis. 350, 368 c— 370 b. 
 
 6 Mis. 339 c, 340 a, 342 c, 354 c, 359 d, 365 ; cf. Liban. Epit. p. 579. 
 
 R. E. 1.5 
 
226 JULIAN. 
 
 the sincere toleration, the self-imposed restraints of power', 
 that reduced him to this predicament. It is hardly possible 
 to conceive of stronger temptations to persecution : tolera- 
 tion for the intolerant, forbearance towards the overbearing, 
 without even the recompence of gratitude, were incessantly 
 required of him. He was himself being persecuted at every 
 turn for his religion ; that he knew well was the secret of 
 his unpopularity ; he had but to speak the word, and an 
 ample harvest of reJ.aliation could be reaped ; and yet he 
 refrained himself at the risk of alienating friends and with 
 the certainty of emboldening enemies ; he stedfastly set his 
 face against persecution ; and only once or twice, when ex- 
 asperated beyond patience, deviated from the attitude he 
 had taken up. 
 
 It is possible perhaps in this matter to go further still. 
 If it is at all admitted that incitements to persecution, 
 and aggravations to forbearance reached at Antioch a pitch 
 that could hardly have become intensified however long 
 Julian had retained imperial power, and that he neverthe- 
 less adhered to his policy of toleration, other consequences 
 may perhaps be deduced. It will be granted that Julian 
 would not have followed the blood-stained track of a Decius 
 or a Diocletian : it will be admitted that he was at least too 
 shrewd in statesmanship, if not too true to philosophical 
 conviction, to renew against ever-swelling superiority of 
 force a battle lost irrevocably half a century before'' : and 
 more, it will be remembered that too great breadth of tolera- 
 tion was one of the charges levelled against Julian ; it will 
 be noted with fresh interest that it was the dead, irrespon- 
 sive sloth of Paganism that soured his blood more even than 
 the antagonism of believers ; it might in a sanguine moment 
 be conjectured, or at leasfnot dismissed from the region of 
 hope, that, if eighteen months of rule had taught and dis- 
 ciplined and disenchanted Julian so much, added years 
 
 » Mis. 343 A, 357 d, &c. &c. *c. 
 
 '■^ The toleration Edict of Galerius, 310 a. d. 
 
PERSECUTION. 227 
 
 might have strengthened him to probe the diseased lie, 
 and forsake deluding shadows and fruitless hopes for a creed 
 more solid and aspirations more satisfying. If the historian 
 must silence such a hope, at least let Ausonius' kindly epitaph 
 on Titus be vouchsafed to the Apostate too, 
 
 FELIX BREVITATE REGENDI. 
 
 15—2 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JULIAN AND CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 •' Out of this stuff, these forces, thou art grown, 
 And proud self-severance from them were disease." 
 
 Julian's Julian's treatment of the Christians has been investigated 
 
 ^Chris'^ at length : the personal opinions that he entertained of 
 tianity. Christianity and the Christians demand a separate examina- 
 tion. Obviously the two questions are different. In the first 
 case he acted as Emperor : in the second he thought as an 
 individual. In the former his hands were in great measure 
 tied by the mixed responsibilities of power; in the latter he 
 was free as the unlettered peasant or the cultured philoso- 
 pher. 
 
 It is not too much to say that intellectually, morally and 
 practically he totally misconceived Christianity. Before the 
 death of Constantino, and in a still greater degree of course 
 at the death of Constantius, Christianity had attained a posi- 
 tion sufficient to prove that it was the conquering force then 
 present in the world, that in its hands lay the future. During 
 the half-century preceding Julian's accession it had gone 
 forward with leaps and bounds: its numerical strength, its 
 moral earnestness, its intellectual self-justification all entitled 
 it to at least respect as an antagonist, if not to acceptance as 
 a master. Yet Julian treated it with unconcealed and mis- 
 calculating contempt. He professed and probably felt disdain 
 as much as dislike. How could this be? In the first place 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 229 
 
 he was singularly unfortunate in his contact with it. Alike Contact 
 in the court of Constantius, and in his early education 'and ^^-^j^^. *"^" 
 youth, Christianity came before him in the person of most 
 unworthy representatives^; on the throne hardly less than in 
 the schoolroom the same ill-fortune dogged him. The cordi- 
 ality and impartiality of his numerous invitations availed him 
 nothing. It was high time to prove that not all bishops were 
 dissimulators, and not all prelates politicians: so the worthier 
 with one consent held aloof from the Apostate. Athanasius 
 indubitably represents the highest consciousness of the Chris- 
 tian Church of Julian's day. If there was one episcopal ap- 
 pointment more grievous a scandal to the Church than another, 
 that of Aetius might probably be singled out. First a peddling 
 tinker, next a quack, next a sophist, the coryphaeus of heretics 
 and the bane of the Church, he had won his spurs as 'the 
 Atheist^' before in Julian's reign he attained the bishopric 
 of Constantinople. Such were the two men. Athanasius 
 Julian can scarcely mention without bad language: Aetius^ 
 above every ecclesiastic he delighted to honour; not content 
 with receiving him at court he conferred upon him in addi- 
 tion an estate in Mitylelie. Can facts speak plainer? In 
 this respect Julian certainly deserves commiseration, but 
 must not therefore elude just blame. If not in boyhood, at 
 least as a man he had ample opportunities for forming a 
 judgment from fairer specimens of Christianity than an 
 Aetius or a Hekebolius. Basil the Great and Gregory of 
 Nazianzus were his college associates; will rather than occa- 
 sion must have been lacking if he never met Christian 
 leaders such as Hilary of Poitiers or Eusebius of Vercellse: 
 doubtless their society would have been distasteful to him. 
 The sequel to Julian's vain endeavours to pervert the young 
 Caesarius* was his retirement from court, a practical commen- 
 tary neutralising pages of trim professions. 
 
 ^ Schloaser dwells on the rapid degeneracy of tbe Christian clergy after 
 the accession of Constantine. 
 
 2 He was surnamed "A^eos : he was the founder of the Anomceans, the 
 most openly unchristian of Arian sects. 
 
 3 Cf. Soz. V. v., and Jul., Ep. 31. * Supr. p. 143. 
 
230 JULIAN. 
 
 Chris- Julian's primary misconception of Christianity was in 
 
 tiemity a yeffarding it as a sheer contrivance \ a kind of mutual benefit 
 society set up solely in the interests of the managers. He had 
 found so much hypocrisy among Christians that he assumed 
 
 cjT. 333 B-D it of them all. S. John's attribution of divinity to Christ 
 was a clever fraud: the whole fabric of sacerdotalism was 
 so much ingenious mechanism: the clergy were ambitious 
 
 £p. 52. 436- schemers; if deprived of the power to tyrannise and dictate 
 and appropriate .other men's goods, they at once became 
 centres of faction, professional incendiaries, whose work it 
 was to inflame party against party in their own selfish 
 interests. The monks — except indeed in those cases where 
 
 Frag. Ep. ^^gy ^^^ \^qq^ drivou by devils into the wilderness and pro- 
 vided with manacles and collars^ — were no better; their 
 ■ assumed self-renunciation was a sham. At a small sacrifice 
 for the most part, they had made a lucrative investment. 
 In exchange for the paltry property or positions they had 
 surrendered, these so-called 'Renouncers^' were everywhere 
 courted, caressed, and obsequiously followed, besides recoup- 
 ing themselves in hard cash into the bargain. Monasticism 
 was in Julian's eyes a low type of the false Cynicism he so 
 hotly denounced. To him almsgiving and charities were 
 but ingenious devices to support the ascendancy of a ruling 
 
 Frag. Ep. castc. He comparcs the Christians to kidnappers, who tempt 
 children by mouthfuls of cake, and finally catch them and 
 fling them into confinement, to spend a life of misery as the 
 cost of the transient sweet that tickled their palate for the 
 nonce. If Pagans did but imitate the cunning of the Chris- 
 tians on more magnanimous motives, they would soon occupy 
 the same position of influence. 
 
 1 Frag. Ep. 305 c d, Ep. 49. 429 d, Ep. 51. 435, and esp. Cyril 39 a twv 
 ToKiXaiuv 7) aK€Vupla Tr\d<Tfia iariv dvdpuiirwv, inrb KaKovpylas avvrfdh- ^xo^fa 
 fji^v ovUv deiov, diroxp-q'^o.nivt) U ti^ 0iXo/xi;0aJ /cat TraidapiiiSei Kal dcoi^TC^) 
 TTjs ipvxvs ft-oplif, rr]v TeparoXoylat' els wiffTiv rjyayfv aKrjddai. 
 
 2 Cf. Jerome Ep. 22, Ad Euetoch., § 28 (Migne, vol. i.). 
 
 3 diroraKTiffTai, Or. 7. 224 b. Apparently all MSS. insert the <r. I do not 
 know that the word occurs elsewhere. For diroTaKriTai, see Epiphan. ii. 129. 
 Presumably they are the diroTa^dfj.ei'OL (of. Bingham, Ant. vii. 2). 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 231 
 
 Besides this arrant and pervading duplicity with which Christians 
 be charges them, Julian attributed a variety of other vices ^^^•'^ ^^ ' 
 to the Christians. Not content with condemning individuals, 
 be regards envy, strife and slander as characteristic of the Frag. Ep. 
 Christian profession, a mistake which cost him not a few 
 practical blunders. He represents Christians as drawn from 
 the lowest and most degraded portions of society. He ex- 
 tends this reproach to primitive Christians as well as bis own 
 contemporaries, and avails himself of S. Paul's* black cata- cyr. 206ab, 
 
 . 238 E, 245 B c. 
 
 logue of crimes to prove that from the very first the Church 
 had been recruited from the criminal ranks. There was con- 
 siderable truth in the remark as a fact. The lowest and the 
 highest strata of society^ were still, as at the first, those from 
 which Christianity derived its strength. Content with this 
 fact, and keenly alive to the shortcomings of Christians, 
 Julian precipitately inferred a condemnation of the religion 43 b 
 itself He was blind to the moral power of Christianity upon 
 the life. Bigotry and prejudice revealed to him only the 
 narrowness, violence and duplicity so rife amid contemporary 
 Christians, In his belief they greedily assimilated all that 
 was bad, rejecting what was good: and this no less in the 
 religious and intellectual than in the moral and social sphere. 
 Having abandoned the worship of the eternal Gods they 
 preferred to worship the Galilean carpenter who died as 
 a felon: disdaining to adore King Sun, they deified a Jewish mn 
 corpse; nay, not content with one man or one corpse, thev -??p- 53. 438 c. 
 
 1-1 Tin ,1 -^ . , "^ Cyr. 201 E, 
 
 worshipped many corpses and dead mens bones without 335 b c. 
 
 . . . Cf. J\[i.i. 361 B, 
 
 number. As in worship, so too in ceremonial. Even in the or. 7.22s c. 
 law they still professed to revere, they rebelliously rejected 
 all that was most venerable and estimable. Like leeches cyr. 202 a, 
 they sucked only the bad blood out of the Mosaic code, 
 leaving the purer portion. The same principle of perverse 
 assimilation ruled their intellectual tastes. To the Greeks 
 belonged science and culture; to the Christians unreason and 
 stolidity ^ Their own literature was stuff fit only for slaves; 2290-230 a 
 
 1 Eom. i. 
 
 2 Beugnot makes this remark, which Chastel endorses, p. 95: cf. also 
 Lam^, p. 41. 
 
 ^ Greg. Naz. Or. iv. cii. 
 
232 JULIAN. 
 
 Greek literature with all its exquisite beauties they at once 
 
 reprobated and pursued ; here as elsewhere, taking a perverse 
 
 cyr. 238 B delight in culling from it what was worst instead of what 
 
 was choicest, and so weaving therefrom a web of mischief. 
 Julian's Not Satisfied with such general denunciations, Julian 
 
 aqainlT pi'obed deeper, and was at great pains to refute the Galileans 
 Chris- by argument as well as abuse or contempt. His controver- 
 sial objections to Christianity were committed to seven* 
 books, denied to us by the orthodox anxieties of his suc- 
 i cessors^ Happily the three earlier books survive, embedded 
 
 in the elaborate refutation by Cyril. 
 Meta- To begin with the metaphysical objections, the origin of 
 
 ■physical ji ^i^g creation of matter, the creation of mortal natures 
 
 objections, ' 
 
 Cyr. 68. 65 directly by God are all handled, and contrasted unfavourably 
 with the Platonic theory of creation by mediary agents. 
 Between the Christian and the Neo-Platonist system lies the 
 fundamental difference that whereas Christians regarded 
 evil as entering into the world through the Fall, as a super- 
 vening accident therefore and not an inherent necessity in the 
 constitution of things, Neo-Platonists accepted a Manichean 
 belief in the precedent eternity and with it the final inde- 
 structibility of evil. The creation or even sufterance of evil 
 in a world created by God they deemed incompatible with 
 the absolute unity and holiness of the Godhead. This line of 
 attack, however, is so slightly pressed, compared with what 
 might naturally be expected, that it is a safe conjecture that 
 either Cyril's report is imperfect or that the subject was 
 reserved for treatment in one of the lost books*. 
 
 1 Three according to Cyril, but seven according to Jer. Ep. 10 Ad 
 Magnum (Migne, vol. i.) : perhaps Cyril formally refuted three only out of 
 the seven; Herwerden, p. 45, finds in Theoph, Chron. p. 80, a slender 
 confirmation of this theory. A passage quoted by Sok. iii. 23 does not 
 occur in Cyi'il's extracts. On this cf. Desjardins, 148 pp. The fullest and 
 best arranged summary of their contents I have met with is in Herwerden's 
 De lid. Imp. pp. 44—83, 97—138. 
 
 2 Law of Theodosius II. 
 
 3 At the same time the remains of the work are almost entirely destruc- 
 tive. This quite accords with Hokrates' criticism (H. E. in. xxiii. 7). ' The 
 books are too vituperative. They are purely combative, not argumentative. 
 Not having truth on his side, he tried to discredit established facts by 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 233 
 
 Relying maiuly on the anthropomorphisms of the Old Christian 
 Testament Julian further asserts the moral obliquity of the of'^od*'^" 
 Christian conception of God. Human passions are assigned attackedas 
 
 . • 1 /-I 1 i_ imvioral, 
 
 to him. He is represented as a jealous God, not above anger cy, ujc 
 and indignation, as confounding the innocent with the guilty 
 (Numb. XXV.) ; and in his blind passion taking an indis- leo d-161 b 
 criminate revenge upon tens and hundreds of thousands, out 
 of all proportion to the offence committed, in retaliation for the 
 sin of a few. Again, he is meanly envious ; he forbade man 
 to take of the tree of wisdom, and yet more reprehensibly 93 b— 94 a 
 tried to deny him the knowledge of good and evil. Truly 
 the imitation of such a God (which philosophers commend) 
 would have strange and disastrous results. The unsightly 
 representation is doubtless due in part to wilful dissembling i46 b 
 on the part of Moses. 
 
 The Christian or Jewish God is not only immoral, but as un- 
 curiously impotent and short-sighted. He created Eve as ^j"/, g/i. 
 man's helpmate, and she turned out his seducer and worst 
 enemy. He tried to debar men from the knowledge of good 89 a, 93 b. 
 and evil, and was then outwitted by them. Next, becoming 
 frightened of men, he adopted the awkward device of pro- i34d-i3sc 
 ducing a confusion of tongues. In his dealings with Gods he 
 betrays equal helplessness : he cannot prevent that worship 
 of false Gods of which he is said to be jealous. Once again 155 cd 
 the Jewish conception of God's partiality in confining his 
 solicitude and government to a special people most in- 99 e, loe, 
 juriously limits both the power and the sphere of his work- 
 ing. To the enlightened philosopher such an idea mustnsD-iieB 
 appear no less false in fact than it is petty in conception. 
 The polytheistic^ idea of God's superintendence of the whole 
 world by appointed agents is a far nobler one. And what is 
 more, it alone is borne out by history: if history proves any- 
 
 sarcastic ridicule. ' In Lame's words, the proper title for the work is ' Eefu- 
 tation of Judaism and Galileism,' i-ather than 'Defence of Paganism.' {Jul. 
 I'Apost. p. 149). 
 
 1 In Cyr. 69, 72, 14G b, 155, 238, 253, JuUan tries to fasten polytheism 
 on O. T. writers by the help of Gen, xi. 7, Ex. xxii. 28, &c. Cf. also Cyr. 
 100, 238, 290, on Ex. iv. 22, 23, v. 3, vii. 16, Deut. xxxii. 9, Gen. vi. 2. 
 
234 JULIAN. 
 
 thing, it proves both in ancient and modern times that the 
 cyr. 209 d- Jews are a God-forsaken race, not the special favourites of 
 218 A-c. the Deity. In material prosperity their career is httle more 
 than a succession of captivities ; Egyptians, Pliilistines, Assy- 
 rians, Babylonians, Syrians, Romans have one after another 
 176 B c, 178 B, triumphed over them; while as for general enlightenment 
 221 E, 224'c D, they fall hopelessly behind the Chaldeans, the Greeks, and 
 
 229 c— 230 A. -^ -"^ . '' 
 
 many other nations. 
 
 Defects of Julian further impugning the defects of Scripture finds 
 
 bcnpture. ^^^^^ ^^^ revelation of God therein contained is not only 
 
 false and immoral, but also strangely incomplete. For iu- 
 
 49 D stance there is hardly a word as to the creation or function 
 
 of angels, and intermediary spirits. Though they are again 
 
 96 c-E, 99. and again mentioned — whether obscurely, as in Gen. vi. 2, 4, 
 or directly — it is left altogether undetermined whether they 
 are created by God, or emanant from some other source, or 
 unbegotten. Neither are pi'oper distinctions drawn between 
 acts of creation and acts of arrangement of pre-existent 
 material. Various rationalistic objections are next brought 
 86 A against the credibility of Scripture. In what language, it is 
 scoffingly asked, did the serpent talk ? How is the account 
 of the tower of Babel less fabulous or ridiculous than 
 
 134 D 135 c Homer's myth of giants piling Pelion upon Ossa ? In a 
 
 similar tone the discordance between the genealoofies in 
 
 253 E Matthew and Luke is commented on. Further the literary 
 
 defects of Scripture receive severe animadversion, and are 
 
 229C-230A elaborately contrasted with the excellencies of Greek litera- 
 ture. The prophets are derided \ and the Hebrew tongue 
 maligned. Julian likewise assails the want of unity between 
 the different parts of Scripture. The ceremonial law for 
 instance was given by God. Moses expressly says that it is 
 319 D E to be eternal ; ' Ye shall keep it a feast to the Lord, through- 
 out your generations ; ye shall keep it a feast by an ordinance 
 for ever^ ; and to the same sense elsewhere. Christ reiterated 
 351 Bc a similar injunction ; 'Think not I am come to destroy the 
 
 ^ Frag. Ep. 294, 295, with which compare particular criticisms in Cyril, 
 p. 253 (cf. 259), 262, and Theod. Mops, in Muuter, i. p. 136. 
 2 Ex. xii. 24. 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 235 
 
 law and the prophets ; I am not come to destroy but to 
 fulfil^' and yet Paul has the audacity to say that 'Christ is cyr. 320A 
 the end of the law,' and Christians with one consent system- 
 atically neglect every one of its provisions. Asfain, Moses' 299 a, sos b— 
 
 . /- • • 1 • 9 1 1 306a,351a— C. 
 
 entire ignorance of Christ is obvious ; the supposed pro- 
 phecies of Christ, whether in Moses or elsewhere, are com- 
 pletely at fault : and it is again and again repeated that the 159 e, 253 bc, 
 worship of Christ is a defiant breach of the first command- 
 ment of the Jewish Law. Passing to the New Testament, Deprecia- 
 we find Julian persistently endeavouring to depreciate the jvew Tes-^ 
 character of the witnesses. He speaks scoffingly of Matthew^ tament. 
 
 ^ '^ , Ep. 42. 423 D, 
 
 and Luke*, and in more general terms of the fraudulent cyr. 218 a. 
 machinations of the Evangelists. While the Jewish prophets 
 are in his eyes foolish babblers, who but chattered to old |^72' ^''' 
 women, in S. John he discerns a scheming and audacious 
 impostor, who ventured to intrude upon the credulity of 
 Christians noveP and blasphemous beliefs as to the divinity cyr. 213b, 
 
 . ^, . , . , , . , . ^ , . _, . "^ 262 D. 327 A— 
 
 of Christ, his person, and his relation to Cod the li ather. c, 333 b-d. 
 S. Peter is a hypocrite, and the differences between him and 325 c 
 S. Paul are enlarged upon, while the latter, the arch-impostor 99 b 
 and magician, is said, ' as occasion suits, like a polypus on loe b 
 the rocks, to shift his doctrines about God.' 
 
 Of our Lord himself Julian speaks in a slighting rather Julian's 
 than bitter or blasphemous tone. He recognises neither ^^^^^ 
 novelty, nor beauty, nor force in his teaching, comments on 
 his ill success in converting his own kindred and nation, and ^p- si- 433 d, 
 
 ° _ _ ' Cyr. 213 A B. 
 
 concludes that he did nothing worthy of mention, except 
 perhaps a few miracles of healing or exorcism in out-of-the- i91b 
 way villages of Palestine. He looked upon the ' carpenter's 
 son' with an aristocratic disdain, that must for ever discredit 
 
 1 Matt. V. 17. 
 
 2 Cyril 262, 290 e. Elsewhere Julian insists on the verbal interpretation 
 of the Messianic prophecy by Moses, 'The Lord our God \vill raise up 
 a prophet for you among our brethren like unto me,' 253 c d. 
 
 ^ The call of Matthew he rejects on internal evidence, Jer. ad Mat. ix. 9. 
 
 * He refuses credit to Luke's account of the angelic apparition in Geth- 
 semane, because (1) the disciples were asleep, (2) John makes no mention of 
 it. 
 
 5 Cf. Cyr. 327 a and .335 b where Julian explicitly says that neither Paul 
 nor any of the three other evangelists dared to call Jesus God. 
 
2i3A 
 
 23G JULIAN. 
 
 his power of moral insight. Christ's teaching appeared to 
 
 him weak, unpractical, and subversive of society'. He did 
 
 cyr. 206 b, not think him a bad man, or a scheming man, or a deluded 
 
 man, but just an unlettered peasant, who had lived some three 
 
 hundred years ago, when Augustus and Tiberius were great. 
 
 There are times when a peevish jealousy breaks out as 
 
 though Christ were pitted in a personal rivalry against 
 
 Cffisar', and defrauding him of the tribute due ; but ebullitions 
 
 of that kind are casual and kept out of Julian's set polemics 
 
 against Christianity. 
 
 Of Chris- The highest mysteries of the Christian fiiith he treats 
 
 dan rmji.- ^^j^j^ unsparing contempt. He of course rejects the divinity 
 
 of Christ ; he unsparingly denounces the whole doctrine of 
 
 the Triuity^ which originated in the obscure imagination of 
 
 104,201.206, 'the good John*'; and special taunts are directed against the 
 
 253'£.262de. ^^^^^ of the Miraculous Conception, of Atonement by 
 
 213 b Christ's death, and of the premundane existence of Christ. 
 
 Christian 'faith' put him out of all patience'. Against the 
 
 sacramental', efficacy of baptism he indulges a special spite: 
 
 ca«. 336 A B in his satirical Caesars he jeers at the thought of Constan- 
 
 tine deserting the ideal of holy life, and after being lapped 
 
 in the arms of luxury and self-indulgence, turning at last to 
 
 Jesus, and being washed in baptismal water pure from the 
 
 Cyr. 245 D taint of siu. ' Baptism,' he exclaims in his work against the 
 
 Christians, 'does not take away the scales of leprosy, nor 
 
 ringworm, nor scurvy, nor warts, nor gout, nor dysentery, 
 
 nor dropsy, nor the whitlow, nor bodily ailments small or 
 
 o-reat, but will clean drive out adultery and theft, and moral 
 
 transgressions one and all.' The taint of his own baptism he 
 
 endeavoured, we have seen, to wash out by initiatory rites, 
 
 1 Sok. III. 14, Ep. 43, 79, Cyril 335. 
 
 2 Henrik Ibsen introduces this effectively in the closing act of his Julian 
 the Emperor. 
 
 3 This is interesting as showing how widely apart the Christian and 
 Neo-Platouic ideas of the Trinity were. 
 
 ■* 6 XPV'^'''^^ 'luavvris, Cyr. 327 a. 
 ^ Greg. Naz. Or. iv. c. 102, p. 637 a. 
 
 « Herwerden, p. 82 and 135, detects an uncertain allusion to the Lord's 
 Supper in the word dvalav, Cyr. 306 A. 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 287 
 
 and each Christian pervert was bidden to undergo some such kp- 52. 436 c 
 purificatory process. 
 
 Thus Julian's formal objections to Christianity, so far as JuliarCs 
 they have been preserved, are less metaphysical in kind than fj,„i „fti. 
 might be anticipated. Many of them represent a low range t^dejo- 
 of thoiight\ such as far worse and far duller men of the chris- 
 present epoch would disdain. Large extracts from Julian's *^«"*'2/- 
 works are well suited to the National Beformer, and might 
 even repay translation. Briefly his intellectual attitude may 
 be described as that of modern rationalism of the coarser 
 kind with the following modifications. First, in common 
 with almost all thinkers of his day, and more particularly as 
 himself a Neo-Platonist, he takes no exception to the records cyr.i9iB 
 of miracles in Scripture. Exhibitions of miraculous power 
 were in his view hardly worth notice, much less evidences of 
 divine agency. Secondly, the class of objections commonly 
 called scientific were necessarily as yet undeveloped, though 
 discernible in germ, for instance in the asserted inadequacy 
 of the legend about Babel to explain the diversity of 
 languages found on the earth. Thirdly, criticism had not 
 3^et commenced its destructive work ; partly that the science 
 was as yet but little advanced; and still more perhaps that at 
 that day materials of proof were too abundant to admit of 
 such statements or theories as at the present day can be 
 plausibly supported, so as at times, even if untrue, to defy 
 refutation. Be that as it may, Julian accepts both Old and 
 New Testament intact, and in particular refers to S. John's 
 Gospel throughout as the undoubted testimony of the apostle. 
 On the other hand, Julian could press far more forcibly than 
 the modern rationalist the recentness of the rise of Christi- 
 anity and the lateness of its appearance in the world's 
 history ; nor had he to deal in the same way with Church 
 life and development as an evidence for the truth of the 
 religion. He does not fail to taunt Christians with ' having 
 invented new-fangled rites of sacrifice.' His view of the soe a 
 moral character both of Christ and his disciples is rather 
 
 1 Neander, Church Hist. iii. 112 pp., with his usual just discrimination, 
 points out the weakness and insufficiency of much of Julian's attack. 
 
238 
 
 JULIAN. 
 
 Julian's 
 unfairness 
 to Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Cjr. 
 
 Julian's 
 bitterness 
 towards 
 Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 Ep. 63. 454 B 
 
 Ep. 9. 378 B 
 
 Its result. 
 
 that of the school of Voltaire, than of the more enlightened 
 scepticism of Strauss or Renan. 
 
 Underlying almost all Julian's polemics against Christi- 
 anity there is a covert comparison between it and the Neo- 
 Platonist religion which he desired to substitute. The biblical 
 account of creation is contrasted disadvantageously with that 
 found in Plato : the Jewish idea of God with the philo- 
 sopher's. The statement that the God of Moses is less gentle 
 than Lykurgus, less forbearing than Solon, less just or benign 
 than Numa, is a typical one. Jewish wisdom, Jewish law, 
 Jewish literature, Jewish history, Jewish life, social or political, 
 are set side by side with their counterparts, as most favour- 
 ably represented, in Greece or Rome or Egypt. Throughout 
 there is a certain, and in part it must be owned, conscious 
 unfairness. Not only does Julian misunderstand the anthro- 
 pomorphisms of the Old Testament, not only does he fail to 
 see the principle of progressiveness in God's self-revelation to 
 mankind, not only does he argue sophistically or mock un- 
 kindly or blaspheme offensively, but there is this pervading 
 injustice in his attack, that he compares ideal Paganism with 
 ordinary secular Christianity. For the Pagan he assumes 
 that the philosopher's secret is the peasant's creed; for the 
 Christian that the individual's failure is the system's con- 
 demnation. 
 
 In a word in Julian's judgment of Christians candour is 
 no match for prejudice. He misrepresents their character ; 
 he denies them the name they adored' ; in his mouth they 
 are 'Galileans,' or 'infidels,' or 'atheists,' and their religion is 
 the plague-spot of the Galilean mispersuasion ; he profanes 
 or curses all they hold most sacred : he breathes a wish that 
 all their literature could be expunged from existence. This 
 bitterness could not but engage him in serious errors : it 
 warped his judgment, and dulled his observation. He saw 
 their factiousness and augured their ruin ; he imagined that 
 
 ' Once only does the word XpKrriavoi occur in Julian's writings, and on 
 that occasion it is in a quotation from a bishop's letter : cf. Ep. 52. 437 d. 
 According to Greg. Naz. Or. iv. c. Ixxvj. p. 602, Julian prescribed the use of 
 the term ' Galilean ' by law. 
 
CHRISTIANITY. 239 
 
 the interpositions of Constantino and Constantius had alone 
 frustrated suicide : he gave them rope to hang themselves. 
 
 Deceived by external symptoms he missed the in- Miscaicu' 
 ternal solidity of their religion : he did not comprehend con^^mpo- 
 the hold it had upon men's hearts : it appealed, he thought, raryforces. 
 to all that was puerile, superficial, transient, in the nature of 
 man. He supposed it to be a charlatanism, better contrived 
 than most, which imposed upon mankind by assumed authority, 
 by stilted gravity, by frowns and by tears, by bribery and by Ep. 49. 
 caresses, by mysterious threats and by delusive promises, by 
 all the jDarapherualia with which designing men can catch 
 the popular taste. ' He fell into the error, to which in all 
 ages men of the world are exposed, of mistaking whatever 
 shows itself on the surface of the Apostolic Community, its 
 prominences and irregularities, all that is extravagant, and 
 all that is transitory, for the real moving principle and life 
 of the system'.' The truth is that he was continually looking 
 backwards, not forwards^. Hellenism and the Roman Empire 
 were the two colossal objects that blocked his line of vision. 
 He failed to discern that their day was. done, their strength 
 worn out. In the midst of that world-heaving period of 
 storm and stress, he miscalculated all the most valid forces. 
 Christianity was to his vision a disintegrating power, fatal 
 alike to the power of Rome and the power of Paganism. 
 He was so far right'. But he did not discern that it was the, 
 force of the future : that if now it rocked the mountains that 
 pressed upon it, it would shortly hurl them to the ground, 
 and freed from the incubus walk forth erect amid the ruins, 
 busy at its nobler creative work of planting the desolate 
 places and renewing the face of the earth. He knew nothing 
 of the struoforle he had undertaken. 
 
 *&o* 
 
 ^ Newman, Avians, d:c., p. 354. 
 
 ^ Chateaubr. Etad. Hist. ii. p. 57. 
 
 ^ Cf. Montalembert, Monks of the West, Bk. i. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 JULIAN AND HELLENISM. 
 
 •'Schtine Welt, wo bist du? Kehre wieder 
 Holdes Blutlienalter der Natur! 
 Ach, nur in dem Feenland der Lieder 
 Lebt nocb deine fabelhafte Spur. 
 Ausgestorben traiiert das Gefilde, 
 Keiue Gottheit zeigt sich meinem Blick, 
 Acb, von jenem lebenwarmen Bilde 
 Blieb der Scbatten nur zuriick." 
 
 Julian If Julian misinterpreted Christianity, his initial miscon- 
 
 misunder- q^^[q^ of Paganism was as grotesquely complete. His reac- 
 
 stands the i^ ° , • i i i • . 
 
 Pagans, tion is the picture of a man plungmg deeper and deeper mto 
 an impassable morass. Little by little the truth dawned 
 upon him that he was a general without soldiers, and that no 
 inch of ground he won could be permanently retained. 
 Julian as It was from the literary side, in other words as Hellenism, 
 
 Hellenist. ^^^^ Paganism first fascinated Julian'. By inheritance, by 
 instinct, and by training, he was possessed with a singular 
 appetite for culture. From childhood, he says, he was smitten 
 with a devouring passion for books. His beau-ideal of life 
 was that of the studentl At an early age he became an 
 ardent book-collector. The happiest remembrance of his youth 
 was that of days when in sight of the blue Propontis and 
 dancing sails, he reclined on beds of convolvulus and thyme 
 and clover with his eyes upon his book, able in the pauses of 
 
 1 Naville, p. 6 pp. 
 
 2 Supr. p. 128, cf. Amm. M. xvi. o, Lib. Ad Jul. Hijp. p. :57fi, Jul. F.p. 
 9. 378 A. 
 
HELLENISM. 241 
 
 reading to feast upon the beauties of the scene'. Of all his 
 wedding presents none charmed him so much as the library o,-. z. m a b 
 with which the Empress enriched him. Through his Gallic 
 campaigns and in his Persian expedition his books 'followed 
 him everywhere like his shadow^' On hearing of the death Ep.21.mB 
 of Bishop George, it was Julian's chief solicitude that the 
 prelate's library, with which in old days he had made ac- Ep. 9, sp. 36. 
 quaintance, should not be broken up or spoiled. Of all his 
 letters, Naville remarks, two only are to ladies; the one pro- Ep. 21, Ep. 5. 
 motes Kallixene the priestess; the other thanks 'the most 
 worshipful' Theodora for a present of books! His knowledge 
 of literature was most extensive^; not one of his associates, 
 he says, had perused more volumes than himself. His own jV'>-347a 
 pages prove the intimacy of his knowledge of Greek authors*, 
 before all others Homer and Plato. He himself was Greek 
 to the core — 'enamoured of Greece,' writes Libanius®, 'above 
 all of Athens the eye of Greece, Athene's town, the mother 
 of Plato, Demosthenes and wisdom.' His pages® teem with 
 loving laudation most exactly corresponding to this descrip- 
 tion. ' Though a Thracian maybe by birth, I count myself ^is. m c 
 Greek by vocation' are his own words. He learnt of Greek 
 teachers, selected Greek friends, wrote and thought in the 
 Greek tongue, moved in a world of Greek ideas. Yet essen- 
 tially Greek as he was, so wide was his literary range that he 
 did not, like the disdainful schoolmen'' of his time, wholly 
 ignore the language and literature of Rome. In Gaul he 
 humorously laments that he had 'almost forgotten his 
 Greek,' and not only could he talk Latin, but harangue 
 
 ^ Ep. 46. 427 B c. Cf. too Ep. 72, probably a spurious letter, in which 
 Julian during a river- voyage expatiates in the fi-eeclom from dust and noise, 
 as he passes 'his Phaedrus or some dialogue of Plato in his hand' beneath 
 groves of plane or cj^press. 
 
 - Cf. Lib. Epit. p. 546. 3 Amm. M. xvi. v. 7. 
 
 * More than 30 different Greek authors are quoted in his pages. Quota- 
 tions from Homer alone considerably exceed 100. 
 
 5 Lib. Epit. 531. 
 
 « Or. III. 119 A— c, Or. iv. 152 d— 153 a, Or. v. 159 a, Or. viii. 252 b. Mis. 
 348 c, and passim in Ep. ad Ath. 
 
 ' Capes, Univ. of Anc. Athem, p. 82. 
 
 R.E. 16 
 
242 JULIAN. 
 
 publicly in that language with sufficient ease\ His exten- 
 sive knowledge of Roman History old and new, and of anec- 
 dotes and sayings of Roman statesmen and emperors makes 
 it certain that he indulged himself on occasion with Latin 
 authors ^ 
 Literary Nor did he possess merely literary appreciation. He was 
 
 power. endowed with literary faculties of no mean order. In Nie- 
 buhr's judgment 'he was a true Attic, unequalled for elegance 
 since the day of Dion Chrysostom.' He moulded his style on 
 that of Libanius ; but the judgment of posterity' is unani- 
 mous that the pupil surpassed the master. He did not 
 emancipate himself from all the rhetorical vices of his age, 
 from frigid affectations, from conceits, flourishes, and plethoric 
 use of quotations, but these are most rank in his more youth- 
 ful rhetorical exercises*, and under the breezier influence of 
 practical activity disappeared: at his worst he displays less 
 verbosity and meretriciousness than Libanius. In writing he 
 had the most astonishing fertility^ coupled with powers of 
 expression, of illustration, of humour, and of irony, entitling 
 him to take place beside Lucian, and higher than all his imme- 
 diate contemporaries. In his writings, considering the occa- 
 sions which gave them birth, and remembering that they are 
 
 1 Amm. M. xvi. i. 4. 5, v. 7. Julian's Law Latin, the only siirvi\'ing 
 remains of his Latin work, is by no means bad. ' Forcible and elaborate, 
 though much less pure than his Greek' is La Bleterie's judgment, who 
 quotes his funeral decree as a sample. Evitrop. x. 16 is somewhat depre- 
 ciatory. 
 
 2 Duncombe, i. p. 187 n., quotes La Bleterie's note on the Casars, 'It 
 is plain Julian had read the Ejjistles of Cicero to Atticus.' Naville, p. 14, 
 evidently doubts his acquaintance with Latin literature. 
 
 3 So expressly La Bleterie, Gibbon, De Broghe iv. p. 24, Naxalle p. 11, 
 Miicke p. 152, &c., and, no doubt with less sincerity, Libanius himself in 
 Ep. 372. Spanheim ranks him in literary power above all imperial 
 predecessors. 
 
 4 Especially his three panegyrics on Constantius and Eusebia, and a 
 few letters, e.g. Epp. 19, 54, and jmt excellence Ep. 24. In the Ep. ad Atli. — 
 a fair enough field for pedantry — there is not one quotation. 
 
 <* For instance. Or. iv. (37 pages in Hertlein) was written in three 
 evenings (157 c), Or. v. (27 pages) in part of one night without previous 
 preparation (178 d), Or. vi. (30 pages) in the leisure moments of two occupied 
 days (203 c). 
 
HELLENISM. 243 
 
 the products for the most part of sleepless nights snatched 
 from the midst of a life of restless and incessant activities, we 
 are amazed at the retentiveness of memory, the rapidity of 
 composition, the fecundity of allusion with which they bristle 
 at every page. 
 
 All this literary fervour was enlisted on the side of Pa- Hellenism. 
 ganism. Hellenism was the name he gave to Paganism. It 
 appeared to him inseparably bound up with old Greek form 
 of belief^ : it was the fruit or the flower which would inevit- 
 ably perish if the roots were exposed or even seriously dis- 
 turbed. Julian did his utmost to encourage the Sophists^ 
 because he regarded them as the exponents and representa- 
 tives of Hellenic education. And this', the study of the great 
 poets and historians and orators of Greece, he believed to be 
 the sole mental discipline Avhich could induce virtuous and 
 intelligent habits of mind, and achieve the intellectual reo^ene- 
 ration of his fellow-men. Piety and Greek culture he regarded 
 as synonymous. Mingling with the literary value that he 
 attached to Paganism was its philosophical importance. Philoso- 
 Neo-Platonism as a philosophic system claimed to unravel ^'^" 
 the difficulties of life and belief: and Julian accepted it as 
 the most satisfactory solution of the mysteries of existence. 
 It taught him, writes Libanius* in his account of Julian's con- 
 version, the nature of the soul, its origin and destiny, the 
 means by which it is humbled and abased, or exalted and 
 lifted up, the meaning of spiritual bondage and spiritual 
 liberty, with the way to escape the one and attain the other. 
 It initiated him into the love of gods and daemons. This same 
 philosophy, while definitely supporting Paganism, inferred 
 
 1 Trpbs TT]v TifXTiv T(2v Oeuv utt' avTwv eKLvqOrjs tlov Xo-^wv Libau. Prosph. 
 I. p. 405. Cf. olKua Kai criryyei'rj tclvtol d/xtpdrepa, lepoi. Kai \dyoL iu the IIpos 
 Toi/s eU Trjv waid. &c. , III. p. 437; and vofxL^wv a5e\0d \6yov% re «at dewv 
 iepd Epit. p. 574, c. 77. 
 
 2 Lib. EiHt. p. 574, 575. 
 
 3 This idea pervades the rescript on Education translated supr. p. 207 — 9. 
 Cf. Ep. 51. 433 D. For reiterated insistence on culture, and more par- 
 ticularly Greek culture, as a 'Pagan Evidence,' cf. Cyril, 17G b c, 178 b c, 
 184 B, 221 E, 224 c, 229 c— 230 a, 235 c. 
 
 ■* Epitaph, p. 528. 
 
 IG— 2 
 
244 JULIAN. 
 
 from its existence and its diversities an underlying unity. 
 The outward differences of expression were to the Neo-Pla- 
 tonist only less important than the hidden unity on which 
 cyr. 115 D- they were based. Special characteristics of belief, worship, 
 143 B.' " ' morals, are permanently fixed in nations, ingrained in their 
 mental or moral structure. They are not random or evanes- 
 cent: they correspond to archetypal ideas. They are due to 
 the action of the deities of polytheism, whose existence is 
 inferred and demonstrated by precisely the same line of 
 argument as that which led Plato to his Ideal theory\ Thus 
 Neo-Platonism and polytheism each leant upon the other, 
 and it is not wonderful that Julian identified philosophy and 
 Or. G. 183 A, religion. Knowledge of the Gods and similitude to the Gods 
 Or. 7. 226 d were his favourite definitions of philosophy. He was the 
 best philosopher who most approximated to their likeness. 
 'Julian believed that science and religion were sisters"^' He 
 was at great pains, and indeed would strain all historical 
 evidence, to show that all the great philosophers were devout 
 Pagans too^. Philosophy, and as associated with it Paganism, 
 had proved to himself a purifying and expanding power, and 
 he believed it would prove the same to others. He was in 
 no small measure the victim of delusion. The earlier phases 
 of his acquaintance with Pagan philosophers need not here be 
 retraced. Friendless and forlorn he had found in them guides, 
 teachers, admirers, and, what he most needed, sympathising 
 friends. Intellectually Julian was a born hero-worshipper. 
 With all his quickness and vivacity, he fell short in genuine 
 original power. He became a child in the hands of men by 
 no means his superiors in mental calibre. His exaggerated 
 admiration of Maximus, the fulsome effusiveness of his com- 
 pliments to lamblichus pass from the sublime to the ridicu- 
 lous. They betray a certain shallowness of judgment, and 
 amount to almost an hallucination. In broad and hyperbolic 
 expressions of regard Julian's breadth of reading and fertility 
 of imagination enabled him to outmatch his contemporaries. 
 
 1 Cf. Naville, p. 71. 
 
 ' Liban. Epit. i. p. 574, and npbs roit els T-qv watd. avrbv clttouk. ill. p. 437. 
 
 ^ Naville, pp. 26, 27, notices tliis. 
 
HELLENISM. 245 
 
 To the ancient Maximus he writes with the ardour of some 
 youthful lover. His letters he places under his pillow as a 
 healing charm on which his head may rest; only by virtue of Ep.u. 
 them in the absence of the author can he be said truly to 
 live. When Maximus^ arrived at court, no sooner was he 
 announced than Julian left the throne of judgment; and 
 passing down the hall publicly embraced and kissed the phi- 
 losopher, to the mixed amusement and contempt of the 
 assembled court. Not only is lamblichus^ a second Plato ;£:/;. 59, 53. 
 not only are his letters the swallows of spring, and the har- 
 bingers of calm, but he himself, considering Julian's own 
 religious creed, is almost blasphemously styled a Helios, epaoaiqab 
 shedding abroad on earth pure rays of celestial light, an ^^^-^^f- '^'^• 
 -(:Esculapius of reasoning souls, in whose absence the Emperor 
 is wrapped in Cimmerian darkness, and consumed with a^/'-ss. 4S9c 
 fever of desire. When he lay ill the letters of lamblichus Ep. eo 
 could recover him from sickness, nor could he peruse their 
 contents till he had covered with kisses the envelope that 
 brought them, and feasted his eyes and lips on the seal which 
 the philosopher's own hand had stamped^. Here again is a 
 sample letter to Libanius, extracted in full. 
 
 'Yesterday I read your essay almost through befoi-e break- £p. 14. 
 fast ; and after breakfest without a momeut's rest completed the 
 reading. Ha]ipy art thou who canst so indite, nay happy rather 
 who canst so think. What language ! what wit ! what combina- 
 tion ! what discrimination ! what treatment ! what arrangement ! 
 what periods ! what language ! what harmony ! what a tout 
 eyisemble*/' 
 
 Such excessive adulation betrays a weakness of tempera- 
 ment, which fatally crippled Julian's independence of judg- 
 ment. In sending a composition of his own to Maximus, 
 Julian compares himself to the eagle that teaches her un- Ep. is. 
 
 1 Amm. M. xxii. vii. 3, Liban. Epit. p. 574, Euuap. Vit. Max. 
 
 2 Aucl this be it remembered not the well-knowu Neo-Platouist philoso- 
 pher, but a younger lamblichus, contemporary with Jttlian himself. Some 
 historians treat all the correspondence with lamblichus as supposititious. 
 
 3 Semisch, p. 13, finds truly affecting what to many will seem maudlin. 
 
 * For the same tone the close of Ep. 44 may be compared, but it is 
 rejected by various editors as spurious. 
 
overrates 
 Hellenism 
 
 246 JULIAN. 
 
 fledged young to face the sun's full beams, and still more 
 submissively to the Celtic mother who delivers her babes to 
 the mercy of the Rhine to prove whether they be bastards or 
 no. A word from Maximus should be the verdict of death. 
 Thus Julian committed his intellectual belief, bound hand 
 and foot, into the keeping of others. Excusably if errone- 
 ously he made up his mind on the merits of Christianity and 
 Paganism in the favour of the latter. The misfortune was 
 that he never reconsidered his decision when longer thought 
 and broader experience might have enabled him to rectify it. 
 Once made he laid it on the shelf; he accepted the teaching 
 of others, and when come to man's estate, in reality never 
 scrutinised its real value. 
 Julian The fact is that in his estimate both of contemporary 
 
 Hellenism and of Neo-Platonism Julian went wofully astray. 
 There was no germ of recreative life in the Hellenic culture 
 which Julian so admired and strove to foster. Already its 
 cheek was hectic with approaching death. The arts and 
 skill — such as they were — which it most boasted, were symp- 
 toms of mortification. Already in the schools the sopliist 
 and the rhetorician had dispossessed the philosopher^ : in other 
 words form had superseded substance; the health of the body 
 was neglected, nay forgotten, for the cut of the figure and the 
 beautification of the clothes: the day of doom was very close. 
 Julian lived during the short breathing-space which was 
 granted to the Sophists before they too made their bow, and 
 were hissed off the stage. The schools of Rhetoric were de- 
 caying fast : enervation of moral teaching and laxity of disci- 
 pline were undermining the whole system of education ^ 
 Men were already turning from the polished periods and 
 complacent pedantry of Athens and Antioch to the rising 
 law schools of Rome and Berytus*. Libanius and other 
 neglected favourites were already beginning to bemoan the 
 wane of enthusiasm, the deterioration of intellectual earn- 
 estness and power, the increase of fastidiousness and the 
 
 1 Cf. Capea, University Life at Ancient Athens, p. 62. 
 
 2 lb. p. 90. ^ lb. p. 129. 
 
HELLENISM. 247 
 
 decrease of students *. Himerius, the last of the great holders 
 of the chair of Rhetoric at Athens, died within five years of 
 Julian himself Void of its old strength but maintaining 
 all its old pretensions, 'Hellenism headed by an Emperor 
 was matched against Christianity unsupported by the state, 
 but with the blood of martyrs in her veins, and truth for 
 standard-bearer I' And if Julian misread the immediate future 
 in store for Hellenic culture, still more was he at fault in the 
 necessary connexion that he assumed between it and Pagan- 
 ism. The truth was that there was no chance for Hellenic 
 culture, unless it were divorced from Paganism and married 
 to the religion of Christ. For that the times were not yet 
 ripe; but Julian only necessitated and precipitated its ex- 
 tinction by widening the existing breach, and doing his 
 utmost to make the union impossible. 
 
 Nor was Julian less hopelessly mistaken in his estimate and Neo- 
 of Neo-Platonism. There is more excuse for him here; for 
 it undeniably was the best and greatest, because the only 
 philosophy of his day. It had too the merit of being in pos- 
 session. Still he vastly overrated its achievements. A little 
 more penetration might have placed Julian nearer the level 
 of the modern student. It did not require fifteen centuries 
 to prove that lamblichus was something lower than Plato, 
 any more than that Libanius did not cast Demosthenes alto- 
 gether into the shade. It was true that some brilliant lights 
 and hues hovered around the sunset of Greek philosophy'; 
 but when Julian mistook the evening glow for the fresh 
 radiance of morning he made a gigantic mistake. The last 
 of the great Neo-Platonists had lived and died before Julian 
 ascended the throne; the Neo-Platonists of his own day were 
 none of them gifted with genius, and most of them were 
 credulous and dissembling charlatans. From lamblichus 
 onwards philosophy was posting to ruin and self-annihilation: 
 it was yet to boast a Proclus and an Hypatia : but its age- 
 
 1 Capes, p. Ill, 112, 123. ^ Mangold, p. 26. 
 
 3 Not a few, like Schlosser in Jenaisch. allg. Lit. p. 131, will not allow so 
 much as this : to him the Sophists have nothing of value hut the precious 
 remnants botched into their patchwork. 
 
248 JULIAN. 
 
 long decrepitude had begun, the protracted enfeeblement 
 which waited two hundred years ^ for the fiat of destruction 
 to fall, when the sorry remnant, 'the last Seven Sages of 
 Greece,' turned their backs on Athens and crept away east- 
 ward, vainly hoping to find in heathen Persia a respect which 
 Christian Europe had refused. All this was dark to Julian ; 
 a fundamental error beset his whole mental constitution, a 
 fatal transposition of actual truth, which led him to miscal- 
 culate all the forces at work around him. Among dying 
 embers he watched and wondered at the lingering sparks; 
 they gained a brightness from the growing darkness, but 
 they could not light up the old fires that had smouldered out^. 
 Julian's But Julian found subsidiary evidences of Paganism be- 
 
 o7'pa^an- ^^^^^ those of a literary and philosophical character. It is 
 is7n. beyond question that he looked upon the truth and laws of 
 
 Theurgy, theurgic art as scientifically demonstrable, and their validity 
 as proved by the experience of generations of men. From 
 cvr. 346-7, the liistorv of Cain and Abel, from the usaore of Abraham 
 
 360—368. -^ . -IT 111 -11 
 
 downwards, divmation, rightly conducted, had received the 
 
 approval and unmistakably revealed the will of the Deity. 
 
 Historical Apart from this mysterious lore, a crowd of historical evi- 
 
 Evidences. ^jg^^^gg attested the truth of Paganism. Some were of a 
 
 material kind: witness the heaven-descended Ancilia! Some 
 
 194c prophetic: witness the inspired predictions of the Sybil! 
 
 194b Some personal: witness the wisdom of virtuous legislators of 
 
 i4iD, 1G8B, the past, of Lykurgus, of Solon, of Numa 'the most wise'! 
 
 Some national: witness Greece! witness Rome! Last link in 
 
 this long chain of historical evidences stood Julian himself. 
 
 For he, like his supporters, appealed to his own career as 
 
 most decisive testimony to the power and interference of the 
 
 Gods. It was as their champion that he had been delivered 
 
 in childhood from the murderer, guarded and guided and 
 
 promoted in youth, and in the prime of his days set without 
 
 a struggle sole on the seat of Empire. 
 
 It must seem strange at first sight that Julian should 
 
 ' Justinian's edict for closing the schools of Athens, issued 529 a. d. 
 " Cf. words much to the point in Miicke, Jul. Leben und Schriften, 
 pp. 71, 72. 
 
HELLENISM. 249 
 
 have appealed with the persistency he does to historical evi- 
 dences of Paganism. How, it will be said, could Paganism 
 have historical evidences to allege? It was well enough for 
 Christianity born in obscurity and only struggling by hard- 
 won inches to toleration and pre-eminence to claim on its 
 side the verdict of history : but Paganism was never pitted 
 against a rival: in various shapes it parted out the whole 
 world; Paganism triumphant was but the reverse side of 
 Pao-anism overcome: one element dispossessed another, and 
 that was all. The answer to this is, what must be once more 
 reaffirmed, that to Julian Paganism was Hellenism. And 
 this Julian conceived to have everywhere prevailed. It had 
 moulded, trained and immortalised Greece: it had subjugated 
 the East: it had taken captive Rome its conqueror; it had 
 now learned how to combine in a connected whole the religions 
 of the world. It had one last foe to conquer, Galileism, and 
 would then take its rightful sceptre of universal sovereignty. 
 In this estimate Julian had some facts to bear him out; 
 others he imported into history. Hellenic colonies he argued or. i. 152 d 
 had civilised the world, and prepared it for obedience to 
 Rome : Rome was Hellenic in origin, Hellenic in rites, and caes. 324 a 
 Hellenic in faith. Romulus was sprung of Ai-es, Numa re- on 4. 154, 
 ceived his revelations from Sun direct, Caesar could trace 
 descent to ^neas son of Aphrodite. 
 
 On the same side, and bound up with these historical Conserva- 
 beliefs, were enlisted all Julian's conservative instincts. These 
 were necessarily strong. The greatness of Rome was in the 
 past: her choicest rulers he could aspire only to imitate not 
 to surpass. Marcus Aurelius^ as virtuous ruler, Trajan as 
 military leader, he could not scale sublimer heights. His 
 policy and the entire movement which he headed were reac- 
 tionary. The 'dear dead light' was that to which he looked 
 back, that which he strove to rekindle. He was in one word 
 a Romanticist^. He undertook conservation and reconstruc- 
 
 1 Amm. M. svi. i. 4, as well as Jul. ad Them. 253 a, and many passages 
 in the Caesarcs. 
 
 • 'The Eomauticist,' to borrow the Ediiihurfjh Review paraphrase of 
 Strauss' explanation of his term, ' is one who, iu literature, in the arts, in 
 
250 JULIAN. 
 
 tion, but not origination. Return seemed to him the sole 
 salvation. This was true of religion above all else. 'Innova- 
 Ep. 63. 453 B tion I shun in all things, most of all in what concerns the 
 Gods,' is his own declaration. The prime impulsive or sub- 
 versive forces of his time were the Christians and the bar- 
 barians. Julian's public life was one sustained struggle 
 against these two. One threatened the outward, the other 
 the inward unity of the Empire. The Christians were the 
 £p. 25.397 3 'spiritual barbarians' of the day. Their innovating, progress- 
 cyr. 238, ivo, revolutionary character was in Julian's estimation one of 
 their most flagrant demerits. In his eyes nothing was more 
 heinous than abandonment of traditional law. Observance of 
 law was by his teaching a part of religion. It had a positive 
 religious a:s well as moral significance. Each national differ- 
 ence and peculiarity, laws, morals, customs, and rites alike, 
 were characters impressed by the presiding deity, and the 
 dereliction of any one of these was rebellion and apostasy from 
 revealed truth. 
 JiiUan Such then were the principal grounds on which Julian 
 
 moral based his enthusiastic devotion to Hellenism. Living in 
 power of immediate contact, and for the most part in personal in- 
 tercourse with the most gifted Pagans of his day, it was 
 intelligible and perhaps natural that Julian should exag- 
 gerate the intellectual merits of Neo-Platonism and expiring 
 Hellenism. His deductions even from its past history 
 are explicable enough, illogical as they may appear from a 
 modern standpoint. That he should have so completely 
 
 religion, or in politics, endeavours to revive the dead past ; one who refuses 
 to accept the fiat of history ; refuses to acknowledge that the past is past, 
 that it has grown old and obsolete ; one who regards the present age as in 
 a state of chronic malady, curable only by a reproduction of some distant 
 age, of which the present is not the child, but the abortion. Poets who see 
 poetry only in the Middle Ages, who look upon fairy tales and legends as 
 treasures of the deepest wisdom ; painters, who can see nothing pictorial in 
 the world around them ; theologians, who see no faith equal to the deep 
 reverence of saint-worship, who see no recognition of the Unspeakable 
 except in superstition, who acknowledge no form of worship but the cere- 
 monies of the early church ; politicians, who would bring back " merrie 
 England " into our own sad times by means of ancient pastimes and white 
 waistcoats : — these are all Romanticists.' 
 
HELLENISM. 261 
 
 misapprehended its moral powers is far more amazmg. He 
 did go so far as to recognise some at least of its actual 
 moral deficiencies; he allowed for instance that the Jews cyr. 202. 
 exhibited superior purity and religious scrupulousness; but 
 the wonderful thing is that he should have supposed Pagan- 
 ism capable of reform; that he should have attributed so 
 much potential energy and recuperative power to a system 
 which really possessed none. It has been paradoxically de- 
 claredUhatno Pagan would conceive of reforming Paganism; 
 and if reformation be limited to its strict sense of correction 
 of supervenient abuses and return to some primitive uncon- 
 taminated model, the remark is strictly true. There was no 
 model, neither personal exemplar nor authoritative tradition, 
 to which to return. Paganism might be amended, it could 
 not be reformed. Neither would it admit of the transforma- 
 tion to which Julian endeavoured to subject it. It may have 
 been one weakness of the scheme that the welfare, nay exist- 
 ence of the religious organisation was inseparable from that 
 of the empire ^ but assuredly it showed other and more fatal 
 flaws. We have seen the kind of revival contemplated, the 
 creation, namely, of a Pagan Church Catholic. The notion 
 originated with the Neo-Platonists. It was a stupendous 
 folly. If it needed a clever man to frame the conception, a 
 far duller one might have recognised the utter impracticabi- 
 lity of carrying it into effect. None but a pedant could have 
 supposed the strange jumble of poetry, philosophy, mysticism 
 and witchcraft which commended itself to Julian, a religion 
 capable of being popularized I Still 'it laid hold on the minds 
 of the Hellenist philosophers of the day with a strange fasci- 
 nation.' It was perhaps worth while that once for all the 
 feasibility of the attempt should be disproved to demonstration. 
 
 To summarise once more results already attained, Julian, Julian's 
 following the general Neo-Platonist rebound from the scepti- t]on. 
 cal materialism that preceded it, assumed the religious in- 
 
 1 Beugnot, p. 199. 
 
 2 Lam^, Julian VAiwst. caps. n. and vi.,pp. 123, 124, treats this as t/ie one 
 fatal weakness. 
 
 3 Schlosser, Uebersicht der Gesch. lu. ii. pp. 342, 408. 
 
252 JULIAN. 
 
 stinct; asserted in unqualified terms man's intuitive appre- 
 hension of God; recognised in religion the support of morality, 
 the sustainer of law, the author and preserver of Hellenic 
 culture. The truth of Paganism as against Christianity was 
 substantiated by its antiquity and universality as witnessed 
 by the scattered but confluent testimonies of the various 
 nations of mankind; by the historical success which had 
 attended the propagation of the religions of Greece and 
 Rome ; by the evidences of prophecy and divination ; by 
 visible tokens of the Gods' presence among men ; last and 
 most chiefly by the full ripe clusters of poetry and philosophy 
 that graced the old religion. Keenly alive to the imper- 
 fections of contemporary Paganism Julian strove to eradicate 
 them. Looking around him and taking note of the rapid 
 growth and prevalence of Christianity he proceeded to emend 
 Paganism on that model. He has been called 'the ape of 
 Christianity.' Gregory of Nazianzus elaborates his metaphor 
 at length. Impressed with the belief that Christianity was a 
 mere scheme, and blind to the genuine enthusiasm that 
 animated it, Julian fancied that Paganism had merely doceri 
 ah hoste, to learn from its worst enemy, to adopt its tactics, 
 to follow its example in some details, and that forthwith it 
 would step into its place and everywhere supplant its in- 
 fluence. The first thing necessary was a purified morality ; 
 the second an organised church. To these ends the ' Luther 
 of Paganism'^ constantly strove. He introduced an elaborate 
 sacerdotal system. The practices of sacred reading, preach- 
 ing, praying, antiphonal singing, penance, and a strict eccle- 
 siastical discipline^ were all innovations in Pagan ritual. 
 Added to these was a system of organised almsgiving, to 
 which Julian attributed so much of the success of Christianity; 
 with the proceeds temples might be restored, the poor suc- 
 coured, the sick and destitute relieved. Nay if Gregory's 
 words are more than rhetoric, even monasteries and nun-* 
 neries, refuges and hospitals were reared in the name of 
 Paganism. 
 Itsfu- But attempts like these necessarily and irremediably 
 
 1 Chateaubr. Etud. Hist. ii. 107. ^ Greg. Naz. Or. iv. cxi. p. 648. 
 
HELLENISM. 253 
 
 failed. The alms which were to be the panacea for infidelity ^7f ^p- 
 were not forthcoming. Julian spared neither private purse 
 nor public funds, but though he might rebuild temples he 
 could not provide a congregation. State endowment never 
 yet created spiritual life. It was a more hopeless attempt 
 than a restoration of medieval monasticism in the nineteenth 
 century \ The real fact was that every element of per- 
 manent vitality was hopelessly wanting to this revival. It 
 may have been the last resort of both Neo-Platonisni and 
 Paganism : if so, it was the knell of both. A Pagan Catholic 
 Church was a contradiction in terms. For first a visible 
 unity was absolutely impossible. For convenience sake Pa- 
 ganism has been treated as a system ; and as though it formed 
 a compact whole: and for certain purposes such language 
 is perfectly legitimate. It is convenient to group the Oppo- 
 sition in Parliament as a single party ; to class Dissenters as 
 a common society. But regarded in their positive and proper 
 selves, both split into numberless divisions, possessed of no 
 common principle save that of joint antagonism to a common 
 foe. Far more is this the case with Paganism. Its name 
 was legion. There was no pretence in it of unity. Nay its 
 whole strength lay in disunion. It possessed not a single 
 element of cohesion. No common parent, no primitive stock: 
 no authoritative sanction, no common creed, no symbol of 
 faith, not even a common God. It was simply a conglomera- 
 tion of fragments, that had neither natural affinity nor 
 artificial connexion. To proclaim the oneness of these, to 
 rally them into a single whole, was wantonly to make a 
 decisive blow possible. Paganism might perhaps for long 
 wage a successful guerilla warfare with Christianity, now 
 advancing, now receding, cutting off troops here or supplies 
 there, but to meet it in the open field was to court defeat. 
 
 And if the want of unity in Paganism made catholicity 
 unattainable, sacerdotalism became by virtue of that fact 
 an impossibility. Julian might frame rules and spin theories, 
 but a sacerdotal sj^stem devoid of all basis except arbitrary 
 state enactment was the baldest folly. To have conceived 
 1 Schlosser, Ueberg. der Gesch. in. ii. p. 411. 
 
254 JULIAN, 
 
 the possibility of realising such does small credit to Julian's 
 sagacity. The essence of sacerdotalism consists in the pos- 
 session of certain mystical and transmitted, and it may 
 perhaps be added inalienable, powers. To such Julian's 
 priests could not make pretence. By simplest Pagan use a 
 citizen was made j)riest in the same fashion as he was made 
 magistrate : it was an affair of election ; and his tenure and 
 terms of office were similarly regulated. A man became 
 priest for one festival, for one day, or for one year, as utility 
 demanded. The idea of such a priesthood could not of a 
 sudden be revolutionised to order. It is true that under 
 most if not all forms of mystery-worship, priests became a 
 trained and consecrated caste. But even such a priesthood 
 could only base its prerogative on very arbitrary and un- 
 defined claims, while between the various priest-castes there 
 was not only no realised unity, but not even a potential 
 bond of connexion. What theory was there or could there 
 be in Paganism analogous to that of Apostolic transmission ? 
 What power of absolution, or ordination or administration of 
 holy mysteries was vested in their hands ? and by what 
 virtue ? or by whose warrant ? from whence derived ? Their 
 office was a mere caricature of the Christian priesthood. 
 Their services and prayers were but mumming ritual. Their 
 initiations and their sacrifices unmeaning parodies, or unholy 
 sorceries, fit only to tickle the foolish or awe the superstitious. 
 When Felix ^ the youthful martyr of Abitina, having con- 
 fessed himself a Christian, was asked whether he had at- 
 tended meetings, he replied with an explosion of scorn, 'As 
 if a Christian could live without the Lord's ordinance! 
 Knowest thou not, Satan, that the Christian's whole being is 
 in the sacrament T The very thought was unintelligible to 
 a Pagan worshipper. Just as in the past there was neither 
 bond of union nor historical foundation, so in the present 
 there was no active spiritual fellowship with believers or 
 with God, no feeding on a present Saviour and no com- 
 munion with the saints. 
 
 1 The incident belongs to the time of Diocletian. Mason, Persecution of 
 Diocletian, p. 157. 
 
HELLENISM. 255 
 
 Turn we to morality, and the case stands hardly any Paganism 
 better. The Paganism of Julian's time was incurably cor- 
 rupt'. It was immoral to the core. Many sanctuaries ex- 
 isted as dens of debauchery. Prostitutes were priestesses, 
 and temple was cant name for brothel. The essence of wor- 
 ship was the satisfaction of lust'. When on days of high 
 festival Julian royally attired passed through the streets of 
 Constantinople to solemn celebration of the feast, .it was no 
 decorous procession of venerable priests or modest virgins 
 that followed in his steps : around the chaste grave young 
 Emperor thronged a drunken rout^ : among those that bore 
 the insignia of sacerdotal pomp were mutilated priests of 
 Cybele, priestess-courtesans of Venus, immodest screaming 
 bacchants catching the public gaze by their obscene cries and 
 antics. And this immorality was not only on the surface, or 
 confined to certain public resorts. It was far more than 
 skin-deep. It pervaded and poisoned the very springs of 
 home life : it violated the sanctity of the domestic hearth. 
 It cannot be grossly unfair to select the darling festival of 
 Antioch as in some measure typical of eastern Paganism. 
 This was the so-called Maiuma feast. Julian* takes the 
 dissolute townspeople to task for the vast sums they lavished 
 on carouses during its celebration. Nominally it was a religious 
 festival. What then was its character ? In the great am- 
 phitheatre, in an open reservoir filled with water, the com- 
 mon women of the town swam and gambolled in public. A 
 resident at Antioch, and no less firm a Pagan than Libanius, 
 declares that the essence of the Maiuma was ' not to abstain 
 from any kind of abomination.' It remains one proof of 
 Julian's weakness that he had to license this annual degra- 
 dation, which his predecessor had suppressed. There was 
 not wanting a moral element among Pagans ; but it was too 
 feeble to protest. Even when it found a voice, it had nothing 
 
 1 Compare De Broglie, L'Eglise, iv. p. 151. 
 
 * Julian's fifty-eighth letter gives some hint of the form of ' adoration ' in 
 vogue about the obelisk of Alexandria. 
 
 3 Amm. M. xxii. xii. 6, Eunap. Vit. Max., Chrys. in lul. et Gent, ii, 
 pp. 667, 668. 
 
 * MiK. 362 D, cf. La Bleterie's note i7i loc. Also Chastel, p. 213 n. 
 
256 JULIAN. 
 
 much to say. The Neo-Platonists, as moral or religious 
 philosophers, were practically a close sect. They did not 
 aspire to moral propagandism. Their creed was a hothouse 
 plant. The leading sophists did indeed undertake to ex- 
 pound ethics ; it was one of their main pretensions, no less 
 than of the older sophists, to teach young men virtue. Each 
 had his clientele of students, for whose conduct he accounted 
 himself responsible hardly less than for their intellectual 
 training. But the moral hold of the sophists was steadily 
 relaxing ; their utterances are burdened with regrets and 
 complaints anent the decay of discipline. It was no wonder. 
 Their lectures were no better than dull sermons. 'As preachers 
 of righteousness the schoolmen were easily surpassed by thQ 
 great doctors of the church, who like themselves had mastered 
 all the rules of rhetoric and used them in a nobler caused' 
 They were not like their great predecessors, men of daring 
 and incisive intellect, the free-thinkers of Greece exposing 
 conventional untruth, and excogitating doctrines destined to 
 revolutionise or rather recreate ethics. These wrangling 
 Diadochi could but hark back with stale iterations and 
 vapid moralising to lifeless or exploded theories, and briug 
 to disrepute the world-renowned forces which had given them 
 birth. 
 Paganism Again, Paganism was in matter of religion immovably 
 callom. callous. There are times when the most odious moral cor- 
 ruption coexists with fanatical religious fervour. But this 
 was not the case with the Pagans of Julian's day. Among 
 them religious indifference reigned supreme. Where Pa- 
 ganism retained an outward ascendancy, where, as at Rome, 
 the aristocracy of wealth and fashion remained adherents 
 of the old cults, it had lulled itself into the most complete 
 nonchalance of fancied security. There is no attempt at 
 self-defence, much less at missionary vigour. No Pagan 
 priest^ comes forward as an apologist for his faith ; there too 
 
 1 Capes, Univ. Life in Anc. Athens, p. 90, an interesting sketch to which 
 I owe much at this point. Cf. Chastel, 343 pp. 
 
 2 The dialogue Philopatris forms at best a very unimportant exception, 
 if it is to be excepted at all. For the statement in the text Neauder, Church 
 History in. p. 112—124, may be compared. 
 
HF.LLENISM. ^^/ 
 
 Julian must in person and alone hear tlie brunt of the fray. 
 With a comatose inactivity Paganism accepted or adopted a 
 policy of absolute and culpable laissez-faire. It was in its 
 dotage and simply asked to be let alone to its torpor and 
 imbecility and folding of the hands in sleep. The Pagans 
 themselves only laughed at Julian's zeal, or stared at it in 
 dull undisguised amazement : then after the first moment of 
 amused surprise yawned themselves to sleep again. It was 
 the same amoncr the educated and the uneducated, among 
 the rich as among the poor. Julian alone was impervious to 
 the comic aspect of his proceedings, and his gravity heightened 
 the joke. The Sophists no doubt as a body warmly sup- 
 ported him ; for while Constantius had treated them with 
 marked coolness and ousted them from court, Julian had 
 restored to them more than their previous privileges. But 
 their support was strictly limited to the sphere of self-interest, 
 and guaranteed no devotion or self-sacrifice. Basking in 
 court sunshine, they sponged upon their patron's liberality^ 
 but were mere spectators of his attempt to reanimate religion. 
 Many were time-servers not at all anxious to commit them- 
 selves too deeply against the Christians. Some, like Chry- 
 santhius and Aiistoraenes, and perhaps too Libanius, were so 
 incredulous of Julian's success, as actually to shrink from 
 appearing at court at all. That however was a refinement of 
 prudence discarded by most. As a body the Sophists were 
 only too glad to sip the sweets of power while the sun 
 shone. They even urged the reformer to steps against 
 which his own sense of justice revolted. They welcomed 
 the triumph of Hellenism, but in their own person would face 
 no risk nor privation to promote it. They applauded the 
 combatants and egged them on, but did not come down into 
 the arena. Indeed throughout the correspondence and 
 speeches of Sophists contemporary with Julian, few features 
 are more marked than their pervading religious indiffer- 
 entism. Such indifferentism was in point of fact inevitable : 
 and for this reason, that there was no essential antagon- 
 ism between Hellenism and Christianity. When Paganism 
 • Cf. snpr. p. 155^6, and also Liban. F.p. 372. 
 R. E. 17 
 
258 .TULIAX. 
 
 became Hellenism the essential hostility between it and 
 Christianity ceased. And it was of Hellenism, of intellectual 
 culture that is to say and not of moral or theological beliefs, 
 that the Sophists were apostles. Gregory and Basil were 
 firm Christians, as students at Athens : Libanius numbered 
 among his pupils Theodore of Mopsuestia, Maximus Bishop of 
 Seleucia and John Chrysostom himself. The same in- 
 differentism (which appears a juster term than tolerance) 
 was not confined to the great educators, but affected the 
 cultured classes at large. To quote one palmary instance: — 
 the great historian of Julian's age was Ammianus Marcellinus: 
 he was soldier and officer of state as well as student : not- 
 withstanding the unusually full materials for judgment that 
 he left behind him, there are still students and readers of 
 his works who remain unsatisfied that he was a Pagan. 
 Neither he nor any other profane historian has thought it 
 worth while to record the exact time or circumstances of 
 Julian's profession of apostasy. As with the higher classes 
 so was it with the lower, save that the latter showed a little 
 more of boorish curiosity. The rich spectacles provided for 
 their edification soon lost the charm of novelty ; if they at- 
 tended the temple at all, it was with the object of securing a 
 good view of the lord of the world, and enjoying the un- 
 wonted spectacle of an emperor butchering beasts, handling 
 entrails, or distending his cheeks to kindle the altar-fire I 
 Ao-ain and again does Julian reiterate the complaint that 
 people came to the temples to see him, not to do worship to 
 the Gods. Even when the outward show was unimpeach- 
 able, when in externals decorousness and zeal were every- 
 Ep. 27. 400. where apparent, Julian at last could not resist the suspicion 
 that it was due solely to a desire to win his approbation and 
 with it some substantial reward. 
 PaganUm If Paganism was languid where as at Rome it was in the 
 atAnLioch. j^s^endant, it was not less so where it with difficulty held its 
 
 1 Sok. VI. 3, Soz. vin. 2, The latter, but for his religion, he would have 
 selected as his successor. Chastel, 344 pp., gives a good selection of extracts 
 showing the intimate relations maintained between the leaders of Christian 
 and Pagan education. 
 
 2 Liban. Ad lul. Ihjp. p. 394, 395. 
 
HELLENISM. 25!) 
 
 own. Antioch was a metropolis of the East : it was fourth 
 city in the Empire, third patriarchate in the Church ; in- 
 cluding native Syrians, Greek colonists, and Roman officials, 
 it had a large Pagan population, and party-spirit was brisk. 
 The first sound (it had been noted as of ominous significance) 
 that fell upon the Emperor's ear, as he approached the town, 
 was the wild summer wailing for the lost Adonis. Adonis 
 was indeed dead and his fellows ! In spite of all Julian's efforts 
 and exhortation, in spite of his own devotion, in spite of his 
 restoration of Apollo's shrine at Daphne, when he came to cele- 
 brate with renovated pomp the annual festival of the town's 
 patron deity, the sole representative of all the wealth and 
 prosperity of that great city was a single priest with a solitary Mis. 352. 
 goose, who could scarcely prevail on his own son to serve 
 him as acolyte. No wonder that Julian turned away sick at 
 heart, to vent his spleen in indignant objurgations to the 
 council. But it was everywhere the same. 'Everywhere,' 
 says Libanius\ 'were altars and fires and blood and fat of 
 sacrifice and smoke and sacred rites, and diviners fearlessly 
 performing their functions. And on the mountain-tops were 
 pipings and processions, and the sacrificial ox, Avhich wa^ at 
 once an offering to the Gods and a banquet to men.' Ah yes, 
 everywhere were these things, but where were the genuine 
 worshippers, who could make them all significant ? 
 
 Paai-anism was thus profoundly indifferent, because it was Frivolity 
 
 n 111 ..of Pagan- 
 
 not only hopelessly and mortally corrupt, but also because it j^,„i. 
 
 was yet more hopelessly and recklessly frivolous. There was 
 
 probably less of flagrant wickedness at Rome than at the 
 
 time when in the words of her great historian the imperial 
 
 city was 'the common sink and rendezvous of every atrocity 
 
 and abomination^.' But it will be worth while to scan 
 
 the somewhat less dark portraiture' of a later age, and see 
 
 reflected in the microcosm of Rome the outward spirit of 
 
 the age of Julian. The trials of infancy, the stalwart pride 
 
 1 Liban. Eintaph. i. p. 5G4. 
 * Tac. Ann. xv. 44. 
 
 ' As rendered by Amm. Marc. xiv. 6, of which the following lines are 
 a close paraphrase, almost deserving inverted commas. 
 
 17—2 
 
2G0 JULTAX. 
 
 of youth, tLe strength of maturity, the veueraLle tranquillity 
 of a green old age were all past. It was the acme of genius 
 now to invent a more stylish phaeton, a daintier fringe, or a 
 more transparent gossamer stuff. The rich man rattled 
 along the basalt-paved streets at the head of a miniature 
 army; not a scullion was left behind: grooms and lacqueys 
 led the van : grimy cooks and hired loungers filled the ranks, 
 while lines of sallow and ill-favoured eunuchs brought up 
 the rear: in every direction troops of ballet-girls with wanton 
 ringlets tripped or waltzed along the pavements, showing 
 their ancles in true theatrical fiishion. Meanwhile the libra- 
 ries were deserted as graveyards. The philosopher's chair 
 was taken by the choir-master, and professors of broad farce 
 filled the ancient seats of professors of rhetoric. While the 
 growth of celibacy and rapid physical degeneracy threatened 
 to extirpate the higher classes, the lower spent all their 
 time, gambling and betting, in low and immoral resorts. 
 Turbulence, taverns, and vulgarity according to Ammian 
 were the three prominent characteristics of Rome. No 
 wonder that in such a society science, poetry and art were 
 obsolete. Constantine, master of the resources of the world, 
 had not been able to deck his arch of Triumph, except by 
 decorations pilfered from his great predecessor's trophy ; 
 while all Europe and Asia had to be rifled to supply statues 
 for the requirements of the new metropolis that bore its 
 founder's name. Poetry had died after the ill treatmeiit 
 accorded it by Silius Italicus and succeeding poetasters; 
 Claudian was in his nursery, and the Muses had not yet 
 been christened and begun to lisp again in Prudentius\ 
 Alike in art, in intellect, and in morals, every spark of 
 interest or earnestness had died out at Rome^ She was in 
 a state of such hopeless moral debauch that to Ammian^ it 
 
 1 Ausonius I omit, as so very questionable a Christian or poet. The 
 expression used of Claudian is not meant to be more than vague, the date 
 of his birth being so uncertain. 
 
 " Haec similiaque memorabile nihil vel serium agi Eomae permittunt. 
 Amm. M. xiv. vi. 26. 
 
 3 Amm. M. xxviii. iv. 5, a chapter in which the Eome of sixteen years 
 later (369 a. d.) is painted in even more sinister colours than above. 
 
HELLENISM. 261 
 
 seeraed that thougli Eijimenides of Crete had risen from the 
 dead, he could not have purged her uncleanness. Keligion, 
 morality, law alike pronounced her disease incurable. While 
 the plague was upon her, the Imperial city, in thoughtless 
 frivolity or giddy intoxication, was dancing her carnival of 
 death, till the fierce Visigoth knocked at the gates and burst 
 sword in hand upon the awe-struck revellers. 
 
 Rome then, as depicted to us by a contemporary, was a Prir/nni^vi 
 city given over to the pursuit of pleasure, a fourth century ^^,-„,j 'of 
 Paris. Rome too was the acknowledged stronghold of Pa- Pleasure. 
 o-anism. The coincidence is not fortuitous : between the 
 two facts there exists a natural correlation of idea. True that 
 Paganism owed something to the legal sanction, the official 
 o-arb in which it walked ; true too that the influence of the 
 schools, and the preaching of the Sophists, by no means 
 altogether failed in their advocacy of Paganism ; true once 
 more that where the instinct of legality failed, or intellectual 
 appreciativeness was absent, divination and sorcery, with 
 their subtle organisation of mixed terrorism and winning- 
 ness, their shrewd frauds of menace or promise or present 
 delusion, enchained many victims of superstition ; but yet, 
 bearing in mind the activity and efficacy of these varied forces, 
 and the yet more degraded allurements by which Paganism 
 seduced the affections of its votaries, we may confidently 
 affirm that the true basis of Paganism was not law, not culture, 
 not superstition, not lust, much less of course religion, but in 
 one word j^^easure. The maintenance of Paganism was con- 
 sciously identified with the maintenance of pleasure, in its 
 existing public forms. And if there is one right which a 
 corrupt and fallen nation or populace asserts with devoted 
 tenacity, it is the right to be amused. It was so with the 
 people of Rome. Long after they had surrendered their 
 free rights to the minions of emperors, they delighted still to 
 call themselves lord in the amphitheatre, to scream for cir- 
 censes as vociferously as for panem. Forms of civic election 
 were gone through for this end. It was the one duty and 
 reward of the elective magistrates to provide their constituents 
 with suitable and sufficient amusements. The splendour of 
 
262 JULIAN. 
 
 the games was the measure of his merit. It has become a 
 modern commonplace to oppose the spirit of Hebraism to 
 that of Hellenism. The antithesis has been often criticised, 
 and may be defective, but if there is one form of Hellenism 
 to which more than another so-called Hebraism is antago- 
 nistic, it was the pojDular Hellenism of Julian's own day. It 
 was easy-going, giddy, sensual, gregarious. This Hellenism 
 Julian tried to Hebraise^ — to make it earnest, grave, chaste, 
 self-contained. It declined to 'put on the new man.' It 
 was too merry and wayward to attempt any such thing. 
 Like Undine, it had not taken a soul — and winced and 
 shrank away from the thought of it. Living and letting live, 
 it had no heart to be sober or sad. It danced its innocent 
 revel or rioted in dissolute delights, or thrilled to weird 
 enchantments. From all these Julian thought to wean it. 
 It is no marvel that he was left without encouragement and 
 without support. The one marvel is that he should have 
 attempted at all to spin ropes of this waste sand with no 
 better cement than lamblichus' patent. 
 
 Paganism was doomed, and Neo-Platonism could but 
 precipitate eventual ruin. The moral sense of mankind had 
 revolted long since against the gToss conceptions of pristine 
 theology. When Neo-Platonism espoused its allegorical 
 method of interpretation, it was a confession that no sup- 
 porter of Paganism, however ardent, could any longer adhere 
 to its doctrines. The new orthodoxy was too capricious in 
 method, too arbitrary in result, and too devoid of authori- 
 tative sanction ever to command assent. The moral re- 
 e^eneration of Paganism was in even worse case than the 
 intellectual. The local and national and patriotic associa- 
 tions, which of old had served Paganism so well, were all 
 
 1 Cf. Miicke, Julian's Lchen unci Schriften, p. 93. Julian tiiusclite eich 
 nicht bloss iiber die Natur des Christenthums sondern auch iiber die des 
 Hellenismus, indem er dieser Keligion, der allea Asketische, alles Eutsagen 
 und Verzicliten auf den heiteren Genuss einer schouen Siunenwelt ganz 
 fern lag, christliche Eutbaltsamkeit und. Demutb, imunterbrocbene Be- 
 kampfuug der Siunlicbkeit, Verliiugnuug des eigeneu Willens und fiigsame 
 Unterordnung unter ein strenges Sittengesetz zumutbete, das alle Freude 
 au8 dem menscblicbcn Dasein auf iiunier zu verbanneu scbien. 
 
HELLENISM. 2(33 
 
 stricken with death. Those who needed the consolation of 
 religion at all, instinctively felt that that religion must be 
 universal not partial, a religion not of clans or peoples, but of 
 mankind. Julian and the Neo-Platonists realised the truth ; 
 but their misty, impersonal assurances of life to come, their 
 'ecstacy' so confined and unattainable, their empty formali- 
 ties of worship could in the end satisfy none whom Christi- 
 anity failed to allure. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 VICISTI GALILAEE i 
 
 Basilius. Here lies a splendiil broken tool of God. 
 
 The Emperor Julian, Act v. H. Ibsen (transl. by C. Eay). 
 
 Etitimates There are few principal actors on the great world-stage 
 of Julian. ^^ "vvliom history has passed more discordant verdicts than on 
 Julian. In the case of those few it is generally true either 
 that the records of their lives are meagre and conflicting, 
 that they lived in a dark age, or else that the very profundity 
 of their aims or maybe some inscrutable blending of good 
 and evil purposes have wrapped them in impenetrable ob- 
 scurity. They have lived and died enigmas which defied the 
 skill of the historian to produce an authoritative solution. 
 Neither excuse can be pleaded in the instance of Julian. 
 Contemporary records are superabundant. Histoi-ies, speeches, 
 letters alike of friends and enemies, throw on him a glare of 
 light from every side. His laws, his written or reported 
 orations, his public despatches and private correspondence 
 are a body of evidence of the best kind, and of unimpeachable 
 veracity. These exhibit Julian as no bewildering oracular 
 genius, driven like Mohammed by fitful gusts of inspiration, 
 or remorselessly ' ploughing his way ' like Cromwell unscru- 
 pulous in his means from intensity of belief in his end, but 
 rather as a sincere busy garrulous ruler, whose whole life 
 nothing but self-deceiving subtlety could fail to construe 
 aright.- Prejudice and intense religious bias have certainly 
 done their utmost to misstate or misinterpret simple truths. 
 
VICISTI GALILAEE ! 265 
 
 It would be more amusing than instructive to compare venom 
 from Gregory's 'Invective' with flowers from the 'Panegyric' 
 of Libanius. Tt would be easy to quote from writers, whom 
 lapse of time might have made impartial, strange contrarieties 
 of judgment the fruit of theological prepossessions. But what 
 shall we say to more deeply-seated contradictions ? If it is 
 explicable that Schlosser* should detect only the inveterate 
 dissembler, where Hase^ discovers next to Athanasius the 
 greatest figure of his centur}^ how explain that while the 
 most eminent of English Roman Catholics^ allows the Apo- 
 state to have been 'all but the pattern man of philosophical 
 virtue,' in whom must be recognised 'a specious beauty and 
 nobleness of moral deportment which combines in it the 
 rude greatness of Fabricius or Regulus with the accomplish- 
 ments of Pliny or Antoninus,' the founder and high priest of 
 Positivism has linked his name with Napoleon Buonaparte's 
 to denote in the Comtist calendar one day of solemn repro- 
 bation'. To have attained this twofold distinction argues 
 something remarkable in the man. Nor is it solely modern 
 caprice straining after originality, nor any spurious flourish 
 of tolerance that has dictated these judgments. It was a 
 Christian successor of Julian's, who chose for his epitaph 
 Homer's^ tribute to Agamemnon lord of man, 
 
 d.,u(p6Tepou, jBauiXevs r' dyadbs Kparepos t' atXM'7'''^'> 
 
 and well-nigh the earliest of Christian poets to whom Julian 
 
 seemed 
 
 ductor fortissimus armis, 
 conditor et legum, celeberrimus ore manuque®. 
 
 At Julian's accession to the throne, for the second time in The com- 
 the history of the Roman Empire, Plato's darling wish wasy^-^^,. 
 
 1 Sclilosser, Jena. Lit.-Zeit., Jan. 1813, pp. 122—135, and Univ.-hist. 
 Ueb. der Gesch. der alt. Welt.' in. g§ 2, 3. 
 
 2 Kirchengeschichtc, p. 124. 
 
 3 J. H. Newman, Idea of a University, p. 194, 
 
 4 Na\'ille, Jul. VApost. Pref. p. vii. Another writer has already con- 
 trasted the pious Gottfried Arnold's doubt 'whether Julian persecuted the 
 Christians or the Christians Julian,' with Gibbon's audible undertone of 
 depreciation. — Zeitschr. fur wiss. Theol. p. 96. 
 
 * Horn. II. 111. 179. * Trud. Apoth. 450. 
 
268 VICISTI GALILAEE ! 
 
 gratified, 'a philosopher was made king.' Nor as Emperor 
 did he show himself untrue to his professions: he was but too 
 eager and proud to carry out his philosopher's convictions, 
 little by little approximating Rome to the Ideal State. The 
 movement which he headed ought to be one of profound his- 
 toric and even dramatic interest. For the last time for more 
 than fourteen centuries civilised Europe by state decree pro- 
 claimed Christianity a lie, and deified Wisdom in its stead. 
 It was the final stand made by Hellenism against its great 
 rival. Hellenism was represented at its best, the best at 
 any rate of which it was at that age capable; Christianity, 
 when the conflict began, in some respects at its worst. It 
 had lost its pristine earnestness: it was giddy at its new and 
 dangerous elevation: in its new development as connected 
 with the state, it was still in infancy; and was suffering from 
 all the maladies to which such an infancy was necessarily 
 prone: it had not yet had space or experience to learn wisdom; 
 nor was its constitution yet formed to natural robustness. 
 The combatants then might seem well-matched, the naturally 
 weaker having on his side the advantage of age and experi- 
 ence and past prestige. There might have been expected a 
 struggle of prolonged and thrilling interest, a battle of giants, 
 a rocking to and fro of battalions locked in the death-grip as 
 on Julian's own field of Strasburg, where the din of fight grew 
 ever louder and louder, 'fierce as waves beating upon rocks,' 
 where daring outdid daring and courage rose with failure 
 liardly less than with success, and every gap was filled by a 
 more impetuous foe\ As a matter of fact the drama pre- 
 sented to us is nothing of the kind. It is flat and tame: 
 the result is foreseen from the beginning. There is not even 
 incident enough to construct an exciting plot to postpone the 
 irreversible denouement. There is more sober truth than 
 usual in Gregory's declamation when he describes Julian's 
 revival as 'a tragic burlesqued' And this not because oppor- 
 tunity failed, still less because Julian's own powers were 
 slight or efforts feeble. 
 
 1 Amm. M. xvi. xii. 43, &c. 
 
 = Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 79, p. 605 b. 
 
YICISTI galilaee! 2C7 
 
 His opportunity was nothing short of magnificent. The Julian's 
 curse of the race of Pelops had seemed to dog the doomed j,^,^-;^. 
 house of Constantius Chlorus. The death of Gallus in 
 354 A.D. left Juhan, except the reigning Emperor, sole male 
 survivor of that great stock. Thereupon the fortune of the 
 house seemed to accumulate all her bounties for his service. 
 Fortune won to his cause Eusebia's heart: she tamed the 
 jealous savagery of Constantius himself: she invested her 
 darling with the purple: she mated him with an imperial 
 consort: she led him past perils of false friends and perils of 
 indomitable foes; she stood by him at the council board and 
 in the field of battle; she wafted him on wings of victory 
 from Strasburg and the lower Main to the German Ocean 
 and the Zuider Zee : she crowned him with honour and glory 
 and the gifts of good government: she named him sovereign 
 Augustus: not even then did she desert him. Seldom has 
 pretender thrown a more desperate stake than when in vio- 
 lence to his own judgment and against his wilP Julian was 
 forced to play for Empire, and plunged through the Black 
 Forest eastward. But Fortune was not wearied : for Julian 
 she seemed furnished with a cornucopia of blessings. Ere 
 the crisis came, the crisis whose approach was to be measured 
 by weeks not months, Constantius lay dead, Julian was lord 
 of the world. And his power lay not in sounding titles: he 
 was dowered with a magnificent prestige: he was the leader 
 of a devoted army. Six years before, almost to a day^ 
 the soldiers at the coronation ceremony had rattled, their 
 shields^ upon their knees in enthusiasm for their new Iinpe- 
 rator: in the interval every promise, every hope had been 
 more than realised. Julian was now the emperor of their 
 own choice and manufacture; Celts and Petulants were eager 
 to follow the star of their Augustus even to the hot and 
 hated East. Nor did the army alone exult. Hellene philo- 
 sophers maybe or grateful Gaul or harried Nisibis and 
 
 1 De Broglie errs, I think, in denying this, though his remarks and note 
 {L'Eglise, <t-c., iv. 82) deserve careful consideration. To his quotations add 
 Eunap. Hist. xix. 70. 
 
 - .Julian was crowned Caosar, Nov. 0, 355 : ConstantiuB died, Nov. 3, 361. 
 
 2 Amm. M. xv. viii. 15. 
 
268 
 
 VICISTI GALILAEE ! 
 
 Julian's 
 capacity 
 
 Mesopotamia praised God more loud than others, but a cliorus 
 of universal acclamation went up throughout the empire. 
 Its echo reached further still. Southward from the unknown 
 regions of the Phasis, westward from Armenia and beyond 
 the Tigris, northward from the tracts of Mauretania, nay 
 even from Ceylon and the Maldive Isles, hurried embassies to 
 do homage to the risen Sun\ There was not one boon left 
 to crave from fortune. 
 
 So much for Julian's opportunity. What of his own 
 powers, and earnestness of purpose? It would be idle repe- 
 tition to dilate again upon these*. He was a brilliant general, 
 whose Gallic and German campaigns for largeness of result 
 as contrasted with paucity of means might compare with 
 those of the great Caasar, or of Gustavus Adolphus. He was 
 a successful financier, an industrious and conscientious ruler; 
 he was endowed with rare intellectual gifts, and unfailing 
 fixity of moral purpose. Taken all in all he possessed a 
 combination of qualities such as might have secured him a 
 place more than respectable among the world's great rulers. 
 He bent every faculty of body and mind, every energy of his 
 richly endowed nature, towards the end in which he sincerely 
 believed. He spared no pains; grudged no outlay; held 
 nothing in reserve; spent and was spent for his cause. More 
 than this, he worked with singular wisdom and moderation. 
 It is easy to say that in particular instances a little extra 
 leniency or some additional severity would have been more 
 judicious: but on the whole it would be hard to point out 
 any salient defects either in the plan proposed or the execu- 
 tion effected. 
 
 Whether then we look at the start accorded to Julian b}'' 
 with"^ fortune, or at his own personal powers, he must be allowed 
 to have the advantage over the great Constantino. He sur- 
 passed him in validity and security of title, in strategic 
 
 1 Amm. M. xxii. vii. 7, 10. 
 
 2 Here for once Auer waxes eloquent in the Apostate's praise. " Julian 
 seemed a divinely chosen instrument to prove that not even the cumhination 
 of the highest physical moral and intellectual powers ( ! ) could any longer dog 
 the triumph of the invisible forces of Christianity." De Broglie's summary 
 VEglise dc, iv. •105 pp. seems admirably just. 
 
 Julian 
 
 with 
 
 Constan- 
 
 tine. 
 
VICISTI GALILAEE I 209 
 
 ability, in financial skill, in literary and intellectual power, in 
 capacity for application, in moral purity. Yet in spite of all 
 Julian failed egregiously where Constantine splendidly suc- 
 ceeded; failed not only eventually and in the long run, but 
 visibly there and then. There was one quality in which 
 Julian did not surpass Constantine, in common sense and 
 the power to read the spirit of his age. Constantine was 
 the first Christian, Julian the last Pagan Emperor. 
 
 The numerical details of his success^ or failure of^er Limits of 
 matter for endless contention. JNo certam statistics are pro- 
 curable. The truth must be gathered from a pinori reason- 
 ing, eked out by scattered hints in the pages of contemporary 
 writers. There are authors" who represent Julian's efforts as 
 triumphantly successful. Such a view appears unhistorical. 
 It is true that there were perverts. Hekebolius the apostate 
 Sophist represents to some extent a class^; Julian, uncle to 
 the Emperor, another; he earned by his compliance the Pre- 
 fecture of the East: and there was no doubt many another 
 man who found it as easy to shift his religion as his dress*.' 
 It appears that Julian once found even in a bishop® a Pagan 
 
 1 Tlie matter has been already touched on supr. p. 258 — 9. 
 
 2 Cf. Lame, pp. 40, 161, with whom Mucke, pp. 78, 91, though more 
 soberly, agrees in the main. 
 
 ^ Julian's raptures over 'the conversion* of one Sophist' do not tally 
 with any very constant occurrence of the event. Cf. Greg. Naz. Or. iv. 5 
 and G5, Sok. iii. 13. 
 
 * So Asterius of Amasea, Adv. Avar. p. 208. I owed the quotation to 
 Neander, but find Johnson quoting the passage at length in his Julian's Arts 
 to extirpate Christianity^ p. 16. His preceding classitication of renegades is 
 racy enough. ' First ; The Volant Squadron, that running Camp, which 
 immediately wheels about upon the least signal of a Change of Religion. 
 Those very forward People, who as soon as they knew what Julian would be 
 at, presently took the Hint, and were special good Heathens in an Instant... 
 Secondly, A sort of simple, unthinking and stupid Men, who... no more 
 scruple the Prince's Eeligion than they doubt whether his Coin be lawful 
 Money. They count it. ..very ill manners to think themselves wiser than 
 their betters, concluding that God and the Czar know all &c., &c.' 
 
 5 For the story of Pegasius at Ilium see Julian's seventy-eighth letter. 
 Bishop Heron of Thebes may be added if Philost. vii. 13 and Chron. Pasch. i, 
 p. 518 are to be trusted, and with him a minor dignitary the Presbyter 
 Theoteknus, but their apostasy appears to belong to the persecution under 
 Maxirainus. 
 
270 VICISTI GALILAEE ! 
 
 in disguise. But to jump from these individual instances to 
 the facile generalisation^ that all soldiers and civil function- 
 aries who, to please the sons of Constantino went over en 
 masse to Galileism, during Julian's eighteen months of 
 empire returned en masse to Hellenism, is quite inadmissible. 
 The facts Lelie it. If it comes to mere counting of pips, 
 there are a Proa3resius and a Victorinus to set against Heke- 
 bolius, a Valentinian and a Valens against Count Julian. 
 From Julian's own works quite another impression is de- 
 rivable. A growing despondency pervades them. The boast 
 
 Ep. 38. to Maximus about the public celebration of services and the 
 religious disposition of the soldiers may count for nothing, 
 for it was penned from Illyria when Julian was little better 
 than an adventurer, fighting for empire with a halter round 
 his neck, and heading soldiers of fortune who would as lief 
 serve Gods as God, or the devil as either, if he proved the 
 best paymaster. There is indeed one utterance, to which 
 undeserved weight has been attached. It runs: — 'the gifts 
 
 Ep. 49. of the Gods are great and splendid, passing all prayer and all 
 hope; for (be Nemesis propitious to my words^) a short while 
 back none would have dared pray for so complete a change 
 in so short a time.' Taken alone the words seem strong. 
 But what is the context? The statement which these words 
 are used to enforce is — 'Hellenism does not yet succeed as I 
 reckoned, from the fault of those luho -profess it.' The 'great 
 gifts of the Gods' are put in contrast to the little use made of 
 them: the 'complete change' alluded to is evidently, as else- 
 where ^ the liberty of worship now allowed to Pagans, of 
 which imfortunately they availed themselves so meagrely. 
 The letter itself is on the surface of it an address to the high 
 priest of Galatia, meant to encourage him and give suggestions 
 in his uneven struggle with Christianity. It is really in 
 complete accord with other more despondent notices pre- 
 served. Few of Julian's letters can be localised with cer- 
 tainty at Constantinople: such as do demonstrably belong to 
 
 1 For which see Lame p. 40, as supr. 
 
 ^ The parenthesis itself implies a misgiving. 
 
 3 Cf. £j). xLii. 423 BC. 
 
VICISTI GALILAEE ! 271 
 
 that first six montlis of sovereign power are in great part 
 invitations to Court^ or complimentary notes^ or official 
 despatches ^ containing not much of interest — unless indeed 
 it be their silence — concerning the Hellenic reaction. Per- 
 haps the Eastern capital* was too Christian by tradition and 
 every antecedent to offer a fair field. When Julian set out 
 on his progress through Asia Minor, he perhaps hoped that 
 Pagan indifference had been merely local. If so he must 
 have been not a little chagrined. From Cappadocia comes 
 a plaintive lament that there is not one 'genuine Hellene' to Ep.i. 
 be found; 'most won't sacrifice, and the few who will don't 
 know how.' Julian writes expressly to his friend Aristoxenus, 
 begging him to import himself and show them the way. At 
 Pessinus, though Julian promoted a faithful priestess, though Ep. 21. 
 he praised her zeal with his own hand royal, though he reli- 
 giously kept the fast of Cybele, though he indited for the or. 5. lei c 
 use of devotees a pious charge, yet faith was not to be elicited o,-. 5. 
 from Pessinus, nay not even to be purchased by the promise 
 of hard cash®. At Antioch things were worse still: to restore 
 Paganism Avas 'to turn the world upside down:' the Chi and ^^'«-360d 
 the Kappa, Christ and Constantius, were everywhere ram- ^^«- 363 b 
 pant : the issue of Julian's endeavours was a priest and one Mis. 302. 
 goose at the high festival of that wealthy city^ The post 
 from Alexandria'' brought news of nothing but reverses: the 
 council of Beroea openly turned the cold shoulder to their Ep. 27. 
 sovereign's exhortations: not even little Batna; could quite 
 conceal the hypocrisy of efforts prompted by loyalty or self- 
 
 1 e.g. Epp. 23, 31 
 
 2 e.g. Epp. 15, 39, 09. 
 
 '^ e.g. Epp. 25b, 58. Ep. 25 to the Jews is of great interest but belongs 
 probably to the Antioch period. 
 
 ^ Himerius is witness of Julian's efforts to introduce Polytheism and 
 Mithras worship there. Cf. Sok. iii. 11. 
 
 ^ Ep. 49. 431 D. The letter must certainly I think be of later date than 
 Julian's own visit to Pessinus in or about June, 362. 
 
 ^ Rode, p. 96 — 97, conceives that stiff-necked Antioch quite repented her- 
 self, when brought to reason by Julian's morose nominee Alexander. His 
 quotations are well marshalled, but his conclusions, if space allowed, might 
 well be controverted. 
 
 '' Supr. 190 pp. 
 
272 VICISTI GALILAEE ! 
 
 interest. The records of persecution under Julian prove not 
 a few ebullitions of local anti-Christian spite, but none at all 
 of Pagan devotion\ When priests could not keep their own 
 wives and children in the path of outward orthodoxy^ it 
 could hardly be expected of the laity to make sacrifices for 
 the cause. If there was any one class with whom as a whole 
 Julian was successful, it was the army^ He petted it, he 
 bribed it^ he purged it, he made it to a man his own. That 
 very army, albeit with slaughter of victims and inspection 
 of entrails", elected a Christian his successor. 
 Julian's It is no hard problem to diagnose his failure. Christians 
 
 jaiiure. -^^ instinct grasped the truth. They fabled how, when Julian 
 had taken tlie fatal step, and declared himself apostate, 
 there appeared in the entrails that he was inspecting the 
 Cross encircled in a crown: how on his march from Gaul, 
 as he passed by the ripening vineyards, the dew that 
 fell upon his chlamys took drop by drop the form of the 
 • Holy Sign: how, once again, as the blood spurtled from the 
 fatal javelin- wound, he took of it, and flinging it away as the 
 emblem of the wasted life, cried Vicisti, GalUaee! 'Galilean, 
 thou hast conquered'' 1 ' Fantastic tales like these embody a 
 pictured truth. In the fulness of the promise, as in the 
 weariness of the disappointments of imperial sway, Julian 
 was constantly haunted by that mysterious ever-present 
 power, which though he reverenced it not, by the spell of its 
 dominion frustrated all his most cherished hopes. Against it 
 he fought well, but fought in vain. The legends parable 
 aright. From the first day of professed apostasy, from the 
 
 1 Chap. vin. - Ep. 49, 430 a b. Cf. Soz. v. 16. 
 
 3 In this all authorities agree. Among other passages, cf. Iiil. Ep. 38. 
 415 c, Amm. M. xxii. xii. 6, Liban. ad lul. Hyp. p. 399, Greg. Naz. Or. 
 IV. c. 64—66, 80—84, Sok. in. 13, Leo Gram. p. 95. 
 
 " Soz. V. 17, Greg. Naz, Or. iv. 82, Liban. Epit. p. 578. 
 
 5 Amm. M. xxv. vi. 1. S. Johnson, Answer to Jovian 105 pp. vigorously 
 contends that all the army— except Jovian and Valens and Libauius' hypo- 
 thetical murderer of Julian— were professed heathens, and quotes Theod. 
 IV. 1. The facts are against the theory. 
 
 6 This famous story first given by Theod. iii. 25, and diversified into 
 a variety of shapes, is no doubt uuliistorical. NewKTj/cas TaXiXau are the 
 words, of which the Latin has become the traditional form of quotation. 
 
viciSTi gaulaee! 273 
 
 hour when he instituted aggressive tactics against Christianity, 
 at his departure from Vienne no less truly than at that later 
 departure from Antioch, already 'the carpenter's son' was at 
 work 'making a coffin'.' Fortune might still lavish gi-fts, but 
 all were useless, so long as the fundamental weakness was 
 uneradicated. The Apostate's powers remained all they had 
 been; his energy grew with the increased demands upon it. 
 Yet a vital paralysis laid hold of all his schemes and efforts. 
 He threatened and he thrust at an enemy or rather enemies 
 that seemed slow and yielding and not always brave; yet the 
 despised antagonists needed hardly so much as to parry the 
 thrusts ; they fell innocuous, exhausting chiefly the strength 
 of the assailant. Weight of numbers and some secret im- 
 petus kept pressing them forward. It was hard work for the 
 attack to gain a single inch, while confidence, harbinger of 
 victory, waned visibly. Sooner or later too the solitary 
 fighter must retire, and leave the arena to his adversaries. 
 Failure was indeed a foregone conclusion. The cause was 
 already lost when Julian took up cudgels for it. He might 
 make proselytes, even in some numbers, of a more or less 
 worthless kind: ambition, self-interest, superstition, hatred of 
 Christianity, and a hundred other motives were busy tempt- 
 ing men to avow the Imperial creed. But into not one of 
 his proselytes could ha infuse the genuine sincerity and 
 enthusiasm which animated himself. A pedant dreamer still, 
 even in the stir and push of busy action, he lived in a past 
 world. His thoughts, beliefs, aspirations, all belonged to 
 another date, and centered in a bygone age. He cast in his 
 lot with all that was in the truest sense stale and unprogres- 
 sive'*. Less practical and clear-sighted than his great exem- 
 plar, Marcus Aurelius, he made a gross miscalculation of the 
 forces round about him: he transposed and inverted them 
 every one. ' He turned his face to the past, and his back upon 
 the future^.' No wonder that he failed so unequivocally and 
 irremediably. He supposed that Hellenism was a principle 
 of recreative life, whereas in reality its roots were all decayed, 
 
 1 For the well-known story cf. Soz. vi. 2, Theod. in. 23, Nikeph. x. 35. 
 
 » Cf. Naville, Jul. I'Apost. pp. 83, 84. Mangold, p. 27, Lasaulx, p. 59. 
 
 " Chateaubr. Elud. Hist. ii. p. 57. 
 
 R. E. • 18 
 
274 vicisTi galilaee! 
 
 and its last flowers already beginning to droop, 'Christianity 
 was a living plant, which imparted its vitality to the foreign 
 suckers grafted upon it; the dead and sapless trunk of Paga- 
 nism withered even the living boughs which were blended 
 with it, by its own inevitable decay \ Julian essayed to head 
 a reaction which if successful would have revolutionised the 
 world's history. So disastrous would it have been that it 
 becomes difficult even to figure the result to the imagination. 
 Had Julian's cultured Hellenism triumphed over despised 
 and rejected Galileism, the sole power would have been anni- 
 hilated, which was destined to tame the barbarian, establish 
 law, save learning, elevate humanity, and construct from the 
 debris of the empire European civilisation. No greatness, 
 no self-sacrifice, no singleness of aim, no accum\ilation of 
 merit in the leader can atone for the demerits of his cause. 
 Newman's eulogium and Comte's imprecation are alike justi- 
 fied. Julian was as near as might be the vh' sapiens; 
 Julian's cause was Antichrist. Herein lies the infinite pathos 
 of his career^ Viewed on the religious side it must remain 
 always manqud, abortive, disappointing whether to pourtray or 
 to ponder. History shows few sadder samples of noble views 
 distorted, great powers misapplied, and high aims worse than 
 wasted. There is a twice-told tale' how in youth Julian 
 essayed to raise a memorial shrine to the holy Mamas ; but as 
 he built, the earth at the foundations crumbled, for God and 
 his holy martyr deigned not to accept the labour and offering 
 of his hands. It is an allegory of his life. He toiled on 
 rotten foundations. The edifice tumbled before it could be 
 reared; nay its weight sapped the substructure. 
 
 'Julian's life was an accident, and at liis death events 
 reverted to their natural channel.' Such is the brief sum- 
 mary of Julian's reign which a calm and generous writer* 
 has set down. Of the main issue involved the words are 
 
 1 Milman, Hist. Christ, u. 453. 
 
 '■^ Mangold, p. 27. 
 
 =• Cf. Greg. Naz. Or. v. 24—29, p. 88—90, rehearsed in Tlieod. in. 2, Soz., 
 Sok., &c. How the anecdote laid hold of Christian imagination is seen by 
 its repetition in Leo Gram., Glykas, &c. 
 
 * Beugnot, p. 221. 
 
VICISTI GALILAEE ! 275 
 
 literally true. But it is impossible that no side-issues should 
 have been determined by so pretentious and so decisive a 
 conflict. The more important of these may be briefly indi- 
 cated. 
 
 First then, on the negative side, Hellenism as a religious Hellenism 
 creed was finally discredited. It was tried and found want- ^^T^ **^ 
 ing. It was well — perhaps necessary— that this should he religion; 
 so. Above all it was well that it should receive a fair trial : 
 that Neo-Platonism should rally all. the available forces of 
 intellect and religion for a life and death struggle, fought 
 under a captain of such co|isuramate power and discretion as 
 Julian. In that way Pagans learnt quicker and more con- 
 clusively that it was irretrievably doomed, that all hope of 
 restoration was chimerical : in that way Christians attained to 
 more solid assurance that God's cause was their own. Short 
 as was Julian's reign it was long enough to make its verdict 
 most explicit. Dreamers to be sure there were, fatuous 
 pedants self-blinded by their own conceits, who against hope, 
 almost against light and knowledge, hoped still that Hellen- 
 ism had a future in store; who persisted that nothing but 
 Julian's death had postponed the eventual triumph ; who 
 liugged the baseless fancy that the accident of some new 
 Emperor's creed could change the current of history \ and 
 traced in Julian the antitype of the coming Messiah of Neo- 
 Platonism. But such fools or fanatics dwindled fast. It 
 would have been too much to hope that one individual could 
 at a stroke disenchant a whole world of its folly. As it was 
 Julian's career taught all sober Hellenes from Libanius 
 downwards the needed truth that their creed was doomed. 
 It soon slunk away from the towns, and as the reader of 
 Libanius' Oration for the Temples may see, lingered on in 
 harvest-homes and vintage- feasts, and immemorial festivals 
 of peasant folk, till it could incorporate itself unsuspected' 
 with Christian observances. Within ten 37ears of Julian's 
 death Hellenism is first officially called ' Paganism.' A 
 longer reign could have scarcely served the purpose better. 
 Increased pressure, or active persecution (had Julian been 
 
 ' Kingsley in his Ht/piitia harps often on thi.<! string. 
 
 IS— 2 
 
276 
 
 VICISTI GALILAEE ! 
 
 ■ and intel- 
 lectually. 
 
 driven into such a course) might have multiplied proselytes 
 and perverts ; but assuredly faithful martyrs would have 
 matched their witness against false apostates. Julian did 
 not err in thinking that his death came at a happy hour. 
 Fortune continued kind to the last. The Gods loved him 
 when they suffered him to die young. He had lived years 
 enough to show how futile an attempt, nay rather how irre- 
 trievable a failure, was the consummation of his schemes. 
 Life prolonged could have proved but prolonged disappoint- 
 ment, and perhaps too sullied fame. 
 
 Julian's failure did not merely,, discredit Hellenism as a 
 creed. It also precipitated its fall as an intellectual system. 
 It is instructive to note how Julian's one salient act of dis- 
 tinct persecution recoiled upon itself, not without reflex 
 mischief to the world at large. Before his time the breach 
 between Christianity and the schools had not become im- 
 passable. More than once Christian hands had reached 
 across and taken of their hid treasures, and displayed and 
 praised aloud their beauty and cunning. Julian in short- 
 sighted jealousy repelled and prohibited all such advances. 
 To do so was to sign the death-warrant of Hellenism. He 
 exposed his unshattered aspirations, and opened Christian 
 eyes to their real strength. He 'made men feel how intensely 
 anti-christian was the spirit of the schools, and how great was 
 the possible danger of a like revivaP.' As Hellenic faith 
 died, the sole hope for Hellenic culture was that as the 
 adopted child of Christianity it might find a safe and honour- 
 ed home. It may have been that the times were not yet 
 ripe for such a connexion, and that under no circumstances it 
 could have been realised, but at least Julian did his worst to 
 render it for ever impossible, when he imposed premature 
 disabilities, and barred every advance under ban of excom- 
 munication. 
 
 Incidentally however Julian's endeavours were fraught 
 
 with certain good results. Morally, except by making the 
 
 Christian unworthiness of Paganism more palpable, they left it little 
 
 Church. 
 
 1 Capes, Vniv. Life d-c, p. 126. Herwerden, pp. 93, 94 (I think inore_ 
 Bupeificiallj) takes the opposite view. 
 
 Effects oj 
 reaction 
 on the 
 
vicisTi galilaee! 277 
 
 better and little worse than before. Not so with Christianity. 
 For the Church Julian's reign was an unmixed benefit. At 
 his accession it was in terrible distress. The bi-partite Aca- 
 cian Councils of Seleucia and Ariminum had already (-359 A.D.) 
 surrendered the Homoilsion of Nicsea. Had Constantius 
 gone on to reign much longer, orthodoxy, humanly speaking, 
 would have been extinct. Rapid and unlooked-for success 
 had soiled the Church's purity. The chiefest Christian 
 virtues had fallen into obscurity, or transformed themselves 
 to vices. Humility, charity, forbearance, simplicity and un- 
 assuming piety retired from the world's gaze; in times of 
 religious even more than of political embroilment simplicity, 
 however noble, is laughed out and hides its head'; too often 
 zeal turned to bigotry, firmness to intolerance, fearless 
 patience to domineering arrogance. In the plenitude of 
 new-won power, the Church was rioting in all the inebriation 
 of success. Julian broke in upon the revels, a monitor no 
 less salutary than unwelcome. His reign acted upon Christi- 
 anity as an invaluable purge or disinfectant. Directly and 
 indirectly, in morals and in dogma, it purified the Church, 
 both laity and clerics; it shamed or frightened not a few 
 from their absorption in cavilling disputations*; it brought 
 back the orthodox from their banishment to guide once more 
 the helm of council. Even in the short space allowed him 
 by Julian's irritation, Athanasius was able to preside at the 
 Council of Alexandria. If the Emperor had harboured a 
 shrewd hope that the return of the exiles would be the 
 renewal of squabbles, the verdict of that Council must have 
 been a mortification. All Bishops who had been cowed or 
 surprised into Arianism were suffered to rehabilitate them- 
 selves by virtue of simple signature of the Nicene formulary. 
 The Councils that preceded Julian's accession mark the high 
 
 ^ dia, TttS araffeit to eiirjdei ov rb yivvaLov irXe'icTTOV /uer^xf'i KarayeKaad^v 
 rjcpaulad-n. Thuk. in. 83. 
 
 2 Miicke, ii. pp. 74, 79, 80, quite neglects Church history when he repre- 
 sents Christian rancour as undiminished. Lasaulx, p. 89, argues that 
 increased mutual forbearance between Christians and Pagans was also one 
 result of Julian's reaction, but this I doubt. 
 
278 VICISTI GALILAEE ! 
 
 tide of encroaching Ariauism: his reign* sees it waver; the 
 first council that fpllowed his death, when at Lampsacus the 
 Homoean symbol of Ariminum was condemned and fifty- 
 nine semi-Arian Bishops openly subscribed the Homoiision, 
 marks its decided refluence. Julian's reign not only sobered 
 factions, and developed reconciliation: it also separated the 
 worldly and the hypocrite from the true man and the believer,, 
 sorting and sifting out a purified residue. It prov.ed that 
 though overlaid with error, and stifled by foul excrescences, 
 and charged with heavy vapours, the vital forces of Christi- 
 anity were potent still. And one other service it partly did. 
 Premature recognition by the State had damagingly paga- 
 nised Christianity. In art, in ritual and in politics the 
 Church showed traces of too facile accommodation to heathen 
 modes of thought. Men were abruptly reminded that the 
 distinctions between heathenism or Hellenism and Christi- 
 anity were something more than verbal differences. Even 
 at the cost of some irritation of susceptibilities, and some 
 narrowing of sympathies, it was a lesson most needful to 
 learn. Julian had not lived in vain. 
 
 1 The provincical synod of Gallic prelates, who excommunicated Satur- 
 ninus and rejected the formula of Ariminum, took place after Julian was 
 proclaimed Augustus, though before his accession to sole power. (De Broghe 
 IV. 93.) 
 
APPENDICES. 
 
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APPENDIX B. 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES OF JULIAN'S LIFE. 
 
 A.D. 
 
 331 Nov. 6. Birth of Julian, son of 
 luL Constantius and Basilina, at 
 Constantinople. (Note 1.) 
 
 332 Death of Julian's mother Ba- 
 silina. 
 
 332—386 According to Teuffel's pro- 
 bable conjecture, suggested by Ep. 
 46, Julian spent these years on his 
 mother's estate at Bithynia. 
 
 337 Julian, concealed by Mark, Bp. of 
 Arethusa, escapes the massacre of 
 his relatives, which followed the 
 death of the great Constantine. 
 
 JuUan is entrusted to the care of 
 the family eunuch Mardonius. 
 
 337 — 344 Residence at Constantinople. 
 (In the earlier part of this period 
 must be placed a hypothetical stay 
 at Nikomedia. Note 2.) 
 
 J. attends school under charge of 
 Mardonius ; is instructed in reli- 
 gion by Eusebius, Bp. first of Niko- 
 media, subsequently of Constanti- 
 nople. 
 
 344 to commencement of 350. {Note 3.) 
 Residence at Macellum in Cap- 
 padocia, with his brother Gallus. 
 
 A.D. 
 
 331 
 
 332 Constantius conducts war with 
 4Sarmatians. 
 
 333 Dec. 25. Constans made Caesar. 
 
 335 Constantine celebrates his tri- 
 cennalia. 
 
 Sept. Dalmatius made Caesar. 
 Hannibalianus set over Pontic dis- 
 trict, and married to Constantia. 
 
 336 Constantius marries (Galla) 
 Fausta. (App. A, n. 3.) 
 
 337 May 22. Death of the great Con- 
 stantine. Joint rule of Constantine 
 II., Constans and Constantius com- 
 mences. 
 
 Murder of lul. Constantius, 
 Dalmatiusi, Hannibalianus, &c. 
 Sapor ravages Mesopotamia. 
 338—339 First siege of Nisibis by 
 Sapor. Constantius at head of army 
 in East. 
 
 340 Constantine II. defeated and killed 
 by Constans near Aquileia. 
 
 (? perhaps in 339) Eusebius 
 transferred from the see of Niko- 
 media to Constantinople. 
 
 341 Constans at war in Gaul, con- 
 tinued into next year. Athanasius 
 deposed by Arian synod at Antioch. 
 
 342 Constans victorious in Gaul. 
 Death of Eusebius of Nikomedia. 
 
 343 Constans in Britain. 
 
 345 Libanius commences work at 
 Nikomedia. 
 
 346 Second (three months) siege of 
 Nisibis by Sapor. 
 
 347 Council of Sardica and Philippo- 
 polis. 
 
 348 Indecisive engagement of Con- 
 stantius with Persians at Singara. 
 
 349 Athanasius returns to Alexan- 
 dria. 
 
 Perhaps early in 33S. 
 
282 
 
 APPENDIX B. 
 
 A.D. 
 
 350 Julian is recalled to Constanti- 
 nople, where he attends lectures. 
 
 351 Julian removes to Nikomedia, 
 where Libanius was lecturing: Du- 
 ring his stay here has an interview 
 with Gallus, now Cffisar, en route 
 for the East. 
 
 851 — 354 At Nikomedia Julian be- 
 comes acquainted with many leading 
 Neo-platonists of the day, e. g. .Li- 
 banius, Aedesius, Chrysanthius, 
 Priscus, Eusebius, &c. To prose- 
 cute his studies travels thi'ough 
 Asia Minor, visiting Pergamus, E- 
 phesus, &c., where prob. he first 
 met the philosopher Masimus. 
 Some (but see Note 4) assume here 
 a residence at the University of 
 Athens. 
 
 354 Julian is summoned from Ionia 
 to Milan after the execution of 
 Gallus. Seven months of semi- 
 imprisonment, divided between Mi- 
 lan and Comum. 
 
 355 Through Eusebia's good offices 
 Julian is permitted about the be- 
 ginning of July to leave Milan for 
 Greece, to resume his studies there. 
 Julian goes to Athens, 
 
 Oct. Julian is recalled suddenly 
 from Athens, and reaches Milan. 
 
 Nov. 6. Julian publicly made 
 Caesar. 
 
 Julian's marriage with Helena. 
 
 Orat. I. Panegyric on Constan- 
 tius. 
 
 Dec. 1. Julian, with small es- 
 cort, leaves Milan for Gaul. 
 
 356 Julian's first Consulship as col- 
 league to Constantius. J. winters 
 at Vienne. 
 
 First campaign in Gaul. Julian, 
 having, June 24, relieved Augustu- 
 dunum (Autun), fights his way by 
 Autosiodorum (Auxerre), and Tri- 
 casaa (Troyes), and occupies Broto- 
 magus (Brtimath), Bigomagum (Ke- 
 
 A.D. 
 
 350 Ja7i. Magnentius assumes Em- 
 pire in the West, and kills Con- 
 stana. March. Vetranio proclaimed 
 at Miursia, and {June) Nepotianus 
 at Eome. Nepotianus is kUled ; 
 Vetranio deposed by Constantius. 
 
 Gallus recalled from Macellum 
 owing to Persian difficulties. Sapor's 
 third (four months) siege of Nisibis. 
 
 Dming the spring of this year 
 Libanius lectured at Constantinople, 
 returning in summer to Nikome- 
 dia. 
 851 March. Gallus becomes Caesar. 
 
 Sept. Defeat of Magnentius at 
 Mursa by Constantius. 
 
 352 Constantius gets the masteiy of 
 Magnentius, who retu-es into Gaul. 
 
 Gallus suppresses Jewish insur- 
 rection: plays the tyrant at An- 
 tioch. 
 
 353 Aug. Magnentius, defeated in 
 Gaul, commits suicide at Lugdu- 
 num. 
 
 Constantius marries Eusebia : 
 repairs to Gaul in the autumn. 
 
 Gallus continues his misgovern- 
 ment at Antioch. 
 
 354 Gallus in obedience to Constan- 
 tius' deshe repairs to Europe: is 
 put to death at Flanona near Pola. 
 
 355 Constantius at war with the 
 Alamanni. 
 
 Sylvanus' abortive insurrection 
 and fall. 
 
 Synod of Milan condemns Atha- 
 nasius. 
 
 Liberius banished. 
 
 356 George of Cappadocia, with help 
 of Syrianus, takes possession of the 
 see of Alexandria. Athanasius con- 
 ceals himself in the Thebais. 
 
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES OF JULIAN S LIFE. 
 
 magen), Confluentes (Coblenz), and 
 Colonia Agrippina (Koln). He 
 marches by way of the Treveri 
 (Treves) to the territory of the 
 Senones (Sens), where he is be- 
 sieged in winter quarters. 
 
 In this year his first-born son 
 died at time of birth. Helena, J.'s 
 wife, repairs to Eome. 
 
 357 Julian's second Consulship with 
 Constantius. 
 
 Oral. II. III. Panegyrics to Con- 
 stantius^ and Euftebia. 
 
 Helena goes to Kome— becomes 
 mother of a son still-born. 
 
 Orat. vm. On the departure of 
 Salustius. 
 
 Second campaign in Gaul. Marred 
 at the outset by Barbatio's treachery. 
 Defeat of Barbatio on right bank of 
 Ehiue, and his departure for Court. 
 Julian's great victory over King 
 Chnodomar at Argentoratum (Stras- 
 burg). J. crossing the Ehine ravages 
 the territory of the Alamanni to the 
 lower Main. 
 
 358 Jan. Goes into winter quarters 
 at Paris. 
 
 Third campaign in Gaul. J. re- 
 duces the Salian and Chamavian 
 Franks. Crosses the Rhine, and 
 humbles Suomar and Hortar kings 
 of the Alamanni. 
 
 359 J. strengthens the Ehine fortifi- 
 cations, &c., and finally humbles 
 the restless Alamanni chiefs. 
 
 360 Julian's third Consulship with 
 Constantius. 
 
 Administrative and financial re- 
 forms in Gaul. 
 
 JuUan is proclaimed Augustus 
 by his troops at Paris. Crosses the 
 Rhine, and chastises the Attuarii. 
 
 Julian winters at Vienne and 
 there celebrates his qninquennalia. 
 
 Death of Helena, and conveyance 
 of her remains to Eome. 
 
 361 Jan. Julian at Vienne. 
 Julian having provided for order 
 
 in Gaul, at the opening of summer 
 
 N 
 
 357 Maij. Constantius' triumphal 
 entry into Rome. 
 
 At the end of May Constantius 
 marches against Suevi and Quadi in 
 Rhoetia. 
 
 358 Negotiations with Persia. Sapor 
 advances haughty pretensions. 
 
 Constantius' successful Quadian 
 and Sarmatian war. 
 
 Aug. Liberius returns to Rome. 
 
 Aug. Earthquake at Nikomedia. 
 
 359 Sapor invades the Empire. Pro- 
 longed siege and capture of Amida. 
 Juhj 27~Oct. 7. 
 
 Synods of Ariminum and Se- 
 leucia. 
 
 360 Synod of Constantinople, and 
 deposition of Bp. Macedonius. 
 
 Sapor re-invades Mesopotamia. 
 Capture of Siugara and Bezabde 
 (Phcenice). 
 
 Constantius marches eastwards, 
 and tries in vain to retake Be- 
 zabde. 
 
 Death of Eusebia". 
 
 Constantius winters at Antioch. 
 
 Constantius' marriage with Faus- 
 tina. 
 
 361 Synod at Antioch. 
 Constantius from Edessa watches 
 
 Sapor's movements. Eventually 
 
 1 So Desjardins, p. 202, n. xxiv. : MUcke, p. 161, supposes it put forth at Constantinople in 3C1 
 A.D. as a kind of olive-branch to the adherents of Constantius. 
 
 2 I do not remember any precise chronological notice of Eusebia's death. In the middle of 857 
 she was alive and well. In recording Constantius' marriage with Faustina at the end of 360, Amm. 
 M. 2L 6. 4 speaks of Eusebia as iam pridem amissam. The date 360 is only fairly probable ; Be Brog. 
 IV. p. 91, 
 
284. 
 
 APPENDIX B. 
 
 crossed the Rhine, and followed the 
 Ister down to Sirmium, where he 
 took up his abode, and reorganised 
 Illyria, Dahnatia, &c. 
 
 Letter to the Senate and People of 
 Athens. 
 
 Two legions, faithftd to Con- 
 stantius, hold Aquileia. 
 
 On the borders of Thrace Juhan 
 receives news of Constantius' death ; 
 enters Constantinople as sole Em- 
 peror (Dec), and takes up his resi- 
 dence there. Aquileia surrenders. 
 
 Letter to Themistius the Philoso- 
 pher. 
 
 362 Julian at Constantinople. 
 Orat. VII. Against Heraklius the 
 
 Cynic. 
 
 May. Julian leaves Constanti- 
 nople — journeys eastward by Li- 
 byssa, Nikomedia, Nikasa, Pessinus, 
 and Ankyra — passes Taurus by 
 Pylae and so by Tarsus to Antioch. 
 
 Orat. v. In honour of the 
 Mother of the Gods ^. 
 
 {June or) July. Julian reaches 
 Antioch {Note 7).' 
 
 Orat. Yi. Against ill-ta,ught Cy- 
 nics. 
 
 Dec. Orat. iv. To King Sun. 
 
 363 Fragment of a Letter. 
 Misopogon. 
 
 Books against the Chnstians. 
 
 Mar. 5. Julian sets out from 
 Antioch. 
 
 April. Julian invades Persian 
 territory. 
 
 relieved from fear of invasion, he 
 sets out in full force against Julian. 
 
 Nov. 3 (See Note 5). Death of 
 Constantius at Mopsukrense : fol- 
 lowed by state funeral at Constanti- 
 nople. 
 
 Chalcedon Commission com- 
 mences sittings. 
 
 362 Artemius executed; Bp. George 
 murdered at Alexandria. (See Note 
 6.) Athanasius at once reappears 
 in Alexandria. 
 
 Sept. Council of Alexandria. 
 
 Oct. 22. Temple of Daphne 
 burnt. 
 
 Nov. J. banishes Athanasius 
 from Egypt. Subsequently, in reply 
 to an embassy from AlexandJia 
 pleading the cause of their Bp, 
 declines to reconsider his decision. 
 
 363 Athanasius leaves Alexandria. 
 
 1 nesjardins, p. 62, supposes it composed at Pessinus; MUclie, p. 171, would transfer it to 
 Kallinikon on Euphrates, March 363 a.d. Clinton oddly localises it at Constantinople. 
 
NOTES. • 285 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 [The fullest discussion of the Chronology of Julian's youth is to be found in an 
 article by Teuffel in Schmidt's Zeitsch. fiir Geschichtswissenschaft. 1845. 
 Vol. IV. pp. 143—156.] 
 
 JVote 1. Date op Julian's Bi^th. 
 
 Though the authorities are by no means in exact agreement, the year 
 331 A. D. seems tolerably certain as the date of Juhan's birth, though some 
 historians prefer to place it in 332 a.d., agreeing with Victor's {Epit. 42) 
 saying that he was nearly ^ 23 when made Caesar, so. 355 a.d. . 
 
 The day of his birth was Nov. 6. 
 
 At Constantius' accession, sc. May 337, he was ' not yet eight,' Sok. iii. 
 1 ; 'still in his 8th year,' Soz. v. 2; both which are in favour of 331 as 
 against 332, though Xikeph. x. 1. 6 is more correct still in saying that he 
 had not yet reached his 8th year. 
 
 Writing to the Alexandrians {Ep. 51) at the close of 362 Julian speaks 
 of himself as 20 years a Christian, and now in his 12th year of Paganism ; 
 this accords with his being born in 331. 
 
 In Feb. 363 {Misop. 353 a) ' more than thirty ' is Julian's own inde- 
 cisive expression. 
 
 Julian's death took place June 363. Eutr. x. 16 says correctly that 
 he was 31, Jer. Euseb.- Chron. ' in his 32nd year,' and so Amm. M. xxv. iii. 
 23, if indeed -that be the correct rendering of anno aetatis altera et 
 tricensimo. Sok. iii. 21 and Chron. Edoss. make the slip of saying ' in the 
 31st year of his life,' by which they probably mean ' not yet 32,' as Sok. 
 has already himself supplied us with an earlier date. 
 
 Note 2. Residence at Nikomedia. 
 
 From Amm. M. xxii. 9. 4 it appears proper to assume here a residence of 
 Julian at Nikomedia. MUcke, p. 24, wishes to set aside the statement of 
 Ammian, and to suppose that Eusebius superintended Julian's education 
 only during a visit to Constantinople. But the context in Ammian re- 
 moves all possibility of an accidental misstatement of place, as it turns 
 upon Julian's recognition of friends and scenes in Nikomedia familiar to 
 him in boyhood. [On the other hand we may remember that Julian 
 certainly knew Nikomedia from a subsequent residence there, aljout which 
 Amm. is silent, and therefore, so Rode (p. 22) rather harshly argues, unin- 
 
 ' The fere is absurd, seeing that Julian assumed the Caesarship actuaUy on 
 his birthday. 
 
-8C APPENDIX B. 
 
 formed.] Neander {The Emperor Julian, &c.) finds chronological diffi- 
 culties in the statement that Eusebius instructed him at Nikomedia. But 
 Eusebius' translation to the see of Constantinople did not take place till 
 339 A.D. No positive evidence forbids our supposing that Julian migrated 
 to Nikomedia at the end of 337, or in 338 a.d. Indeed he may have been 
 there at the time of Constantine's deat"h. The historians pass but lightly 
 over Julian's early years. Part of this period preceding the residence at 
 Macellum he no doubt spent at Constantinople. May he not have fol- 
 lowed Eusebius there, if that Bishop was indeed entrusted with the lad's 
 education ? 
 
 Desjardins, p. 8, untenahly -makes Julian ^•eside throughout with Mar- 
 donius at Nikomedia. 
 
 Note 3. Residence at Macellum. 
 
 That this residence extended over six consecutive years (cf ad Ath. 
 271 c) is consentiently affirmed by our authorities, and unquestioned by 
 modern writers. But as to the exact date of these six years (which Liban. 
 and Sok. curiously ignore) there is great variety of opinion. MUcke, p. 11, 
 endorses the blunder of Theod. iv. 2, and makes the Macellum exile ensue 
 directly upon the miurder of J.'s relatives, so as to occupy 339 — 345. 
 Against this there are decisive arguments. 1. There is nothing in the 
 history of Julian or Gallus satisfactorily to fill the years 345 — 351. 2. This . 
 early date, covering Julian's boyhood from eight to fourteen, does not tally 
 with expressions used concerning Julian, nor with accounts of his doings at 
 Macellum. In Ad Ath. 271 b Julian speaks of himself as Ko/jLitfj fj.fipaKi<>v 
 at the time of his transference : the expression accords quite as well with 
 eleven or twelve as with eight. But Theod. iii. 2 is more precise ; Julian 
 is avTjISos at the commencement, rising to irpoa-q^os and e0r//3os during the 
 term of the residence ; the earliest age allowed by these expressions is 
 eleven to seventeen. Greg. Naz.'s language ds av^pas npoiovres {Or. iv. 
 556 c) is inapplicable to a boy of fourteen. Further, the account of 
 rhetorical themes written for or against Christianity, and still more the 
 reading in Church, favour strongly the later date. Would a boy of 13 or 
 14 have already fulfilled the functions of lector? 3. From Ad Ath. 274 a 
 it appears that Constantius saw Julian in Capiaadocia. This must in all 
 probability have been in March 347, when alone Constantius was in 
 (Jassarea : but the year 347 falls outside Miicke's limits. (Cf. Sievers, 
 Stndien, &c., p. 228.) 4. It may be added that the going to school, the 
 attendance at theatres &c., under the regime of Mardonius imply a more 
 continuous residence in Constantinojile than Miicke allows for. 
 
 The correct date for the Macellum residence must be 344 — 350. For 
 Julian it probably came to an end about the middle of 350 ; GaXhis, perhaps 
 left earlier in the year. Any later date, e.g. Teuffel, who adopts 345 — 351, 
 
NOTES. 287 
 
 Lame, who (p. 28) speaks of Julian as 'going on for fifteen' when he 
 reached Macellum, and Chastel, who (p. 126) says 'already fifteen,' seems 
 incorrect. The residence certainly terminated before Gallus' elevation to 
 the Csesarship, which took place early in 351, not 350 as Auer p. 2, 
 MUcke p. 15, &c., wrongly put it. Further, though Julian, Ad Ath. 272 a, 
 speaks rhetorically of Gallus as going 'straight from the wilds to the 
 palace,' a not inconsiderable intei-val must be allowed between the de- 
 parture from Macellum and the exaltation to the Csesarship. Gallus, 
 according to Soz. v. 2, on his departure from Macellum went to Ephesus 
 for a while : in this statement (see Rode's criticisms (p. 27 n.) on Miicke's 
 chronology) Soz. is probably only redishing Sok.'s correct account of Gallus' 
 stay in Ionia after the 337 a. d. assassinations ; but in any case time must 
 be allowed for Gallus to go to Court (Coustantius was at the time involved 
 in his troubles with Magnentius), there marry Constantina, and come back 
 as Csesar to the East. Julian's proceedings— (for it seems on the whole, 
 notwithstanding Teuffel's arguments, most natural to refer the confused 
 accounts of Constautius' jealousy in Lib. Epitaph. 525 and Sok.iii. 1 to 
 this and not the earlier stay in Constantinople, to Julian the yomig man of 
 18, not Julian the boy of 12)— require an equally long period. He came 
 from Macellum to Constantinople, attended lectures there evidently for 
 some little time, became the mark for gossip, roused the Emperor's jea- 
 lousies, received orders to betake himself to Nikomedia, and was already 
 established there (Liban. Epit. p. 527) when Gallus passed eastward as 
 Ctesar in the spring of 351. [This argument falls to the ground if 
 Ammian's statement (see note 2 on p. 54 ; Teuffel trips strangely in saying 
 the question is chronologically indifferent) that J.'s interview with Gallus 
 took place at Constantinople be preferred to Libanius'. It may be added 
 however that Sievers, Studien, &c. p. 229, supposes the interview recorded 
 by Ammian to be a different interview occurring on Gallus' return from the 
 East, and supports this theory by rather elaborate conjectures.] 
 
 Rode, p. 25, suggests 349 as quite as probable a' date for the departure 
 from ]\Iacellum as 350, but wrongly. It is fairly clear that Nikomedia, 
 not Constantinople, is where Julian first came in contact with Libanius' 
 lectures. Now Libanius (cf. Clinton, Fasti Romani) removed from 
 Nikomedia to Constantinople early in 350, and returned to Nikoriiedia in 
 the summer. Julian arrived at Constantinople after his departure (sc. 
 summer, 350), when his praises were still in every one's mouth. 
 
 Note 4. Visits to Athens. 
 
 The number of Julian's visits to Athens is a very moot point. Neander 
 in his monooraph on Julian postulates three separate visits, but as no 
 successor has defended his error, does not require particular refutation. 
 
288 APPENDIX B. 
 
 The real coutroversy lies between two visits and one visit. On the 
 historicity of the visit to Athens after the release from Comuni in 355 aU 
 are agreed (cf. Ad Ath. 273 b, Amm. M. xv. ii. 8, Liban. Epit. p. 531, &c.) ; 
 the question is, Did Julian resort to Athens in the interval between his 
 arrival at Kikomedia in 351, and his sudden summons from Ionia to 
 Milan in 354? "VViggers, in Zeitschr. fur die hkt. Theol., 1837, p. 131, 
 ignores any such visit ; so too does Lame, who is however no guide to 
 accurate chronology. Teuffel, Desjardins, Eichter and Eode all reject the 
 first visit, which other writers, except Sievers, who gives arguments but 
 suspends judgment, assume, and which INIiicke, p. 28, untenably extends over 
 three years, 338 — 354. The objections alleged are (1) That Julian would 
 not have spoken {Or. ill. p. 118 d) of 'a long-cherished desire^ to see Greece, 
 had he resided there previously. (2) That Julian does not discriminate 
 two visits in his manifesto addressed to the Athenians. (3) That the 
 theory of two visits cannot be extracted from Libanius or Greg. Naz., 
 while any visit defined by them is that which took place after the death of 
 Gallus. To (1) it may be replied that the iroKai can be referred without vio- 
 lence to the seven months of semi-caj^tivity : to (2) that between the recall 
 of Gallus from Macellum and his execution no note of time or circumstance 
 is given : to (3) that the evidence though weighty is negative in character. 
 Negative it must of necessity be, if in truth there were but one visit. 
 That neither Julian, nor any of the best-informed writers, should have 
 explicitly alluded to the double residence, if historical, appears to me 
 incredible. But I subjoin the strongest case that can be made out on 
 the other side. 
 
 1. Eunap. Vit. Max. connects Julian's visit to Athens (ha speaks of 
 only one) immediately with his intercourse with Maximus. 2. The iroKiv 
 in Ad Them. 260 a, where Julian speaks of taking his departure again 
 (iTaXiv), sc. a second time, for Greece, receives a scarcely natural explanation 
 from the upholders of a single residence only. 3. The term ' his mother's 
 hearth ' in Ad Ath. 273 B, still more the oUade (if rightly referable to 
 Athens) o{ Or. III. 118 b, imply a previous acquaintance with Athens (for 
 the passages cf. note 4 on p. 56), but Teuffel interprets them naturally of 
 Julian's intention to repair to Bithynia or Ionia. 4. The residence at 
 Athens in 355 seems singularly brief, if it be the only one, for the import- 
 ance constantly attached to it. Gallus' execution took place in Bee. 354. 
 Julian was then sent for, and could not have arrived at Milan before the 
 end of 354 at earliest. There he was kept in durance seven months, 
 which bring us to at least the beginning of JuIt/ 355. He became Caesar 
 A^ov. 6, having already been some weeks at ]\Iilan. Thus into July, August 
 and Sept. (Mucke's idea that he returned to Milan by June 1 is based on a 
 misunderstanding) must be crowded the roundabout journey from Milan 
 into Greece (J. went by Sirmium, as we learn from Ad Ath. 273 c, and then 
 probably indirect), the residence at Athens, and the journey to Italy. 
 
NOTES. 289 
 
 Note 5. Death of Constantius. 
 
 Constantius died on Niw. 3 according to Sok. il. xlvii. 4, iii. i. 1, and 
 Idatius Fasti. Ammian's ahiit e vita tertium nonarum Octohrium is a slip, 
 to be corrected into Novembrium (see Clinton, Fasti Bom.). 
 
 Note 6. Death of Bp. George. 
 
 About George's death Gibbon, chap. 23, is exceedingly precise with 
 what appears to me hopelessly wrong chronology. According to him 
 Julian's accession is proclaimed at Alexandria, Nov. 30, 361. The arch- 
 bishop George is at once dragged to prison, and after 24 days, \\z. on Dec. 
 24 the prison is broken open and the prisoner lynched. Athanasius returns 
 in triumph Feb. 21, 362. Having by no means mastered the requisite 
 authorities I criticise with the greatest deference chronology so precise, the 
 evidence for which I have not unravelled i. I can only say that Ainm. M. 
 XXII, xi. 3 distinctly attributes the fall of George to the sentence and execu- 
 tion of Artemius, which took place about the time (Amm. M. xxii. xi. 2) 
 of Julian's arrival at Antioch, sc. the end of Jime 362. Julian's Epp. 26, 
 6, 51 will then belong naturally enough to the later months of 362. 
 Gibbon objects that the events thus become crowded, but July, Avigust and 
 September allow abundant time for Athanasius to re-establish himself, and 
 call out Ep. 26 and 6 in October : indeed to postpone these to a period eight 
 or nine months after Athanasius' return seems unnatural. Tillemont 
 adopts a like arrangement. 
 
 Note 7. Julian's Visit to Antioch. 
 
 Julian certainly reached Antioch in July, and probably early in that 
 month. 
 
 Until the beginning of May he was legislating (cf. Theod. Cod. xi. 
 xii. 2) at Constantinople. The date of his edict from Nikomedia {Theod. 
 Cod. VII. iv. 8) is unfortunately not preserved. Now on July 28 we find him 
 issuing laws {Theod. Cod. i. xvi. 8) from Antioch, and his letter to the 
 Bostrenians, written from Antioch, is expressly dated August 1. That he 
 was at Constantinople in May and at Antioch in July is thus clear. Two 
 other notes of time occur. Julian appears to have been at Pessinus during 
 the festival of Cybele : he certainly reached Antioch (Amm. M. xxii. ix. 
 15) during the Adonis feast, which throughout the East had been fused 
 
 1 I imagine they are from the Veronese fi'agment published by the Marquis 
 Maffei, to which Gibbon refers in a note. 
 
 R. E. 19 
 
290 APPENDIX B. 
 
 with the waihng for Tammuz, Some (cf. Macrob. Sat. I. 21) place these 
 celebrations after the autumnal equinox ; in reality they took place at or 
 immediately after the summer solstice (cf. Amm. M. xxii. 9, Jul. Or. iv. 
 155 c, and see Clinton's Fast. Rom., Jondot's Hist, de VEmp. Jul. II. p. 130, 
 Desjard. p. 48, De Brog. iv. 226 n., Rode p. 68. 72, Baring Gould's Curious 
 Myths &c., p. 286), and fix Julian's arrival to the end of June, or very 
 beginning of July. Libanius not only says that Julian stayed at Antioch 
 • the whole summer and winter,' but attests still more precisely {Epitaph. 
 p. 578) that he resided there ' nine months.' To satisfy this even roughly, 
 seeing that he left Antioch on March 5, he must have arrived earlier than 
 July 5. 
 
 MUcke p. 105 — 6 and Auer p. 262 follow the incorrect assertion of Zos. 
 III. 11 that Julian stayed ten months at Constantinople, and thus post- 
 pone his departure for Antioch till September. 
 
APPENDIX C. 
 
 SYNOPSIS OF LITERATURE UPON JULIAN. 
 
 SECTION I. BIBLIOGRAPHY OF JULIAN'S WORKS. 
 
 Aldus Manutius. Some of the Letters in 'ETrtoroXal hia^opuiv ^tXoo-o- 
 tpmv pr^Topifiv (TO<pi(TTav, &c. Part 2. Venice, 1499. 
 
 Pet. Martinius. Misopogon and Letters, with Lat. trans. : j)refaced 
 by a hfe of Juhan. Paris, 1566. 
 
 C. Cantoclarus. Cmars, with Lat. trans., &c. Paris, 1577. 
 
 B. Grangier, French trans, of Ccesars, with abridged Vie de Jidicn. 
 Paris, 1580. 
 
 Duval published in a collected shape the Ccesars by Cantoclarus, the 
 Misopogon and Letters by Martin, together with Orat. li. edited by Can- 
 toclarus, and Orat. iv. by Th. Marcilius, who added a Commentary. Paris, 
 1583. 
 
 F. Sylburg. Ccesars. Frankfort, 1590. 
 
 P. CUNAEUS. Ccesars, with Lat. trans., at end of his Sardi Venales, d-c. 
 Leyden, 1612. Trans, republished 1632, and with his other writings, 
 Leipsic, 1693. 
 
 D. Petau. Oratt. i. ii. in. with Lat. trans, and Commentary. Flfeche, 
 1614. All the Orations and Letters, with Lat. trans, and Commentary. 
 Paris, 1630. 
 
 V. Marinerius. Lat. trans. &c. of Orat. I v. Madrid, 1625. 
 
 J. E. RiST. Ccesars, with German trans, and notes. Hamburg, 1663. 
 
 E. Spanheim. (1) Ccesars trans, into French, with Notes. Heidelberg, 
 1660 ; with additions, Paris, 1683 ; and further, Amsterdam, 1728. (2) 
 Petau's text (emended) and Lat. trans, of the Eight Oratioiis, the Letter to 
 Themistius, Letter to the Athenians, and Fragment of a Letter; Ccesars, with 
 Cantoclarus' Lat. trans. ; Misopogon and Letters, with ]\Iartin's Lat. trans. ; 
 Cyril's 10 books of Refutation, reprinted from Aubert's 1638 Ed. ; Prefaces 
 and Commentaries of Martin, Cantoclarus, Petau and Aubert ; and an 
 enormous Commentary on Orat. i. by Spanheim himself. Leipsic, 1696. 
 
 M. P. MoRET. French trans, oi Casars, &c. Paris, 1682. 
 
 J. A. Fabricius. Unedited Letters of Jul. in Salutaris Lux Evangelii. 
 Hamburg, 1731. 
 
 J, M. Heusinger. Ccesars (with Cuniius' and Spanheim's translations) 
 with Commentaiy, and a dissertation by Spon on Julian's coins. Gotha, 1736. 
 
292 APPENDIX C. 
 
 La Bleterie. Histoire de V Empereur Jovien et Traductions de quelgues 
 ouvrages de V Empereur Julien. Paris, 1748. (The whole of this is practi- 
 cally translated by J. Buncombe. See infr.) 
 
 ;Marquis d'Argens. Julian against the Christians, with French trans., 
 pref. and notes. Berlin, 1764. 
 
 G. F. Zannetto. Casars in Italian. Triuigi, 1764. 
 
 D. Wyttenbach. Epistola Critica ad Ridinkenium. 1769. 
 
 H. J. Lasius. Caesars and Misopogon, with Spanheim's pref., German 
 trans, and notes. Greifswald, 1770. 
 
 T. C. Harles. Ccesars, with Commentary, &c. Erlangen, 1785. 
 
 T. Taylor. Oratt. iv. v. English trans, with notes. London, 1793. 
 
 J. Buncombe. Translation of the Ccesars, Misopogon, Letters, and various 
 selections fi'om Julian's works, with notes from Petau, La Bleterie, Gibbon, 
 &c. (Some pieces of Libanius are added, and also La Bleterie's 'Life of 
 Jovian,' all in English.) 2 vols. London, 1798. 
 
 G. H. Schaefer. Text and Commentary of Orat. I., with Petau's trans., 
 and reprint of B. Wyttenbach's Epist. Critica. Leipzig, 1802. 
 
 T. Taylor. A rguments of the Emp. Julian against the Christians trans- 
 lated, &c. 25 copies privately printed, London, 1809, but reprinted by 
 Nevins. London, 1873. 
 
 A. F. Stella. Ccesars, with Italian trans, and commentary. Milan, 
 1820. 
 
 R. TouRLET. French trans, of Complete Works with notes, &c., and a 
 prefatory life of Julian. Paris, 1821. 
 
 L. H. Heyler. Letters and Fragments, with full commentary. Mainz, 
 1828. 
 
 Arguments of Celsus, Porphyry, and the Emperor Julian against the 
 Christiaiis (with extracts from Lardner's and Bingham's translations). 
 London, 1830. 
 
 J. Horkel. Emendationes lulianeae. Berlin, 1841. 
 
 F. C. Hertlein. (1) Emendationes Iidianeae. 1847. (2) Kn- 
 
 tische Bemerkungen zu Julianas Schriften. 1850. (3) Coniectanea 
 
 Critica in luliani orationes atque epistolas. 1856. (4) Specimen 
 
 novae luliani Caesarum editionis. 1857. (5) Conjecturen zu GriecJi- 
 
 ischen Prosaikern, p. 15 — 22. 1861. (6) Variae lectiones ad luliani 
 
 Caesares e codd. Parisinis enotatae. Wertheim, 1863, (7) In Hermes 
 
 "Vol. III. 309 pp. 1868, Vol. viii. 167 pp. 1874. (8) luliani'^- Impera- 
 
 toris quae supersunt praeter reliquias apud Cyrillum omnia for the Teubner 
 series. Leipsic, 1875. 
 
 C. G. CoBET. In Mnemosyne (Leyden) for 1855, Vanae Lectt. 312 pp.; 
 ihid. for 1859, Amwtt. crit. et palaeogr. ad lulianum, 341 pp. ; ibid, for 
 1860, Annott. critt. &c. ad lulianum, 1 pp., and Ad luliani (rvfnr6<Tiov 7 
 Kpovia vulgo Caesares, 249 pp.; ibid, for 1861, Annot. crit. et pcdaeogr. ad 
 
 1 The references throughout have been made to this edition : for the frag- 
 mtints contained in Cyril I have used Spaulieim's 1690 ed.- 
 
SYNOPSIS OF literature: upon JULIAN. 293 
 
 Jul. oratt.; Ad orat. quae inscribitur 'Atnioxmos ^ Mia-onioytov, 164 pp. ; 
 ibid, for 1874, Jul locus correctus, p. 27 and p. 346 ; Novae lectt. quibus con- 
 tinentwr observ. crit. in scrip. Oraecos repetitae ex Mnemosyne. Leyden, 
 1858. 
 
 E. Cauer. C(esars, with Commentary. Breslau, 1856. 
 
 E. Talbot. French trans, of Julian's Works, complete, with notes, &c., 
 preceded by a 'Study' or Essay upon Julian. Paris, 1863. 
 
 C. SiNTENis in Hermes. Vol. i. 1866. 69 pp., p. 144. 
 
 R. Hercher (1) in Hermes. Vol. i. 1866, p. 474 ; Vol. ii. 1867, 457 
 pp.; Vol. XII. 1877, 145—6. (2) Letters in the Epistolographi Graeci. 
 Paris, 1873. 
 
 C. Henning in Hermes. Vol. ix. 1875, 257 pp. 
 
 SECTION II. ANCIENT AUTHORITIES FOR THE HISTORY 
 OF JULIAN. 
 
 (In this even more than in the other sections of this Appendix I must express 
 my great obligations to T)r J. F. Milcke for his useful and thorough Appendix 
 upon the sources for the History of Julian. ) 
 
 § 1. Contemporary Writers. 
 
 Dates affixed to the names cover in all cases the time during which 
 the work referred to must have been written. The editions set down 
 are those employed for reference in the body of this work. The arrange- 
 ment in each department is, so far as may be, chronological. 
 
 A. Orators, ii:c. 
 
 Mamertinus, 362 a.d. Gratiarum Actio Iidiano Augusto (Migne, 
 Patrologia Lot. Vol. 18). Mamertinus (Consul for 362) returns thanks to 
 Juhan for his nomination to the Consulship. [The Latin Life of Julian 
 appended, is I suppose by the Jesuit De La Baune, appearing in his 
 Panegyrici Veteres. Paris, 1686.] 
 
 HiMERius. Panegyric delivered at Constantinople, Dec. 362. Werns- 
 dorf s texts and notes, re-edited with preface by T. C. Harles. Erlangen, 
 1785. 
 
 Libanius. {\) Orationes et Declamationes. Ed. Reiske. Altenburg, 1791. 
 The Uepl rfjs TifKopias 'lovXiavov, the Upos rovs fiapvv avTov KaXiaavras, 
 the Upos 'AvTioxeas Trtpi Trjs Tov ^aaiXtcos opyrji, the 'EniTd(pios 'lovXiava 
 and a letter or two to Julian are Latinised in Fabricius, Bibliothcca Graeca, 
 Vol. vii. ; the 'YTrep rav Upmv is Englished in Lardner's Testimonies, 
 Vol. IV., and the two Monodies on Nikomedia and The Temple of Daphixe in 
 Duncombe's Julian and Libanius. (2) Epistolae. Ed. J. C. Wolf. Amster- 
 dam, 1738. (Letters to Julian are translated in Duncombe.) 
 
294 APPENDIX C. 
 
 Gbegorius Nazianzenus. Esp. Oratt. iv. v. Contra luUanum, Ed. 
 Migue, Patrologia Oraeco-Lut. Vol. 35. 
 
 B. Historians. 
 
 Ammianus Marcellinus. Rerum Gesfarum Lihri. 2 vols. Ed. Gardt- 
 hausen. Leipsic, 1874. Far the fullest and best of the old histories. 
 
 EuTROPius (circ. 365 a.d.). Breviarium Historiae Romanae. Lib. x. 
 xiv — xvi. Ed. Havercamp. Leyden, 1729. 
 
 Sextius Aurelius Victor. De Caesaribus c. 42, and Epitome de 
 Vita et Morihus Imperatorum Romanorum, c. 42. 43. Ed. Sam. Pitiscus, 
 1696. 
 
 Sextus Eufus, alias Rufus Festus, alias Sextus Rufus Festus (circ. 
 372 A.D.). Breviarium, c. 28. Ed. Havercamp with Eutropius, 1729. 
 
 Jerome (4th Cent., last half). Translatio Chronicorum Eusehii. Lib. il. 
 Ed. Migne, Patrologia Lat. Vol. 27. 
 
 RuFiNUS (end of 4th Cent.). Histona Ecclesiastica i. Ed. Migne, 
 Patrologia Lat. Vol. 21. 
 
 § 2. Writers op the 5th to the 14th Century. 
 
 A. Codes. 
 
 Codex Theodosianus. G. Hiiuel. Bonn, 1842. 
 Codex lustinianus. 
 
 B. Ilistoriaiis. 
 
 EuNAPius (born 347, outlived 415). (I) Vitae Sopliistariwi ct Fragmenta 
 Historiarum. Ed. J. F. Boissonade, with notes by D. Wyttenbach. 2 vols. 
 Amsterdam, 1822. (2) Excerpta ex Historia and Fragmenta in Niebuhr's 
 Corpus Script. Ilist. Bi/z. Ed. I. Bekker and Niebuhr. Bonn, 1829. 
 
 Cyril ^ of Alexandria (circ. 410 a.d.). Pro Christiana Religione ad- 
 versus lulianum Imperatorem. Ed. with Julian's works by E. Spanheim. 
 Leipsic, 1696. 
 
 Philostorgius (368 — 430 a.d.). Ecdesiasticae Historiae, esp. Lib. vil, 
 Ed. Migne, Patrologia Graeco-Lat. Vol. 65. 
 
 Orosius (5th Cent, first half). Historiae adv. Paganos. Lib. vii. 
 xxix. XXX. Ed. Migne, Patrol. Lat. Vol. 31. 
 
 SoKRATES (5th Cent, first half). Ecclesiastica Historia, esp. Lib. in. 
 3 vols. Ed. R. Hussoy. Oxford, 1853. 
 
 SozoMEN (5th Cent, first half). Ecclesiastica Historia, esp. Lib. v. vi. 
 3 vols. Ed. R. Hussey. Oxford, 1860. 
 
 1 I have not thought well to include Church Writers (e. g. Chrysostom, 
 Augiiatine, Sulpicius Severus, (fee.) or others (e. g, Prudentius) who alhide only 
 incidentally to Julian and his times. 
 
SYNOPSIS OF LITERATURE UPON JULIAN. 295 
 
 ZosiMUS (5th Cent, first half). Ilistoria Lib. iir., in Niebuhr's 
 Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. Ed. I. Bekker. Bonu, 1837. The best and 
 most independent of Byzantine accounts. 
 
 Theodoret (circ. 450 a. d.). Ecdesiastica Ilistoria. Ed. T. Gaisford. 
 Oxford, 1853. 
 
 Cassiodohus (6th Cent, first half). Ilistoria Ecdesiastica Tripartita. 
 (sc. from Soz. Sokr. and Theod.) Ed. Migne, Patrologia Lat. Vol. 69. 
 
 loANNES Lydus (490—565 a.d.). Be Mensibus iv. 75, in Niebuhr's 
 Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. Ed. I. Bekker. Bonn, 1837. 
 
 loANNES Malalas (eth^ Cent.). Chronographia Lib. xiii. pp. 325 — 
 334, in Niebuhr's Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. Ed. Dindorf. Bonn, 1831. 
 
 Theophanes (6th Cent, second half). Chronographia i. pp. 68 — 82, 
 3 vols, in Niebuhr's Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. Ed. J. Classen. Bonn, 1839. 
 
 Chronicon Paschale (7th Cent, first half). Lib. I. pp. 541 — 552, 
 2 vols, in Niebuhr's Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. Ed. L. Dindorf. Bonn, 
 1832. 
 
 loANNES Antiochenus (7th Cent.). Fragments in Miiller, Fragm. 
 Hist. Grace, iv. Paris, 1851. 
 
 Leo Grammaticus (10th Cent.). Chronographia, pp. 91—95, in Nie- 
 buhr's Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. Ed. I. Bekker. Bonn, 1842. 
 
 Georgius Kedrenus (11th Cent.). Ilistorianim Compendium i. pp. 
 521—539, in Niebuhr's Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. 2 vols. Ed. I, Bekker. 
 Bonn, 1838. 
 
 Mich. Glykas (12th Cent.). Annales iv. pp. 466 — 473, in Niebuhr's 
 Corpus Script. Hist. Byz. Ed. I. Bekker. Bonn, 1836. 
 
 ZoNARAS (12th Cent.). Amiales xiii. x — xiii. Ed. Migne Patrologia 
 Graeco-Lat. Vol. 134. 
 
 Nikephorus (Kallistus) (14th Cent, first half). Ecdesiastica Historia 
 Lib. X. Ed. Migne, Patrologia Graeco-Lat. Vol. 146. 
 
 Acta Martyr urn. Ed. Ruiuart. Verona, 1731. 
 
 SECTION in. MODERN AUTHORITIES. 
 
 A. Monographs upon Julian. 
 
 S. Johnson' (Rector of Corringham) under nom de plume Philaretus 
 Anthropopolita. Some Seasonable Remarks upon the Deplorable Fall of 
 the Emperor Julian, d-c. London, 1681. 
 
 S. Johnson. Julian the Apostate being A Short Account of his Life, 
 of which a considerable portion is polemic on Divine Eight and Passive 
 Obedience. London, 1682. To this A Lover of Truth, Virtue a^id Jus- 
 
 ^ Some place him as late as the 9th century. 
 
 2 For an account of " Julian Johnson," in which this controversy is touched, 
 see Chap. vi. of Macaulay's Jlist. nf England. 
 
29G APPENDIX (\ 
 
 TICE replied in Some Remarqiies upon a late Popular Piece of Nonsencc, 
 Called Julian the Apostate. This rejoinder elicited an angry Vindication 
 (with a long abusive title) of 40 pages ; issuing from A true Lover of his 
 King, his Country, and the Protestant Religion. London, 1682. This 
 was not all the stir made by the original work. Constantius the Apostate 
 appeared (London, 1683), examining and rewriting the history to support 
 by it the theory of Divine Right : while shortly after A Minister of Religion 
 (in reality G. Hicks) replied at greater length and with more learning 
 both to the historical and other matter with Jovian, or An Answer 
 to Julian the Apostate. London, 1683. Jovian received a meagre criticism 
 in A Letter of Remarks upon Jovian by A Person of Quality — (A. Annesley, 
 Earl of Anglesey). 
 
 Further, T. Long published (London, 1683), A Vindication of the 
 Primitive Christians... against... tlie Life of Julian written hy Eceholius the 
 Sophist; and J. Dowell, The Triumph of Christianity ; or the Life of CI. 
 Fl. Julian the Apostate. Loudon, 1683. 
 
 S. Johnson issued in Dutch Julianus den Apostaat, of Ivort hegrijp van 
 zijn Leven. Vrystad, 1688. In 1689 — (the book was ready 1683, but pub- 
 lication was prohibited) — he retaliated on opponents with Julianas Arts to 
 undermine and extirpate Christianity, followed by An Answer to Constantius 
 the Apostate and An Answer to Jovian. Victory rested with Mr Johnson, 
 and further tracts Animadversions on Mr Jolinson^s Answer to Jovian by 
 W. Hopkins, D.D. (London, 1691), and in 1692 A Letter to Mr S. Johmon 
 from Sir R. Howard occasioned by the Animadversions concern Julian 
 very little. 
 
 J. P. Oheim. Be luliani Imperatoris Apostasia. Leipsic, 1684. 
 
 J. A. Fabricius. Salutaris J^ux Evangelii, dec. Cap. xiv., 294 pp. 
 Hamburg, 1731. 
 
 P. Gaudentius. lulianus Imp. Philosophus in Meuschen's Vitae Sum- 
 morum Virorum, li. 65 pp. Coburg, 1735. 
 
 La Bleterie. Vie de VEmpereur Julien. Paris, 1735. The book was 
 translated (?by Bower) into English, and published in London, 1746. 
 
 G. F. GuDE. De artibus luliani apostatae paganam sicperstitioHem 
 instaurandi. Jena, 1739. 
 
 W. Warburton. Julian, or A Discourse concerning the Earthquake 
 <&€. London, 1750, 
 
 Abbe de la Porte. L'esprit de Julien in his V Esprit des Monarques 
 Philosophes. Amsterdam, 1764. 
 
 Marquis d'Argens. Defense du paganisme par Vempereur Julien, do. 
 BerUn, 1764. Criticised by G. F. Meier in Beurtheilung der Betrachtungen 
 des Herrn Marquis von Argens iiber den Kayser Julian (Halle, 1764), and 
 by W. Crichton Betrachtungen iiber des Kayser Julianas Abfall von der 
 christlichen Religion iind Vertheidigung des Heidenthiims (Halle, 1765). A 
 second enlarged edition appeared in 1767, but the 'new edition' of 1768 
 
SYNOPSIS OF LITERATURE UPON JULIAN. 297 
 
 yielded to his critics and comprised little more than a trans, of Julian's 
 attack on Christianity with not very voluminous notes. Third edition of 
 the Defense du Pag. again augmented, in 2 vols. Berlin \1&d. 
 
 H. P. C. Henke. De Theologia luliani Imperatoris Philosophi in 
 Opusc. Acad. p. 353—379. Leipsic, 1802. 
 
 G. F. "WiGGERS. (1) De luliano Apostata, religionis Cliristianae et Chris- 
 tianorum persecutore. Rostock, 1810. (2) Julian der Abtriinnige, in 
 Zeitschr. fiir die Hist. Theologie. (lUgen. vol. 7.) Leipsic, 1837. 
 
 S. T. MuECKE. De luliano iniperatore scholis Christianorum infesto. 
 Schleusinger Programm, 1811. 
 
 A. Neander. Der Kaiser Jidian und sein Zeitalter. Leipsic, 1813. 
 Translated into English by G. V. Cox, and published by Parker, 1850. 
 
 F. C. ScHLOSSER. (1) A criticism on Neander's work in the Jenaische 
 AUgemeine Litteratur-Zeitung, Jan. 1813, 121 pp. Jena and Leipsic. 
 (2) Universalhistoi-ische Uebersicht der GescMchte der alten Welt, in. ii. 
 316 pp., 408 pp., and iii. 1 — 151. FranJcfurt am Main, 1830. (3) Ai-ticle 
 in Archiv fiir Geschichte und Literatur, Vol. I. 217 — 272, on Univ., Stud, 
 u. Prof, der Griechen zu Julianas u. Theodosius' Zeit, d-c. Frankfurt am 
 Main, 1830. 
 
 M. JoNDOT. Ilistoire de VEmpereur Julien. 2 vols. Paris, 1817. 
 
 C. H. VAN Herwerden. De luliano Imp., religionis Ckristianae hoste 
 eodemque vindice. Leyden, 1827. 
 
 H. ScHULZE. De Philosophia et Morihus Iidiani Apostatae. Stral- 
 sund, 1839. 
 
 Teuffel. (1) De luliano Christianismi contemptore et osore. Tubingen, 
 1844. (2) 2 Arts. Zur Geschichte des Kaisers Julian in Zeitschrift fiir Ge- 
 schichtswissenschaft, ed. by Dr W. A. Schmidt, Vol. iv. pp. 143—161. 
 Berlin, 1845. (3) Article luliamcs Apostata in Pauly's Bsalencyclopadie'^. 
 
 A. Desjardins. VEmpereur Jidien. Paris, 1845. 
 
 D. F. Strauss. Der Bomantiker auf dem Throne der Cdsaren oder 
 Julian der Abtriinnige, 1847. Part V. in the Gesammelte Schriften, I. 
 p. 174 — 216. Bonn, 1876. (An article containing the gist of the above 
 appeared in the Edinburgh Review, July, 1848.) 
 
 J. Wolf. Kaiser Julian. Teschener Programm, 1855. 
 
 J. E. Auer. Kaiser Julian der Abtmnnige im Kampfe mit den Kirchen- 
 riitern seiner Zeit. Vienna, 1855. 
 
 H. Franc. Nature et caracteres de la poUmique de VEmpereur Jidien 
 contre le Christianisme. Paris, 1857. 
 
 E. Lame. Julien VApostut. Paris, 1861. 
 
 Kaiser Julianus der Abtriinnige, two anonymous articles in Hilgen- 
 feld's Zeitsch. fiir wissenschaftliche Theologie. Halle, 1861. 
 
 W. Mangold. Julian der Abtriinnige, ein Vortrag den 19. Feb. 1861 
 in Marburg gehalten. Stuttgart, 1862. 
 
 1 I have not gone through the supcrfluons labour of inserting a list of Ency- 
 clopa3dia Articles, with the names of tlieir authors. 
 
 R. K. 20 
 
298 APrEXDix c. 
 
 C. Semisch. Julian der Abtmnnige. Ein Charakterbild. Breslau, 1862. 
 
 J. F. A. Mtjecke. Flavins Claudius lulianus. Abth. i. JuliarCs Kriegs- 
 thaten. Gotha, 1867. Abth. ii. Jidian's Leben mid Schriften. Gotha, 
 1869. 
 
 E. Zeidler. Julian. 1869. 
 
 A. Kellerbauer. Kaiser Julian's Ecgierung. Kempten, 1876. 
 
 F. Rode. Geschichte der Reaction K. Julians gegen die chrisdiclie 
 Kirche. Jena, 1877. 
 
 H. A. Naville. Jidien I'Apostat et sa Philosophio du FohjtMisme. 
 Paris, 1877. 
 
 B. Histories, &c. 
 
 (This list does not of course pretend to completeness. I have only set down the 
 most important authorities, adding such of the multitudinous text-books of Eccle- 
 siastical or Secidar History, ' Welt-Geschichten,^ &c., as I have chanced to find 
 most tiseful or accessible.) 
 
 C. Baronius. Ajinales Ecclesiastid. Lucae, 1739. 
 
 GoTTFR. Arnold. Unparteiische Kirchen- und Ketzerhistorien. Vol. I. 
 Bk. IV. i. § 11 ft'. Frankfurt am Main, 1699. 
 
 TiLLEiiONT. (1) Ilistoire des Empereurs, d-c. Vol. iv. of 5 vol. Ed. Paris, 
 1700 — 1704. (2) Me'moires pour servir d Vhistoire EccUsiast. Vol. vii. of 
 the second (16 vol.) Ed. Paris, 1701—1712. 
 
 C. DE S. Montesquieu. Conside'ratioiis sur les Causes de la Grandeur 
 des Romains et de letir Decadence. Paris, 1734. 
 
 J. M. ScHROBCKH. Christliche Kirchengeschicide. Part 6. Leipsic, 1774. 
 
 E. Gibbon 1. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. 1787. 
 
 TzscHiRNER. Der Fall des Heidenthums. Leipsic, 1829. 
 
 A. Neander. Church History, translated by J. Torrey in Clark's 
 Foreign Theol. Library. Edinburgh, 1851. 
 
 RuEDiGER. De statu, et conditione Paganorum sub Impp. Christ, post 
 < 'onstantinum magnum. Warsaw, 1825. 
 
 J. H. Newman. Arians of the Fourth Centuri/ (1833), 4th ed. London, 
 1876. 
 
 A. Beugnot. Hist, de la destruction du Paganismc en Occident. Paris, 
 18.35. 
 
 E. Chastel. Hist, de la destruction du Paganisme dans PEmpire 
 dOrient. Paris, 1850. 
 
 E. V. Lasaulx. Der Untergang des Hellenismus, 6:c. Miinchen, 1854. 
 
 H. Kellner. Hellenismus und Christenthum, d'c. Koln, 1866. 
 
 A. DE Broglie. HEglise et V Empire Romain au IV' Siecle (1856). 
 5th Ed. in 6 vols. Paris, 1867. 
 
 1 Ilennatlu'iifi, Part 5 (for 1877) devotes an article to Gibbon's treatment of 
 Julian. 
 
SYNOPSIS OF LITERATURE UPON JULIAN. 299 
 
 H. H. MiLMAN. Ilist. of Latin Christianity. Vol. i. 4th Ed. in 9 vols. 
 London, 1867. 
 
 J. C. EoBERTSON. Hist, of the Christian Cliurch. Vol. i. of 8 vol. Ed. 
 London, 1874. 
 
 W. Bright. Hist, of the Church, 313—451. London, 1860. 
 
 J. W. Draper. Hist, of the Intellectual Development of Europe. Re- 
 vised ed. in 2 vols. London, 1875. 
 
 C. A. Hase. Kirchengeschichte. 10th Ed. Leipsic, 1877. 
 
 P. Smith. Student's Ecclesiastical Ilistonj. London, 1878. 
 
 As useful subsidiary aids may be mentioned : 
 
 Ullmanx. Gitgorius von Nazianz der Theologe. Darmstadt, 1825. 
 G. R. SiEVERS. Studien zur Geschichte der rdmischen Kaiser. Berlin, 
 1870. Das Leben des Lihanius. Berlin. 
 
 W. W. Capes. University Life in Ancient Athens. London, 1877. 
 
 C. Neo-Platonism. 
 
 E. Zeller. Die Philosophic der Griechen in ihrer gesehichtUchen Ent- 
 wicklung, iii. 2, (Leipzig, 1868), and F. Ueberweg, HiM. of Philosophy, 
 (transl. by G. S. Morris and N. Porter, London, 1872), give all the neces- 
 sary authorities. 
 
 D. Fiction. 
 
 H. Ibsen. Keyser og Galilceer (1873), translated as Tlie Emperor and 
 the Galilean, by C. Ray. London, 1876. 
 
 C. Kingsley's Hypatia perhaps deserves to be added. 
 
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