We may enjoy reading of the sentiments of Julian, as he expresses them

with warmth and freedom, in a letter to one of his most intimate friends.

After stating his own conduct, he proceeds in the following terms: “Was

it possible for the disciple of Plato and Aristotle to act otherwise

than I have done? Could I abandon the unhappy subjects entrusted to my

care? Was I not called upon to defend them from the repeated injuries of

these unfeeling robbers? A tribune who deserts his post is punished with

death, and deprived of the honours of burial. With what justice could I

pronounce his sentence, if, in the hour of danger, I myself neglected

a duty far more sacred and far more important? God has placed me in

this elevated post--His providence will guard and support me. Should I

be condemned to suffer, I shall derive comfort from the testimony of a

pure and upright conscience. Would to heaven that I still possessed a

counsellor like Sallust! If they think proper to send me a successor, I

shall submit without reluctance; and had much rather improve the short

opportunity of doing good, than enjoy a long and lasting impunity of

evil.” The precarious and dependent situation of Julian displayed his

virtues and concealed his defects. The young hero, who supported in Gaul

the throne of Constantius, was not permitted to reform the vices of the

government; but he had courage to alleviate or to pity the distress of

the people. Unless he had been able to revive the martial spirit of the

Romans, or to introduce the arts of industry and refinement among their

savage enemies, he could not entertain any rational hopes of securing

the public tranquillity either by the peace or conquest of Germany. Yet

the victories of Julian suspended for a short time the inroads of the

barbarians, and delayed the ruin of the Western Empire.

His salutary influence restored the cities of Gaul, which had been

so long exposed to the evils of civil discord, barbarian war, and

domestic tyranny; and the spirit of industry was revived with the hope

of enjoyment. Agriculture, manufactures, and commerce again flourished

under the protection of the laws; and the curiæ, or civil corporations,

were again filled with useful and respectable members; the youth were

no longer apprehensive of marriage, and married persons were no longer

apprehensive of posterity; the public and private festivals were

celebrated with customary pomp, and the frequent and secure intercourse

of the provinces displayed the image of national prosperity. A mind like

that of Julian must have felt the general happiness of which he was the

author, but he viewed with peculiar satisfaction and complacency the

city of Paris, the seat of his winter residence and the object even of

his partial affection. That splendid capital, which now embraces an

ample territory on either side of the Seine, was originally confined to

the small island in the midst of the river, from whence the inhabitants

derived a supply of pure water. The river bathed the foot of the walls,

and the town was accessible only by two wooden bridges.

A forest overspread the northern side of the Seine, but on the south,

the ground, which now bears the name of the university, was covered with

houses and adorned with a palace and amphitheatre, baths, an aqueduct,

and a Field of Mars for the exercise of the Roman troops. The severity

of the climate was tempered by the neighbourhood of the ocean; and with

some precautions, which experience had taught, the vine and fig tree

were successfully cultivated. But, in remarkable winters, the Seine

was deeply frozen; and the huge pieces of ice that floated down the

stream, might be compared, by an Asiatic, to the blocks of white marble

which were extracted from the quarries of Phrygia. The licentiousness

and corruption of Antioch recalled to the memory of Julian the severe

and simple manners of his beloved Lutetia, where the amusements of

the theatre were unknown or despised. He indignantly contrasted the

effeminate Syrians with the brave and honest simplicity of the Gauls,

and almost forgave the intemperance, which was the only stain of the

Celtic character. If Julian could now revisit the capital of France, he

might converse with men of science and genius, capable of understanding

and of instructing a disciple of the Greeks; he might excuse the lively

and graceful follies of a nation, whose martial spirit has never been

enervated by the indulgence of luxury, and he must applaud the perfection

of that inestimable art, which softens and refines and embellishes the

intercourse of social life.

THE JEALOUSY OF CONSTANTIUS

While the Romans languished under the ignominious tyranny of eunuchs and

bishops, the praises of Julian were repeated with transport in every

part of the empire, except in the palace of Constantius. The barbarians

of Germany had felt, and still dreaded, the arms of the young cæsar; his

soldiers were the companions of his victory; the grateful provincials

enjoyed the blessings of his reign; but the favourites, who had opposed

his elevation, were offended by his virtues; and they justly considered

the friend of the people as the enemy of the court. As long as the fame

of Julian was doubtful, the buffoons of the palace, who were skilled

in the language of satire, tried the efficacy of those arts which they

had so often practised with success. They easily discovered that his

simplicity was not exempt from affectation; the ridiculous epithets of

a hairy savage, of an ape invested with the purple, were applied to the

dress and person of the philosophic warrior; and his modest despatches

were stigmatised as the vain and elaborate fictions of a loquacious

Greek, a speculative soldier, who had studied the art of war amidst

the groves of the academy. The voice of malicious folly was at length

silenced by the shouts of victory; the conqueror of the Franks and

Alamanni could no longer be painted as an object of contempt; and the

monarch himself was meanly ambitious of stealing from his lieutenant the

honourable reward of his labours. In the letters crowned with laurel,

which, according to ancient custom, were addressed to the provinces,

the name of Julian was omitted. Constantius had made his dispositions

in person; he had signalised his valour in the foremost ranks; his

military conduct had secured the victory; and the captive king of the

barbarians was presented to him on the field of battle, from which he

was at that time distant about forty days’ journey. So extravagant a

fable was incapable, however, of deceiving the public credulity, or even

of satisfying the pride of the emperor himself. Secretly conscious that

the applause and favour of the Romans accompanied the rising fortunes of

Julian, his discontented mind was prepared to receive the subtle poison

of those artful sycophants, who coloured their mischievous designs with

the fairest appearances of truth and candour. Instead of depreciating

the merits of Julian, they acknowledged, and even exaggerated, his

popular fame, superior talents, and important services. But they darkly

insinuated that the virtues of the cæsar might instantly be converted

into the most dangerous crimes, if the inconstant multitude should prefer

their inclinations to their duty; or if the general of a victorious

army should be tempted from his allegiance by the hopes of revenge, and

independent greatness.

[Illustration: ROMAN LIGHT BATTERING-RAM]

[Sidenote: [360 A.D.]]

The apparent tranquillity of Gaul, and the imminent danger of the

eastern provinces, offered a specious pretence for the design which was

artfully concerted by the imperial ministers. They resolved to disarm

the cæsar; to recall those faithful troops who guarded his person and

dignity; and to employ, in a distant war against the Persian monarch,

the hardy veterans who had vanquished, on the banks of the Rhine, the

fiercest nations of Germany. While Julian used the laborious hours of

his winter quarters at Paris in the administration of power, which, in

his hands, was the exercise of virtue, he was surprised by the hasty

arrival of a tribune and a notary, with positive orders from the emperor

which they were directed to execute, and he was commanded not to oppose.

Constantius signified his pleasure, that four entire legions, the Celtæ

and Petulants, the Heruli, and the Batavians, should be separated from

the standard of Julian, under which they had acquired their fame and

discipline; that in each of the remaining bands three hundred of the

bravest youths should be selected; and that this numerous detachment,

the strength of the Gallic army, should instantly begin their march,

and exert their utmost diligence to arrive, before the opening of the

campaign, on the frontiers of Persia. The cæsar foresaw and lamented the

consequences of this fatal mandate. Most of the auxiliaries, who engaged

their voluntary service, had stipulated that they should never be obliged

to pass the Alps. The public faith of Rome and the personal honour of

Julian had been pledged for the observance of this condition. Such an act

of treachery and oppression would destroy the confidence and excite the

resentment of the independent warriors of Germany, who considered truth

as the noblest of their virtues, and freedom as the most valuable of

their possessions. The legionaries, who enjoyed the titles and privileges

of Romans, were enlisted for the general defence of the republic; but

those mercenary troops heard with cold indifference the antiquated names

of the republic and of Rome. Attached, either from birth or long habit,

to the climate and manners of Gaul, they loved and admired Julian; they

despised, and perhaps hated, the emperor; they dreaded the laborious

march, the Persian arrows, and the burning deserts of Asia. They claimed

as their own the country which they had saved; and excused their want

of spirit, by pleading the sacred and more immediate duty of protecting

their families and friends.

The apprehensions of the Gauls were derived from the knowledge of the

inevitable danger. As soon as the provinces were exhausted of their

military strength, the Germans would violate a treaty which had been

imposed on their fears; and, notwithstanding the abilities and valour

of Julian, the general of a nominal army, to whom the public calamities

would be imputed, must find himself, after a vain resistance, either a

prisoner in the camp of the barbarians, or a criminal in the palace of

Constantius. If Julian complied with the orders which he had received,

he would subscribe to his own destruction, and that of a people who

deserved his affection. But a positive refusal was an act of rebellion,

and a declaration of war. The inexorable jealousy of the emperor, the

peremptory, and perhaps insidious, nature of his commands, left not any

room for a fair apology or candid interpretation; and the dependent

station of the cæsar scarcely allowed him to pause or to deliberate.

Solitude increased the perplexity of Julian; he could no longer apply to

the faithful counsels of Sallust, who had been removed from his office

by the judicious malice of the eunuchs. Unable to resist, unwilling to

comply, Julian expressed, in the most serious terms, his wish, and even

his intention of resigning the purple, which he could not preserve with

honour, but which he could not abdicate with safety.

After a painful conflict, Julian was compelled to acknowledge that

obedience was the virtue of the most eminent subject; and that the

sovereign alone was entitled to judge of the public welfare. He issued

the necessary orders for carrying into execution the commands of

Constantius; a part of the troops began their march for the Alps; and the

detachments from the several garrisons moved towards their respective

places of assembly. They advanced with difficulty through the trembling

and affrighted crowds of provincials, who attempted to excite their

pity by silent despair, or loud lamentations; while the wives of the

soldiers, holding their infants in their arms, accused the desertion of

their husbands, in the mixed language of grief, of tenderness, and of

indignation. This scene of general distress afflicted the humanity of

the cæsar; he granted a sufficient number of post-wagons to transport

the wives and families of the soldiers, endeavoured to alleviate the

hardships which he was constrained to inflict, and increased, by the

most laudable arts, his own popularity, and the discontent of the exiled

troops.

JULIAN ACCLAIMED AUGUSTUS

As soon as the approach of the troops was announced, the cæsar went out

to meet them, and ascended his tribunal, which had been erected in a

plain before the gates of the city. After distinguishing the officers and

soldiers who by their rank or merit deserved a peculiar attention, Julian

addressed himself in a studied oration to the surrounding multitude; he

celebrated their exploits with grateful applause; encouraged them to

accept, with alacrity, the honour of serving under the eye of a powerful

and liberal monarch; and admonished them, that the commands of the

augustus required an instant and cheerful obedience. The soldiers, who

were apprehensive of offending their general by an indecent clamour, or

of belying their sentiments by false and venal acclamations, maintained

an obstinate silence, and, after a short pause, were dismissed to their

quarters. The principal officers were entertained by the cæsar, who

professed, in the warmest language of friendship, his desire and his

inability to reward, according to their deserts, the brave companions of

his victories. They retired from the feast full of grief and perplexity;

and lamented the hardship of their fate, which tore them from their

beloved general and their native country.

The only expedient which could prevent their separation was boldly

agitated and approved; the popular resentment was insensibly moulded into

a regular conspiracy; their just reasons of complaint were heightened by

passion, and their passions were inflamed by wine; as on the eve of their

departure the troops were indulged in licentious festivity. At the hour

of midnight, the impetuous multitude, with swords, and bows, and torches

in their hands, rushed into the suburbs; encompassed the palace, and

careless of future dangers, pronounced the fatal and irrevocable words,

JULIAN AUGUSTUS! The prince, whose anxious suspense was interrupted by

their disorderly acclamations, secured the doors against their intrusion;

and, as long as it was in his power, secluded his person and dignity from

the accidents of a nocturnal tumult. At the dawn of day, the soldiers,

whose zeal was irritated by opposition, forcibly entered the palace,

seized, with respectful violence, the object of their choice, guarded

Julian with drawn swords through the streets of Paris, placed him on

the tribunal, and with repeated shouts saluted him as their emperor.

Prudence as well as loyalty inculcated the propriety of resisting their

treasonable designs, and of preparing, for his oppressed virtue, the

excuse of violence.

Addressing himself by turns to the multitude and to individuals, he

implored their mercy, and expressed his indignation; conjured them not to

sully the fame of their immortal victories; and ventured to promise, that

if they would immediately return to their allegiance, he would undertake

to obtain from the emperor, not only a free and gracious pardon, but even

the revocation of the orders which had excited their resentment. But the

soldiers, who were conscious of their guilt, chose rather to depend on

the gratitude of Julian, than on the clemency of the emperor. Their zeal

was insensibly turned into impatience, and their impatience into rage.

The inflexible cæsar sustained, till the third hour of the day, their

prayers, their reproaches, and their menaces; nor did he yield, till he

had been repeatedly assured, that if he wished to live, he must consent

to reign. He was exalted on a shield in the presence, and amidst the

unanimous acclamations, of the troops; a rich military collar, which

was offered by chance, supplied the want of a diadem; the ceremony was

concluded by the promise of a moderate donative; and the new emperor,

overwhelmed with real or affected grief, retired into the most secret

recesses of his apartment.

[Illustration: PROWS OF ROMAN WAR GALLEYS]

To moderate the zeal of his party, to protect the persons of his enemies,

to defeat and to despise the secret enterprises which were formed against

his life and dignity, were the cares which employed the first days of the

reign of the new emperor. Although he was firmly resolved to maintain

the station which he had assumed, he was still desirous of saving his

country from the calamities of civil war, of declining a contest with

the superior forces of Constantius, and of preserving his own character

from the reproach of perfidy and ingratitude. Adorned with the ensigns of

military and imperial pomp, Julian showed himself in the Field of Mars

to the soldiers, who glowed with ardent enthusiasm in the cause of their

pupil, their leader, and their friend. He recapitulated their victories,

lamented their sufferings, applauded their resolution, animated their

hopes, and checked their impetuosity; nor did he dismiss the assembly,

till he had obtained a solemn promise from the troops that if the emperor

of the East would subscribe an equitable treaty, they would renounce any

views of conquest, and satisfy themselves with the tranquil possession of

the Gallic provinces. On this foundation he composed, in his own name,

and in that of the army, a specious and moderate epistle, which was

delivered to Pentadius, his master of the offices, and to his chamberlain

Eutherius; two ambassadors whom he appointed to receive the answer, and

observe the dispositions of Constantius. This epistle is inscribed with

the modest appellation of Cæsar; but Julian solicits, in a peremptory,

though respectful manner, the confirmation of the title of Augustus. He

acknowledges the irregularity of his own election; while he justifies

in some measure the resentment and violence of the troops which had

extorted his reluctant consent. He allows the supremacy of his brother

Constantius; and engages to send him an annual present of Spanish horses,

to recruit his army with a select number of barbarian youths, and to

accept from his choice a prætorian prefect of approved discretion and

fidelity. But he reserves for himself the nomination of his other civil

and military officers, with the troops, the revenue, and the sovereignty,

of the provinces beyond the Alps. He admonishes the emperor to consult

the dictates of justice; to distrust the arts of those venal flatterers

who subsist only by the discord of princes; and to embrace the offer of

a fair and honourable treaty, equally advantageous to the republic and

to the house of Constantine. In this negotiation, Julian claimed no more

than he already possessed.

The negotiations of peace were accompanied and supported by the most

vigorous preparations for war. The army, which Julian held in readiness

for immediate action, was recruited and augmented by the disorders of

the times. The cruel persecutions of the faction of Magnentius had

filled Gaul with numerous bands of outlaws and robbers. They cheerfully

accepted the offer of a general pardon from a prince whom they could

trust, submitted to the restraints of military discipline, and retained

only their implacable hatred to the person and government of Constantius.

As soon as the season of the year permitted Julian to take the field, he

appeared at the head of his legions; threw a bridge over the Rhine in

the neighbourhood of Cleves; and prepared to chastise the perfidy of the

Attuarii, a tribe of Franks, who presumed that they might ravage, with

impunity, the frontiers of a divided empire. The difficulty, as well as

glory, of this enterprise, consisted in a laborious march; and Julian

had conquered, as soon as he could penetrate into a country which former

princes had considered as inaccessible.

CONSTANTIUS _versus_ JULIAN

[Sidenote: [360-361 A.D.]]

The ambassadors of Julian had been instructed to execute with the utmost

diligence, their important commission. But in their passage through

Italy and Illyricum, they were detained by the tedious and affected

delays of the provincial governors; they were conducted by slow journeys

from Constantinople to Cæsarea in Cappadocia; and when at length they

were admitted to the presence of Constantius, they found that he had

already conceived from the despatches of his own officers, the most

unfavourable opinion of the conduct of Julian, and of the Gallic army.

The letters were heard with impatience; the trembling messengers were

dismissed with indignation and contempt; and the looks, the gestures,

the furious language of the monarch, expressed the disorder of his soul.

The domestic connection which might have reconciled the brother and the

husband of Helena, was recently dissolved by the death of that princess,

whose pregnancy had been several times fruitless, and was at last fatal

to herself. The empress Eusebia had preserved to the last moment of her

life, the warm and even jealous affection which she had conceived for

Julian; and her mild influence might have moderated the resentment of a

prince, who, since her death, was abandoned to his own passions, and to

the arts of his eunuchs.

But the terror of a foreign invasion obliged him to suspend the

punishment of a private enemy; he continued his march towards Persia,

and thought it sufficient to signify the conditions which might entitle

Julian and his guilty followers to the clemency of their offended

sovereign. He required that the presumptuous cæsar should expressly

renounce the appellation and rank of augustus, which he had accepted from

the rebels; that he should descend to his former station of a limited

and dependent minister; that he should vest the powers of the state and

army in the hands of those officers who were appointed by the imperial

court; and that he should trust his safety to the assurances of pardon

which were announced by Epictetus, a Gallic bishop, and one of the Arian

favourites of Constantius. Several months were ineffectually consumed in

a treaty which was negotiated at the distance of three thousand miles

between Paris and Antioch; and as soon as Julian perceived that his

moderate and respectful behaviour served only to irritate the pride of an

implacable adversary, he boldly resolved to commit his life and fortune

to the chance of a civil war. He gave a public and military audience

to the quæstor Leonas; the haughty epistle of Constantius was read to

the attentive multitude; and Julian protested with the most flattering

deference, that he was ready to resign the title of Augustus, if he

could obtain the consent of those whom he acknowledged as the authors

of his elevation. The faint proposal was impetuously silenced; and the

acclamations of “Julian Augustus, continue to reign, by the authority

of the army, of the people, of the republic, which you have saved,”

thundered at once from every part of the field, and terrified the pale

ambassador of Constantius.

The situation of Julian required a vigorous and immediate resolution. He

had discovered, from intercepted letters, that his adversary, sacrificing

the interest of the state to that of the monarch, had again excited the

barbarians to invade the provinces of the West.

The hopes of Julian depended much less on the number of his troops, than

on the celerity of his motions. In the execution of a daring enterprise,

he availed himself of every precaution, as far as prudence could suggest;

and where prudence could no longer accompany his steps, he trusted the

event to valour and to fortune. In the neighbourhood of Bâle he assembled

and divided his army. One body, which consisted of ten thousand men, was

directed under the command of Nevitta, general of the cavalry, to advance

through the midland parts of Rætia and Noricum. A similar division of

troops, under the orders of Jovius and Jovinus, prepared to follow the

oblique course of the highways, through the Alps, and the northern

confines of Italy. The instructions to the generals were conceived

with energy and precision; to hasten their march in close and compact

columns, which, according to the disposition of the ground, might readily

be changed into any order of battle; to secure themselves against the

surprises of the night by strong posts and vigilant guards; to prevent

resistance by their unexpected arrival; to elude examination by their

sudden departure; to spread the opinion of their strength, and the terror

of his name; and to join their sovereign under the walls of Sirmium.

For himself, Julian had reserved a more difficult part. He selected three

thousand active volunteers, resolved, like their leader, to cast behind

them every hope of a retreat; at the head of this band, he fearlessly

plunged into the recesses of the Marcian or Black Forest, which conceals

the sources of the Danube, and for many days, the fate of Julian was

unknown to the world. The secrecy of his march, his diligence and vigour,

surmounted every obstacle; he forced his way over mountains and morasses,

occupied the bridges, or swam the rivers, pursued his direct course,

without reflecting whether he traversed the territory of the Romans or

of the barbarians, and emerged, between Castra Regina (Ratisbon) and

Vindobona (Vienna) at the place where he designed to embark his troops

on the Danube. By a stratagem, he seized a fleet of light brigantines,

as it lay at anchor; secured a supply of coarse provisions, sufficient

to satisfy the indelicate, but voracious, appetite of a Gallic army;

and boldly committed himself to the stream of the Danube. The labours

of his mariners, who plied their oars with incessant diligence, and

the steady continuance of a favourable wind, carried his fleet above

seven hundred miles in eleven days, and he had already disembarked his

troops at Bononia, only nineteen miles from Sirmium, before his enemies

could receive any certain intelligence that he had left the banks of

the Rhine. In the course of this long and rapid navigation, the mind of

Julian was fixed on the object of his enterprise; and though he accepted

the deputation of some cities, which hastened to claim the merit of an

early submission, he passed before the hostile stations, which were

placed along the river, without indulging the temptation of signalising a

useless and ill-timed valour.

[Illustration: SANDALS WORN BY OFFICERS]

The banks of the Danube were crowded with spectators, who gazed on the

military pomp, anticipated the importance of the event, and diffused

through the adjacent country the fame of a young hero, who advanced with

more than mortal speed at the head of the innumerable forces of the West.

Lucilian, who, with the rank of general of the cavalry, commanded the

military powers of Illyricum, was alarmed and perplexed by the doubtful

reports, which he could neither reject nor believe. He had taken some

slow and irresolute measures for the purpose of collecting his troops,

when he was surprised by Dagalaiphus, an active officer, whom Julian,

as soon as he landed at Bononia, had pushed forward with some light

infantry. The captive general, uncertain of his life or death, was

hastily thrown upon a horse, and conducted to the presence of Julian,

who kindly raised him from the ground and dispelled the terror and

amazement which seemed to stupefy his faculties. But Lucilian had no

sooner recovered his spirits, than he betrayed his want of discretion,

by presuming to admonish his conqueror, that he had rashly ventured,

with a handful of men, to expose his person in the midst of his enemies.

“Reserve for your master Constantius these timid remonstrances,” replied

Julian, with a smile of contempt; “when I gave you my purple to kiss, I

received you not as a counsellor, but as a suppliant.”

Conscious that success alone could justify his attempt, and that boldness

only could command success, he advanced at the head of three thousand

soldiers to attack the strongest and most populous city of the Illyrian

provinces. As he entered the long suburb of Sirmium, he was received by

the joyful acclamations of the army and people; who, crowned with flowers

and holding lighted tapers in their hands, conducted their acknowledged

sovereign to his imperial residence. Two days were devoted to the public

joy, which was celebrated by the games of the circus; but, early on the

morning of the third day, Julian marched to occupy the narrow pass of

Succi, in the defiles of Mount Hæmus; which, almost in the midway between

Sirmium and Constantinople, separates the provinces of Thrace and Dacia,

by an abrupt descent towards the former, and a gentle declivity on the

side of the latter. The defence of this important post was entrusted to

the brave Nevitta; who, as well as the generals of the Italian division,

successfully executed the plan of the march and junction which their

master had so ably conceived.

From his palace, or, more properly, from his headquarters, of Sirmium

and Naissus, he distributed to the principal cities of the empire a

laboured apology for his own conduct; published the secret despatches

of Constantius; and solicited the judgment of mankind between two

competitors, the one of whom had expelled, and the other had invited

the barbarians. Julian, whose mind was deeply wounded by the reproach

of ingratitude, aspired to maintain, by argument as well as by arms,

the superior merits of his cause; and to excel, not only in the arts of

war, but in those of composition. His epistle to the senate and people

of Athens seems to have been dictated by an elegant enthusiasm, which

prompted him to submit his actions and his motives to the degenerate

Athenians of his own times, with the same humble deference, as if he

had been pleading in the days of Aristides, before the tribunal of

the Areopagus. His application to the senate of Rome, which was still

permitted to bestow the titles of imperial power, was agreeable to the

forms of the expiring republic. An assembly was summoned by Tertullus,

prefect of the city; the epistle of Julian was read; and as he appeared

to be master of Italy, his claims were admitted without a dissenting

voice. His oblique censure of the innovations of Constantine, and his

passionate invective against the vices of Constantius, were heard with

less satisfaction; and the senate, as if Julian had been present,

unanimously exclaimed: “Respect, we beseech you, the author of your own

fortune,” an artful expression, which, according to the chance of war,

might be differently explained, as a manly reproof of the ingratitude of

the usurper, or as a flattering confession, that a single act of such

benefit to the state ought to atone for all the failings of Constantius.

The intelligence of the march and rapid progress of Julian was speedily

transmitted to his rival, who, by the retreat of Sapor, had obtained

some respite from the Persian War. Disguising the anguish of his soul

under the semblance of contempt, Constantius professed his intention of

returning into Europe, and of giving chase to Julian; for he never spoke

of his military expedition in any other light than that of a hunting

party. In the camp of Hierapolis, in Syria, he communicated this design

to his army; slightly mentioned the guilt and rashness of the cæsar; and

ventured to assure them, that if the mutineers of Gaul presumed to meet

them in the field, they would be unable to sustain the fire of their

eyes, and the irresistible weight of their shout of onset. The speech

of the emperor was received with military applause, and Theodotus,

the president of the council of Hierapolis, requested, with tears of

adulation, that his city might be adorned with the head of the vanquished

rebel. A chosen detachment was despatched away in post wagons, to secure,

if it were yet possible, the pass of Succi; the recruits, the horses,

the arms, and the magazines which had been prepared against Sapor, were

appropriated to the service of the civil war; and the domestic victories

of Constantius inspired his partisans with the most sanguine assurances

of success. The notary Gaudentius had occupied in his name the provinces

of Africa; the subsistence of Rome was intercepted; and the distress

of Julian was increased, by an unexpected event, which might have been

productive of fatal consequences. Julian had received the submission of

two legions and a cohort of archers, who were stationed at Sirmium; but

he suspected, with reason, the fidelity of those troops which had been

distinguished by the emperor; and it was thought expedient, under the

pretence of the exposed state of the Gallic frontier, to dismiss them

from the most important scene of action. They advanced, with reluctance,

as far as the confines of Italy; but, as they dreaded the length of the

way, and the savage fierceness of the Germans, they resolved, by the

instigation of one of their tribunes, to halt at Aquileia, and to erect

the banners of Constantius on the walls of that impregnable city. The

vigilance of Julian perceived at once the extent of the mischief, and the

necessity of applying an immediate remedy. By his order, Jovinus led back

a part of the army into Italy; and the siege of Aquileia was formed with

diligence, and prosecuted with vigour. But the legionaries, who seemed

to have rejected the yoke of discipline, conducted the defence of the

place with skill and perseverance; invited the rest of Italy to imitate

the example of their courage and loyalty; and threatened the retreat of

Julian, if he should be forced to yield to the superior numbers of the

armies of the East.

THE DEATH OF CONSTANTIUS; JULIAN SOLE EMPEROR

But the humanity of Julian was preserved from the cruel alternative,

which he pathetically laments, of destroying, or of being himself

destroyed; and the seasonable death of Constantius delivered the Roman

Empire from the calamities of civil war. The approach of winter could

not detain the monarch at Antioch; and his favourites durst not oppose

his impatient desire of revenge. A slight fever, which was perhaps

occasioned by the agitation of his spirits, was increased by the fatigues

of the journey; and Constantius was obliged to halt at the little town

of Mopsucrene, twelve miles beyond Tarsus, where he expired, after a

short illness, in the forty-fifth year of his age, and the twenty-fourth

of his reign. His genuine character was composed of pride and weakness,

of superstition and cruelty. The long abuse of power rendered him a

considerable object in the eyes of his contemporaries; but as personal

merit can alone deserve the notice of posterity, the last of the sons

of Constantine may be dismissed from the world with the remark, that he

inherited the defects, without the abilities, of his father.

Before Constantius expired, he is said to have named Julian for his

successor; nor does it seem improbable, that his anxious concern for

the fate of a young and tender wife, whom he left with child, may have

prevailed, in his last moments, over the harsher passions of hatred and

revenge. Eusebius and his guilty associates made a faint attempt to

prolong the reign of the eunuchs, by the election of another emperor; but

their intrigues were rejected with disdain by an army which now abhorred

the thought of civil discord; and two officers of rank were instantly

despatched, to assure Julian, that every sword in the empire would be

drawn for his service. The military designs of that prince, who had

formed three different attacks against Thrace, were prevented by this

fortunate event. Without shedding the blood of his fellow-citizens he

escaped the dangers of a doubtful conflict, and acquired the advantages

of a complete victory. Impatient to visit the place of his birth, and the

new capital of the empire, he advanced from Naissus through the mountains

of Hæmus and the cities of Thrace. When he reached Heraclea, at the

distance of sixty miles, all Constantinople was poured forth to receive

him; and he made his triumphal entry amidst the dutiful acclamations

of the soldiers, the people, and the senate. An innumerable multitude

pressed around him with eager respect, and were perhaps disappointed,

when they beheld the small stature, and simple garb, of a hero whose

unexperienced youth had vanquished the barbarians of Germany, and who

had now traversed, in a successful career, the whole continent of

Europe, from the shores of the Atlantic to those of the Bosporus. A few

days afterward, when the remains of the deceased emperor were landed

in the harbour, the subjects of Julian applauded the real or affected

humanity of their sovereign. On foot, without his diadem, and clothed

in a mourning habit, he accompanied the funeral as far as the church of

the Holy Apostles, where the body was deposited; and if these marks of

respect may be interpreted as a selfish tribute to the birth and dignity

of his imperial kinsman, the tears of Julian professed to the world, that

he had forgotten the injuries, and remembered only the obligations, which

he had received from Constantius. As soon as the legions of Aquileia were

assured of the death of the emperor, they opened the gates of the city,

and, by the sacrifice of their guilty leaders, obtained an easy pardon

from the prudence or lenity of Julian; who, in the thirty-second year of

his age, acquired the undisputed possession of the Roman Empire.[b]

THE RELIGION OF JULIAN

The love of justice and the correct sense of the duties of a ruler

which Julian had displayed when a cæsar in Gaul, did not desert him

on the imperial throne in Constantinople; and had it not been for one

fatal circumstance, he might have been the object of general applause

and admiration. But Julian had renounced the religion of the empire and

adopted that of ancient Greece, which he entertained the chimerical

idea of restoring to its primitive importance; and in the pursuit of

this object he did not attend sufficiently to the principles of justice

and equity. From his change of faith he has been styled the Apostate,

unjustly as appears to us, for of his sincerity there can be no doubt;

and however we may lament for, pity, or even despise those who change

from conviction, we are not justified in condemning or reviling them.

Gallus and Julian after the massacre of their relatives had been

committed to the charge of Eusebius, the bishop of Nicomedia. They were

instructed in the articles of faith and practice then prevalent, with

all of which they complied without any hesitation; and Julian it was

remembered had publicly read the Holy Scriptures in the church of that

city. But while the rude, sullen Gallus became a steady and bigoted

believer, the milder and more philosophic and studious Julian took a

distaste to the religion in which he was instructed. He had been made

familiar with the great writers of ancient Hellas by his tutor the eunuch

Mardonius; and the admiration he felt for the works of Homer and other

eminent poets, the veneration for antiquity, and the brilliant colours

with which the ancient poetic Olympus stood invested, as contrasted with

the grovelling superstition with which he was surrounded; and the noble

spirit and glorious deeds of the believers in the ancient creed, compared

with the base arts and paltry actions of the men of his own time--all

combined to operate on the mind of the young prince, and he became a

believer in the theology of Homer and Hesiod. But it was not the charming

poetic creed of the early and best days of Hellas that Julian adopted,

it was the absurd, contemptible mysticism of the Neo-Platonists; and as

in his Christianity he neglected the beautiful simplicity of the Gospel,

confounding it with the intricate metaphysics and abject superstition

which then prevailed in the church; so in his paganism he lost the poetic

creed of the old times in the tasteless, unsubstantial vagaries and

allegories of the school of Alexandria. In fact, he had not that original

vigour of intellect which would have emancipated him from the spirit of

the age. Superstition was the prevailing sentiment, and the philosophic

emperor was in his way as deeply immersed in it as the most grovelling

ascetic.

According to the emperor’s own account, he was a Christian till he

reached his twentieth year. He then, after being instructed by various

sophists, was by the archimage Maximus secretly initiated at Ephesus with

all those ceremonies which imposture and superstition had imported from

Asia and incorporated with the mythic faith of Hellas. During his short

abode some years after at Athens, Julian was solemnly initiated in the

mysteries of Eleusis. Still he was to outward appearance a Christian,

and the empress Eusebia had not probably a shade of doubt respecting the

faith of her distinguished protégé. In Gaul he appears to have still

dissembled, and to have openly assisted at the Christian worship, while

in his closet he offered his homage to the Sun and Hermes. When he

assumed the imperial dignity he disdained all further concealment of his

sentiments and boldly proclaimed himself a votary of the ancient gods.

Julian was by nature just and humane; he was also a philosopher and

statesman enough to know that persecution, if it does not go the full

length of extermination, adds strength and numbers and energy to the

persecuted and irritated party. He therefore, instead of imitating

Diocletian, proclaimed a general toleration. The pagans were directed to

open their temples and offer victims as heretofore; the contending sects

of Christians were commanded to abstain from harassing and tormenting

each other. The Catholic prelates and clergy, whom the Arian Constantius

had banished, were accordingly restored to their sees and churches.[e]

JULIAN INVADES THE EAST

[Sidenote: [361-362 A.D.]]

As soon as Sapor was informed that the throne of Constantius was

filled by a prince of a very different character, he condescended to

make some artful, or perhaps sincere, overtures towards a negotiation

of peace. But the pride of the Persian monarch was astonished by the

firmness of Julian, who sternly declared that he would never consent

to hold a peaceful conference among the flames and ruins of the cities

of Mesopotamia; and who added, with a smile of contempt, that it was

needless to treat by ambassadors, as he himself had determined to visit

speedily the court of Persia. The impatience of the emperor urged the

diligence of the military preparations. The generals were named; a

formidable army was destined for this important service; and Julian,

marching from Constantinople through the provinces of Asia Minor, arrived

at Antioch about eight months after the death of his predecessor. His

ardent desire to march into the heart of Persia was checked by the

indispensable duty of regulating the state of the empire; by his zeal to

revive the worship of the gods; and by the advice of his wisest friends,

who represented the necessity of allowing the salutary interval of winter

quarters, to restore the exhausted strength of the legions of Gaul, and

the discipline and spirit of the eastern troops. Julian was persuaded to

fix, till the ensuing spring, his residence at Antioch, among a people

maliciously disposed to deride the haste, and to censure the delays, of

their sovereign.

If Julian had flattered himself, that his personal connection with the

capital of the East would be productive of mutual satisfaction to the

prince and people, he made a very false estimate of his own character,

and of the manners of Antioch. The warmth of the climate disposed the

natives to the most intemperate enjoyment of tranquillity and opulence;

and the lively licentiousness of the Greeks was blended with the

hereditary softness of the Syrians. Fashion was the only law, pleasure

the only pursuit, and the splendour of dress and furniture was the only

distinction of the citizens of Antioch. The arts of luxury were honoured;

the serious and manly virtues were the subject of ridicule; and the

contempt for female modesty and reverend age, announced the universal

corruption of the capital of the East. The love of spectacles was the

taste, or rather passion, of the Syrians: the most skilful artists

were procured from the adjacent cities; a considerable share of the

revenue was devoted to the public amusements; and the magnificence of

the games of the theatre and circus was considered as the happiness and

as the glory of Antioch. The rustic manners of a prince who disdained

such glory, and was insensible of such happiness, soon disgusted the

delicacy of his subjects; and the effeminate Orientals could neither

imitate nor admire the severe simplicity which Julian always maintained,

and sometimes affected. The days of festivity, consecrated by ancient

custom to the honour of the gods, were the only occasions on which

Julian relaxed his philosophic severity; and those festivals were the

only days in which the Syrians of Antioch could reject the allurements

of pleasure. The majority of the people supported the glory of the

Christian name, which had been first invented by their ancestors; they

contented themselves with disobeying the moral precepts, but they were

scrupulously attached to the speculative doctrines of their religion. The

church of Antioch was distracted by heresy and schism; but the Arians and

the Athanasians, the followers of Meletius and those of Paulinus, were

actuated by the same pious hatred of their common adversary.

The martial impatience of Julian urged him to take the field in the

beginning of the spring; and he dismissed, with contempt and reproach,

the senate of Antioch, who accompanied the emperor beyond the limits of

their own territory, to which he was resolved never to return.

[Sidenote: [362-363 A.D.]]

As the warlike emperor, instead of Constantius, had chosen Alexander

for his model, he advanced without delay to Carrhæ, a very ancient city

of Mesopotamia, at the distance of fourscore miles from Hierapolis. The

temple of the Moon attracted the devotion of Julian; but the halt of a

few days was principally employed in completing the immense preparations

of the Persian War. The secret of the expedition had hitherto remained

in his own breast; but as Carrhæ is the point of separation of the two

great roads, he could no longer conceal, whether it was his design to

attack the dominions of Sapor on the side of the Tigris, or on that of

the Euphrates. The emperor detached an army of thirty thousand men, under

the command of his kinsman Procopius, and of Sebastian, who had been duke

of Egypt. They were ordered to direct their march towards Nisibis, and to

secure the frontier from the desultory incursions of the enemy, before

they attempted the passage of the Tigris. Their subsequent operations

were left to the discretion of the generals; but Julian expected, that

after wasting with fire and sword the fertile districts of Media and

Adiabene, they might arrive under the walls of Ctesiphon about the same

time that he himself, advancing with equal steps along the banks of

the Euphrates, should besiege the capital of the Persian monarchy. The

success of this well-concerted plan depended, in a great measure, on

the powerful and ready assistance of the king of Armenia, who, without

exposing the safety of his own dominions, might detach an army of four

thousand horse, and twenty thousand foot, to the assistance of the

Romans. But the feeble Arsaces Tiranus, king of Armenia, had degenerated

still more shamefully than his father Chosroes, from the manly virtues of

the great Tiridates; and as the pusillanimous monarch was averse to any

enterprise of danger and glory, he could disguise his timid indolence by

the more decent excuses of religion and gratitude.

The military dispositions of Julian were skilfully contrived to deceive

the spies, and to divert the attention of Sapor. The legions appeared

to direct their march towards Nisibis and the Tigris. On a sudden they

wheeled to the right; traversed the level and naked plain of Carrhæ; and

reached, on the third day, the banks of the Euphrates, where the strong

town of Nicephorium, or Callinicum, had been founded by the Macedonian

kings. From thence the emperor pursued his march, above ninety miles,

along the winding stream of the Euphrates, till, at length, about one

month after his departure from Antioch, he discovered the towers of

Circesium, the extreme limit of the Roman dominions. The river Chaboras

falls into the Euphrates at Circesium, and as soon as the trumpet gave

the signal of march, the Romans passed the little stream which separated

two mighty and hostile empires.

[Sidenote: [363 A.D.]]

Two cities of Assyria presumed to resist the arms of a Roman emperor;

and they both paid the severe penalty of their rashness. At the distance

of fifty miles from the royal residence of Ctesiphon, Perisabor, or

Anbar, held the second rank in the province: a city, large, populous,

and well-fortified, surrounded with a double wall, almost encompassed

by a branch of the Euphrates, and defended by the valour of a numerous

garrison. The exhortations of Hormisdas were repulsed with contempt;

and the ears of the Persian prince were wounded by a just reproach,

that, unmindful of his royal birth, he conducted an army of strangers

against his king and country. The Assyrians maintained their loyalty

by a skilful, as well as vigorous, defence; till the lucky stroke of a

battering-ram having opened a large breach, by shattering one of the

angles of the wall, they hastily retired into the fortifications of

the interior citadel. The soldiers of Julian rushed impetuously into

the town, and after the full gratification of every military appetite,

Perisabor was reduced to ashes; and the engines which assaulted the

citadel were planted on the ruins of the smoking houses. The contest was

continued by an incessant and mutual discharge of missile weapons; and

the superiority which the Romans might derive from the mechanical powers

of their ballistæ and catapultæ was counterbalanced by the advantage of

the ground on the side of the besieged. But as soon as an _helepolis_ had

been constructed, which could engage on equal terms with the loftiest

ramparts, the tremendous aspect of a moving turret, that would leave no

hope of resistance or of mercy, terrified the defenders of the citadel

into an humble submission; and the place was surrendered only two days

after Julian first appeared under the walls of Perisabor. Twenty-five

hundred persons, of both sexes, the feeble remnant of a flourishing

people, were permitted to retire; the plentiful magazines of corn, of

arms, and of splendid furniture were partly distributed among the troops,

and partly reserved for the public service; the useless stores were

destroyed by fire, or thrown into the stream of the Euphrates; and the

fate of Amida was revenged by the total ruin of Perisabor.

The city, or rather the fortress, of Maogamalcha, which was defended by

sixteen large towers, a deep ditch, and two strong and solid walls of

brick and bitumen, appears to have been constructed at the distance of

eleven miles, as the safeguard of the capital of Persia. The emperor,

apprehensive of leaving such an important fortress in his rear,

immediately formed the siege of Maogamalcha; and the Roman army was

distributed for that purpose into three divisions. Victor, at the head

of the cavalry, and of a detachment of heavy-armed foot, was ordered to

clear the country, as far as the banks of the Tigris, and the suburbs of

Ctesiphon. The conduct of the attack was assumed by Julian himself, who

seemed to place his whole dependence in the military engines which he

erected against the walls, while he secretly contrived a more efficacious

method of introducing his troops into the heart of the city. Under the

direction of Nevitta and Dagalaiphus, the trenches were opened at a

considerable distance, and gradually prolonged as far as the edge of the

ditch. The ditch was speedily filled with earth; and, by the incessant

labour of the troops, a mine was carried under the foundations of the

walls, and sustained, at sufficient intervals, by props of timber.

Three chosen cohorts, advancing in a single file, silently explored

the dark and dangerous passage, till their intrepid leader whispered

back the intelligence, that he was ready to issue from his confinement

into the streets of the hostile city. Julian checked their ardour, that

he might insure their success; and immediately diverted the attention

of the garrison by the tumult and clamour of a general assault. The

Persians, who, from their walls, contemptuously beheld the progress of an

impotent attack, celebrated, with songs of triumph, the glory of Sapor;

and ventured to assure the emperor, that he might ascend the starry

mansion of Ormuzd, before he could hope to take the impregnable city of

Maogamalcha. The city was already taken. History has recorded the name of

a private soldier, the first who ascended from the mine into a deserted

tower. The passage was widened by his companions, who pressed forward

with impatient valour. Fifteen hundred enemies were already in the midst

of the city. The astonished garrison abandoned the walls, and their only

hope of safety; the gates were instantly burst open; and the revenge of

the soldier, unless it were suspended by lust or avarice, was satiated by

an undistinguishing massacre. The governor, who had yielded on a promise

of mercy, was burned alive a few days afterwards, on a charge of having

uttered some disrespectful words against the honour of Prince Hormisdas.

The fortifications were razed to the ground; and not a vestige was left

to indicate that the city of Maogamalcha had ever existed.

The successful valour of Julian had triumphed over all the obstacles

that opposed his march to the gates of Ctesiphon. But the reduction, or

even the siege, of the capital of Persia, was still at a distance; nor

can the military conduct of the emperor be clearly apprehended, without

a knowledge of the country which was the theatre of his bold and skilful

operations. Twenty miles to the south of Baghdad, and on the eastern

bank of the Tigris, the curiosity of travellers has observed some ruins

of the palaces of Ctesiphon, which, in the time of Julian, was a great

and populous city. The name and glory of the adjacent Seleucia were

forever extinguished; and the only remaining quarter of that Greek colony

had resumed, with the Assyrian language and manners, the primitive

appellation of Coche.

Coche was situated on the western side of the Tigris; but it was

naturally considered as a suburb of Ctesiphon, being supposedly connected

with it by a permanent bridge of boats. The united parts contributed to

form the common epithet of Al Modain, “the cities,” which the Orientals

have bestowed on the winter residence of the Sassanids; and the whole

circumference of the Persian capital was strongly fortified by the

waters of the river, by lofty walls, and by impracticable morasses. Near

the ruins of Seleucia the camp of Julian was fixed, and secured by a

ditch and rampart against the sallies of the numerous and enterprising

garrison of Coche. In this fruitful and pleasant country the Romans were

plentifully supplied with water and forage; and several forts which

might have embarrassed the motions of the army submitted, after some

resistance, to the efforts of their valour. The fleet passed from the

Euphrates into an artificial derivation of that river, which pours a

copious and navigable stream into the Tigris, at a small distance below

the great city. If they had followed this royal canal, which bore the

name of Nahar-Malcha, the intermediate situation of Coche would have

separated the fleet and army of Julian; and the rash attempt of steering

against the current of the Tigris, and forcing their way through the

midst of a hostile capital, must have been attended with the total

destruction of the Roman navy. The prudence of the emperor foresaw

the danger, and provided the remedy. As he had minutely studied the

operations of Trajan in the same country, he soon recollected that his

warlike predecessor had dug a new and navigable canal, which, leaving

Coche on the right hand, conveyed the waters of the Nahar-Malcha into the

river Tigris, at some distance above the cities. From the information

of the peasants Julian ascertained the vestiges of this ancient work,

which were almost obliterated by design or accident. By the indefatigable

labour of the soldiers, a broad and deep channel was speedily prepared

for the reception of the Euphrates. A strong dike was constructed to

interrupt the ordinary current of the Nahar-Malcha: a flood of waters

rushed impetuously into their new bed; and the Roman fleet, steering

their triumphant course into the Tigris, derided the vain and ineffectual

barriers which the Persians of Ctesiphon had erected to oppose their

passage.

A BATTLE BY THE TIGRIS

As it became necessary to transport the Roman army over the Tigris,

another labour presented itself, of less toil, but of more danger, than

the preceding expedition. The stream was broad and rapid; the ascent

steep and difficult; and the entrenchments, which had been formed on the

ridge of the opposite bank, were lined with a numerous army of heavy

cuirassiers, dexterous archers, and huge elephants, which (according to

the extravagant hyperbole of Libanius) could trample, with the same ease,

a field of corn or a legion of Romans. In the presence of such an enemy,

the construction of a bridge was impracticable; and the intrepid prince,

who instantly seized the only possible expedient, concealed his design

till the moment of execution from the knowledge of the barbarians, of

his own troops, and even of his generals themselves. Under the specious

pretence of examining the state of the magazines, fourscore vessels

were gradually unladen; and a select detachment, apparently destined

for some secret expedition, was ordered to stand to their arms on the

first signal. Julian disguised the silent anxiety of his own mind with

smiles of confidence and joy; and amused the hostile nations with the

spectacle of military games, which he insultingly celebrated under the

walls of Coche. The day was consecrated to pleasure; but, as soon as the

hour of supper was past, the emperor summoned his generals to his tent,

and acquainted them that he had fixed that night for the passage of the

Tigris. They stood in silent and respectful astonishment; but, when the

venerable Sallust assumed the privilege of his age and experience, the

rest of the chiefs supported with freedom the weight of his prudent

remonstrances.

Julian however contented himself with observing that conquest and safety

depended on the attempt; that, instead of diminishing, the number of

their enemies would certainly be increased, by successive reinforcements;

and that a longer delay would neither contract the breadth of the stream

nor level the height of the bank. The signal was instantly given and

obeyed: the most impatient of the legionaries leaped into five vessels

that lay nearest to the bank; and as they plied their oars with intrepid

diligence, they were lost, after a few moments, in the darkness of the

night. A flame arose on the opposite side, and Julian, who too clearly

understood that his foremost vessels, in attempting to land, had been

fired by the enemy, dexterously converted their extreme danger into a

presage of victory. “Our fellow-soldiers,” he eagerly exclaimed, “are

already masters of the bank; see, they make the appointed signal. Let us

hasten to emulate and assist their courage.” The united and rapid motion

of a great fleet broke the violence of the current, and they reached

the eastern shore of the Tigris with sufficient speed to extinguish

the flames and rescue their adventurous companions. The difficulties

of a steep and lofty ascent were increased by the weight of armour and

the darkness of the night. A shower of stones, darts, and fire was

incessantly discharged on the heads of the assailants, who, after an

arduous struggle, climbed the bank and stood victorious upon the rampart.

As soon as they were possessed of a more equal field, Julian, who,

with his light infantry, had led the attack, darted through the ranks

a skilful and experienced eye; his bravest soldiers, according to the

precepts of Homer, were distributed in the front and rear; and all the

trumpets of the imperial army sounded to battle. The Romans, after

sending up a military shout, advanced in measured steps to the animating

notes of martial music, launched their formidable javelins, and rushed

forwards with drawn swords, to deprive the barbarians, by a closer onset,

of the advantage of their missile weapons. The whole engagement lasted

above twelve hours; till the gradual retreat of the Persians was changed

into a disorderly flight, of which the shameful example was given by the

principal leader, and the Surenas himself. They were pursued to the gates

of Ctesiphon; and the conquerors might have entered the dismayed city if

their general, Victor, who was dangerously wounded with an arrow, had

not conjured them to desist from a rash attempt, which must be fatal if

it were not successful. On their side, the Romans acknowledged the loss

of only seventy-five men; while they affirmed that the barbarians had

left on the field of battle twenty-five hundred, or even six thousand,

of their bravest soldiers. The spoil was such as might be expected from

the riches and luxury of an oriental camp: large quantities of silver

and gold, splendid arms and trappings, and beds and tables of massy

silver. The victorious emperor distributed, as the rewards of valour,

some honourable gifts, civic, and mural, and naval crowns; which he,

and perhaps he alone, esteemed more precious than the wealth of Asia.

A solemn sacrifice was offered to the god of war, but the appearances

of the victims threatened the most inauspicious events; and Julian soon

discovered, by less ambiguous signs, that he had now reached the term of

his prosperity.

On the second day after the battle, the domestic guards, the Jovians and

Herculians, and the remaining troops, which composed near two-thirds of

the whole army, were securely wafted over the Tigris. While the Persians

beheld from Ctesiphon the desolation of the adjacent country, Julian

cast many an anxious look towards the north, in full expectation that,

as he himself had victoriously penetrated to the capital of Sapor, the

march and junction of his lieutenants, Sebastian and Procopius, would

be executed with the same courage and diligence. His expectations were

disappointed by the treachery of the Armenian king, who permitted, and

most probably directed, the desertion of his auxiliary troops from the

camp of the Romans; and by the dissensions of the two generals, who were

incapable of forming or executing any plan for the public service. When

the emperor had relinquished the hope of this important reinforcement, he

condescended to hold a council of war, and approved, after a full debate,

the sentiment of those generals who dissuaded him from the siege of

Ctesiphon as being a fruitless and pernicious undertaking. It is not easy

for us to conceive by what arts of fortification a city thrice besieged

and taken by the predecessors of Julian could be rendered impregnable

against an army of sixty thousand Romans, commanded by a brave and

experienced general, and abundantly supplied with ships, provisions,

battering engines, and military stores. But we may rest assured, from

the love of glory and contempt of danger which formed the character

of Julian, that he was not discouraged by any trivial or imaginary

obstacles. At the very time when he declined the siege of Ctesiphon, he

rejected, with obstinacy and disdain, the most flattering offers of a

negotiation of peace.

Sapor, who had been so long accustomed to the negligence and tardy

ostentation of Constantius, was surprised by the intrepid diligence of

his successor. As far as the confines of India and Scythia, the satraps

of the distant provinces were ordered to assemble their troops, and to

march, without delay, to the assistance of their monarch. But their

preparations were dilatory, their motions slow; and before Sapor could

lead an army into the field, he received the melancholy intelligence of

the devastation of Assyria, the ruin of his palaces, and the slaughter

of his bravest troops, who defended the passage of the Tigris. The

pride of royalty was humbled in the dust; he took his repasts on the

ground; and the disorder of his hair expressed the grief and anxiety of

his mind. Perhaps he would not have refused to purchase, with one-half

of his kingdom, the safety of the remainder; and he would have gladly

subscribed himself, in a treaty of peace, the faithful and dependent

ally of the Roman conqueror. Under the pretence of private business, a

minister of rank and confidence was despatched secretly to embrace the

knees of Hormisdas, and to request, in the language of a suppliant, that

he might be introduced into the presence of the emperor. The Sassanian

prince, whether he listened to the voice of pride or humanity, whether he

consulted the sentiments of his birth or the duties of his situation, was

equally inclined to promote a salutary measure which would terminate the

calamities of Persia and secure the triumph of Rome. He was astonished

by the inflexible firmness of a hero who remembered, most unfortunately

for himself and for his country, that Alexander had uniformly rejected

the propositions of Darius. But as Julian was sensible that the hope

of a safe and honourable peace might cool the ardour of his troops, he

earnestly requested that Hormisdas would privately dismiss the minister

of Sapor, and conceal this dangerous temptation from the knowledge of the

camp.

THE PURSUIT OF SAPOR

The honour, as well as interest, of Julian forbade him to consume his

time under the impregnable walls of Ctesiphon; and as often as he defied

the barbarians who defended the city to meet him on the open plain,

they prudently replied that, if he desired to exercise his valour,

he might seek the army of the Great King. He felt the insult, and he

accepted the advice. Instead of confining his servile march to the banks

of the Euphrates and Tigris, he resolved to imitate the adventurous

spirit of Alexander, and boldly to advance into the inland provinces,

till he forced his rival to contend with him, perhaps in the plains of

Arbela, for the empire of Asia. The magnanimity of Julian was applauded

and betrayed by the arts of a noble Persian, who, in the cause of his

country, had generously submitted to act a part full of danger, of

falsehood, and of shame. With a train of faithful followers, he deserted

to the imperial camp, exposed, in a specious tale, the injuries which he

had sustained; exaggerated the cruelty of Sapor, the discontent of the

people, and the weakness of the monarchy; and confidently offered himself

as the hostage and guide of the Roman march. The most rational grounds

of suspicion were urged, without effect, by the wisdom and experience

of Hormisdas; and the credulous Julian, receiving the traitor into his

bosom, was persuaded to issue a hasty order which, in the opinion of

mankind, appeared to arraign his prudence and to endanger his safety.

He destroyed in a single hour the whole navy, which had been transported

above five hundred miles, at such expense of toil, of treasure, and of

blood. Twelve or, at the most, twenty-two small vessels were saved, to

accompany on carriages the march of the army, and to form occasional

bridges for the passage of the rivers. A supply of twenty days’

provisions was reserved for the use of the soldiers; and the rest of the

magazines, with a fleet of eleven hundred vessels which rode at anchor

in the Tigris, were abandoned to the flames, by the absolute command of

the emperor. The Christian bishops, Gregory and Augustine, insult the

madness of the apostate, who executed, with his own hands, the sentence

of divine justice. Their authority, of less weight, perhaps, in a

military question, is confirmed by the cool judgment of an experienced

soldier, who was himself spectator of the conflagration, and who could

not disapprove the reluctant murmurs of the troops.

Yet there are not wanting some specious and perhaps solid reasons which

might appear to justify the resolution of Julian. The navigation of the

Euphrates never ascended above Babylon, nor that of the Tigris above

Opis. The distance of the last-mentioned city from the Roman camp was

not very considerable; and Julian must soon have renounced the vain and

impracticable attempt of forcing upwards a great fleet against the stream

of a rapid river, which in several places was embarrassed by natural or

artificial cataracts. The power of sails and oars was insufficient; it

became necessary to tow the ships against the current of the river; the

strength of twenty thousand soldiers was exhausted in this tedious and

servile labour; and if the Romans continued to march along the banks

of the Tigris, they could only expect to return home without achieving

any enterprise worthy of the genius or fortune of their leader. If, on

the contrary, it was advisable to advance into the inland country, the

destruction of the fleet and magazines was the only measure which could

save that valuable prize from the hands of the numerous and active troops

which might suddenly be poured from the gates of Ctesiphon. Had the arms

of Julian been victorious, we should now admire the conduct as well as

the courage of a hero who, by depriving his soldiers of the hopes of a

retreat, left them only the alternative of death or conquest.

The cumbersome train of artillery and wagons, which retards the

operations of a modern army, was in a great measure unknown in the camps

of the Romans. Yet, in every age, the subsistence of sixty thousand men

must have been one of the most important cares of a prudent general;

and that subsistence could only be drawn from his own or from the

enemy’s country. Had it been possible for Julian to maintain a bridge

of communication on the Tigris, and to preserve the conquered places

of Assyria, a desolated province could not afford any large or regular

supplies, in a season of the year when the lands were covered by the

inundation of the Euphrates and the unwholesome air was darkened with

swarms of innumerable insects.

The appearance of the hostile country was far more inviting. The

extensive region lying between the river Tigris and the mountains of

Media was filled with villages and towns; and the fertile soil, for the

most part, was in a very improved state of cultivation. Julian might

expect that a conqueror who possessed the two forcible instruments of

persuasion, steel and gold, would easily procure a plentiful subsistence

from the fears or avarice of the natives. But on the approach of the

Romans this rich and smiling prospect was instantly blasted. Wherever

they moved, the inhabitants deserted the open villages and took shelter

in the fortified towns; the cattle were driven away; the grass and ripe

corn were consumed with fire; and as soon as the flames had subsided

which interrupted the march of Julian, he beheld the melancholy face

of a smoking and naked desert. This desperate and effectual method of

defence can only be executed by the enthusiasm of a people who prefer

their independence to their property; or by the rigour of an arbitrary

government which consults the public safety, without submitting to their

inclinations the liberty of choice. On the present occasion, the zeal and

obedience of the Persians seconded the commands of Sapor; and the emperor

was soon reduced to the scanty stock of provisions, which continually

wasted in his hands. Before they were entirely consumed, he might still

have reached the wealthy and unwarlike cities of Ecbatana or Susa, by the

effort of a rapid and well-directed march; but he was deprived of this

last resource by his ignorance of the roads and by the perfidy of his

guides.

The Romans wandered several days in the country east of Baghdad; the

Persian deserter, who had artfully led them into the snare, escaped from

their resentment; and his followers, as soon as they were put to the

torture, confessed the secret of the conspiracy. The visionary conquests

of Hyrcania and India, which had so long amused, now tormented the mind

of Julian. Conscious that his own imprudence was the cause of the public

distress, he anxiously balanced the hopes of safety or success, without

obtaining a satisfactory answer either from gods or men. At length, as

the only practicable measure, he embraced the resolution of directing

his steps towards the banks of the Tigris, with the design of saving the

army by a hasty march to the confines of Gordyene, a fertile and friendly

province, which acknowledged the sovereignty of Rome. The desponding

troops obeyed the signal of retreat, only seventy days after they had

passed the Chaboras with the sanguine expectation of subverting the

throne of Persia.

As long as the Romans seemed to advance into the country, their march

was observed and insulted from a distance by several bodies of Persian

cavalry; who, showing themselves sometimes in loose, and sometimes

in closer order, faintly skirmished with the advanced guards. These

detachments were however supported by a much greater force; and the

heads of the columns were no sooner pointed towards the Tigris, than a

cloud of dust arose on the plain. The Romans, who now aspired only to

the permission of a safe and speedy retreat, endeavoured to persuade

themselves that this formidable appearance was occasioned by a troop of

wild asses, or perhaps by the approach of some friendly Arabs. They

halted, pitched their tents, fortified their camp, passed the whole night

in continual alarms; and discovered at the dawn of day that they were

surrounded by an army of Persians. This army, which might be considered

only as the van of the barbarians, was soon followed by the main body of

cuirassiers, archers, and elephants, commanded by Nermanes, a general of

rank and reputation. He was accompanied by two of the king’s sons, and

many of the principal satraps; and fame and expectation exaggerated the

strength of the remaining powers, which slowly advanced under the conduct

of Sapor himself. As the Romans continued their march, their long array,

which was forced to bend, or divide, according to the varieties of the

ground, afforded frequent and favourable opportunities to their vigilant

enemies. The Persians repeatedly charged with fury, they were repeatedly

repulsed with firmness; and the action at Maronga, which almost deserved

the name of a battle, was marked by a considerable loss of satraps and

elephants, perhaps of equal value in the eyes of their monarch.

JULIAN’S DEATH

These splendid advantages were not obtained without considerable

slaughter on the Roman side; several officers of distinction were

either killed or wounded; the emperor himself, who, on all occasions of

danger, inspired and guided the valour of his troops, was obliged to

expose his person and exert his abilities. The weight of offensive and

defensive arms, which still constituted the strength and safety of the

Romans, disabled them from making any long or effectual pursuit; and as

the horsemen of the East were trained to dart their javelins and shoot

their arrows at full speed, and in every possible direction, the cavalry

of Persia was never more formidable than in the moment of a rapid and

disorderly flight. But the most certain and irreparable loss of the

Romans was that of time. The hardy veterans, accustomed to the cold

climate of Gaul and Germany, fainted under the sultry heat of an Assyrian

summer; their vigour was exhausted by the incessant repetition of march

and combat; and the progress of the army was suspended by the precautions

of a slow and dangerous retreat, in the presence of an active enemy.

Every day, every hour, as the supply diminished, the value and price of

subsistence increased in the Roman camp. Julian, who always contented

himself with such food as a hungry soldier would have disdained,

distributed, for the use of the troops, the provisions of the imperial

household, and whatever could be spared from the sumpter-horses of the

tribunes and generals. But this feeble relief served only to aggravate

the sense of the public distress; and the Romans began to entertain the

most gloomy apprehensions that before they could reach the frontiers of

the empire they should all perish, either by famine or by the sword of

the barbarians.[b]

In the early hours of the 26th of June the army advanced and was

immediately followed by the Persians, who marched on the wings, on the

hilly ground at either side of the way, watching to seize a favourable

opportunity for attack. This soon offered itself, for whilst Julian had

ridden a little in advance, unarmed, to reconnoitre, he was suddenly

informed that the army had been attacked in the rear. He went there

immediately to render assistance, seizing a shield, but in his haste

forgetting to put on the coat of mail which he had taken off on account

of its weight and the oppressive heat. No sooner had he reached the rear

than the news came that the army was also engaged with the enemy in the

van. The emperor was promptly on the spot, and the Roman light infantry,

encouraged by his splendid example, succeeded in repulsing the Persians.

The Romans immediately started in pursuit, the emperor himself giving

the signal, and, transported with ardour and eager desire for combat,

himself taking part in it. Unarmed as he was, and without any thought of

himself, he was carried away in the throng of the fugitives. He no longer

heard the warning cries of his companions, who had been parted from him

in the general confusion; evil fate had already overtaken him, for the

spear of a horseman, coming suddenly from an unknown quarter, grazed his

arm and pierced his ribs, where it remained. He tried to extract it with

his right hand, but it was useless; he only wounded his fingers with the

sharp iron. He then fell from his horse, but was soon brought into camp.

Meanwhile the fighting continued; the Romans, amongst whom the news of

the fall of the emperor had soon spread, advanced, full of rage and

without thought of their own safety, on the Persians who were again

closing their ranks. A protracted struggle ensued and the air was filled

with the cries of the dying, the neighing of horses, and the whir of

arrows. At last night put an end to the bloodshed. The loss on both sides

was considerable.

Let us return to the emperor. He lay dying in his tent, surrounded by

his faithful followers, who could not suppress their anguish. He tried

to console them by long speeches, in which he alluded to the honourable

death granted him by favour of the gods; death was made easy to him,

since he had nothing to repent of in the actions of his life, for he had

always considered the happiness and welfare of his subjects as the object

of his government, and had had them in view in all his undertakings.

He would not express any desire as to his successor, lest he should

pass over anyone worthy. Who does not recall the death of Alexander,

his great model? All that he desired was the best possible ruler for

the empire. After thus speaking in a tranquil tone, the emperor gave

some directions concerning his private property; he also inquired for

the chancellor Anatolius, whose absence he had noticed. When he heard

from Sallust that he was dead, he lamented him bitterly, he who shortly

before had considered his own death as a favour of the gods. He soon

recovered himself and reproached those around him who had burst into

tears, as he considered it unseemly to lament a prince who was so soon

to become united to the gods. He then engaged in conversation with the

philosophers, Maximus and Priscus, on the immortal destiny of the soul.

This continual conversation was not favourable to his condition, for the

wound suddenly began to bleed again, his breath became laboured, and

after taking a drink of fresh water, he expired quietly about midnight.

Such was the end of the last emperor of the house of Constantine, on

whom the pagans had set such great hopes, at the early age of barely

thirty-two years, and after a reign of barely twenty months.[c]

FOOTNOTES

[59] His name was Clematius of Alexandria, and his only crime was a

refusal to gratify the desires of his mother-in-law; who solicited his

death because she had been disappointed of his love. Ammianus,[d] l. 14,

c. l.

[60] [Colonia Agrippina.]

[61] [Tres Tabernæ.]

[Illustration]