Beyond a Hellenistic Philosopher

The Role of the Roman Past in the Writings, Rhetoric, and Imperial Program of the Emperor Julian 

Daniel Blatt, History and Classical Civilization, Yale University, Silliman, Class of 2021

Presented here are two chapters from Daniel Blatt’s classical civilization thesis on the Roman emperor Julian (361-363 AD). Blatt argues that, contrary to common scholarly belief, Julian did not just turn to Hellenistic history and philosophy in the creation of his identity and imperial ambitions, but also had significant Roman influence, especially from the Regal and Republican Periods. These chapters look at how Julian learned Roman history from Plutarch and why the emperor was so drawn to the biographer; three early Romans who Julian learned about from Plutarch and constructed his identity off of (Romulus, Numa, and Cato the Younger); and Julius Caesar’s influence on Julian, as Julian was a reader of Caesar and may have drawn inspiration for his Letter to the Athenians from Caesar’s Gallic Wars. Overall, Blatt’s essay portrays Julian in a radical new light as drawing significant influence from the Roman — in addition to Greek — world.

Introduction

A mere 18 months into his reign, in June 363 AD, the Roman emperor Julian perished on a desert battlefield while campaigning in the heart of Persia. Despite the brevity of his life – Julian died in his early 30s – his reign is one of the most idiosyncratic, well-documented, and controversial episodes of classical antiquity. “The deadly spirit of fanaticism” energized Julian, according to the British historian Edward Gibbon, which “perverted the heart and understanding of a virtuous prince.” As Gibbon reflected, Julian most frequently is remembered – and reviled – for his zealous paganism and fervent efforts to smother the spread of Christianity. But Julian also was an enigmatic philosopher and assiduous student of history. Educated in the Greek East, he is best known for seeking to revitalize traditional Hellenistic culture in a world dominated by Christianity. While that portrayal undoubtedly is accurate, it also is incomplete. This paper examines another significant influence on Julian – his abiding interest in Roman history and writers – a subject that most historians have not widely considered.

Following Constantine the Great’s victory at the Milvian Bridge in 312 and his conversion to Christianity, Christianity became the imperial creed, even if Constantine himself sometimes appropriated pagan imagery. The state targeted and persecuted traditional pagans as Christianity rapidly spread. Constantine’s successor and Julian’s cousin, Constantius II, also was a devout Christian. In the power struggle after Constantine’s death, Constantius II murdered Julian’s father and eight of his relatives. Julian and his half-brother Gallus were the only family members spared, likely because of their youth. As an orphan, Julian lived at the mercy of the Christian emperor, Constantius, who had murdered Julian’s entire family. The cruelties perpetrated by Julian’s Christian cousin helped fuel his fervent opposition to Christianity.

While most historians focus on Julian’s Hellenism, scholars pay scant attention to the ubiquity of Rome’s republican history in Julian’s writing and self-fashioning. Historians have examined several components of Roman influence on Julian, but limited systematic, comprehensive study exists. Eric Varner explored Julian’s incorporation of Roman ideology into his portraiture, but he did not investigate Julian’s writing or rhetoric. Josef Lossl suggested connections between Julian and Cicero, but he focused on only one of the late antique emperor’s works. Julian’s biographers barely, if at all, mention his Roman influences, making passing reference to his knowledge of Roman history. One author, Polymnia Athanassiadi, even observed that scholars have overlooked the significance of Rome on Julian. Glen Warren Bowersock, Julian’s preeminent biographer, captured the prevalent view of the marginal influence of Rome on Julian, stating that “in the domain of Roman history, [Julian] reveals an intellectual isolation from his contemporaries, especially those writing in Latin, that is reminiscent of his general lack of interest in Rome and Italy.” 

Julian’s propaganda and presentation, however, reveal a significant debt to earlier Roman history. He learned about the figures of the regal and republican eras through Plutarch, the second-century AD imperial biographer. Julian highlighted in his writings and imperial program three of Plutarch’s subjects, Romulus, Numa, and Cato the Younger. Julian also was a meticulous reader of Julius Caesar, associated Caesar’s career with his own, and appears to have modeled many of his writings and propaganda on Caesar. Despite Julian’s traditional reputation as a Hellenophile, his rhetoric and propaganda demonstrate his keen attention to early Roman history and offer important insight into his identity and imperial project.

Part I: Plutarch and Julian

Most of Julian’s knowledge of the Roman Republic stemmed from his reading of the early imperial biographer Plutarch. In numerous writings, Julian cited a wide range of episodes from Plutarch’s Parallel Lives. Invoking such details as Alexander the Great’s tendency to sleep with Homer’s poems under his pillow, the wart on Cicero’s nose, and myriad other minutiae, Julian displayed an intimate knowledge of the Lives. Plutarch likely appealed to Julian for at least two reasons. First, Plutarch’s exploration of proper living and leadership through biographical writing dovetailed with Julian’s interpretation of history as a source of instruction. And second, Plutarch’s view of Greek and Roman convergence despite Rome’s imperial domination would have resonated with Julian’s restoration of Hellenism to promote Greco-Roman unity and combat Christianity. 

Plutarch’s writings on statesmanship and virtue resounded with the late antique emperor and appealed to his search for virtue through reading history. Preparing portraits of individuals rather than a connected and continuous historical narrative, Plutarch examined the virtues and vices of his subjects and analyzed their moral choices. Plutarch also composed an assortment of tracts on virtue, philosophy, and general life lessons, classified as his Moralia. Julian may have read Plutarch’s Moralia, although scholars debate this notion.

Julian extolled Plutarch for the moral instruction provided by his writings. In his Oration to the Uneducated Cynics, Julian implored the errant Cynic philosophers to imitate Crates, a third-century BC Cynic from Thebes. Julian maintained, “But if you will read Plutarch of Chaeronea, who wrote his Life, there will be no need for you to learn his character superficially from me.” Referring to Plutarch’s Life of Crates, which no longer survives, Julian expressed his admiration for Plutarch as an instructive lens for viewing the past. The character and virtues of Plutarch’s subjects, as well as their moral failings, appealed to Julian as he built his own career and character. Julian demonstrated respect for Plutarch in his Oration to the Cynic Heracleios. Criticizing Heracleios for re-telling an old myth and applauding Plutarch’s ability to write fresh tales, Julian maintained: “And if the mythical tales of Plutarch had ever fallen into your hands, you would not have failed to observe what a difference there is between inventing a myth from the beginning and adapting to one’s own purpose a myth that already exists.” Julian elevated Plutarch’s biographies to “myth[ical]” importance, esteeming the biographer and his subjects. Julian proceeded to invent his own myth, in which he described his own journey from imprisoned child to emperor and his divine mandate to restore the empire to its former glory and gods. Adopting the same purpose as he attributed to Plutarch by telling new myths, Julian elevated his own autobiography to the stature of Plutarch’s subjects. Both he and Plutarch, Julian maintained, wrote stories that offered valuable instruction, and he associated himself with Plutarch to boost the prominence of his own life story.

Julian perpetuated his admiration for Plutarch even in his sarcastic Misopogon. On the surface, Julian in the Misopogon derided Plutarch as “belong[ing] to that worthless class of men who are called by impostors philosophers, - I myself never attained to that class though in my ignorance I claimed to be a member of it and to have a part in it.” Given the Misopogon’s overwrought satire and its praise for the corrupt Antiochenes, Julian’s superficial denigration of Plutarch in fact was a tribute. To Julian, Plutarch was the opposite of “worthless.” As a student of history who studied the lives of past generals, statesmen, and philosophers and immersed himself in all three careers, the late antique emperor beseeched his readers to study Plutarch as a fountainhead of moral lessons.

The charm Plutarch held for Julian also may have stemmed from Plutarch’s parallel presentation of the lives of Roman statesmen and their Greek counterparts. Plutarch’s demonstration of the partnership of Greece and Rome would have appealed to Julian’s desire to restore Hellenism and promote Greco-Roman unity in the face of Christianity. Writing during the Second Sophistic that revived classical Greek learning, Plutarch vaunted Greece’s past greatness to argue that Greece was no cultural backwater, but rather, was vital to Rome’s imperial project. For Plutarch, who lived at the time of Rome’s first Greek consuls, Greco-Roman accord was a tangible reality. 

Julian likely drew meaningful parallels between Plutarch’s response to waning Greek political relevance and his own attempts to restore an enervated Hellenic past to curb Christian domination, such as through his Edict on Teachers, patronage of non-Christian religions, and attempts to revitalize Hellenistic learning and cities. Julian reflected on the significance of Rome’s Greek, rather than Christian, heritage in his Hymn to King Helios, declaring that

the Romans themselves not only belong to the Greek race, but also the sacred ordinances and the pious belief in the gods which they have established and maintain are, from beginning to end, Greek…For which reason I myself recognise that our city is Greek, both in descent and as to its constitution.

In a passage Plutarch could have written, Julian articulated the ethnic, religious, and political commonality of the Greek and Roman peoples. Centuries after its heyday, Greece continued to maintain its role as the progenitor of all aspects of Roman life. Conspicuously absent from Julian’s characterization of Rome, however, was a Christian heritage. Given that Christianity had come to dominate the religion, politics, and culture of the Roman empire by the middle of the fourth century, Plutarch’s elevation of Greek history would have been an enticing read for Julian’s nostalgic Hellenistic project and resurrection of Greco-Roman unity.

Julian also may have politicized Plutarch’s biographies to counterbalance the rise of hagiography, which would have appealed to the emperor’s reactionary paganism. Hagiography, which presented a romanticized account of a saint’s life and martyrdom, had become an important Christian literary genre by late antiquity; Eusebius, the fourth-century Church historian and Bishop of Caesarea, for example, wrote a Martyrs of Palestine that depicted the lives of Christians who had suffered from persecution under the Roman emperor Diocletian. Plutarchan biography offered Julian a polemical retreat from the Christianization of that genre. Julian’s unique characterization of Plutarch’s Lives as “myths” suggests that view, as the emperor idealized Plutarch’s subjects just as hagiography venerated the lives of saints. In an attempt to combat Christianity, Plutarch’s biographical methodology would have appealed to Julian as a response to Christian hagiography.

Julian interpreted Plutarch as both a teacher, exalting the biographer as a wellspring of moral instruction, and as an intellectual progenitor, given Plutarch’s similar view on Greek history and influence in the empire. In particular, Plutarch’s biographies of Romulus, Numa Pompilius, and Cato the Younger garnered Julian’s attention. Aspects of their lives appealed to Julian’s identity and self-fashioning, and he incorporated their careers and image into his rhetoric. Further, the life of Cato the Elder likely resonated with Julian, although the emperor – possibly consciously – avoided any references to this statesman.

Plutarch and Julian i: Romulus, Julian, and a Refoundation of Rome

The life of Romulus, one of Rome’s two legendary founders, keenly interested Julian, even if it is difficult to show that the Life of Romulus interested the emperor. An avid student of Plutarch, Julian may have read the biographer’s account of Romulus, although the emperor’s characterization of the first Roman king also reflects the influence of the Roman Antiquities of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, a first-century BC Greek historian. Regardless of the source of Julian’s knowledge, Romulus’ military prowess and founding of Rome likely appealed to Julian, who portrayed himself as a modern-day Romulus to bolster his legitimacy and style himself as the second founder of the empire committed to stemming the spread of Christianity.

Julian associated himself with Romulus on his coinage to reflect his legitimacy as sovereign. Julian minted coin reverses with a trophy-carrying soldier, which alluded to well-known depictions of Romulus holding the spolia opima, battle paraphernalia stripped from an opposing commander and Rome’s greatest military honor (Appendix, Figures 1 and 2). The “trophy-bearer” held the spolia in his left hand, was moving right, looking left, and slightly crouched, all of which paralleled common representations of Romulus. These numismatic associations linked Julian with Romulus and portrayed Julian as Romulus’ rightful successor. These coins also bolstered Julian’s authority by emphasizing his military glory, as Romans viewed victory on the battlefield as a harbinger of divine support and justification for an emperor’s sovereignty. By showcasing in his coinage his connection to Romulus and invoking military glory, Julian proclaimed his right to rule.

Julian further asserted his connection to Romulus throughout his writings. In his Hymn to King Helios, Julian declared that “we, the sons of Romulus and Aeneas, are in every way and in all respects connected with him,” the supreme god Helios. Julian proclaimed a direct lineage from Helios to Rome’s founders to himself in order to buttress his legitimacy. This link between Romulus and Helios was both convoluted and innovative. Julian alleged that “men call the period of a year ‘lycabas,’ which is derived from ‘wolf’” (it was not). Julian’s etymological gymnastics demonstrate his desire to portray himself as the successor to both Helios and Romulus, as he inserted the first Roman king into his hymn to establish this lineage. Minimizing traditional depictions of Romulus as the son of Mars, Julian reinvented basic Roman ideology to augment his own legitimacy. This clever incorporation of Romulus into his oration reflects the importance of Rome’s first king to Julian’s identity and expression of authority. Romulus similarly played a pivotal role in Julian’s satirical Caesars; the first king, Julian wrote, “gave a banquet, and invited not only all the gods, but the Emperors as well.” By convening the gathering, Romulus provided a vehicle for Julian then to lampoon his predecessors, as Julian invoked Rome’s first king as the prime mover in his satirical commentary on prior emperors; Romulus’ dinner brought Julian’s predecessors together just as Julian did in his writing. Seeking to enhance his legitimacy, Julian linked himself to Romulus to portray himself as both military hero and divinely inspired leader.

By identifying with Romulus in his coinage and rhetoric, Julian presented himself as the second founder of Rome, returning the empire to its pagan past and distancing it from Christian Constantinople. Unlike most Hellenistic cities, Constantinople was a Christian city, built and sponsored by a Christian emperor and lacking pagan religious sites. Instead of characterizing Rome and Constantinople as a pair, which was the prevalent view in the late fourth century, Julian saw Rome as an alternative to the Christian capital. In his first panegyric to Constantius, Julian mundanely described Constantinople as “the city on the Bosporus which is named after the family of the Constantii,” but venerated Rome as “the city that rules them all.” Constantine, Julian noted, “founded and gave his name to a city that far surpasses all others as it is itself inferior to Rome.” Julian belittled the new imperial center, which he argued paled in comparison to the traditional Roman capital. In a panegyric meant to praise Constantius, his family, and their namesake city, Julian proclaimed Rome as the world’s greatest metropolis. This maneuver reflected Julian’s derision of Christianity and strong affinity for pagan Rome, reorienting the empire away from its new capital and returning it to the status quo ante. Julian likewise slighted Constantinople’s authority during his takeover of power. In a letter to the Roman Senate, Julian similarly offered aid to Rome and accused Constantius of ignoring the city. As imperial aspirant, Julian sought legitimacy through his support of Rome, reflecting his desire to return the empire ideologically to the non-Christian West. The Roman Senate was one of the last powerful bastions of paganism in the empire. By presenting himself as the Senate’s patron, Julian sought legitimacy through approval by the pagan Roman state. Julian also portrayed himself as a second founder of the Senate by associating himself with Romulus, as Romulus had created that institution. Invoking Romulus to support his legitimacy and presenting himself as a second founder of the city and the Senate, Julian engaged in a temporal and spatial refashioning of the empire from Christian Constantinople to the original Rome. Julian extensively drew on earlier Roman history, beginning with its founding, to advance his imperial agenda and propaganda.

Plutarch and Julian ii: Numa and Julian’s New Philosopher-Priest-King

If Julian associated himself with Romulus to convey his legitimacy and military prowess, the career of Numa Pompilius, the second Roman king, provided Julian with an intellectual and religious counterpart. Numa interested the late antique emperor as a king, philosopher, and priest, and Julian modeled himself on Numa in his portraiture and writing to promote his political, intellectual, and religious program. Julian’s identification with the second Roman king reflected an effort to portray himself as a pious, pagan philosopher and further orient the empire away from Christianity. Julian’s reliance on Numa demonstrated the significance of Roman history to Julian’s self-fashioning and imperial program.

Julian’s praise of Numa’s intellect and religiosity reflected Julian’s conception of a new model of leadership grounded in philosophy and pagan traditions. Recounting the foundation of Rome in his Against the Galileans, Julian related that “Zeus set over her [Rome] the great philosopher Numa. This then was the excellent and upright Numa who dwelt in the deserted groves and ever communed with the gods in the pure thoughts of his own heart.” Numa’s intellect, solitude, and piety resonated with Julian, as Julian was interested in Neoplatonic philosophy, austerity, and religiosity. In his Hymn to King Helios, Julian praised Numa for introducing to Rome the divine guardians of the Roman state, the Vestal Virgins. Julian asked, “Do you wish me to mention yet another proof of this, I mean the work of King Numa? In Rome maiden priestesses guard the undying flame of the sun at different hours in turn; they guard the fire that is produced on earth by the agency of a god.” Numa’s introduction of these priestesses appealed to Julian, who saw himself, like Numa, as a leader who would restore proper religious practices to the empire. Julian lauded Numa for creating the calendar, “which is the work of that most divine king himself. The months are reckoned from the moon by, one may say, all other peoples; but we and the Egyptians alone reckon the days of every year according to the movements of the sun.” Crediting Numa with restructuring time, Julian sought a similar reordering of Roman life. Numa’s combination of king, philosopher, and priest drew Julian’s attention, as Julian sought to resurrect these roles nearly a millennium later.

Julian expressed his interest in Numa in both coins and statues, copying Numa’s portraiture to portray himself like the legendary king. On several coins and statues, Julian was depicted with numerous telltale features of Numa; Julian’s beard, long, curving locks of hair, and diadem echoed late republican portraits of Numa (Appendix, Figures 3-5). These numismatic evocations of the mythical king reflected Julian’s aim to portray himself not just as political sovereign, but the empire’s preeminent philosopher and priest. Showing himself with a beard was critical to Julian’s identity and a central aspect of his presentation; Julian began his satirical Misopogon by commenting on the Antiochenes’ criticism of the philosopher’s beard. Numa’s beard thus resonated with Julian, who viewed this predecessor as a symbol for his piety and philosophy. Julian’s multimedia association with Numa reveals the ways in which the late antique emperor invoked Roman history to construct his image of himself and incorporated that history into his imperial program to create a new version of imperial leadership.

Julian’s invocation of Numa likely responded to the Christianization of the empire under Constantine and Constantius. Eusebius, the Bishop of Caesarea, articulated a Christian political theology that ordained the emperor as God’s representative on earth. In a panegyric to Constantine in 336, Eusebius declared that “[o]ur emperor…acting as interpreter to the Word of God, aims at recalling the whole human race to the knowledge of God.” Raised in a Christian milieu, Julian likely learned this theory of Christian kingship and embraced Numa’s reign as a retort. Just as Numa introduced the Vestal Virgins to Rome for divine protection of the city, so too would Julian restore the empire’s grounding in the pagan gods. Divine backing was at the core of Julian’s beliefs, and his veneration of Numa turned the empire from its new Christian political theology back to its original pagan mooring. Julian’s association with Romulus similarly reflected this theme. By declaring in his Hymn to King Helios that “we, the sons of Romulus and Aeneas, are in every way and in all respects connected with” Helios, Julian affirmed that he would restore divine protection to Rome, since he, like Romulus and Numa, was the progeny of the pagan gods. Julian turned to Numa to anchor his new style of Roman leadership, distance the empire from Christianity, and return to its pagan roots. Julian’s admiration of Numa illustrates the importance of Roman history to Julian’s personality and agenda.

Plutarch and Julian iii: Cato the Younger and Julian’s Cultural Critique of the Antiochenes

Fascinated by Plutarch’s Life of Cato the Younger, Julian displayed particular kinship with this Republican hero as a result of their shared antipathy for Antioch. In the Misopogon, Julian recounted a story, told by Plutarch, in which Cato vented his disgust that the Antiochenes had staged a greeting party for him because they thought the Roman general Pompey the Great was arriving. Cato’s displeasure was reminiscent of Julian’s experience 400 years later in Antioch, where Julian found the people profligate and impious. Julian compared himself to Cato the Younger in order to defend his asceticism and to contrast the Antiochenes’ denigration with Roman and Gallic virtue. Julian’s affinity for Cato the Younger demonstrates a multifaceted identity that displayed an important Roman and Gallic influence and extended beyond his Hellenistic upbringing.

In his Misopogon, Julian included Plutarch’s presentation of Cato the Younger to justify his disgust of the city of Antioch, an instance which underscores how Julian turned to Roman history to undergird his rhetoric. Julian asserted that Cato the Younger “deserves to be praised in comparison with anyone of those who pride themselves on their temperance and nobility of soul and on their courage above all, - he, I say, once visited this populous and luxurious and wealthy city.” Though steeped in Greek history, Julian invoked a Roman example to defend his criticism of the Antiochenes’ luxury. Drawing on Plutarch, Julian described how Cato saw “youths in the suburbs drawn up in full array, and with them the magistrates, as though for some military display,” thought they appeared to honor him, but then became “embarrassed and blushing.” Cato learned that the parade was not for him, but for the general Pompey, and Cato “answered not with a word, but only cried aloud like a man stricken with madness and out of his senses, ‘Alas for this ill-fated city!’ and took himself off.” Shunning decadent display, Cato’s behavior appealed to Julian’s repudiation of luxury. Julian ignored the irony in this parallel – Julian was enraged at the Antiochenes for disrespecting their emperor, while Cato bemoaned the Antiochenes for ingratiating themselves with the powerful Pompey. This vignette, however, still appealed to Julian given his unpopularity with the boisterous Antiochene crowds. Earlier in the Misopogon, Julian, imitating the Antiochenes, condemned himself for “mak[ing] harangues to the crowd and with harsh words rebuk[ing] those who shout.” Borrowing episodes from Roman history that evoked his character and advanced his agenda, Julian negotiated between both Greek and Roman history in his rhetoric.

This interplay with Plutarch’s Cato also demonstrates Julian’s identification as an amalgam of cultures, as he used the story to contrast the depravity of the Antiochenes with the simplicity of the inhabitants of Rome and Gaul. Julian declared:

Therefore do not be surprised if I now feel towards you as I do, for I am more uncivilized than he [Cato the Younger], and more fierce and headstrong in proportion as the Celts are more so than the Romans. He was born in Rome and was nurtured among the Romans citizens till he was on the threshold of old age. But as for me, I had to do with Celts and Germans and the Hercynian forest.

Julian portrayed himself as a cultural blend, identifying not just as a bearded Hellenistic philosopher, but also with the rustic Celts. Rome served as a useful point of contrast with Antioch; while Julian respected Cato’s upbringing in the refined center of the empire, Julian distanced himself from the luxury and moral turpitude of Antioch by placing Rome in between Gaul and Antioch. The emperor did not identify solely as a Greek philosopher but rather integrated Roman history and Gallic stereotypes into his self-fashioning. 

Julian conveyed this idiosyncratic auto-ethnography elsewhere in his rhetoric. In his Consolation to Himself upon the Departure of the Excellent Sallust, for example, which he wrote about a Gallic friend and advisor, Julian remarked, “on your account I now rank myself among the Celts.” Julian’s tribute demonstrates his unabashed association with the Gauls. This multifaceted identity also arose in a note Julian sent to two Athenian students, Eumenius and Pharianus, where he declared, “As for my own progress, if I can still so much as speak Greek it is surprising, such a barbarian I have become because of the places I have lived.” Employing for his Greek audience ethnographic tropes of the Gauls, Julian expressed a genuine appreciation for his evolving identity during his Caesarship in Gaul. In a note to Alypius, a fourth-century geographer, Julian concluded, “Thus does my Gallic and barbarian Muse jest for your benefit.” Julian playfully embraced his rustic, Gallic identity. The emperor’s association with Rome through Cato the Younger and declaration of his Gallic character reflected a unique, multilayered identity. Julian was highly conscious of this mixture, and his invocations of his non-Greek character – both by associating with earlier Roman statesmen and highlighting his Gallic past – were a central component of his manifold identities beyond a mere Hellenistic philosopher.

Part II: Caesar and Julian

Julian also was a meticulous reader of Julius Caesar. Although reared and educated as a Greek speaker, Julian likely honed his Latin while in Gaul and was nearly fluent by the time of his death. Julian repeatedly cited Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul, was clearly interested in Plutarch’s depiction of Caesar’s assumption of power, and possibly emulated Caesar’s Gallic Wars in his own Letter to the Senate and People of Athens. These commonalities between Julian and Caesar underscore Julian’s grounding in Rome’s republican history and depiction of himself in the image of earlier Romans.

Caesar and Julian i: Julian as a Reader of the Gallic Wars

Julian’s multiple, direct references to Caesar’s writings and observations in Gaul prove that Julian extensively read Caesar both before and during his campaigns in the region. In his panegyric to Constantius’ wife, Eusebia, Julian recounted,

She made Galatia and the country of the Celts resemble a Greek temple of the Muses. And to these gifts I applied myself incessantly whenever I had leisure…Yes, even when I take the field one thing above all else goes with me as a necessary provision for the campaign, some one narrative of a campaign composed long ago by an eye-witness.

While Julian does not specify which author he studied, he almost certainly was referring to Caesar, whose Gallic Wars fit this description. Julian studied Caesar’s Gallic Wars before he embarked on his campaign in Gaul, viewing his predecessor’s narrative as revealing important information about Gaul just as the Muses provide insight into the written and spoken word. Julian emphasized his rigorous study, as he “applied [himself] incessantly” to Caesar’s text and brought it with him “as a necessary provision” “above all else.” Julian continued, “there is in such books a means of liberal education for the character, supposing that one understands how, like a craftsman, setting before himself as patterns the noblest men and words and deeds, to mold his own character to match them, and make his words resemble theirs.” By studying history, Julian sought to imitate his predecessors in character, words, and deeds. This philosophy underscores why Julian turned to Caesar as a source of inspiration for his actions and rhetoric.

Julian’s writings are replete with references to the geography of Gaul and Caesar’s campaigns that prove his close reading of Caesar’s narrative. Three intertexts in particular – mentions of the town of Vesontio, the Hercynian Forest, and Caesar’s arrival in Britannia – reveal Julian’s intimate knowledge of the Gallic Wars. In a letter to Maximus the philosopher, Julian described the Gallic town of Vesontio in language similar to Caesar’s depiction of the same town, which suggests Julian’s close reading of Caesar’s narrative. Julian related to Maximus that Vesontio “is a little town that has lately been restored, but in ancient times it was a large city adorned with costly temples, and was fortified by a strong wall and further by the nature of the place; for it is encircled by the river Doubis.” Caesar offered a similar sketch: “[T]he town contained an abundance of the resources necessary for warfare. It was also protected by its natural site in such a way as to provide a strong position for conducting a campaign – especially since the river Doubs practically surrounds the entire town.” Both authors began by commenting on the town’s resources, praised its natural defenses (“fortified…by the nature of the place” and “protected by its natural site”), and then described the positioning of the river around the town. Julian also alluded to Vesontio “in ancient times,” likely referring to the description of the town that he had read in the Gallic Wars. The similitude of language and content suggests that Julian bore Caesar’s experiences in mind while he was in Gaul.

Julian also echoed Caesar’s awe and fear of Germany’s Hercynian forest, which further establishes the connection between the two leaders. Caesar found that “no one in this part of Germany can claim to have reached its furthest edge – despite journey for sixty days – or to have heard where it begins. It is agreed that many species of wild animal live there which are not found anywhere else,” and proceeded to describe an “ox shaped like a stag,” “elks,” and “wild ox.” Caesar’s trepidation at the sheer expanse and unknown beasts of the forest likely intimidated Julian, who evinced similar apprehension of the foreign woods. The late antique emperor recounted, “we hastened to the Hercynian forest and it was a strange and monstrous thing that I beheld. At any rate I do not hesitate to engage that nothing of the sort has ever been seen in the Roman Empire, at least as far as we know.” Caesar and Julian’s similar reactions to the Hercynian forest further demonstrate Julian’s attention to his predecessor’s career. While the imposing environment of the Hercynian forest may have elicited alike responses by the two conquerors, the similarities between their writings suggest that Caesar’s account, at least in part, informed Julian’s experience.

Julian also appropriated a unique detail for his rendition of Caesar in The Caesars that likely originated in the Gallic Wars. As reported in Caesar’s narrative, when his armada arrived at the shores of Britannia, the enemy repulsed it. But when one man “flung himself away from the ship and began to carry the Eagle towards the enemy,” Caesar’s army followed and established a Roman foothold on the island. Julian wove this achievement into his own Caesars, as his Caesar boasted that he “leapt ashore from my ship before all the others.” While Julian altered this episode for the purpose of his satire to emphasize Caesar’s unrestrained ambition, Julian still likely appropriated this scene from the Gallic War. Julian’s allusions to Caesar’s descriptions and narrative while in Gaul indicate that Julian was keenly aware of Caesar’s campaigns while fighting in the same region and knew Caesar so well that he could recall these precise details.

Caesar and Julian ii: Caesar in The Caesars

Julian’s extensive discussion of Julius Caesar in The Caesars demonstrates that Caesar interested Julian; the late antique emperor studied Caesar’s accomplishments, recognized his ambition, and understood the trajectory of Caesar’s career. The particulars of Caesar’s life that Julian crafted into his character of Caesar confirm that the earlier leader’s ambitions and career resonated with Julian.

The inclusion of numerous details of Caesar’s wars in Julian’s Caesars, despite the piece’s satirical tone and lack of historical grounding, underscore the extent to which Julian studied his predecessor’s accomplishments. Julian omitted historical details for most of the sovereigns who appear in the parade in The Caesars. Yet the section on Caesar is rife with antecedent sections that reflect Julian’s appreciation of Caesar’s campaigns. Julian’s rendition of Caesar bragged that he “conquered more than three hundred cities and no less than two million men,” and “with[stood] the onset of one hundred and fifty thousand men” when conquering Rome during the civil wars. Invoking numbers that likely originated in Plutarch, Julian’s recitation of Caesar’s victories demonstrates his awareness of Caesar’s career and suggests his aspiration to outdo his predecessor. In another description closely paralleling Plutarch, Julian’s rendition of Caesar boasted, “I was humane towards the Helvetians…I restored the cities that had been burned by their inhabitants.” Julian’s recollection reveals his close reading of Caesar’s achievements. More consistent with the irreverent tone of The Caesars, Julian’s Caesar joked that he conquered Egypt “while [he] was arranging drinking-parties.” Julian echoed detail from Plutarch that, while seemingly facetious, reflected Julian’s intimacy with Caesar’s past and examination of his wars from multiple sources. Despite the acerbic mockery in The Caesars, Julian’s reference to numerous facets of Caesar indicates a fascination with his predecessor.

Julian proffered a sympathetic view of Caesar’s takeover of power: Caesar’s ambitions would have appealed to Julian’s own aspirations, and Julian admired Caesar’s ascendance as a prototype for his own rise. During his rebuttal speech to Caesar’s exploits in The Caesars, Julian’s Alexander the Great taunted Caesar, “Nay, Caesar, you ought to have remembered those tears you shed on hearing of the monuments that had been consecrated to my glorious deeds.” This allusion to a specific moment from Plutarch’s Life of Caesar exhibited the Roman general’s untrammeled ambition. Julian’s awareness of this episode exposes his own grandiose aspirations; just as Caesar turned to Alexander the Great as the consummate conqueror, Julian envisioned both men as models for his own exploits. Julian’s knowledge of Caesar’s legendary ambitions likely made this predecessor an ideal standard to emulate.

Julian also offered a sympathetic interpretation of Caesar’s seizure of imperial power in The Caesars, which reflected Julian’s identification with Caesar: each general used his military victories to gain power. Julian’s Caesar boasted, “Are you pleased to inquire which of us showed more clemency after victory. I forgave my enemies, and for what I suffered in consequence at their hands Justice has taken vengeance.” Referring to Caesar’s pardon of his republican enemies, their betrayal of Caesar, and their subsequent demise at Philippi, Julian portrayed Caesar as a merciful, wronged victim rather than a destroyer of the republic. Given Julian’s own seizure of imperial power, he presented Caesar in a forgiving tone and minimized Caesar’s instigation of civil war in order to cast his own actions favorably. Heavenly “Justice” backed Caesar, Julian declared, just as the gods ordained Julian’s own elevation to Augustus, further connecting the two men in Julian’s mind. While much of The Caesars was sarcastic satire and Julian could have been parodying Caesar’s coup, Julian’s general lack of criticism of Caesar’s usurpation reflects Julian’s complaisance with this deed. Although Julian’s Alexander the Great belittled many of Caesar’s other accomplishments, Alexander only briefly criticized Caesar’s assumption of one-man rule. Alexander declared that, while Caesar “subdued the Germans and Gauls,” he was “preparing to fight against [his] fatherland. What could be worse or more infamous?” Julian, who was guilty of the same deed, had Alexander dwell on this critique for only one line, despite Alexander’s more extensive, other retorts to Caesar’s triumphs. Julian’s Alexander further suggested that civil war could be justified, adding, “when I made war on the Greeks it was not because I wished to injure Greece, but only to chastise those who tried to prevent me from marching through and from calling the Persians to account.” Julian’s lenient treatment of Caesar’s assumption of power reflects his approval of and identification with Caesar’s appropriation of imperial authority.

Caesar and Julian iii: Caesar as a Potential Inspiration for 

Julian’s Letter to the Senate and People of Athens

Julian’s intimate knowledge of and association with Julius Caesar raise the question: did Caesar’s Commentaries on the Gallic and Civil Wars influence Julian’s Letter to the Senate and People of Athens? Writing under like circumstances and aware of Caesar’s career, Julian may have looked to Caesar as a model. The shared rhetorical strategies of Caesar and Julian’s texts, as well as Julian’s lost autobiography of his campaigns, reflect that Julian likely studied Caesar’s autobiographies as a blueprint for his own claims to legitimacy.

In these works, each writer sought to justify his ascendence and instigation of civil war. Caesar wrote his autobiography to validate his war against Pompey; marching south to Rome, Caesar sought the Roman people’s admiration and allegiance. Julian similarly wrote his Letter to the Senate and People of Athens to justify his confrontation with Constantius. Advancing east to challenge the emperor, Julian feared that Constantius’ subjects would remain loyal, as Constantius already had vanquished several usurpers. Echoing Caesar’s Commentaries, Julian penned letters to major cities in Italy, Greece, Macedonia, and Illyricum. Both Caesar and Julian marshalled rhetorical forces to justify their takeover of power.

In their polemical wars, Caesar and Julian employed similar rhetorical tropes. Both generals superficially professed intense devotion to the status quo: Caesar to the Senate and Roman constitution, and Julian to the emperor Constantius. The imperial aspirants excused themselves of any escalation of violence and deferred agency to their opponents. In contrast to Caesar, who was a diplomatic, law-abiding general, Pompey was portrayed as intransigent and the impetus behind increased tension, as he refused any attempt at compromise. Julian likewise renounced any culpability for his acclamation as emperor, instead blaming Constantius for requisitioning Julian’s troops for the East and thus provoking a spontaneous military revolt. Echoing Caesar’s stated willingness for conciliation, Julian professed an affinity for peace and blamed Constantius for war.

The key to both authors’ rhetorical maneuvers was their revision of history to proclaim their innocence. Caesar neglected to mention his crossing the Rubicon, which initiated war since he was prohibited from bringing his army into Italy. Caesar returned to Rome not to submit to Senatorial decree, but to secure unbridled power. Julian similarly misrepresented past events to absolve himself of wrongdoing, as he omitted his triumph over the Alamanni at the Battle of Strasbourg in 357. This resounding victory had catalyzed Julian’s imperial ambitions by bolstering his popularity among his troops and giving him the practical authority and symbolic capital to seek higher office. Julian’s ambitions likely increased after Strasbourg, and Constantius’ troop levy provided an ideal opportunity to defer blame to the military. Caesar and Julian both distorted history to underscore their innocence and deflect blame for civil war.

Caesar and Julian’s common rhetorical gambits – their loyalty to the status quo, professed aversion to war, and historical slanting – suggest that the late antique emperor found a blueprint in Caesar. While their shared strategies may have resulted from circumstance rather than intentionality, Julian’s extensive references to Caesar elsewhere in his writings, including in his panegyric to Eusebia, his letters, and The Caesars, indicate that Julian perceived Caesar as an exemplary statesman and likely studied Caesar’s rhetoric to justify his own usurpation of power.

Julian’s lost autobiography of his Gallic campaigns also suggests an intellectual intimacy with Caesar. Akin to Caesar’s Gallic Wars, Julian composed a narrative of his campaigns, as the Greek historian Eunapius attests. Viewing Caesar as a paradigm in this endeavor would have been all but inescapable for Julian, as Caesar was the template on which numerous Roman commanders had prepared accounts of their military exploits. With the added similarity of fighting in Gaul, Julian inevitably would have associated himself with Caesar while writing this narrative. Julian’s contemporary, the historian Ammianus Marcellinus, also likely read Caesar as inspiration for his own narrative of Roman history and chapter on the ethnography of Gaul. This renewed interest in Latin narrative historiography in the late fourth century suggests that Caesar’s works were well known at Julian’s time, and Julian likely used them as an archetype for his own writing. 

The potential connections between Caesar and Julian’s writings raise important questions concerning Julian in Gaul. While Julian did not intend to seize power when Constantius appointed him Caesar in 355, his ambition increased with his military successes and he used these victories as a springboard to political power. Given Julian’s extensive study of Caesar, did Julian’s knowledge of Caesar’s usurpation from Gaul help fuel Julian’s own imperial ambitions? Would Julian’s knowledge of and respect for Caesar’s career have contributed to Julian’s desire to progress from Caesar to Augustus? While it is difficult to distinguish intentionality from shared circumstance and establish linguistic parallels between Latin and Greek, Julian’s extensive knowledge of Caesar, identification with his predecessor, and rhetorical similarities reveal that Caesar may have contributed to Julian’s mounting ambitions and eventual usurpation of imperial power.

Conclusion

While scholars focus on Julian’s Hellenistic revival, the late antique emperor also repeatedly turned to Roman history in his writings, speeches, and coinage. Previous Romans, including Romulus, Numa, Cato the Elder, and Caesar were featured or embedded in Julian’s public presentation to promote his imperial program. Julian’s extensive use of Roman history elucidates three aspects of his idiosyncratic reign.

First, Julian’s intimate knowledge of Roman history illustrates that his nostalgic vision for the empire was fundamentally Greco-Roman, a synthesis of both Greek and Roman history and tradition. While Julian sought to revitalize traditional Hellenistic culture and religious practices, he did not simply seek a return to classical Greece with a dormant Rome. Instead, the significance to Julian of Rome and its history reveals that he sought an equilibrium between Athens and Rome which, significantly, excluded Constantinople. Understanding Julian’s use of Roman history is critical to appreciating the contours of his vision for an empire that incorporated both Greek and Roman antiquity.

Second, Julian relied on Roman imperial ideology in his political opposition to Christianity and to support his legitimacy as emperor. While Julian patronized any non-Christian religion, his propaganda couched his response to Christian kingship in Roman terms. Julian returned to the Roman conception of an emperor who derived power from military success and divine backing, an ideology that helped counter the notion that the emperor’s authority originated from a Christian God. This political theology was critical to Julian’s ascent to power; he used traditional Roman conceptions of imperial legitimacy to validate his own authority.

Third, Julian’s emphasis on Roman history provides insight into why his imperial program floundered. His vision of Greco-Roman cooperation and marginalization of Constantinople was out of touch with the changing tides of late antiquity. “Rome” had become a Christian empire centered on the Bosporus Strait, and the cities of Rome and Athens cultural and political backwaters. Gregory of Nazianzus, the late fourth-century archbishop of Constantinople, explained Julian’s failure in similar terms: “now that the Word of Salvation was spread abroad, and prevailed the most in our parts of the world, the attempt to change or upset the status of the Christians was no other than to toss about the Roman empire, and endanger the whole commonwealth.” By Julian’s day, Christianity and Constantinople had become the political, cultural, and religious basis of the empire, replacing the more dated Greece and Rome as the new heart of the realm. While Julian’s untimely death in the Persian desert doomed his agenda, his program likely would have collapsed regardless, as it was too antiquated and out-of-step with the modernity of his day to withstand the growing domination of Christianity and Constantinople.

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