The character of Apostate has injured the reputation of Julian; and the
enthusiasm which clouded his virtues has exaggerated the real and apparent
magnitude of his faults. Our partial ignorance may represent him as a
philosophic monarch, who studied to protect, with an equal hand, the
religious factions of the empire; and to allay the theological fever which
had inflamed the minds of the people, from the edicts of Diocletian to the
exile of Athanasius. A more accurate view of the character and conduct of
Julian will remove this favorable prepossession for a prince who did not
escape the general contagion of the times. We enjoy the singular advantage
of comparing the pictures which have been delineated by his fondest
admirers and his implacable enemies. The actions of Julian are faithfully
related by a judicious and candid historian, the impartial spectator of
his life and death. The unanimous evidence of his contemporaries is
confirmed by the public and private declarations of the emperor himself;
and his various writings express the uniform tenor of his religious
sentiments, which policy would have prompted him to dissemble rather than
to affect. A devout and sincere attachment for the gods of Athens and Rome
constituted the ruling passion of Julian; the powers of an enlightened
understanding were betrayed and corrupted by the influence of
superstitious prejudice; and the phantoms which existed only in the mind
of the emperor had a real and pernicious effect on the government of the
empire. The vehement zeal of the Christians, who despised the worship, and
overturned the altars of those fabulous deities, engaged their votary in a
state of irreconcilable hostility with a very numerous party of his
subjects; and he was sometimes tempted by the desire of victory, or the
shame of a repulse, to violate the laws of prudence, and even of justice.
The triumph of the party, which he deserted and opposed, has fixed a stain
of infamy on the name of Julian; and the unsuccessful apostate has been
overwhelmed with a torrent of pious invectives, of which the signal was
given by the sonorous trumpet of Gregory Nazianzen. The interesting nature
of the events which were crowded into the short reign of this active
emperor, deserve a just and circumstantial narrative. His motives, his
counsels, and his actions, as far as they are connected with the history
of religion, will be the subject of the present chapter.
The cause of his strange and fatal apostasy may be derived from the early
period of his life, when he was left an orphan in the hands of the
murderers of his family. The names of Christ and of Constantius, the ideas
of slavery and of religion, were soon associated in a youthful
imagination, which was susceptible of the most lively impressions. The
care of his infancy was intrusted to Eusebius, bishop of Nicomedia, who
was related to him on the side of his mother; and till Julian reached the
twentieth year of his age, he received from his Christian preceptors the
education, not of a hero, but of a saint. The emperor, less jealous of a
heavenly than of an earthly crown, contented himself with the imperfect
character of a catechumen, while he bestowed the advantages of baptism on
the nephews of Constantine. They were even admitted to the inferior
offices of the ecclesiastical order; and Julian publicly read the Holy
Scriptures in the church of Nicomedia. The study of religion, which they
assiduously cultivated, appeared to produce the fairest fruits of faith
and devotion. They prayed, they fasted, they distributed alms to the poor,
gifts to the clergy, and oblations to the tombs of the martyrs; and the
splendid monument of St. Mamas, at Cæsarea, was erected, or at least
was undertaken, by the joint labor of Gallus and Julian. They respectfully
conversed with the bishops, who were eminent for superior sanctity, and
solicited the benediction of the monks and hermits, who had introduced
into Cappadocia the voluntary hardships of the ascetic life. As the two
princes advanced towards the years of manhood, they discovered, in their
religious sentiments, the difference of their characters. The dull and
obstinate understanding of Gallus embraced, with implicit zeal, the
doctrines of Christianity; which never influenced his conduct, or
moderated his passions. The mild disposition of the younger brother was
less repugnant to the precepts of the gospel; and his active curiosity
might have been gratified by a theological system, which explains the
mysterious essence of the Deity, and opens the boundless prospect of
invisible and future worlds. But the independent spirit of Julian refused
to yield the passive and unresisting obedience which was required, in the
name of religion, by the haughty ministers of the church. Their
speculative opinions were imposed as positive laws, and guarded by the
terrors of eternal punishments; but while they prescribed the rigid
formulary of the thoughts, the words, and the actions of the young prince;
whilst they silenced his objections, and severely checked the freedom of
his inquiries, they secretly provoked his impatient genius to disclaim the
authority of his ecclesiastical guides. He was educated in the Lesser
Asia, amidst the scandals of the Arian controversy. The fierce contests of
the Eastern bishops, the incessant alterations of their creeds, and the
profane motives which appeared to actuate their conduct, insensibly
strengthened the prejudice of Julian, that they neither understood nor
believed the religion for which they so fiercely contended. Instead of
listening to the proofs of Christianity with that favorable attention
which adds weight to the most respectable evidence, he heard with
suspicion, and disputed with obstinacy and acuteness, the doctrines for
which he already entertained an invincible aversion. Whenever the young
princes were directed to compose declamations on the subject of the
prevailing controversies, Julian always declared himself the advocate of
Paganism; under the specious excuse that, in the defence of the weaker
cause, his learning and ingenuity might be more advantageously exercised
and displayed.
As soon as Gallus was invested with the honors of the purple, Julian was
permitted to breathe the air of freedom, of literature, and of Paganism.
The crowd of sophists, who were attracted by the taste and liberality of
their royal pupil, had formed a strict alliance between the learning and
the religion of Greece; and the poems of Homer, instead of being admired
as the original productions of human genius, were seriously ascribed to
the heavenly inspiration of Apollo and the muses. The deities of Olympus,
as they are painted by the immortal bard, imprint themselves on the minds
which are the least addicted to superstitious credulity. Our familiar
knowledge of their names and characters, their forms and attributes,
seems to bestow on those airy beings a real and
substantial existence; and the pleasing enchantment produces an imperfect
and momentary assent of the imagination to those fables, which are the
most repugnant to our reason and experience. In the age of Julian, every
circumstance contributed to prolong and fortify the illusion; the
magnificent temples of Greece and Asia; the works of those artists who had
expressed, in painting or in sculpture, the divine conceptions of the
poet; the pomp of festivals and sacrifices; the successful arts of
divination; the popular traditions of oracles and prodigies; and the
ancient practice of two thousand years. The weakness of polytheism was, in
some measure, excused by the moderation of its claims; and the devotion of
the Pagans was not incompatible with the most licentious scepticism.
Instead of an indivisible and regular system, which occupies the whole
extent of the believing mind, the mythology of the Greeks was composed of
a thousand loose and flexible parts, and the servant of the gods was at
liberty to define the degree and measure of his religious faith. The creed
which Julian adopted for his own use was of the largest dimensions; and,
by strange contradiction, he disdained the salutary yoke of the gospel,
whilst he made a voluntary offering of his reason on the altars of Jupiter
and Apollo. One of the orations of Julian is consecrated to the honor of
Cybele, the mother of the gods, who required from her effeminate priests
the bloody sacrifice, so rashly performed by the madness of the Phrygian
boy. The pious emperor condescends to relate, without a blush, and without
a smile, the voyage of the goddess from the shores of Pergamus to the
mouth of the Tyber, and the stupendous miracle, which convinced the senate
and people of Rome that the lump of clay, which their ambassadors had
transported over the seas, was endowed with life, and sentiment, and
divine power. For the truth of this prodigy he appeals to the public
monuments of the city; and censures, with some acrimony, the sickly and
affected taste of those men, who impertinently derided the sacred
traditions of their ancestors.
But the devout philosopher, who sincerely embraced, and warmly encouraged,
the superstition of the people, reserved for himself the privilege of a
liberal interpretation; and silently withdrew from the foot of the altars
into the sanctuary of the temple. The extravagance of the Grecian
mythology proclaimed, with a clear and audible voice, that the pious
inquirer, instead of being scandalized or satisfied with the literal
sense, should diligently explore the occult wisdom, which had been
disguised, by the prudence of antiquity, under the mask of folly and of
fable. The philosophers of the Platonic school, Plotinus, Porphyry, and
the divine Iamblichus, were admired as the most skilful masters of this
allegorical science, which labored to soften and harmonize the deformed
features of Paganism. Julian himself, who was directed in the mysterious
pursuit by Ædesius, the venerable successor of Iamblichus, aspired
to the possession of a treasure, which he esteemed, if we may credit his
solemn asseverations, far above the empire of the world. It was indeed a
treasure, which derived its value only from opinion; and every artist who
flattered himself that he had extracted the precious ore from the
surrounding dross, claimed an equal right of stamping the name and figure
the most agreeable to his peculiar fancy. The fable of Atys and Cybele had
been already explained by Porphyry; but his labors served only to animate
the pious industry of Julian, who invented and published his own allegory
of that ancient and mystic tale. This freedom of interpretation, which
might gratify the pride of the Platonists, exposed the vanity of their
art. Without a tedious detail, the modern reader could not form a just
idea of the strange allusions, the forced etymologies, the solemn
trifling, and the impenetrable obscurity of these sages, who professed to
reveal the system of the universe. As the traditions of Pagan mythology
were variously related, the sacred interpreters were at liberty to select
the most convenient circumstances; and as they translated an arbitrary
cipher, they could extract from any fable
any sense which was adapted to their favorite
system of religion and philosophy. The lascivious form of a naked Venus
was tortured into the discovery of some moral precept, or some physical
truth; and the castration of Atys explained the revolution of the sun
between the tropics, or the separation of the human soul from vice and
error.
The theological system of Julian appears to have contained the sublime and
important principles of natural religion. But as the faith, which is not
founded on revelation, must remain destitute of any firm assurance, the
disciple of Plato imprudently relapsed into the habits of vulgar
superstition; and the popular and philosophic notion of the Deity seems to
have been confounded in the practice, the writings, and even in the mind
of Julian. The pious emperor acknowledged and adored the Eternal Cause of
the universe, to whom he ascribed all the perfections of an infinite
nature, invisible to the eyes and inaccessible to the understanding, of
feeble mortals. The Supreme God had created, or rather, in the Platonic
language, had generated, the gradual succession of dependent spirits, of
gods, of dæmons, of heroes, and of men; and every being which
derived its existence immediately from the First Cause, received the
inherent gift of immortality. That so precious an advantage might not be
lavished upon unworthy objects, the Creator had intrusted to the skill and
power of the inferior gods the office of forming the human body, and of
arranging the beautiful harmony of the animal, the vegetable, and the
mineral kingdoms. To the conduct of these divine ministers he delegated
the temporal government of this lower world; but their imperfect
administration is not exempt from discord or error. The earth and its
inhabitants are divided among them, and the characters of Mars or Minerva,
of Mercury or Venus, may be distinctly traced in the laws and manners of
their peculiar votaries. As long as our immortal souls are confined in a
mortal prison, it is our interest, as well as our duty, to solicit the
favor, and to deprecate the wrath, of the powers of heaven; whose pride is
gratified by the devotion of mankind; and whose grosser parts may be
supposed to derive some nourishment from the fumes of sacrifice. The
inferior gods might sometimes condescend to animate the statues, and to
inhabit the temples, which were dedicated to their honor. They might
occasionally visit the earth, but the heavens were the proper throne and
symbol of their glory. The invariable order of the sun, moon, and stars,
was hastily admitted by Julian, as a proof of their eternal
duration; and their eternity was a sufficient evidence that they were the
workmanship, not of an inferior deity, but of the Omnipotent King. In the
system of Platonists, the visible was a type of the invisible world. The
celestial bodies, as they were informed by a divine spirit, might be
considered as the objects the most worthy of religious worship. The Sun,
whose genial influence pervades and sustains the universe, justly claimed
the adoration of mankind, as the bright representative of the Logos, the
lively, the rational, the beneficent image of the intellectual Father.
In every age, the absence of genuine inspiration is supplied by the strong
illusions of enthusiasm, and the mimic arts of imposture. If, in the time
of Julian, these arts had been practised only by the pagan priests, for
the support of an expiring cause, some indulgence might perhaps be allowed
to the interest and habits of the sacerdotal character. But it may appear
a subject of surprise and scandal, that the philosophers themselves should
have contributed to abuse the superstitious credulity of mankind, and that
the Grecian mysteries should have been supported by the magic or theurgy
of the modern Platonists. They arrogantly pretended to control the order
of nature, to explore the secrets of futurity, to command the service of
the inferior dæmons, to enjoy the view and conversation of the
superior gods, and by disengaging the soul from her material bands, to
reunite that immortal particle with the Infinite and Divine Spirit.
The devout and fearless curiosity of Julian tempted the philosophers with
the hopes of an easy conquest; which, from the situation of their young
proselyte, might be productive of the most important consequences. Julian
imbibed the first rudiments of the Platonic doctrines from the mouth of
Ædesius, who had fixed at Pergamus his wandering and persecuted
school. But as the declining strength of that venerable sage was unequal
to the ardor, the diligence, the rapid conception of his pupil, two of his
most learned disciples, Chrysanthes and Eusebius, supplied, at his own
desire, the place of their aged master. These philosophers seem to have
prepared and distributed their respective parts; and they artfully
contrived, by dark hints and affected disputes, to excite the impatient
hopes of the aspirant, till they delivered him
into the hands of their associate, Maximus, the boldest and most skilful
master of the Theurgic science. By his hands, Julian was secretly
initiated at Ephesus, in the twentieth year of his age. His residence at
Athens confirmed this unnatural alliance of philosophy and superstition.
He obtained the privilege of a solemn initiation into the mysteries of
Eleusis, which, amidst the general decay of the Grecian worship, still
retained some vestiges of their primæval sanctity; and such was the
zeal of Julian, that he afterwards invited the Eleusinian pontiff to the
court of Gaul, for the sole purpose of consummating, by mystic rites and
sacrifices, the great work of his sanctification. As these ceremonies were
performed in the depth of caverns, and in the silence of the night, and as
the inviolable secret of the mysteries was preserved by the discretion of
the initiated, I shall not presume to describe the horrid sounds, and
fiery apparitions, which were presented to the senses, or the imagination,
of the credulous aspirant, till the visions of comfort and knowledge broke
upon him in a blaze of celestial light. In the caverns of Ephesus and
Eleusis, the mind of Julian was penetrated with sincere, deep, and
unalterable enthusiasm; though he might sometimes exhibit the vicissitudes
of pious fraud and hypocrisy, which may be observed, or at least
suspected, in the characters of the most conscientious fanatics. From that
moment he consecrated his life to the service of the gods; and while the
occupations of war, of government, and of study, seemed to claim the whole
measure of his time, a stated portion of the hours of the night was
invariably reserved for the exercise of private devotion. The temperance
which adorned the severe manners of the soldier and the philosopher was
connected with some strict and frivolous rules of religious abstinence;
and it was in honor of Pan or Mercury, of Hecate or Isis, that Julian, on
particular days, denied himself the use of some particular food, which
might have been offensive to his tutelar deities. By these voluntary
fasts, he prepared his senses and his understanding for the frequent and
familiar visits with which he was honored by the celestial powers.
Notwithstanding the modest silence of Julian himself, we may learn from
his faithful friend, the orator Libanius, that he lived in a perpetual
intercourse with the gods and goddesses; that they descended upon earth to
enjoy the conversation of their favorite hero; that they gently
interrupted his slumbers by touching his hand or his hair; that they
warned him of every impending danger, and conducted him, by their
infallible wisdom, in every action of his life; and that he had acquired
such an intimate knowledge of his heavenly guests, as readily to
distinguish the voice of Jupiter from that of Minerva, and the form of
Apollo from the figure of Hercules. These sleeping or waking visions, the
ordinary effects of abstinence and fanaticism, would almost degrade the
emperor to the level of an Egyptian monk. But the useless lives of Antony
or Pachomius were consumed in these vain occupations. Julian could break
from the dream of superstition to arm himself for battle; and after
vanquishing in the field the enemies of Rome, he calmly retired into his
tent, to dictate the wise and salutary laws of an empire, or to indulge
his genius in the elegant pursuits of literature and philosophy.
The important secret of the apostasy of Julian was intrusted to the
fidelity of the initiated, with whom he was
united by the sacred ties of friendship and religion. The pleasing rumor
was cautiously circulated among the adherents of the ancient worship; and
his future greatness became the object of the hopes, the prayers, and the
predictions of the Pagans, in every province of the empire. From the zeal
and virtues of their royal proselyte, they fondly expected the cure of
every evil, and the restoration of every blessing; and instead of
disapproving of the ardor of their pious wishes, Julian ingenuously
confessed, that he was ambitious to attain a situation in which he might
be useful to his country and to his religion. But this religion was viewed
with a hostile eye by the successor of Constantine, whose capricious
passions alternately saved and threatened the life of Julian. The arts of
magic and divination were strictly prohibited under a despotic government,
which condescended to fear them; and if the Pagans were reluctantly
indulged in the exercise of their superstition, the rank of Julian would
have excepted him from the general toleration. The apostate soon became
the presumptive heir of the monarchy, and his death could alone have
appeased the just apprehensions of the Christians. But the young prince,
who aspired to the glory of a hero rather than of a martyr, consulted his
safety by dissembling his religion; and the easy temper of polytheism
permitted him to join in the public worship of a sect which he inwardly
despised. Libanius has considered the hypocrisy of his friend as a
subject, not of censure, but of praise. "As the statues of the gods," says
that orator, "which have been defiled with filth, are again placed in a
magnificent temple, so the beauty of truth was seated in the mind of
Julian, after it had been purified from the errors and follies of his
education. His sentiments were changed; but as it would have been
dangerous to have avowed his sentiments, his conduct still continued the
same. Very different from the ass in Æsop, who disguised himself
with a lion's hide, our lion was obliged to conceal himself under the skin
of an ass; and, while he embraced the dictates of reason, to obey the laws
of prudence and necessity." The dissimulation of Julian lasted about ten
years, from his secret initiation at Ephesus to the beginning of the civil
war; when he declared himself at once the implacable enemy of Christ and
of Constantius. This state of constraint might contribute to strengthen
his devotion; and as soon as he had satisfied the obligation of assisting,
on solemn festivals, at the assemblies of the Christians, Julian returned,
with the impatience of a lover, to burn his free and voluntary incense on
the domestic chapels of Jupiter and Mercury. But as every act of
dissimulation must be painful to an ingenuous spirit, the profession of
Christianity increased the aversion of Julian for a religion which
oppressed the freedom of his mind, and compelled him to hold a conduct
repugnant to the noblest attributes of human nature, sincerity and
courage.
The inclination of Julian might prefer the gods of Homer, and of the
Scipios, to the new faith, which his uncle had established in the Roman
empire; and in which he himself had been sanctified by the sacrament of
baptism. But, as a philosopher, it was incumbent on him to justify his
dissent from Christianity, which was supported by the number of its
converts, by the chain of prophecy, the splendor of miracles, and the
weight of evidence. The elaborate work, which he composed amidst the
preparations of the Persian war, contained the substance of those
arguments which he had long revolved in his mind. Some fragments have been
transcribed and preserved, by his adversary, the vehement Cyril of
Alexandria; and they exhibit a very singular mixture of wit and learning,
of sophistry and fanaticism. The elegance of the style and the rank of the
author, recommended his writings to the public attention; and in the
impious list of the enemies of Christianity, the celebrated name of
Porphyry was effaced by the superior merit or reputation of Julian. The
minds of the faithful were either seduced, or scandalized, or alarmed; and
the pagans, who sometimes presumed to engage in the unequal dispute,
derived, from the popular work of their Imperial missionary, an
inexhaustible supply of fallacious objections. But in the assiduous
prosecution of these theological studies, the emperor of the Romans
imbibed the illiberal prejudices and passions of a polemic divine. He
contracted an irrevocable obligation to maintain and propagate his
religious opinions; and whilst he secretly applauded the strength and
dexterity with which he wielded the weapons of controversy, he was tempted
to distrust the sincerity, or to despise the understandings, of his
antagonists, who could obstinately resist the force of reason and
eloquence.
The Christians, who beheld with horror and indignation the apostasy of
Julian, had much more to fear from his power than from his arguments. The
pagans, who were conscious of his fervent zeal, expected, perhaps with
impatience, that the flames of persecution should be immediately kindled
against the enemies of the gods; and that the ingenious malice of Julian
would invent some cruel refinements of death and torture which had been
unknown to the rude and inexperienced fury of his predecessors. But the
hopes, as well as the fears, of the religious factions were apparently
disappointed, by the prudent humanity of a prince, who was careful of his
own fame, of the public peace, and of the rights of mankind. Instructed by
history and reflection, Julian was persuaded, that if the diseases of the
body may sometimes be cured by salutary violence, neither steel nor fire
can eradicate the erroneous opinions of the mind. The reluctant victim may
be dragged to the foot of the altar; but the heart still abhors and
disclaims the sacrilegious act of the hand. Religious obstinacy is
hardened and exasperated by oppression; and, as soon as the persecution
subsides, those who have yielded are restored as penitents, and those who
have resisted are honored as saints and martyrs. If Julian adopted the
unsuccessful cruelty of Diocletian and his colleagues, he was sensible
that he should stain his memory with the name of a tyrant, and add new
glories to the Catholic church, which had derived strength and increase
from the severity of the pagan magistrates. Actuated by these motives, and
apprehensive of disturbing the repose of an unsettled reign, Julian
surprised the world by an edict, which was not unworthy of a statesman, or
a philosopher. He extended to all the inhabitants of the Roman world the
benefits of a free and equal toleration; and the only hardship which he
inflicted on the Christians, was to deprive them of the power of
tormenting their fellow-subjects, whom they stigmatized with the odious
titles of idolaters and heretics. The pagans received a gracious
permission, or rather an express order, to open All their temples; and
they were at once delivered from the oppressive laws, and arbitrary
vexations, which they had sustained under the reign of Constantine, and of
his sons. At the same time the bishops and clergy, who had been banished
by the Arian monarch, were recalled from exile, and restored to their
respective churches; the Donatists, the Novatians, the Macedonians, the
Eunomians, and those who, with a more prosperous fortune, adhered to the
doctrine of the Council of Nice. Julian, who understood and derided their
theological disputes, invited to the palace the leaders of the hostile
sects, that he might enjoy the agreeable spectacle of their furious
encounters. The clamor of controversy sometimes provoked the emperor to
exclaim, "Hear me! the Franks have heard me, and the Alemanni;" but he
soon discovered that he was now engaged with more obstinate and implacable
enemies; and though he exerted the powers of oratory to persuade them to
live in concord, or at least in peace, he was perfectly satisfied, before
he dismissed them from his presence, that he had nothing to dread from the
union of the Christians. The impartial Ammianus has ascribed this affected
clemency to the desire of fomenting the intestine divisions of the church,
and the insidious design of undermining the foundations of Christianity,
was inseparably connected with the zeal which Julian professed, to restore
the ancient religion of the empire.
As soon as he ascended the throne, he assumed, according to the custom of
his predecessors, the character of supreme pontiff; not only as the most
honorable title of Imperial greatness, but as a sacred and important
office; the duties of which he was resolved to execute with pious
diligence. As the business of the state prevented the emperor from joining
every day in the public devotion of his subjects, he dedicated a domestic
chapel to his tutelar deity the Sun; his gardens were filled with statues
and altars of the gods; and each apartment of the palace displaced the
appearance of a magnificent temple. Every morning he saluted the parent of
light with a sacrifice; the blood of another victim was shed at the moment
when the Sun sunk below the horizon; and the Moon, the Stars, and the
Genii of the night received their respective and seasonable honors from
the indefatigable devotion of Julian. On solemn festivals, he regularly
visited the temple of the god or goddess to whom the day was peculiarly
consecrated, and endeavored to excite the religion of the magistrates and
people by the example of his own zeal. Instead of maintaining the lofty
state of a monarch, distinguished by the splendor of his purple, and
encompassed by the golden shields of his guards, Julian solicited, with
respectful eagerness, the meanest offices which contributed to the worship
of the gods. Amidst the sacred but licentious crowd of priests, of
inferior ministers, and of female dancers, who were dedicated to the
service of the temple, it was the business of the emperor to bring the
wood, to blow the fire, to handle the knife, to slaughter the victim, and,
thrusting his bloody hands into the bowels of the expiring animal, to draw
forth the heart or liver, and to read, with the consummate skill of an
haruspex, imaginary signs of future events. The wisest of the Pagans
censured this extravagant superstition, which affected to despise the
restraints of prudence and decency. Under the reign of a prince, who
practised the rigid maxims of economy, the expense of religious worship
consumed a very large portion of the revenue; a constant supply of the
scarcest and most beautiful birds was transported from distant climates,
to bleed on the altars of the gods; a hundred oxen were frequently
sacrificed by Julian on one and the same day; and it soon became a popular
jest, that if he should return with conquest from the Persian war, the
breed of horned cattle must infallibly be extinguished. Yet this expense
may appear inconsiderable, when it is compared with the splendid presents
which were offered either by the hand, or by order, of the emperor, to all
the celebrated places of devotion in the Roman world; and with the sums
allotted to repair and decorate the ancient temples, which had suffered
the silent decay of time, or the recent injuries of Christian rapine.
Encouraged by the example, the exhortations, the liberality, of their
pious sovereign, the cities and families resumed the practice of their
neglected ceremonies. "Every part of the world," exclaims Libanius, with
devout transport, "displayed the triumph of religion; and the grateful
prospect of flaming altars, bleeding victims, the smoke of incense, and a
solemn train of priests and prophets, without fear and without danger. The
sound of prayer and of music was heard on the tops of the highest
mountains; and the same ox afforded a sacrifice for the gods, and a supper
for their joyous votaries."
But the genius and power of Julian were unequal to the enterprise of
restoring a religion which was destitute of theological principles, of
moral precepts, and of ecclesiastical discipline; which rapidly hastened
to decay and dissolution, and was not susceptible of any solid or
consistent reformation. The jurisdiction of the supreme pontiff, more
especially after that office had been united with the Imperial dignity,
comprehended the whole extent of the Roman empire. Julian named for his
vicars, in the several provinces, the priests and philosophers whom he
esteemed the best qualified to cooperate in the execution of his great
design; and his pastoral letters, if we may use that name, still represent
a very curious sketch of his wishes and intentions. He directs, that in
every city the sacerdotal order should be composed, without any
distinction of birth and fortune, of those persons who were the most
conspicuous for the love of the gods, and of men. "If they are guilty,"
continues he, "of any scandalous offence, they should be censured or
degraded by the superior pontiff; but as long as they retain their rank,
they are entitled to the respect of the magistrates and people. Their
humility may be shown in the plainness of their domestic garb; their
dignity, in the pomp of holy vestments. When they are summoned in their
turn to officiate before the altar, they ought not, during the appointed
number of days, to depart from the precincts of the temple; nor should a
single day be suffered to elapse, without the prayers and the sacrifice,
which they are obliged to offer for the prosperity of the state, and of
individuals. The exercise of their sacred functions requires an immaculate
purity, both of mind and body; and even when they are dismissed from the
temple to the occupations of common life, it is incumbent on them to excel
in decency and virtue the rest of their fellow-citizens. The priest of the
gods should never be seen in theatres or taverns. His conversation should
be chaste, his diet temperate, his friends of honorable reputation; and if
he sometimes visits the Forum or the Palace, he should appear only as the
advocate of those who have vainly solicited either justice or mercy. His
studies should be suited to the sanctity of his profession. Licentious
tales, or comedies, or satires, must be banished from his library, which
ought solely to consist of historical or philosophical writings; of
history, which is founded in truth, and of philosophy, which is connected
with religion. The impious opinions of the Epicureans and sceptics deserve
his abhorrence and contempt; but he should diligently study the systems of
Pythagoras, of Plato, and of the Stoics, which unanimously teach that
there are gods; that the world is governed by
their providence; that their goodness is the source of every temporal
blessing; and that they have prepared for the human soul a future state of
reward or punishment." The Imperial pontiff inculcates, in the most
persuasive language, the duties of benevolence and hospitality; exhorts
his inferior clergy to recommend the universal practice of those virtues;
promises to assist their indigence from the public treasury; and declares
his resolution of establishing hospitals in every city, where the poor
should be received without any invidious distinction of country or of
religion. Julian beheld with envy the wise and humane regulations of the
church; and he very frankly confesses his intention to deprive the
Christians of the applause, as well as advantage, which they had acquired
by the exclusive practice of charity and beneficence. The same spirit of
imitation might dispose the emperor to adopt several ecclesiastical
institutions, the use and importance of which were approved by the success
of his enemies. But if these imaginary plans of reformation had been
realized, the forced and imperfect copy would have been less beneficial to
Paganism, than honorable to Christianity. The Gentiles, who peaceably
followed the customs of their ancestors, were rather surprised than
pleased with the introduction of foreign manners; and in the short period
of his reign, Julian had frequent occasions to complain of the want of
fervor of his own party.
The enthusiasm of Julian prompted him to embrace the friends of Jupiter as
his personal friends and brethren; and though he partially overlooked the
merit of Christian constancy, he admired and rewarded the noble
perseverance of those Gentiles who had preferred the favor of the gods to
that of the emperor. If they cultivated the literature, as well as the
religion, of the Greeks, they acquired an additional claim to the
friendship of Julian, who ranked the Muses in the number of his tutelar
deities. In the religion which he had adopted, piety and learning were
almost synonymous; and a crowd of poets, of rhetoricians, and of
philosophers, hastened to the Imperial court, to occupy the vacant places
of the bishops, who had seduced the credulity of Constantius. His
successor esteemed the ties of common initiation as far more sacred than
those of consanguinity; he chose his favorites among the sages, who were
deeply skilled in the occult sciences of magic and divination; and every
impostor, who pretended to reveal the secrets of futurity, was assured of
enjoying the present hour in honor and affluence. Among the philosophers,
Maximus obtained the most eminent rank in the friendship of his royal
disciple, who communicated, with unreserved confidence, his actions, his
sentiments, and his religious designs, during the anxious suspense of the
civil war. As soon as Julian had taken possession of the palace of
Constantinople, he despatched an honorable and pressing invitation to
Maximus, who then resided at Sardes in Lydia, with Chrysanthius, the
associate of his art and studies. The prudent and superstitious
Chrysanthius refused to undertake a journey which showed itself, according
to the rules of divination, with the most threatening and malignant
aspect: but his companion, whose fanaticism was of a bolder cast,
persisted in his interrogations, till he had extorted from the gods a
seeming consent to his own wishes, and those of the emperor. The journey
of Maximus through the cities of Asia displayed the triumph of philosophic
vanity; and the magistrates vied with each other in the honorable
reception which they prepared for the friend of their sovereign. Julian
was pronouncing an oration before the senate, when he was informed of the
arrival of Maximus. The emperor immediately interrupted his discourse,
advanced to meet him, and after a tender embrace, conducted him by the
hand into the midst of the assembly; where he publicly acknowledged the
benefits which he had derived from the instructions of the philosopher.
Maximus, who soon acquired the confidence, and influenced the councils of
Julian, was insensibly corrupted by the temptations of a court. His dress
became more splendid, his demeanor more lofty, and he was exposed, under a
succeeding reign, to a disgraceful inquiry into the means by which the
disciple of Plato had accumulated, in the short duration of his favor, a
very scandalous proportion of wealth. Of the other philosophers and
sophists, who were invited to the Imperial residence by the choice of
Julian, or by the success of Maximus, few were able to preserve their
innocence or their reputation. The liberal gifts of money, lands, and
houses, were insufficient to satiate their rapacious avarice; and the
indignation of the people was justly excited by the remembrance of their
abject poverty and disinterested professions. The penetration of Julian
could not always be deceived: but he was unwilling to despise the
characters of those men whose talents deserved his esteem: he desired to
escape the double reproach of imprudence and inconstancy; and he was
apprehensive of degrading, in the eyes of the profane, the honor of
letters and of religion.
The favor of Julian was almost equally divided between the Pagans, who had
firmly adhered to the worship of their ancestors, and the Christians, who
prudently embraced the religion of their sovereign. The acquisition of new
proselytes gratified the ruling passions of his soul, superstition and
vanity; and he was heard to declare, with the enthusiasm of a missionary,
that if he could render each individual richer than Midas, and every city
greater than Babylon, he should not esteem himself the benefactor of
mankind, unless, at the same time, he could reclaim his subjects from
their impious revolt against the immortal gods. A prince who had studied
human nature, and who possessed the treasures of the Roman empire, could
adapt his arguments, his promises, and his rewards, to every order of
Christians; and the merit of a seasonable conversion was allowed to supply
the defects of a candidate, or even to expiate the guilt of a criminal. As
the army is the most forcible engine of absolute power, Julian applied
himself, with peculiar diligence, to corrupt the religion of his troops,
without whose hearty concurrence every measure must be dangerous and
unsuccessful; and the natural temper of soldiers made this conquest as
easy as it was important. The legions of Gaul devoted themselves to the
faith, as well as to the fortunes, of their victorious leader; and even
before the death of Constantius, he had the satisfaction of announcing to
his friends, that they assisted with fervent devotion, and voracious
appetite, at the sacrifices, which were repeatedly offered in his camp, of
whole hecatombs of fat oxen. The armies of the East, which had been
trained under the standard of the cross, and of Constantius, required a
more artful and expensive mode of persuasion. On the days of solemn and
public festivals, the emperor received the homage, and rewarded the merit,
of the troops. His throne of state was encircled with the military ensigns
of Rome and the republic; the holy name of Christ was erased from the
Labarum; and the symbols of war, of majesty, and of pagan superstition,
were so dexterously blended, that the faithful subject incurred the guilt
of idolatry, when he respectfully saluted the person or image of his
sovereign. The soldiers passed successively in review; and each of them,
before he received from the hand of Julian a liberal donative,
proportioned to his rank and services, was required to cast a few grains
of incense into the flame which burnt upon the altar. Some Christian
confessors might resist, and others might repent; but the far greater
number, allured by the prospect of gold, and awed by the presence of the
emperor, contracted the criminal engagement; and their future perseverance
in the worship of the gods was enforced by every consideration of duty and
of interest. By the frequent repetition of these arts, and at the expense
of sums which would have purchased the service of half the nations of
Scythia, Julian gradually acquired for his troops the imaginary protection
of the gods, and for himself the firm and effectual support of the Roman
legions. It is indeed more than probable, that the restoration and
encouragement of Paganism revealed a multitude of pretended Christians,
who, from motives of temporal advantage, had acquiesced in the religion of
the former reign; and who afterwards returned, with the same flexibility
of conscience, to the faith which was professed by the successors of
Julian.
While the devout monarch incessantly labored to restore and propagate the
religion of his ancestors, he embraced the extraordinary design of
rebuilding the temple of Jerusalem. In a public epistle to the nation or
community of the Jews, dispersed through the provinces, he pities their
misfortunes, condemns their oppressors, praises their constancy, declares
himself their gracious protector, and expresses a pious hope, that after
his return from the Persian war, he may be permitted to pay his grateful
vows to the Almighty in his holy city of Jerusalem. The blind
superstition, and abject slavery, of those unfortunate exiles, must excite
the contempt of a philosophic emperor; but they deserved the friendship of
Julian, by their implacable hatred of the Christian name. The barren
synagogue abhorred and envied the fecundity of the rebellious church; the
power of the Jews was not equal to their malice; but their gravest rabbis
approved the private murder of an apostate; and their seditious clamors
had often awakened the indolence of the Pagan magistrates. Under the reign
of Constantine, the Jews became the subjects of their revolted children
nor was it long before they experienced the bitterness of domestic
tyranny. The civil immunities which had been granted, or confirmed, by
Severus, were gradually repealed by the Christian princes; and a rash
tumult, excited by the Jews of Palestine, seemed to justify the lucrative
modes of oppression which were invented by the bishops and eunuchs of the
court of Constantius. The Jewish patriarch, who was still permitted to
exercise a precarious jurisdiction, held his residence at Tiberias; and
the neighboring cities of Palestine were filled with the remains of a
people who fondly adhered to the promised land. But the edict of Hadrian
was renewed and enforced; and they viewed from afar the walls of the holy
city, which were profaned in their eyes by the triumph of the cross and
the devotion of the Christians.
In the midst of a rocky and barren country, the walls of Jerusalem
enclosed the two mountains of Sion and Acra, within an oval figure of
about three English miles. Towards the south, the upper town, and the
fortress of David, were erected on the lofty ascent of Mount Sion: on the
north side, the buildings of the lower town covered the spacious summit of
Mount Acra; and a part of the hill, distinguished by the name of Moriah,
and levelled by human industry, was crowned with the stately temple of the
Jewish nation. After the final destruction of the temple by the arms of
Titus and Hadrian, a ploughshare was drawn over the consecrated ground, as
a sign of perpetual interdiction. Sion was deserted; and the vacant space
of the lower city was filled with the public and private edifices of the
Ælian colony, which spread themselves over the adjacent hill of
Calvary. The holy places were polluted with mountains of idolatry; and,
either from design or accident, a chapel was dedicated to Venus, on the
spot which had been sanctified by the death and resurrection of Christ. *
Almost three hundred years after those stupendous events, the profane
chapel of Venus was demolished by the order of Constantine; and the
removal of the earth and stones revealed the holy sepulchre to the eyes of
mankind. A magnificent church was erected on that mystic ground, by the
first Christian emperor; and the effects of his pious munificence were
extended to every spot which had been consecrated by the footstep of
patriarchs, of prophets, and of the Son of God.
The passionate desire of contemplating the original monuments of their
redemption attracted to Jerusalem a successive crowd of pilgrims, from the
shores of the Atlantic Ocean, and the most distant countries of the East;
and their piety was authorized by the example of the empress Helena, who
appears to have united the credulity of age with the warm feelings of a
recent conversion. Sages and heroes, who have visited the memorable scenes
of ancient wisdom or glory, have confessed the inspiration of the genius
of the place; and the Christian who knelt before the holy sepulchre,
ascribed his lively faith, and his fervent devotion, to the more immediate
influence of the Divine Spirit. The zeal, perhaps the avarice, of the
clergy of Jerusalem, cherished and multiplied these beneficial visits.
They fixed, by unquestionable tradition, the scene of each memorable
event. They exhibited the instruments which had been used in the passion
of Christ; the nails and the lance that had pierced his hands, his feet,
and his side; the crown of thorns that was planted on his head; the pillar
at which he was scourged; and, above all, they showed the cross on which
he suffered, and which was dug out of the earth in the reign of those
princes, who inserted the symbol of Christianity in the banners of the
Roman legions. Such miracles as seemed necessary to account for its
extraordinary preservation, and seasonable discovery, were gradually
propagated without opposition. The custody of the true cross,
which on Easter Sunday was solemnly exposed to the people, was intrusted
to the bishop of Jerusalem; and he alone might gratify the curious
devotion of the pilgrims, by the gift of small pieces, which they encased
in gold or gems, and carried away in triumph to their respective
countries. But as this gainful branch of commerce must soon have been
annihilated, it was found convenient to suppose, that the marvelous wood
possessed a secret power of vegetation; and that its substance, though
continually diminished, still remained entire and unimpaired. It might
perhaps have been expected, that the influence of the place and the belief
of a perpetual miracle, should have produced some salutary effects on the
morals, as well as on the faith, of the people. Yet the most respectable
of the ecclesiastical writers have been obliged to confess, not only that
the streets of Jerusalem were filled with the incessant tumult of business
and pleasure, but that every species of vice—adultery, theft,
idolatry, poisoning, murder—was familiar to the inhabitants of the
holy city. The wealth and preeminence of the church of Jerusalem excited
the ambition of Arian, as well as orthodox, candidates; and the virtues of
Cyril, who, since his death, has been honored with the title of Saint,
were displayed in the exercise, rather than in the acquisition, of his
episcopal dignity.
The vain and ambitious mind of Julian might aspire to restore the ancient
glory of the temple of Jerusalem. As the Christians were firmly persuaded
that a sentence of everlasting destruction had been pronounced against the
whole fabric of the Mosaic law, the Imperial sophist would have converted
the success of his undertaking into a specious argument against the faith
of prophecy, and the truth of revelation. He was displeased with the
spiritual worship of the synagogue; but he approved the institutions of
Moses, who had not disdained to adopt many of the rites and ceremonies of
Egypt. The local and national deity of the Jews was sincerely adored by a
polytheist, who desired only to multiply the number of the gods; and such
was the appetite of Julian for bloody sacrifice, that his emulation might
be excited by the piety of Solomon, who had offered, at the feast of the
dedication, twenty-two thousand oxen, and one hundred and twenty thousand
sheep. These considerations might influence his designs; but the prospect
of an immediate and important advantage would not suffer the impatient
monarch to expect the remote and uncertain event of the Persian war. He
resolved to erect, without delay, on the commanding eminence of Moriah, a
stately temple, which might eclipse the splendor of the church of the
resurrection on the adjacent hill of Calvary; to establish an order of
priests, whose interested zeal would detect the arts, and resist the
ambition, of their Christian rivals; and to invite a numerous colony of
Jews, whose stern fanaticism would be always prepared to second, and even
to anticipate, the hostile measures of the Pagan government. Among the
friends of the emperor (if the names of emperor, and of friend, are not
incompatible) the first place was assigned, by Julian himself, to the
virtuous and learned Alypius. The humanity of Alypius was tempered by
severe justice and manly fortitude; and while he exercised his abilities
in the civil administration of Britain, he imitated, in his poetical
compositions, the harmony and softness of the odes of Sappho. This
minister, to whom Julian communicated, without reserve, his most careless
levities, and his most serious counsels, received an extraordinary
commission to restore, in its pristine beauty, the temple of Jerusalem;
and the diligence of Alypius required and obtained the strenuous support
of the governor of Palestine. At the call of their great deliverer, the
Jews, from all the provinces of the empire, assembled on the holy mountain
of their fathers; and their insolent triumph alarmed and exasperated the
Christian inhabitants of Jerusalem. The desire of rebuilding the temple
has in every age been the ruling passion of the children of Isræl.
In this propitious moment the men forgot their avarice, and the women
their delicacy; spades and pickaxes of silver were provided by the vanity
of the rich, and the rubbish was transported in mantles of silk and
purple. Every purse was opened in liberal contributions, every hand
claimed a share in the pious labor, and the commands of a great monarch
were executed by the enthusiasm of a whole people.
Yet, on this occasion, the joint efforts of power and enthusiasm were
unsuccessful; and the ground of the Jewish temple, which is now covered by
a Mahometan mosque, still continued to exhibit the same edifying spectacle
of ruin and desolation. Perhaps the absence and death of the emperor, and
the new maxims of a Christian reign, might explain the interruption of an
arduous work, which was attempted only in the last six months of the life
of Julian. But the Christians entertained a natural and pious expectation,
that, in this memorable contest, the honor of religion would be vindicated
by some signal miracle. An earthquake, a whirlwind, and a fiery eruption,
which overturned and scattered the new foundations of the temple, are
attested, with some variations, by contemporary and respectable evidence.
This public event is described by Ambrose, bishop of Milan, in an epistle
to the emperor Theodosius, which must provoke the severe animadversion of
the Jews; by the eloquent Chrysostom, who might appeal to the memory of
the elder part of his congregation at Antioch; and by Gregory Nazianzen,
who published his account of the miracle before the expiration of the same
year. The last of these writers has boldly declared, that this
preternatural event was not disputed by the infidels; and his assertion,
strange as it may seem is confirmed by the unexceptionable testimony of
Ammianus Marcellinus. The philosophic soldier, who loved the virtues,
without adopting the prejudices, of his master, has recorded, in his
judicious and candid history of his own times, the extraordinary obstacles
which interrupted the restoration of the temple of Jerusalem. "Whilst
Alypius, assisted by the governor of the province, urged, with vigor and
diligence, the execution of the work, horrible balls of fire breaking out
near the foundations, with frequent and reiterated attacks, rendered the
place, from time to time, inaccessible to the scorched and blasted
workmen; and the victorious element continuing in this manner obstinately
and resolutely bent, as it were, to drive them to a distance, the
undertaking was abandoned." * Such authority should satisfy a believing,
and must astonish an incredulous, mind. Yet a philosopher may still
require the original evidence of impartial and intelligent spectators. At
this important crisis, any singular accident of nature would assume the
appearance, and produce the effects of a real prodigy. This glorious
deliverance would be speedily improved and magnified by the pious art of
the clergy of Jerusalem, and the active credulity of the Christian world
and, at the distance of twenty years, a Roman historian, careless of
theological disputes, might adorn his work with the specious and splendid
miracle.
The restoration of the Jewish temple was secretly connected with the ruin
of the Christian church. Julian still continued to maintain the freedom of
religious worship, without distinguishing whether this universal
toleration proceeded from his justice or his clemency. He affected to pity
the unhappy Christians, who were mistaken in the most important object of
their lives; but his pity was degraded by contempt, his contempt was
embittered by hatred; and the sentiments of Julian were expressed in a
style of sarcastic wit, which inflicts a deep and deadly wound, whenever
it issues from the mouth of a sovereign. As he was sensible that the
Christians gloried in the name of their Redeemer, he countenanced, and
perhaps enjoined, the use of the less honorable appellation of Galilæans.
He declared, that by the folly of the Galilæans, whom he describes
as a sect of fanatics, contemptible to men, and odious to the gods, the
empire had been reduced to the brink of destruction; and he insinuates in
a public edict, that a frantic patient might sometimes be cured by
salutary violence. An ungenerous distinction was admitted into the mind
and counsels of Julian, that, according to the difference of their
religious sentiments, one part of his subjects deserved his favor and
friendship, while the other was entitled only to the common benefits that
his justice could not refuse to an obedient people. According to a
principle, pregnant with mischief and oppression, the emperor transferred
to the pontiffs of his own religion the management of the liberal
allowances from the public revenue, which had been granted to the church by
the piety of Constantine and his sons. The proud system of clerical honors
and immunities, which had been constructed with so much art and labor, was
levelled to the ground; the hopes of testamentary donations were
intercepted by the rigor of the laws; and the priests of the Christian
sect were confounded with the last and most ignominious class of the
people. Such of these regulations as appeared necessary to check the
ambition and avarice of the ecclesiastics, were soon afterwards imitated
by the wisdom of an orthodox prince. The peculiar distinctions which
policy has bestowed, or superstition has lavished, on the sacerdotal
order, must be confined to those priests who profess the religion of the
state. But the will of the legislator was not exempt from prejudice and
passion; and it was the object of the insidious policy of Julian, to
deprive the Christians of all the temporal honors and advantages which
rendered them respectable in the eyes of the world.
A just and severe censure has been inflicted on the law which prohibited
the Christians from teaching the arts of grammar and rhetoric. The motives
alleged by the emperor to justify this partial and oppressive measure,
might command, during his lifetime, the silence of slaves and the applause
of flatterers. Julian abuses the ambiguous meaning of a word which might
be indifferently applied to the language and the religion of the Greeks:
he contemptuously observes, that the men who exalt the merit of implicit
faith are unfit to claim or to enjoy the advantages of science; and he
vainly contends, that if they refuse to adore the gods of Homer and
Demosthenes, they ought to content themselves with expounding Luke and
Matthew in the church of the Galilæans. In all the cities of the
Roman world, the education of the youth was intrusted to masters of
grammar and rhetoric; who were elected by the magistrates, maintained at
the public expense, and distinguished by many lucrative and honorable
privileges. The edict of Julian appears to have included the physicians,
and professors of all the liberal arts; and the emperor, who reserved to
himself the approbation of the candidates, was authorized by the laws to
corrupt, or to punish, the religious constancy of the most learned of the
Christians. As soon as the resignation of the more obstinate teachers had
established the unrivalled dominion of the Pagan sophists, Julian invited
the rising generation to resort with freedom to the public schools, in a
just confidence, that their tender minds would receive the impressions of
literature and idolatry. If the greatest part of the Christian youth
should be deterred by their own scruples, or by those of their parents,
from accepting this dangerous mode of instruction, they must, at the same
time, relinquish the benefits of a liberal education. Julian had reason to
expect that, in the space of a few years, the church would relapse into
its primæval simplicity, and that the theologians, who possessed an
adequate share of the learning and eloquence of the age, would be
succeeded by a generation of blind and ignorant fanatics, incapable of
defending the truth of their own principles, or of exposing the various
follies of Polytheism.
It was undoubtedly the wish and design of Julian to deprive the Christians
of the advantages of wealth, of knowledge, and of power; but the injustice
of excluding them from all offices of trust and profit seems to have been
the result of his general policy, rather than the immediate consequence of
any positive law. Superior merit might deserve and obtain, some
extraordinary exceptions; but the greater part of the Christian officers
were gradually removed from their employments in the state, the army, and
the provinces. The hopes of future candidates were extinguished by the
declared partiality of a prince, who maliciously reminded them, that it
was unlawful for a Christian to use the sword, either of justice, or of
war; and who studiously guarded the camp and the tribunals with the
ensigns of idolatry. The powers of government were intrusted to the
pagans, who professed an ardent zeal for the religion of their ancestors;
and as the choice of the emperor was often directed by the rules of
divination, the favorites whom he preferred as the most agreeable to the
gods, did not always obtain the approbation of mankind. Under the
administration of their enemies, the Christians had much to suffer, and
more to apprehend. The temper of Julian was averse to cruelty; and the
care of his reputation, which was exposed to the eyes of the universe,
restrained the philosophic monarch from violating the laws of justice and
toleration, which he himself had so recently established. But the
provincial ministers of his authority were placed in a less conspicuous
station. In the exercise of arbitrary power, they consulted the wishes,
rather than the commands, of their sovereign; and ventured to exercise a
secret and vexatious tyranny against the sectaries, on whom they were not
permitted to confer the honors of martyrdom. The emperor, who dissembled
as long as possible his knowledge of the injustice that was exercised in
his name, expressed his real sense of the conduct of his officers, by
gentle reproofs and substantial rewards.
The most effectual instrument of oppression, with which they were armed,
was the law that obliged the Christians to make full and ample
satisfaction for the temples which they had destroyed under the preceding
reign. The zeal of the triumphant church had not always expected the
sanction of the public authority; and the bishops, who were secure of
impunity, had often marched at the head of their congregation, to attack
and demolish the fortresses of the prince of darkness. The consecrated
lands, which had increased the patrimony of the sovereign or of the
clergy, were clearly defined, and easily restored. But on these lands, and
on the ruins of Pagan superstition, the Christians had frequently erected
their own religious edifices: and as it was necessary to remove the church
before the temple could be rebuilt, the justice and piety of the emperor
were applauded by one party, while the other deplored and execrated his
sacrilegious violence. After the ground was cleared, the restitution of
those stately structures which had been levelled with the dust, and of the
precious ornaments which had been converted to Christian uses, swelled
into a very large account of damages and debt. The authors of the injury
had neither the ability nor the inclination to discharge this accumulated
demand: and the impartial wisdom of a legislator would have been displayed
in balancing the adverse claims and complaints, by an equitable and
temperate arbitration. But the whole empire, and particularly the East,
was thrown into confusion by the rash edicts of Julian; and the Pagan
magistrates, inflamed by zeal and revenge, abused the rigorous privilege
of the Roman law, which substitutes, in the place of his inadequate
property, the person of the insolvent debtor. Under the preceding reign,
Mark, bishop of Arethusa, had labored in the conversion of his people with
arms more effectual than those of persuasion. The magistrates required the
full value of a temple which had been destroyed by his intolerant zeal:
but as they were satisfied of his poverty, they desired only to bend his
inflexible spirit to the promise of the slightest compensation. They
apprehended the aged prelate, they inhumanly scourged him, they tore his
beard; and his naked body, anointed with honey, was suspended, in a net,
between heaven and earth, and exposed to the stings of insects and the
rays of a Syrian sun. From this lofty station, Mark still persisted to
glory in his crime, and to insult the impotent rage of his persecutors. He
was at length rescued from their hands, and dismissed to enjoy the honor
of his divine triumph. The Arians celebrated the virtue of their pious
confessor; the Catholics ambitiously claimed his alliance; and the Pagans,
who might be susceptible of shame or remorse, were deterred from the
repetition of such unavailing cruelty. Julian spared his life: but if the
bishop of Arethusa had saved the infancy of Julian, posterity will condemn
the ingratitude, instead of praising the clemency, of the emperor.
At the distance of five miles from Antioch, the Macedonian kings of Syria
had consecrated to Apollo one of the most elegant places of devotion in
the Pagan world. A magnificent temple rose in honor of the god of light;
and his colossal figure almost filled the capacious sanctuary, which was
enriched with gold and gems, and adorned by the skill of the Grecian
artists. The deity was represented in a bending attitude, with a golden
cup in his hand, pouring out a libation on the earth; as if he supplicated
the venerable mother to give to his arms the cold and beauteous Daphne:
for the spot was ennobled by fiction; and the fancy of the Syrian poets
had transported the amorous tale from the banks of the Peneus to those of
the Orontes. The ancient rites of Greece were imitated by the royal colony
of Antioch. A stream of prophecy, which rivalled the truth and reputation
of the Delphic oracle, flowed from the Castalian
fountain of Daphne. In the adjacent fields a stadium was built by a
special privilege, which had been purchased from Elis; the Olympic games
were celebrated at the expense of the city; and a revenue of thirty
thousand pounds sterling was annually applied to the public pleasures. The
perpetual resort of pilgrims and spectators insensibly formed, in the
neighborhood of the temple, the stately and populous village of Daphne,
which emulated the splendor, without acquiring the title, of a provincial
city. The temple and the village were deeply bosomed in a thick grove of
laurels and cypresses, which reached as far as a circumference of ten
miles, and formed in the most sultry summers a cool and impenetrable
shade. A thousand streams of the purest water, issuing from every hill,
preserved the verdure of the earth, and the temperature of the air; the
senses were gratified with harmonious sounds and aromatic odors; and the
peaceful grove was consecrated to health and joy, to luxury and love. The
vigorous youth pursued, like Apollo, the object of his desires; and the
blushing maid was warned, by the fate of Daphne, to shun the folly of
unseasonable coyness. The soldier and the philosopher wisely avoided the
temptation of this sensual paradise: where pleasure, assuming the
character of religion, imperceptibly dissolved the firmness of manly
virtue. But the groves of Daphne continued for many ages to enjoy the
veneration of natives and strangers; the privileges of the holy ground
were enlarged by the munificence of succeeding emperors; and every
generation added new ornaments to the splendor of the temple.
When Julian, on the day of the annual festival, hastened to adore the
Apollo of Daphne, his devotion was raised to the highest pitch of
eagerness and impatience. His lively imagination anticipated the grateful
pomp of victims, of libations and of incense; a long procession of youths
and virgins, clothed in white robes, the symbol of their innocence; and
the tumultuous concourse of an innumerable people. But the zeal of Antioch
was diverted, since the reign of Christianity, into a different channel.
Instead of hecatombs of fat oxen sacrificed by the tribes of a wealthy
city to their tutelar deity the emperor complains that he found only a
single goose, provided at the expense of a priest, the pale and solitary
inhabitant of this decayed temple. The altar was deserted, the oracle had
been reduced to silence, and the holy ground was profaned by the
introduction of Christian and funereal rites. After Babylas (a bishop of
Antioch, who died in prison in the persecution of Decius) had rested near
a century in his grave, his body, by the order of Cæsar Gallus, was
transported into the midst of the grove of Daphne. A magnificent church
was erected over his remains; a portion of the sacred lands was usurped
for the maintenance of the clergy, and for the burial of the Christians at
Antioch, who were ambitious of lying at the feet of their bishop; and the
priests of Apollo retired, with their affrighted and indignant votaries.
As soon as another revolution seemed to restore the fortune of Paganism,
the church of St. Babylas was demolished, and new buildings were added to
the mouldering edifice which had been raised by the piety of Syrian kings.
But the first and most serious care of Julian was to deliver his oppressed
deity from the odious presence of the dead and living Christians, who had
so effectually suppressed the voice of fraud or enthusiasm. The scene of
infection was purified, according to the forms of ancient rituals; the
bodies were decently removed; and the ministers of the church were
permitted to convey the remains of St. Babylas to their former habitation
within the walls of Antioch. The modest behavior which might have assuaged
the jealousy of a hostile government was neglected, on this occasion, by
the zeal of the Christians. The lofty car, that transported the relics of
Babylas, was followed, and accompanied, and received, by an innumerable
multitude; who chanted, with thundering acclamations, the Psalms of David
the most expressive of their contempt for idols and idolaters. The return
of the saint was a triumph; and the triumph was an insult on the religion
of the emperor, who exerted his pride to dissemble his resentment. During
the night which terminated this indiscreet procession, the temple of
Daphne was in flames; the statue of Apollo was consumed; and the walls of
the edifice were left a naked and awful monument of ruin. The Christians
of Antioch asserted, with religious confidence, that the powerful
intercession of St. Babylas had pointed the lightnings of heaven against
the devoted roof: but as Julian was reduced to the alternative of
believing either a crime or a miracle, he chose, without hesitation,
without evidence, but with some color of probability, to impute the fire
of Daphne to the revenge of the Galilæans. Their offence, had it
been sufficiently proved, might have justified the retaliation, which was
immediately executed by the order of Julian, of shutting the doors, and
confiscating the wealth, of the cathedral of Antioch. To discover the
criminals who were guilty of the tumult, of the fire, or of secreting the
riches of the church, several of the ecclesiastics were tortured; and a
Presbyter, of the name of Theodoret, was beheaded by the sentence of the
Count of the East. But this hasty act was blamed by the emperor; who
lamented, with real or affected concern, that the imprudent zeal of his
ministers would tarnish his reign with the disgrace of persecution.