Julian

by Gore Vidal

  As we rode back to Vienne in the pale winter light, I trembled with an excitement that was close to joy, for I knew now that I would survive. Until that moment, I had not been certain of myself. For all that I knew, I might have been a coward or, worse, too paralysed by the confusion of the moment to make those swift decisions without which no battle was ever won. Yet when the shouting had begun and the blood flowed, I was exalted. I saw what had to be done with perfect clarity, and I did it.

  This skirmish was not taken very seriously at Vienne. What was taken seriously, however, was the fact that Constantius had named me his fellow consul for the new year. It was his eighth consulship, my first. I was pleased, but only moderately. I have never understood why men so value this ancient title. The consul has no power (unless he also happens to be emperor), yet ambitious men will spend a fortune to be admitted to consular rank. Of course, one's name will be known for ever, since all dates are figured by consulates. Even so, I am not much drawn to any form which has lost its meaning. Yet at my investiture, Florentius was almost civil, which was something gained. In a private meeting, he told me, "We plan an offensive in the late spring. You will, if you choose, take part."

  "As commander?"

  "Caesar commands all of Gaul."

  "Caesar is most sensible of his high place. But am I to lead the armies? Am I to plan the war?"

  "You will be our guide in all things, Caesar." He was evasive. Clearly, he was not about to give up control of the province. But a beginning was made. The wall was breached. Now it was up to me to exploit this small change for the better.

  When Florentius had departed, I sent for Sallust, my military adviser. He had been assigned to me when I first arrived in Gaul and I am forever in Constantius's debt for having brought the two of us together. Sallust is both Roman soldier and Greek philosopher. What higher compliment can I give him? When we met, Sallust was in his late forties. He is tall, slow of speech but swift of mind; he comes of an ancient Roman family and like so many Romans of the aristocracy he has never wavered in his allegiance to the true gods. A close friend of such distinguished Hellenists as Symmachus and Praetextatus, he published some years ago a classic defence of our religion, On the Gods and the World. As Maximus is my guide to mysteries and Libanius my model for literary style, so Sallust remains my ideal of what a man should be.

  Sallust was as pleased as I by the news. Together we studied a map of Gaul, and decided that the best move would be to strike directly at Strasbourg. This large city not only commanded a considerable part of the Rhine; it was also being used as a centre of operations by King Chnodomar. Its recapture would greatly strengthen us and weaken the enemy.

  "There is a lesson in this," said Sallust suddenly.

  "In what?"

  "Why are the Germans in Gaul?"

  "Plunder. Desire for more territory. Why do the barbarian tribes ever move from place to place?"

  "They are in Gaul because Constantius invited the tribes to help him against Magnentius. They helped him. And then they remained in Gaul."

  The point was well taken. One must never appeal for help to barbarians. Engage them as mercenaries, bribe them if that is the only way to keep the peace, but never allow a tribe to move into Roman territory for eventually they will attempt to seize what is Roman for themselves. Even as Sallust and I were talking, Constantius was on the Danube, fighting two rebel tribes he had once allowed to settle there.

  Sallust then told me that there was conclusive evidence that Florentius was dealing secretly with certain of the German chiefs. Some he paid on the sly to remain where they were; others paid him not to disturb their present holdings. Carefully Sallust and I constructed our case against Florentius.

  • • •

  In May the plan to strike directly at Strasburg was submitted by Sallust and me to Florentius and his general, Marcellus. It was promptly dismissed. We argued. We begged. We promised victory. But they would not listen.

  "We are not yet ready to commit the army to a major battle. This is not the time." As Marcellus was provincial commander-inchief, I was forced to obey.

  "At what time," I asked, looking about the council chamber (we were in the prefect's palace), "will we be able to obey the Emperor and drive the Germans out of Gaul?"

  Florentius was suave. His manner to me, although still condescending, was more cautious than before. Obviously, I was not to fall without careful effort on his part.

  "May I propose to the Caesar a compromise?" Florentius played with a delicate purse of deerskin, containing his god, gold. "We have not the men for a major campaign. Until the Emperor sends reinforcements, which he is not apt to do this year since he is already committed on the Danube, we must confine ourselves to holding what we have, and to regaining what we can, without too much risk."

  Florentius clapped his hands, and a secretary who was squatting against a wall sprang to his feet. Florentius was most imperial in his ways, but then, praetorian prefects are important men. At this time Florentius governed Morocco, Spain, Gaul and Britain. The secretary held up a map of Gaul.

  Florentius pointed to a town called Autun, iust north of us. "We have received news that the town is besieged." I almost asked why I had not been told before, but I held my tongue. "Now if the Caesar chooses, he might-with General Sallust-" Florentius addressed a small crooked smile at Sallust, whose face remained politely attentive—"relieve Autun. It is an old city. The walls were once impregnable but they are now in considerable disrepair, like nearly all our alefences, I'm afraid. There is not much of a garrison but the townspeople are valiant."

  I told him quickly that nothing would please me more. I would go immediately to the relief of Autun.

  "Of course," said Florentius, "it will take several weeks to equip your troops, to assemble supplies, to…"

  "One good thing," Marcellus interrupted, "you won't have to worry about siege engines. Even if the Germans capture the city before you get there, they won't occupy it. They never do."

  "But what about Cologne and Strasbourg?"

  "Destroyed," said Marcellus, with almost as much pleasure as if he personally had done the destroying. "But not occupied. The Germans are frightened of cities. They won't stay in one overnight."

  "Their custom," said Florentius, "is to occupy the countryside around a city and starve the inhabitants. When the city finally capitulates, they burn it and move on."

  "How many troops will I be allowed?"

  "We are not certain just yet. There are other… contingencies."

  Florentius shifted from hand to hand the purse of gold. "But in a few weeks we shall know and then the Caesar may begin his first… Gallic war." This jibe was crude but I had learned not to show offence.

  "Then see to it, Prefect," I said, as royally as possible, and accompanied by Sallust I left the palace. As we walked through the city streets to my villa, not even the memory of Florentius's contempt could shatter the delight I took in the thought of action. "Just one successful campaign and Constantius will give me the whole army!"

  "Perhaps." Sallust was thoughtful. We crossed the square, where carts from the countryside were gathering with the first of the season's produce. Two guards followed me at a discreet distance.

  Though I was Caesar, the townspeople were by now quite used to seeing me wander alone in the streets and where before they had done me frightened obeisance, they now greeted me—respectfully of course—as a neighbour.

  "Only…. "Sallust stopped.

  "Only if I have too great a victory, Constantius will see to it that I never command an army again."

  "Exactly."

  I shrugged. "I must take my chances. Besides, after the Danube, Constantius will have to face the Persians. He'll have no choice except to trust me. There's no one else. If I can hold Gaul, then he must let me."

  "But suppose he does not go against Persia? Suppose he moves against you?"

  "Suppose I am struck dead by… that cart?" And we both leaped to the side of the road as a
bullock-cart rumbled past us while its driver loudly cursed it and us and the gods who had made him late for market. "It will be all right, Sallust," I said as we approached the villa. "I have had signs."

  Sallust accepted this, for he knew that I was under the special protection of Hermes, who is the swift intelligence of the universe.

  XI

  On 22 June I left Vienne at the head of an army of twelve thousand men—cuirassiers, crossbowmen and infantry. The whole town came out to see us off. Florentius radiated irony, while Marcellus could hardly disguise his amusement. I am sure that they thought this was the last they would see of me. Helena bade me farewell with stoic dignity. She was the essence of a Roman matron, quite prepared for me to return upon my shield. It was a sunny day as we rode out of the city. On my right was Sallust and on my left Oribasius. Directly in front of me a standardbearer carried a hideously lifelike image of Constantius, crowned and wearing the imperial robe. My cousin had recently sent me this effigy, with a long set of instructions on how I was to show it off. He also reminded me that I had not been sent to Gaul as monarch but as a representative of the Emperor whose principal task was to display the imperial robe and image to the people. Despite this small humiliation, I was in high spirits as we took to the road. We arrived at Autun 26 June. On that same day I defeated the Germans and set the city free. Note to secretary: At this point insert relevant chapter from my book, The Gallic Wars. It should be that section which covers the campaign from Autun to Auxerre to Troyes to Rheims, where I passed the month of August.

  Priscus: As Julian described, Sallust on his right, Oribasius on his left, and myself just behind. His official account of the campaign is generally accurate. From Julius Caesar on, commanders tend to give themselves the best of it in their memoirs, but Julian was usually honest. Of course he tended not to mention his mistakes. He does not tell how he lost the better part of a legion through carelessness: he sent them through a forest where he had been warned that there were Germans… and there were Germans. But in general, Julian was a cautious commander. He seldom committed a man unless he was certain that the odds were in his favour. Or so the experts assure us. I know practically nothing of military matters, even though I served with Julian both in Gaul and Persia. I was not of course a soldier, though I did fight from time to time, with no pleasure. I experienced none of that blood lust he referred to some pages back, a rather surprising admission because in conversation Julian never once admitted to a liking for war.

  Sallust took care of all details. He was most capable and in every way an admirable man. Too admirable, perhaps? One often had the feeling that he was playing a part (usually that of Marcus Aurelius); he was invariably demure and diffident and modest and sensible, all those things the world believes it admires. Which is the point. Less self-conscious men invariably have traits we do not admire. The good and the bad are all mixed together. Sallust was all good. That must have taken intense self-discipline as well as the awareness that he was indeed trying to be something he was not. But no matter what his motives, he was impressive, and a good influence on Julian.

  Julian lifted the siege at Autun. He then marched north to Auxerre. He rested there a few days. He always took every possible opportunity to refresh his troops, unlike so many generals who drive them past their strength. From Auxerre we moved to Troyes. This was a difficult journey. We were continually harassed by Germans. They are a frightening-looking people, tall and muscular, with long hair dyed bright red, a tribal custom. They dress pretty much like us, wearing armour pilfered from Roman corpses. In open country, they are easily vanquished, but in forests they are dangerous.

  At Troyes we spent several hours outside the walls trying to explain to the frightened garrison that we were not Germans and that this was indeed the Caesar. Finally Julian himself, with that "hideously lifelike" image of Constantius beside him, ordered the people to open the gates.

  We stayed at Troyes a day. Then we moved on to Rheims. Julian had previously agreed with Florentius that the main army of Gaul would be concentrated there in August, preparatory to retaking Cologne. So Marcellus was already at Rheims when we got there. Shortly after we arrived, a military council was called. Weary from the long ride and longing for the baths, I accompanied Julian and Sallust to the meeting.

  Marcellus was hardly pleased to find Julian so obviously thriving on military life. When Julian inquired if the troops were ready, he was told that they were not. When would they be ready? Evasion. Finally: a major offensive was not possible this year.

  Then Julian rose and lied with the genius of a Ulysses. I could hardly believe my ears. He spoke first in sorrow. "I had hoped to find all of you here eager and ready to fight the tribes. Instead, I find nothing is planned and we are on the defensive, as usual." Marcellus began to mutter dangerously but Julian was in full flow. You know what he was like when the spirit {often identified as Helios) was upon him.

  "I was sent here, General, by the divine Emperor to show his image to the barbarians. I was also sent here to recover the cities you have lost. I was sent here to drive the savages back to their forests beyond the Rhine. I have sworn as Caesar to conquer them or to die."

  "But Caesar, we…" That was all Marcellus was allowed to say. As Julian talked through him, he withdrew a document from his tunic. It was the booklet on etiquette that Constantius had given him. "Do you see this, General? All of you?" Julian waved it like a standard in the air. No one could tell what it was exactly, but the imperial seal was perfectly visible.

  "It is from the divine Emperor. It is to me. It arrived by special messenger at Autun. It contains orders. We are to regain Cologne. Those are his commands and we are his slaves. We have no choice but to obey."

  There was consternation on Marcellus's side of the council table. No one had heard of these instructions for the excellent reason that they did not exist. But the bold lie worked largely because Marcellus was a true politician in the sense that he could not admit that there was anything which he ought to know that in fact he did not know. He gave Julian the army.

  Julian Augustus

  At Rheims I reviewed the legions as they marched through the city gates, all of us sweating in the hot August sun. It was a lowering day, humid and ill-omened. As I stood on the platform outside the city gate, gnats whirring about my head and sweat trickling down my face, a message from Vienne was handed to me. It was a brief note from Florentius. My wife had been delivered of a boy who had died shortly afterwards. She was in good health. That was all.

  It is an odd thing to be the father of a son and the grieving father of a dead son, all in the same instant. I handed the letter to Sallust. Then I turned back to the legions who were marching rhythmically now in Pyrrhic measure to the sound of pipes.

  Priscus: The midwife cut too short the child's umbilical cord. We later learned that she had been paid to do this by the Empress Eusebia. Yet I never heard Julian refer to Eusebia in any but the most glowing terms. It is sad how tangled the relations among princes become… What a ridiculous statement! We are all in the habit of censuring the great, as if we were popular playwrights, when in fact ordinary folk are quite as devious and as wilful and as desperate to survive (if not to prevail) as are the great; particularly philosophers.

  Julian skips the rest of that year's campaign with a note that a section from his earlier book will be inserted. That will be your task. Personally, I find his book on the Gallic wars almost as boring as Julius Caesar's. I say "almost" because a description of something one has lived through can never be entirely dull. But descriptions of battles soon pall. I would suggest—although you have not asked for my literary advice—that you keep the military inserts to a minimum.

  Julian's autumn campaign was a success. He fought a set battle at Brumath which strategists regard as a model of brilliant warfare. I wouldn't know. At the time I thought it confusing, but it opened the road to Cologne. That part of the world, by the way, is quite lovely, especially a spot called the Confluence, whereob
viously—two rivers join, the Moselle and the Rhine, at a town called Remagen—ours; just past Remagen is an old Roman tower which commands the countryside. Not far from gemagen is Cologne, which to everyone's amazement Julian regained, after a brief battle.

  We remained at Cologne all of September. Julian was in excellent form. Several of the Frankish chiefs paid him court and he both charmed and awed them, a rare gift which he apparently shared, if one is to trust Cicero, with Julius Caesar.

  A light note of no consequence: Oribasius bet me one gold piece that Constantius would take revenge on Julian for lying to Marcellus. I bet him that he would not. I won the gold piece. We then spent the winter at Sens, a depressing provincial town north of Vienne. It was nearly the last winter for all of us.

  Julian Augustus

  After the victories described, I went into winter quarters at a pleasant town called Sens whose particular virtue was that it kept me at a proper distance from Florentius at Vienne and Marcellus at Rheims.

  During those months Helena kept much to herself. She had several ladies with her from the court at Milan and I think that she was reasonably content, though she was not in good health: because of her age, the birth had been a difficult one. I was always ill at ease with Helena. I could hardly forget that she was the sister of my enemy. For a long time I was uncertain to which of us she was loyal. I do know that she kept up a considerable correspondence with her brother (since destroyed; by whom? very mysterious); as a result, I was careful to say nothing in her presence which might make Constantius suspicious. This self-restraint was a considerable burden for me.

  Only once did Helena reveal that she had some idea of what was in my mind and heart. It was in December. We had dined frugally in my office, which was easier to heat than the state apartments. Several braziers gave forth sufficient heat—at least for me; Priscus used to complain bitterly of my meanness in this regard. Helena sat with her ladies at the opposite end of the room, listening to one of the women sing Greek songs, while Oribasius, Sallust, Priscus and I reclined on couches at the other end of the room.