Res Gestae

Ammianus Marcellinus

Ammianus Marcellinus. Ammianus Marcellinus, with an English translation, Vols. I-III. Rolfe, John C., translator. Cambridge, MA; London: Harvard University Press; W. Heinemann, 1935-1940 (printing).

While he was trying to pluck this out with his right hand, he felt that the sinews of his fingers were cut through on both sides by the sharp steel. Then he fell from his horse, all present hastened to the spot, he was taken to camp and given medical treatment.

And soon, as the pain diminished somewhat, he ceased to fear, and fighting with great spirit against death, he called for his arms and his horse in order by his return to the fight to restore the confidence of his men, and troubling nothing about himself, to show that he was filled with great anxiety for the safety of the others; with the same vigour, though under different conditions, with which the famous leader Epaminondas, when mortally wounded at Mantinia and carried from the field, took particular care to ask for his shield.[*](Val. Max. iii. 2, ext.; Just. vi. 11, 8; of. Nepos, Epam. 9, 3.) And

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when he saw it near him, he died of his terrible wound, happy; for he who gave up his life without fear dreaded the loss of his shield.

But since Julian’s strength was not equal to his will, and he was weakened by great loss of blood, he lay still, having lost all hope for his life because, on inquiry, he learned that the place where he had fallen was called Phrygia.[*](He had been told in a dream that he would die in Phrygia; see Zonaras, xiii. 13, A.) For he had heard that it was fate’s decree that he should die there.

But when the emperor had been taken to his tent, the soldiers, burning with wrath and grief, with incredible vigour rushed to avenge him, clashing their spears against their shields, resolved even to die if it should be the will of fate. And although the high clouds of dust blinded the eyes, and the burning heat weakened the activity of their limbs, yet as though discharged[*](And so released from discipline.) by the loss of their leader, without sparing themselves, they rushed upon the swords of the enemy.

On the other hand, the exulting Persians sent forth such a shower of arrows that they prevented their opponents from seeing the bowmen. Before them slowly marched the elephants, which with their huge size of body and horrifying crests, struck terror into horses and men. Further off, the trampling of the combatants, the groans of the falling, the panting of the horses, and the ring of arms were heard, until finally both parties were weary of inflicting wounds and the darkness of night ended the battle.

On that day fifty Persian grandees and satraps fell, besides a great number of common soldiers, and among them the distinguished generals Merena[*](Cf. 1, 11, above.) and Nohodares[*](Cf. xviii. 6, 16.) were

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slain. The boastfulness of antiquity may view with amazement the twenty battles of Marcellus in various places;[*](Pliny, N.H. vii. 92, and Solinus, 1,107, speak of thirty-nine.) it may add Sicinius Dentatus,[*](Val. Max. iii. 2, 24; Gell. ii. 11, 2; etc.) honoured with a multitude of military crowns; it may besides admire Sergius,[*](Cf. Pliny and Solin., l.c. ) who (they say) was wounded twenty-three times in different battles, and whose last descendant Catiline tarnished the glorious renown of these victories with an indelible stain. Yet the joy in our success was marred by sorrow.[*](This sentence comes in abruptly: Büchele seems to refer it to what precedes.)

For while the fight went on everywhere after the withdrawal of the leader, the right wing of the army was exhausted, and Anatolius, at that time chief marshal of the court, was killed. Salutius, the prefect, was in extreme danger, but was saved by the help of his adjutant, and by a fortunate chance escaped death, while Phosphorius, a councillor who chanced to be at his side, was lost. Some of the court officials[*](Cf. xxv. 6, 11.) and soldiers, amid many dangers, took refuge in a neighbouring fortress, and were able to rejoin the army only after three days.

While all this was going on, Julian, lying in his tent, addressed his disconsolate and sorrowful companions as follows: Most opportunely, friends, has the time now come for me to leave this life, which I rejoice to return to Nature, at her demand, like an honourable debtor, not (as some might think) bowed down with sorrow, but having learned from the general conviction of philosophers how much happier the soul is than the body, and bearing in mind that whenever a better condition is severed from a worse,

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one should rather rejoice than grieve. Thinking also of this, that the gods of heaven themselves have given death to some men of the greatest virtue[*](Probably referring to Cleobis and Biton and Agamedes and Trophonius; Cic. T.D. i. 47; 113 f.) as their supreme reward.

But this gift, I know well, was given to me, that I might not yield to great difficulties, nor ever bow down and humiliate myself; for experience teaches me that all sorrows overcome only weaklings, but yield to the steadfast.

I do not regret what I have done, nor does the recollection of any grave misdeed torment me; either when I was consigned to the shade and obscurity, or after I attained the principate, I have preserved my soul, as taking its origin from relationship with the gods, stainless (in my opinion), conducting civil affairs with moderation, and making and repelling wars only after mature deliberation. And yet success and well-laid plans do not always go hand in hand, since higher powers claim for themselves the outcome of all enterprises.

Considering, then, that the aim of a just rule is the welfare and security of its subjects, I was always, as you know, more inclined to peaceful measures, excluding from my conduct all license, the corrupter of deeds and of character. On the other hand, I depart rejoicing that, so often as the state, like an imperious parent, has exposed me deliberately to dangers, I have stood four-square, accustomed as I am to tread under foot the storms of fate.

And I shall not be ashamed to admit, that I learned long ago through the words of a trustworthy prophecy, that I should perish by the sword. And therefore I thank the eternal power that

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I meet my end, not from secret plots, nor from the pain of a tedious illness, nor by the fate of a criminal, but that in the mid-career of glorious renown I have been found worthy of so noble a departure from this world. For he is justly regarded as equally weak and cowardly who desires to die when he ought not, or he who seeks to avoid death when his time has come.

So much it will be enough to say, since my vital strength is failing. But as to the choice of an emperor, I am prudently silent, lest I pass over some worthy person through ignorance, or if I name someone whom I consider suitable, and perhaps another is preferred, I may expose him to extreme danger. But as an honourable foster-child of our country, I wish that a good ruler may be found to succeed me.

After having spoken these words in a calm tone, wishing to distribute his private property to his closer friends, as if with the last stroke of his pen, he called for Anatolius, his chief court-marshal. And when the prefect Salutius replied He has been happy, he understood that he had been slain, and he who recently with such courage had been indifferent to his own fate, grieved deeply over that of a friend.

Meanwhile, all who were present wept, where- upon even then maintaining his authority, he chided them, saying that it was unworthy to mourn for a prince who was called to union with heaven and the stars.

As this made them all silent, he himself engaged with the philosophers Maximus[*](Cf. xxii. 7, 3.) and Priscus in an intricate discussion about the nobility of the soul.[*](After the example of Socrates and others; of Thrasea, cf. Tac. Ann. xvi. 34.) Suddenly the wound in his pierced

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side opened wide, the pressure of the blood checked his breath, and after a draught of cold water for which he had asked, in the gloom of midnight he passed quietly away in the thirty-second year of his age. Born in Constantinople, he was left alone in childhood by the death both of his father Constantius (who, after the decease of his brother Constantinus, met his end with many others in the strife for the succession to the throne)[*](Constantine left the rule to his three sons, but Con- stantius had all his relatives slain, except Gallus and Julian, who were then children.) and of his mother Basilina, who came from an old and noble family.[*](She was a daughter of the praetorian prefect Julianus, and died a few years after the birth of her only child.)

He was a man truly to be numbered with the heroic spirits, distinguished for his illustrious deeds and his inborn majesty. For since there are, in the opinion of the philosophers, four principal virtues,[*](Cicero, De Off. i. 5, 15.) moderation, wisdom, justice, and courage and corresponding to these also some external characteristics, such as knowledge of the art of war, authority, good fortune, and liberality, these as a whole and separately Julian cultivated with constant zeal.

In the first place, he was so conspicuous for inviolate chastity that after the loss of his wife[*](Cf. xxi. 1, 5.) it is well known that he never gave a thought to love: bearing in mind what we read in Plato,[*](Rep. i, 329, B-C; cf. Cic. De Senec. 14, 47.) that Sophocles, the tragic poet, when he was asked, at a great age, whether he still had congress with women, said no, adding that he was glad that he had escaped from this passion as from some mad and cruel

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master.

Also, to give greater strength to this principle, Julian often repeated the saying of the lyric poet Bacchylides, whom he delighted to read, who declares that as a skilful painter gives a face beauty, just so chastity gives charm to a life of high aims. This blemish in the mature strength of manhood he avoided with such care, that even his most confidential attendants never (as often happens) accused him even of a suspicion of any lustfulness.

Moreover, this kind of self-restraint was made still greater through his moderation in eating and sleeping, which he strictly observed at home and abroad. For in time of peace the frugality of his living and his table excited the wonder of those who could judge aright, as if he intended soon to resume the philosopher’s cloak. And on his various campaigns, he was often seen partaking of common and scanty food, sometimes standing up like a common soldier.