Emperor Julian, also known as “the Apostate,” remains an enigmatic figure of history. He is remembered mainly as the emperor who “tried to turn back the clock” and reverse what his uncle, Constantine the Great, had already set in motion, namely the state protection and promotion of Christianity. He sought to restore the pagan religions to their former glory by reinstating certain beneficial rights and privileges previously revoked by Constantine. Though he reigned as emperor for less than two years, 361 to 363, his reign was full of activity. Rather than stick to the status quo of his Constantinian predecessors, Julian enacted several laws that reversed earlier reforms. At the same time Julian had to accept that many Christian leaders held lofty positions in the cities as a result of Constantine’s benefaction. He was an adamant opponent of Christianity, seeing its rise to power eclipsing the traditional worship of the gods. This paper examines Julian’s philanthropic reforms as a reaction to the bishops’ rise to power in the cities, and ultimately raises the question: Who was the custodian of the cities? The State or the Church?

After the major religious changes Constantine made in the beginning of his reign, Church leaders were now listed as tax exempt and were allowed to inherit lands. For the first time in the empire, Church leaders held an immense amount of wealth, and thus control of power and influence in the cities. Peter Brown’s book Power and Persuasion explains these complex situations showing how Church leaders occupied the recently vacated positions of State officials, and adopted their philanthropic responsibilities. This does not mean that the Church did not pursue charitable acts in the cities before the reign of Constantine. In fact, by 250 the Church was already providing care for fifteen hundred poor and widows in Rome alone. Other scholars assert that this number was as much as eighteen hundred. In either case, the evidence suggests there was already a strong presence of Christian charity in the cities, but this would be the first time where

Christian charity would meld with the secular Philanthropia of the civic officials. In doing so, these Church leaders were not only able to garner the loyalty of the poor through almsgiving, but also, in the views of contemporaries, adopt the concept of Philanthropia, establishing it as a Christian virtue.

Julian entered Constantinople as emperor in 361, ready to effectively undo what his predecessors had put into place. The first step was to establish overall religious tolerance. No longer would one religion be favored over the others, and now all could worship as they pleased. This meant that temples closed by Constantine would now be reopened and, most likely, repaired from damage or disuse. It is no surprise then that part of Julian’s first order of reform was to focus his efforts on enhancing the well being of the cities. To accomplish this, Julian used multiple strategies to increase his prospects of success. First, he established a viable scapegoat in the original caretakers of the cities, the Curiales, members of the mercantile class and upper-elite. Apparently these men shirked their duties, hardly maintaining buildings and holding festivals in the cities. Instead, as Julian claims in the first passage of the handout, they were busy using their money for private parties and indulging those closest to them, while they ignored the welfare of the very buildings and people they once cared for. He therefore establishes these men as a greedy lot who have lost sight of their true responsibilities to Philanthropia. Such behavior was not only considered disgraceful to Julian, but also a sacrilege to the gods who bestowed Philanthropia to humanity. Blaming the Curiales’ greed, however, also seemed to serve another purpose. In claiming that these men were greedy and the cause of poverty within the cities, Julian juxtaposed himself as the philanthropic opposite. As we can see from the second passage of the handout in the italics towards the bottom, Julian was now establishing himself as the “nourisher” of the cities, and would do so through the use of his pagan priests and new religious

hierarchy. Once he had blamed the Curiales, the next step was to attack the Church’s use of Philanthropia.

Julian sharply criticized Christian Philanthropia in his letter to an unknown pagan priest. In this letter, found on the second page of your handout in the top passage, Julian depicts the Church leaders as slavers, enticing wandering converts with sweets, and then enslaving their souls for eternity. The entire picture is rife with slanderous propaganda, but is essential for Julian’s plan for reform. By depicting the Christian use of Philanthropia as being similar to a slaver enticing their soon-to-be wares, Julian establishes the charitable acts of bishops and other Church leaders as illegitimate and impious. Such a depiction easily allowed him to set up his own pagan view of Philanthropia as being the only true and legitimate form of philanthropy. To further his cause, Julian then established a legitimate origin for his programs by linking his view of Philanthropia with Homer’s Odyssey, an example almost everyone would have known or understood. Citing the scene where the old swineherd Eumaeus invites a disguised Odysseus into his home, Julian used the hospitality of Eumaeus as a prime example for his priests to follow. More importantly, he cited Homer’s adage, found in the fourth passage of the handout,

It is not lawful for me, not even though a baser man than you should come, to dishonor a stranger. For from Zeus come all strangers and beggars. And a gift, though small, is precious.

Citing this adage in both his Letter to a Priest and Letter to Arsacius, High Priest of Galatia suggests that it held an integral part in Julian’s philanthropic reforms. For Julian, Philanthropia’s legitimate pagan origins established what he saw as a strong foundation for his reforms and religious program. In conjunction with the defamation of the Church and its leaders, both would help create the firm building blocks for his programs. By defaming the Church and its use of Philanthropia, Julian was throwing down the gauntlet, entering the power struggle

that was already taking place. In order to do compete well and seek victory, he now needed to take action that followed his words.

Julian sent out letters, a fragment of which survives from the Church History of Sozomen of Gaza, instructing his priests predominately on the decorum priests should follow and virtues that should be exercised. One such virtue was Philanthropia, which should be practiced above all other virtues. In fact, Julian expressed the importance of using similar philanthropic strategies as that of the Church. Several historians, both ancient and modern, interpreted Julian’s actions as copycat mimicry, and seemingly hypocritical and frankly uncreative. While it is entertaining to think that Julian would act in such a paradoxical manner, it is not wholly unrealistic. Julian himself admits that the Church had excelled in converting followers using Philanthropia, even if it was illegitimate and impious, and the stakes of his reforms were higher than ever. For Julian it did not matter how he won followers, only that he would win followers, and the Church’s success rate, according to Julian, did not lie in that respect. If he was to secure legitimacy for his reforms, he needed to win the Church’s adherents over to his side. It was only natural then to use his knowledge of Philanthropia with the charitable strategies he learned from either viewing the Church leaders or from the tutelage of bishops from his youth. In either case, Julian was ready to do what was necessary to make his vision a reality, even if it meant being a hypocrite. It suggests a sense of desperation in his actions, but this should not be surprising. He must have understood how difficult it would be to compete against an already wealthy and established Church with his nascent pagan revival.

Julian also sent detailed instructions on how donations were to be distributed amongst citizens. One such example can be found in his Letter to Arsacius, the High Priest of Galatia. In it, Julian instructs that Arsacius will be given 30,000 pecks of grain and 60,000 pints of wine

for the cities of Galatia to be distributed among the poor, strangers, and beggars. He also seems to have been concerned with how the entire distribution would be perceived by others, as it was evident that Christians were providing for pagans and Christians alike, with pagan providers nowhere to be seen. A definite pagan presence of philanthropy appears to be Julian’s primary concern, but, again, he seems to be concerned with the question of who was actually responsible for “nurturing” the cities: the emperor and the State, or the bishops and the Church. But still the question remains: why did Julian consider the identity of Philanthropia as a top priority with his reforms? What exactly was at stake within his new reign?

It seems that, based on his writings, Julian is concerned about the welfare of the cities and therefore, the citizens. However, if we scratch beneath the surface of this façade, we find a deeper concern over control of power within the cities. Bishops won over loyal adherents for their respective congregations by using Philanthropia and Julian appears to have no wish to share power with them. Therefore, he sought to overtake them by using fire with fire, attempting to legitimize Philanthropia and meld it for his own use, in similar fashion to what the bishops had already done, following the benefactions of Constantine. However, control of the cities ultimately meant control over the people. By the mid fourth century, the crowds already held a strong, imposing presence. Writings from the period convey the image that civic leaders feared the fickle crowds, easily changed by hardships, such as food shortages. In 354, the city of Antioch was suffering a famine and the starving citizens rioted, burning homes and lynching the governor. Supposedly Julian’s half-brother Gallus, then Caesar of the East, falsely blamed the governor for the food shortage and then handed him over to the crowds to be torn apart. Julian knew about this incident, as he mentions it in his Misopogon, which suggests that he understood the importance of the

crowds. Control of the crowds meant power in the cities, and therefore meant one could sway the crowds to serve their own purposes.

If scenes like the one could instill trepidation in civic officials, it would explain how Philanthropia could be used by either the Church or the State to mass a prodigious force within the cities. Julian’s religious program appears to reflect a definite concern that the Church would gain such control over the citizens. Many of his reforms reflect this idea, and his competition for Philanthropia is just one example of how he sought to regain what paganism had lost, or had been seized by “impious Galileans”. When he accused the Curiales of being corrupt and greedy, it was not their avarice actions that were upsetting, but rather that these elite members of society relinquished their philanthropic duties, and, viewing it as unimportant, virtually handed over Philanthropia to the Church, giving bishops a definite advantage in the power struggle that had already begun between the Church and State.

Julian’s reforms did not last long. When he died during his failed invasion of Persia, Julian’s reforms died with him, having been rescinded by his Christian successor, Jovian. The Church and its bishops would come out on top as the victors. By the end of the 4th century, Ambrose, that famous bishop of Milan, could safely call the bishops “controllers of the crowds”, intensifying the already tenuous power struggle between bishop and emperor, Church and State. Hindsight would show that Julian’s efforts attempted to stall such results, but were in vain. These reforms were but one episode in the ongoing soap opera between Church and State, but showed how one emperor saw this conflict as a definite concern regarding the welfare of the empire.