To Oribasius.
Homer says there are two gates of dreams and that we cannot trust them equally when it comes to the future. But this time — if ever — I think you have seen clearly. For I too had a vision today of the same kind.
I dreamed that in a very large room a tall tree had been planted, and that it was leaning toward the ground. At its root another tree had sprouted — small, young, and flourishing. I was anxious for the small tree, afraid that if someone pulled up the large one, the small one would come up with it. And in fact, when I came closer, the tall tree was lying flat on the ground, while the small one was still upright — but hanging suspended, its roots torn from the earth.
I said in great distress: "The tall tree is finished. There is a real danger that its offspring will not survive either." Then a stranger appeared and said: "Look carefully and take heart. The root still holds in the ground. The smaller tree will not be harmed — it will be established more securely than before."
So much for my dreams. God knows what they mean.
As for that despicable eunuch [probably Eusebius, the powerful chamberlain at the court of Emperor Constantius II] — I would like to know when exactly he said those things about me, whether before or after he met me. Tell me whatever you can.
Regarding my dealings with him: the gods know that when he wronged the provincials, I often kept silent at the expense of my own honor. Some accusations I refused to hear, others I would not accept, others I simply did not believe, and in some cases I blamed his associates rather than him. But when he decided to make me complicit in his disgrace by sending me reports to sign — shameful, utterly abominable reports — what was I supposed to do? Stay silent? That would have been foolish, servile, and hateful to the gods. Oppose him? That was the only real option.
To Oribasius 1 [358-9 from Paris]
The divinely inspired Homer says2 that there are two gates of dreams, and that with regard to future events we cannot trust them both equally. But I think that this time, if ever before, you have seen clearly into the future; for I too this very day saw a vision of the same sort. I thought that in a certain very spacious room a tall tree had been planted, and that it was leaning down to the ground, while at its root had sprouted another, small and young and very flourishing. Now I was very anxious on behalf of the small tree, lest someone in pulling up the large one should pull it up as well. And in fact, when I came close I saw that the tall tree was lying at full length on the ground, while the small one was still erect, but hung suspended away from the earth. Now when I saw this I said, in great anxiety, "Alas for this tall tree! There is danger that not even its offspring will be preserved." Then one 3
who was altogether a stranger to me said: "Look carefully and take courage. For since the root still remains in the earth, the smaller tree will be uninjured and will be established even more securely than before." So much then for my dreams. God knows what they portend.
As for that abominable eunuch1, I should be glad to learn when he said these things about me, whether it was before he met me, or since. So tell me whatever you can about this.
But with regard to my behaviour towards him,2 the gods know that often, when he wronged the provincials, I kept silence, at the expense of my own
honour; to some charges I would not listen, others I would not admit, others again I did not believe, while in some cases I imputed the blame to his associates. But when he thought fit to make me share in such infamy by sending to me to sign those shameful and wholly abominable reports,3 what was the right thing for me to do? Was I to remain silent, or to oppose him? The former course was foolish, servile and odious to the gods, the latter was just, manly and liberal, but was not open to me on account of the
affairs that engaged me. What then did I do? In the presence of many persons who I knew would report it to him I said: "Such-a-one will certainly and by all means revise his reports, for they pass
the bounds of decency." When he heard this, he was so far from behaving with discretion that he did things which, by heaven, no tyrant with any moderation would have done, and that too though I was so near where he was. In such a case what was the proper conduct for a man who is a zealous student of the teachings of Plato and Aristotle? Ought I to have looked on while the wretched people were being betrayed to thieves, or to have aided them as far as I could, for they were already singing their swan-song because of the criminal artifices of men of that sort? To me, at least, it seems a disgraceful thing that, while I punish my military tribunes when they desert their post—and indeed they ought to be put to death at once, and not even granted burial— I should myself desert my post which is for the defence of such wretched people; whereas it is my duty to fight against thieves of his sort, especially when God is fighting on my side, for it was indeed he who posted me here. And if any harm to myself should result, it is no small consolation to have proceeded with a good conscience. But I pray that the gods may let me keep the excellent
Sallust! 1 If, however, it turns out that because of this affair I receive his successor,2 perhaps it will not grieve me. For it is better to do one's duty for a brief time honestly than for a long time dishonestly. The Peripatetic teachings are not, as some say, less noble than the Stoic. In my
judgement, there is only this difference between them; the former are always more sanguine and not so much the result of deliberate thought, while the latter have a greater
claim to practical wisdom, and are more rigidly consistent with the rules of conduct that they have laid down.1
1 Oribasius was the physician, friend, and perhaps accomplice of Julian in his ambitions: cf. Letter to the Athenians Vol. 2, p. 265; and for his career, Eunapius, Lives of the Sophists and Philosophers. He was at Vienne when Julian wrote this letter.
2 Odyssey 19. 562. Oribasius had evidently reported to Julian some dream of his which augured well for their hopes. In the dream that follows the tall tree is Constantius, the sapling is Julian.
3 Hermes, who was Julian's guide in the myth in Oration 7. 230C.
1 Probably Eusebius the chamberlain of Constantius whose intrigues against Julian are mentioned in Letter to the Athenians 274a. The epithet is unsuitable to Florentius, though some editors refer it to him.
2 In spite of the abruptness of the transition, I follow Asmus in supposing that Julian here, partly for prudence -and partly because of his sophistic habit of avoiding names, refers to Florentius, prefect of Gaul 357-360 and consul
361 A.D. , who was at Vienne at this time. For his oppression of the province, see Ammianus 17. 3. 2; Julian, Letter to the Athenians 282c. When Julian was proclaimed Augustus, he fled to Constantius, and later, though condemned to death by Julian, remained in hiding till the latter's death, Ammianus 22. 3. 6.
3 For Julian's refusal to sign or even read the prefect's orders for fresh taxes, see Ammianus 17. 3. 5.
1 Sallust, who accompanied Julian as civil adviser, was recalled by Constantius in 358. Julian, Oration 8; Oration 4 is dedicated to him.
2 This strains the construction but seems more probable than the rendering "If I should be superseded."
1 I translate the suggested reading of Asmus, but the sense remains unsatisfactory.
Homer says there are two gates of dreams and that we cannot trust them equally when it comes to the future. But this time — if ever — I think you have seen clearly. For I too had a vision today of the same kind.
I dreamed that in a very large room a tall tree had been planted, and that it was leaning toward the ground. At its root another tree had sprouted — small, young, and flourishing. I was anxious for the small tree, afraid that if someone pulled up the large one, the small one would come up with it. And in fact, when I came closer, the tall tree was lying flat on the ground, while the small one was still upright — but hanging suspended, its roots torn from the earth.
I said in great distress: "The tall tree is finished. There is a real danger that its offspring will not survive either." Then a stranger appeared and said: "Look carefully and take heart. The root still holds in the ground. The smaller tree will not be harmed — it will be established more securely than before."
So much for my dreams. God knows what they mean.
As for that despicable eunuch [probably Eusebius, the powerful chamberlain at the court of Emperor Constantius II] — I would like to know when exactly he said those things about me, whether before or after he met me. Tell me whatever you can.
Regarding my dealings with him: the gods know that when he wronged the provincials, I often kept silent at the expense of my own honor. Some accusations I refused to hear, others I would not accept, others I simply did not believe, and in some cases I blamed his associates rather than him. But when he decided to make me complicit in his disgrace by sending me reports to sign — shameful, utterly abominable reports — what was I supposed to do? Stay silent? That would have been foolish, servile, and hateful to the gods. Oppose him? That was the only real option.