the old Greek city of Seleucia opposite Ctesiphon. He forced the passage of the river by a very vigorous and dangerous movement in the face of the enemy, and found himself under the walls of the capital (xxiv. 6, 4–14). But no threats or sarcasms could draw the inhabitants from their impregnable defences, and Sapor himself made no appearance. Part of the Roman army had been left in Mesopotamia, where the two ambitious generals, Procopius and Sebastianus, fell out, and the support expected from Arsaces was not forthcoming. But though Sapor did not appear to give battle, he sent a secret ambassador with offers of an honourable peace, the exact terms of which are unknown to us (Liban. Epit. p. 608; Socr. Iii. 21; Ammianus is here defective). These Julian declined, against. the advice of Hormisdas. He was fired with all sorts of vague and enthusiastic projects; he longed to visit the plain of Arbela and to overrun the whole Persian empire (Liban. Epit. p. 609). These ideas were kindled into action by the arts of a certain Persian noble, who pretended to be a deserter, indignant against his sovereign, but who in reality played the part of a second Zopyrus (Greg. Naz. Or. 5, 11, p. 154; cf. Aurel. Victor. Epit. 67; Soz. vi. 1, p. 218). Julian's fleet presented a difficulty, and he determined upon the hazardous measure of burning it, except a very few vessels, which were to be placed on wheels. This was done at Abuzatha, where he halted five days (Zos. iii. 26). A short time of reflection and a discovery that his Persian informants were deceiving him made him regret his decision. He attempted too late to save some of the ships. Only twelve out of some 1,100 were still uninjured. What had been intended to be a triumphant progress almost insensibly became a retreat. The Persian cavalry were perpetually harassing the outskirts of the army, and though beaten at close quarters were continually appearing in fresh swarms. The few ships that remained were insufficient to build a bridge by which to open communications with Mesopotamia. Nothing was left but to proceed along the E. bank of the Tigris to the nearest friiendly province, Corduene in S. Armenia, as quickly as possible. This was determined on June 16, only ten days before the death of Julian (Amm. xxiv. 8, 5). How far he had previously penetrated into the interior is not easy to determine. In the next few days the Romans fought several battles with success, but not such as to ensure them a quiet march forwards. They suffered from want of food, and Julian shared their privations on an equality with the commonest soldier (Amm. xxv. 2, 2). On the night of June 25, as he was studying some book of philosophy in his tent, he had a vision (as he told his intimates) of the Genius of the Republic leaving his tent in a mournful attitude, with a veil over his head and over the cornucopia in his hand—reminding him by contrast of his vision of the night before he was proclaimed Augustus. He shook off his natural terror, and went out into the night air to offer propitiatory sacrifices, when he received another shock from the appearance of a brilliant meteor, which he: interpreted as a sign of the wrath of Mars, whom he had already offended (xxv. 2, 4; cf. xxiv. 6, 17). When day dawned the Etruscan diviners implored him to make no movement that day, or at least to put off his march for some hours. But his courage had returned with daylight, and he gave the order to advance. Sudden attacks of the enemy from different quarters threw the army into confusion, and Julian, excited by the danger, rushed forward without his breastplate, catching up a shield as he went. As he raised his hands above his head to urge his men to pursue, a cavalry spear from an unknown hand grazed his arm and lodged in his right side. He tried to draw out the spear-head, but the sharp edges cut his fingers. He threw up his hand with a convulsive motion, and fell fainting from his horse (xxv. 3, 7, compared with other accounts), uttering a cry which is differently reported. Some said he threw his own blood towards heaven with the bitter words, "O Galilean, Thou hast conquered!" (Theod. iii. 25). Others thought they heard him reproach the gods, and especially the Sun, his patron, for their desertion (Philost. vii. 15; Soz. vi. 2). He was borne to his tent and his wound dressed, no doubt by his friend Oribasius. For a moment he revived, and called for a horse and arms, but a gush of blood shewed how weak he really was. On learning that the place was called Phrygia he gave up all hope, having been told by some diviner that he should die in Phrygia. He addressed those who stood around him in a highly philosophic speech in the style of Socrates, of which Ammianus has preserved a report. He considered that death was sent him as a gift from the gods. He knew of no great faults he had committed either in a private station or as Caesar. He had always desired the good of his subjects, and had endeavoured to be a faithful servant of the republic. He had long known the decree of fate, that his death was impending, and thanked the supreme God that it came, not in a disgraceful or painful way, but in a glorious form. He would not discuss the appointment of his successor, lest he should pass over one who was worthy, or endanger the life of some one whom he thought fit, but hoped that the republic would find a good ruler after him. He then distributed his personal effects to his intimate friends, and asked among others for Anatolius, the master of the offices. Sa!lustius (the prefect of the East) replied that he was happy. Julian understood that he had fallen, but lamented the death of his friend with a natural feeling which he had restrained in thinking of his own. Those who stood round could no longer restrain their grief, but he still kept his habit of command, and rebuked them for their want of high feeling. "My life gives me confidence of being taken to the islands of the blest, to have converse with heaven and the stars; it is mean to weep as if I had deserved to be condemned to Tartarus" (Liban. Epit. p. 614, ἐπετίμα τοῖς τε Ἁλλοις, καὶ οὐχ ἥκιστα (τοῖς φιλοσόφοις) εἰ τῶν βεβιωμένων αὐτὸν εἰς μακάρων νήσους ἀγόντων, οἱ δὲ ὡς ἀξίως ταρτάρου βεβιωκότα δακρύουσιν: Amm. xxv. 3, 22, "humile esse caelo sideribusque conciliatum lugeri principem dicens").
