The Works of the Emperor Julian, Vol. 2

In Short

This collection of speeches, letters, and satires captures the Fourth Century Roman Emperor Julian as he attempts to reform the Roman world through classical pagan philosophy. Writing in Greek, Julian attacks hypocritical contemporary Cynics, defends his own austere life, and outlines the moral obligations of pagan priests. The volume features philosophical lectures, an official letter to Athens justifying his rise to power, a satirical judgment of past Roman emperors, and a self-deprecating response to the citizens of Antioch who mocked his traditional ways. It survives as a rare, intimate portrait of an emperor-philosopher attempting to stem the tide of historical change.

The Story

The intellectual journey recorded in these pages opens with Julian addressing the decline of contemporary philosophy. In his speeches to and against the New Cynics, he argues that true philosophy requires internal discipline rather than mere outward show. He defends the ancient Cynic Diogenes from modern misinterpretations, asserting that philosophy is a divine calling aimed at self-sufficiency and the pursuit of truth rather than an excuse for shamelessness, mendicancy, or social parasitism. Moving from general lectures to specific advice on literature and myth, Julian asserts that allegories belong to ethical instruction and religious teaching. He warns that improper stories mislead the uneducated and insists that myth must serve to elevate the soul toward the divine rather than cater to base pleasures or irreverent mockery.

As the text shifts from philosophical theory to political reality, Julian addresses the grave responsibilities of power. In his letter to the philosopher Themistius, he grapples with the burden of the imperial throne, debating whether a life of contemplative thought is superior to a life of political action. He observes that those tasked with governing cannot merely theorize; they must actively handle the laws and respond to immediate, unpredictable crises. This tension between personal inclination and civic duty carries into his public letter to the Senate and People of Athens, where Julian details the divine signs, internal doubts, and political necessity that forced him to accept the imperial title, framed as an act of duty rather than personal ambition.

In his late writings, Julian attempts to put his moral program into practice while facing bitter opposition. In a fragment addressed to a priest, he outlines strict guidelines for the pagan clergy, ordering them to avoid vulgar literature and Epicurean philosophy, and urging them to emulate the charitable works of their Christian rivals. In his satirical work The Caesars, he imagines a heavenly banquet where past Roman rulers are judged by the gods, favoring statesmen who exhibited mildness, moderation, and devotion to wisdom over those driven by mere conquest or luxury. Finally, in Misopogon ("Beard-Hater"), written near the end of his life in Antioch, Julian turns his pen against himself and his critics. Responding to a populace that ridiculed his rustic habits, long beard, and strict ascetism, he ironically accepts their insults, exposing the deep divide between his austere classicism and the luxurious, mocking city he struggled to govern.

How It Unfolds

Reclaiming ancient virtue Julian reprimands the rogue Cynics of his day for abandoning the discipline of Diogenes, arguing that true philosophy tests everything against reality and seeks inner self-sufficiency rather than social status.

Defining the place of myth Addressing improper allegories told in public, Julian explains that myths must serve as religious tools to guide young or untrained minds toward divine truth without bringing disrespect upon the gods.

Weighing contemplation against action In his correspondence with Themistius, Julian debates whether the quiet life of a philosopher surpasses the active life of a ruler, concluding that kings must bear the burden of real-world implementation.

Justifying the imperial mantle Writing to the Athenians, Julian recounts his reluctance to assume supreme power and describes the divine visions and practical dangers that drove him to take up the governance of the empire.

Reforming the priesthood Julian instructs his clergy to maintain personal purity, abstain from reading romantic fiction or materialistic philosophy, and embrace charitable duties to restore the moral authority of traditional religion.

Judging the emperors Through a divine contest among past Roman rulers, Julian uses the figures of Trajan, Alexander, and Marcus Aurelius to illustrate that true greatness lies in clemency, self-control, and devotion to philosophy.

Answering the critics Confronting the citizens of Antioch who mocked his austere lifestyle, Julian penning a bitter satire against himself, detailing his sleepless nights, hard bed, and refusal to join in city luxuries.

The People

Julian The Roman Emperor who desperately wants to restore classical paganism and philosophical virtue across the empire. Standing in his way are corrupt officials, hypocritical philosophers, hostile subjects, and the overwhelming administrative burdens of statecraft. Over the course of the text, his tone shifts from optimistic philosophical teacher to an overburdened, self-deprecating ruler forced to defend his way of life against public ridicule.

Diogenes of Sinope The ancient Cynic philosopher whom Julian holds up as a model of genuine virtue and obedience to divine instruction. Julian defends his memory against modern imitators who copy his coarse clothes and shameless manners while lacking his rigorous self-restraint and commitment to truth.

Trajan The former Roman Emperor depicted during the heavenly contest in The Caesars. He desires recognition as the greatest ruler based on his military conquests and mild treatment of subjects, but he faces sharp questioning regarding his personal vices and love of ease.

Silenus The witty, satirical figure at the divine banquet who acts as the ultimate critic of human pretension. He continuously pokes fun at the vanity, excuses, and flaws of the Roman emperors as they state their claims to virtue before the gods.

In Its Own Voice

"Diogenes did not think that every statement of Pythagoras, or any man like Pythagoras, was necessarily true. For he held that God and no human being is the founder of philosophy."

Julian defends the foundational figure of Cynicism, asserting that true philosophy relies on divine truth rather than human authority.

"For words breed a certain sort of disposition in the soul, and little by little it arouses desires, and then on a sudden kindles a terrible blaze..."

In his instructions to priests, Julian warns against reading fiction or immoral literature that can corrupt the mind.

"Sleepless nights on a pallet and a diet that is anything rather than surfeiting make my temper harsh and unfriendly to a luxurious city like yours."

Addressing the people of Antioch, Julian describes the uncompromising personal habits that alienated him from his subjects.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this collection examines the friction between high philosophical ideals and the practical demands of human society. Julian asks whether ancient wisdom can be used to reform a corrupt culture, and whether a ruler can maintain personal integrity while managing an empire. The text explores the nature of religious obligation, arguing that true faith requires moral purity, charity, and inner discipline rather than empty ritual or hypocritical displays. Beneath the debates over Cynic habits and pagan myths lies a profound anxiety about cultural decline, as Julian attempts to rescue the ancient Greek intellectual tradition from internal decay and external opposition, ultimately confronting the limits of an emperor's power to force virtue upon an unwilling world.

Why Read It Today

This volume offers a remarkable, firsthand view into the mind of one of history's most unusual rulers: a Roman Emperor who preferred the cloak of a scholar to the luxuries of the court. Readers interested in late antiquity, ancient philosophy, or political leadership will find a uniquely personal portrait of a leader attempting to implement a moral restoration. Julian writes with a direct, earnest intensity, blending formal philosophical argumentation with sharp satire and vulnerable self-reflection.

The text presents very real reading challenges. Julian frequently assumes a deep familiarity with Classical Greek history, Homeric poetry, and philosophical schools that can require close attention or reference to notes. His period attitudes toward religion, strict moralizing, and dense rhetorical structure reflect the intellectual climate of the fourth century rather than modern sensibilities. Yet what remains with the reader is the vivid human voice behind the imperial title—a lonely, disciplined figure writing late into the night, using philosophy as both a shield against public hostility and a guide for an impossible task.