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).
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
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,
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.