1: Ammianus

The various digressions hint at Ammianus’ preoccupation with acquiring and presenting information. Modern readers of the RG might regard the geographical and ethnographical digressions as awkward intrusions into the narrative of events and thus to be treated separately from the history proper. But such digressions were integral to ancient historiography, from Herodotus to Procopius, and similar methodological concerns underlay both elements.Footnote ⁶ In Ammianus’ case, his claim at the beginning of the digression on Thrace to combine in his account things seen with things read (uisa uel lecta quaedam perspicua fide monstrare, 22.8.1), corresponds fairly closely with sentiments in the first preface at 15.1.1 (see below). The digressions reveal aspects of Ammianus’ historiography more widely.

Certainly, Ammianus’ preoccupation with acquiring and presenting information may be seen at the beginning of his digression on Gaul:

This extract demonstrates Ammianus’ purpose not only in the Gallic passage to which it belongs, but also his aim in the work more generally—to correct misunderstanding and to provide information, where before it was absent or incomplete. A succession of words denotes the extent of the confusion. First, Ammianus deals with what has come before. Earlier sources are undecided (ambigentes), and Ammianus acknowledges the work of Timagenes, whose care (diligentia) in sifting through earlier material has saved many lost facts. Then, Ammianus covers his personal contribution to the matter, mentioning the quality of his information. First, he shall treat his predecessor as an authority (fides), thereby enhancing his own credentials; then he shall set forth his own points with precision and openly, literally ‘removing darkness’ (obscuritate dimota).Footnote ⁸ After quality, he moves on to the amount of information available—the ancient writers’ account is half-full (notitiam … semiplenam) until Timagenes, who had perused a great number of books (multiplicibus libris) in order to write his own. Information's quality and quantity is a recurring theme.

Ammianus claims to clear away confusion, especially in the digressions. The following is from his account of the earthquake that struck Nicomedia in August 358 (17.7.9):

Once more there is consistent focus on the scholarly debate that has come before, the difficulties in understanding that debate, and Ammianus’ implied role in clearing up the knotty problems for the benefit of his readers. Indeed, Ammianus himself takes on greater agency than in the previous extract, in which he had relied on Timagenes’ reading of the ancient authorities. Here, though, the historian claims to have read much of the relevant literature and, as the digression progresses, he duly namedrops a number of eminent writers.Footnote ⁹

As in the previous extract, both the quality and quantity of information is at issue. On the one hand, Ammianus notes ‘our vulgar ignorance’ (nostra uulgaris inscitia), unfavourably comparing contemporary levels of knowledge to those he imagines prevailing in earlier periods of Roman history; on the other hand, despite the charge that such debates are eternal and still not concluded (sed ne sempiterna quidem lucubrationibus longis nondum exhausta), more remains to be said. Indeed, he nods to his wider theme of information and its gathering with reference to the night-time work of earlier authors (lucubrationibus longis) as a means of underlining quite how troublesome is the topic amongst scholars. Ker has noted how there had long been a ‘culture of lucubratio’ in Roman writing;Footnote ¹⁰ and Ammianus references writing by candlelight to demonstrate that even then, despite the hard work of many scholars, confusion still reigned, and a fresh voice (Ammianus himself) was needed to banish the darkness. In both this and the previous passage, Ammianus takes up the position of confident interpreter expertly sifting through information and providing a more complete picture of the question for his readers—he alleviates perplexity.Footnote ¹¹

Just as frequently, however, Ammianus qualifies his own authority, confessing himself to be as confused and as partial as any of the characters in the text. An example occurs in his account of the trials instituted under Valens at Antioch beginning in 372:

Here Ammianus sets aside the persona of the informed, confident narrator and instead emphasizes the subjectivity of his own viewpoint. Even though he writes of events that he has personally witnessed, everything is jumbled up (confusione cuncta miscente) and darkness has descended (ut in tenebrosis rebus), leaving his memory of the events incomplete (memoria fugit) and the resultant account necessarily brief (expeditius). Once again, our author plays on the theme of deficient information to demonstrate the difficulties stemming from his methodology. These difficulties had been present even in the digressions, and they could be overcome only through rigorous research and book-learning, combined with eyewitness reports or autopsy.

Such confessions of incomplete knowledge, which may (but need not) be historiographical topoi, are a feature of the later books especially.Footnote ¹³ There have been several explanations for this. One theory is that Ammianus is surer of himself during the early books when he had to rely more on written sources, whereas the later books rest more on the fallible nature of his own memory and notes.Footnote ¹⁴ But this is not completely satisfactory. For one thing, other ancient authors, like Livy, still stress the incompleteness of memory even if they are largely using earlier written sources as the basis of their narrative.Footnote ¹⁵ For another, there is a great deal of evidence that learned people in the ancient and medieval world possessed exceptionally strong memories owing to the prominence of orality in their schooling especially and societies generally.Footnote ¹⁶ It is unclear how strong Ammianus’ memory was, but it is likely that he knew certain authors by heart.Footnote ¹⁷ In the best treatment of Ammianus’ historical memory, Fornara demonstrates that it was precisely because Ammianus was still an active eyewitness of the events catalogued in Books 15–25 that he includes more detail in the earlier books than the later ones.Footnote ¹⁸ But this explanation is not sufficient either, since even in the later books there are suggestions that Ammianus was an eyewitness, or at the very least relying on eyewitness reports.Footnote ¹⁹ And yet still here he dwells on, and even introduces, confusion.

Another explanation for these confessions of incomplete knowledge is that, as Ammianus approaches living memory, he practices a form of self-censorship in order to avoid giving offence and attracting the attention of a potentially repressive (and stridently Christian) regime.Footnote ²⁰ This is a popular view amongst those scholars who see the historian as engaging in covert polemic against the emperor and his Christian adherents,Footnote ²¹ and there is evidence that, for instance, the Latin panegyrists took a highly selective approach to the very recent past in order to avoid sensitive issues.Footnote ²² Ammianus himself alludes to this possibility when he invokes the example of Phrynichus of Athens, who was severely fined by the state for reminding his countrymen of the sack of Miletus by Darius during the Ionian revolt in 493 b.c.e.Footnote ²³ Our historian may have feared a similar fate or worse.

However, a recent article by Kaldellis has questioned the prevailing view that late antique authors necessarily had to practice self-censorship in order to survive.Footnote ²⁴ Kaldellis goes on to argue that although many writers did engage in self-censorship, there is a significant minority who did not, citing Procopius, Jordanes and Eunapius.Footnote ²⁵ Of these, the latter is closest in time to Ammianus, and the most anti-Christian. Eunapius likely published two versions of his history; the first, appearing around 395, contained a great deal of anti-Christian rhetoric which needed to be excised for the second version, appearing after 404.Footnote ²⁶ While it was conceivable to publish material against the government, doing so may have drawn the attention of censors and forced redactions. This possibility leads to the somewhat contradictory observation that authors may be both more and less likely to release potentially inflammatory material, since a writer was unlikely to be executed even if they wrote highly vituperative texts.Footnote ²⁷ In any case, it is not enough to state, as many have, that fear of repression automatically made Ammianus practice self-censorship, since we know that several authors categorically did not do this and lived to tell of it.Footnote ²⁸

Kaldellis makes a second observation which bears upon the question of Ammianus’ self-selectiveness, and that is to do with the age of those authors who did in fact decide to publish sensitive material: generally, they were men in late middle or even old age. Jordanes was around seventy, or at least in retirement, when he wrote the Romana; Eunapius was around sixty in 404 for the second version of his history, while Procopius was at least fifty, and probably older, when he wrote On Wars and the Secret History.Footnote ²⁹ Given that Ammianus identifies himself as a young man (adulescens, 16.10.21) whilst serving under Ursicinus in Gaul in 357, it is likely that he had a birth date in the early to mid-330s. Most historians agree that he left the army sometime after Julian's death in 363 to travel the empire gathering material for the RG, after which he retired to Rome where he published and died, probably around 391.Footnote ³⁰ Several scholars have argued that as Ammianus published he was embittered, perhaps because of his relatively undistinguished military career.Footnote ³¹ And yet, if this were true, it would make it less, not more likely that Ammianus would practice self-censorship—his career was over, he had no reason to court the regime, and therefore had a greater degree of freedom to say what he wanted.Footnote ³²

I argue that Ammianus intentionally creates confusion in his narrative, not to avoid the censors, but as a means of illustrating the fragility of information and the difficulty inherent in attaining its completeness. To be sure, C. Kelly has suggested that in the later books Ammianus purposely creates a disjointed narrative which is hard to knit together.Footnote ³³ But while Kelly sees Ammianus as creating confusion only in the later books, as a means of critiquing a dystopian empire post-Julian, it is possible to extend the analysis to the earlier books too, and it is all in service to the author's wider theme concerning the interaction between complete and incomplete information.

The two prefaces at 15.1.1 and 26.1.1 give a clue as to the tightrope Ammianus walks between complete and incomplete information in the text more widely. There are significant differences between the first preface and the second. The one at 15.1.1 focusses on the detail that will be offered in the succeeding books. As was noted in the passages discussed above, Ammianus here stresses his privileged position—he includes only that which he witnessed himself (ea quae uidere licuit per aetatem), or that which he acquired through the questioning of those involved (uel perplexe interrogando uersatos in medio scire).Footnote ³⁴ Everything deemed fit for inclusion will be strictly accurate (limatius), and Ammianus pre-empts the critics who might complain that it is too detailed and long-winded (nihil obtrectatores longi, ut putant, operis formidantes) with the observation that nothing can be allowed to hinder the knowledge of events (cognitioni gestorum). Ammianus’ voice is confident, open, and he states explicitly that he will indulge in detail and shun brevity.

The second preface at 26.1.1 reads differently. It is true that Ammianus does mention the dangers associated with writing about the immediate past, but most of the passage serves as a defence of his methodology. Whereas before he luxuriates in the detail he can offer either as a witness himself or as a questioner of those who were, and in fact takes the attack to the critics (obtrectatores), now he is somewhat on the back foot, claiming that he had intended not to cover the recent past in order to avoid such people who might condemn him for missing out minor details (humilium minutias causarum),Footnote ³⁵ when the principles of history demand only a survey of the highlights (negotiorum celsitudines).

It is significant that while Ammianus does mention contemporary danger as a reason to avoid recent history, most of his attention covers how much weight to give the highlights (celsitudines) and the trivialities (minutiae).Footnote ³⁶ He expresses a similar concern at 28.1.15 where he points out that ‘not everything which occurs amongst the unwashed masses is worthy of narrative’ alongside a complaint regarding the unreliability of the public records in this time of ‘new madness’ (nouo furore).Footnote ³⁷ In other words, at issue in the two prefaces is not so much fear of a repressive regime inducing self-censorship as much as it is how much detail to include in both parts of the history—Ammianus’ preoccupation is chiefly literary, not political, and as literary statements the prefaces function as a key for the surviving text. The first preface at 15.1.1 signals Ammianus’ desire to aim for complete information; the second at 26.1.1 signals his desire to jettison completeness and instead record only the most important matters. Both methods are always in play, however.Footnote ³⁸

It is difficult to say why Ammianus exhibits such an interest in this information dynamic. As already noted, many scholars suspect him to be aware of the issue of censorship, and for them this awareness explains some of his selectiveness. But the contemporary political situation need not be the cause, at least not directly. Instead, it is better to look to the author himself (or rather, the author as presented by the text), and the peculiar traits he picks out for comment on his characters, for an explanation. The contribution of the two prefaces (15.1.1, 26.1.1) to this theme has already been seen. But there are several passages in the wider text on which it is worth reflecting. Intelligence and knowledge, or the capacity for knowledge, are central. The emperor Julian excels in this regard, and his intelligence is greatly admired by Ammianus, who neatly combines it with an aptitude for military matters upon his first entry in the text (16.1.5). During the narrative of the campaign in Persia, Julian's unusual capacity for knowledge merits occasional mention, culminating in a death-bed scene which has him debating the finer points of philosophy with specialists (25.3.23).Footnote ³⁹

Ammianus covers the intelligence of all the emperors either in the narrative or in their respective necrologies: Constantius has a narrow spirit (ut erat angusti pectoris, 19.12.5) and mixes up Christian dogma with his own old woman's superstition (anili superstitione confundens, 21.16.18); Valens’ mind is uncultured, and he is unlearned in both art and war (subagrestis ingenii, nec bellicis nec liberalibus studiis eruditus, 31.14.5). Valentinian, though, is commended for his handwriting, painting, crafting, inventing and the strength of his memory and speech (30.9.4). Even Jovian, whose reign comprises just a few pages, is noted as only moderately educated (mediocriter eruditus, 25.10.15), albeit a keen student of Christianity. Zosimus writes on all these emperors too, but does not share Ammianus’ fascination with knowledge and information gathering. Julian, whose intelligence is a centrepiece of his portrayal in the RG, appears chiefly as a general and an administrator (and the quintessential pagan) in Zosimus.Footnote ⁴⁰

Ammianus is keenly aware of the power of information: he explicitly praises the ‘noble system of instruction’ (praeclara informatio doctrinarum, 29.2.18) which cultivates even the harshest natures.Footnote ⁴¹ As with Ammianus’ methodology in the digressions, information acquisition is clearly an active process, and several times he notes its utility; for instance, how a knowledge of history brings with it great perspective and the possibility of recovery after the disastrous battle of Adrianople in 378 (31.5.11). But the task of interpretation can be a struggle. In Persia, Ammianus himself helps to decode a message through his knowledge of history, despite its great obscurity (18.6.19); and elsewhere investigators appointed by Constantius to examine the fall of Amida to the Persians in 359 become bogged down in trivial detail far removed from the wider facts of the case (20.2.3). These examples derive from different circumstances, but the underlying theme remains how much information is available, or able to be gleaned, and the use to which that information is put.

Along similar lines, the Roman digressions (14.6, 28.4) are instructive. In these Ammianus speaks as a direct observer of the capital's society, just as he claims to have written in the first preface (utcumque potui ueritatem scrutari, ea quae uidere licuit per aetatem, 15.1.1). The city Romans, unlike their ‘ethnographer’, are perversely uninformed about. The nobles do not meditate on the majesty of where they were born (ubi nati sunt non reputantium, 14.6.7), they are unaware (ignorantes, 14.6.10) that their ancestors gained fame through hard work and valour, and some are so oblivious that they fail to recognize the very client they had seen the previous day (14.6.13). Others, meanwhile, hate learning as a poison when really their reading material ought to have been deep and varied, as befitted their ancestry (28.4.14–15). Knowledge, information in general, is meant to be the preserve of Romans, but many of them are unwilling or unable to acquire it and thus become all the more contemptible. Contemptible, perhaps, like barbarians, who frequently ‘forget’ what had already been done.Footnote ⁴²

Ammianus, though, portrays himself as a lover of knowledge, and if it is the preserve of Romans, then it is also the business of Greeks.Footnote ⁴³ When it comes to presenting scientific or geographical wisdom, often in the digressions, he often self-identifies as a Greek: the doomed Caesar Gallus experienced night terrors, ‘which we call fantasies’ (quas φαντασίας nos appellamus, 14.11.18); earthquakes are caused by underground passages ‘which we call suringai in Greek’ (quas Graece σύριγγας appellamus, 17.7.11); and when he describes various types of eclipse he uses terminology ‘which we say often in the Greek language’ (Graeco dictitamus sermone, 20.3.4). Meanwhile Timagenes, as we saw above, is a Greek in carefulness and language (15.9.2).

To be Greek is, for Ammianus, to be interested in information. Nowhere is this clearer than in his excursus on the Egyptian obelisk (17.4.17–23), where he transmits lengthy excerpts from the Greek translation of the original hieroglyphs.Footnote ⁴⁴ This belief in the worth of his calling as an historian and a Greek is the likely reason for his deep interest in the information dynamic, and it is peculiarly idiosyncratic, not unlike his hero Julian, whose eccentric brand of philosopher kingship has been well documented.Footnote ⁴⁵ There is no need to posit Ammianus engaging either in a dystopian critique of the post-Julianic empire (since these processes occur throughout the RG),Footnote ⁴⁶ or in self-censorship.

2: Ammianus’ characters

It is time now to move beyond the author and examine how his theme plays out in the narrative. Just as Ammianus himself grapples with the interaction between complete and incomplete information in a methodological sense,Footnote ⁴⁷ so too do his characters, but in a very real sense. This interaction between the intellectual and the practical is hinted at in the sphragis (miles quondam et Graecus, 31.16.9). Ammianus confronts not just the intellectual problem of accessing and presenting information (alluded to by Graecus), but also the activities in the real world of certain shadowy individuals (alluded to by miles quondam). In other words, the sphragis hints at a tension in the text between the scholarly researcher on the one hand, whose ‘war’ for information is waged in books, and the practical man of action on the other, whose ‘war’ is not just on the battlefield, but also in the political arena, where he must somehow sift through competing viewpoints, downright lies and other techniques of misdirection designed to hide the truth.Footnote ⁴⁸ This section analyses two rebellion narratives as examples of the latter.Footnote ⁴⁹

In the first instance, and perhaps unsurprisingly, the same processes are involved in each. What perhaps is surprising is that this is so despite them ostensibly belonging to two different prefatory spheres (after 15.1.1 and after 26.1.1). In the second instance, just as Ammianus moves between the poles of complete and incomplete information in his historiography, so too do his characters, many of whom control the flow of information to the detriment of their targets (and the emperor). As ever, it is an active process.

2.1: The Silvanus affair (15.5)

The rebellion of Silvanus (15.5) occupies a significant position in the RG because it is the first time that Ammianus appears in the extant text as a participant. There is a great deal of scholarship on the episode, though a contribution by Weisweiler has taken the initial step towards the analysis offered here. Weisweiler argues that Ammianus’ narrative repeatedly fails to answer its own questions and that it presents readers with ‘competing versions of historical truth from which they have to construct their own histories’.Footnote ⁵⁰ I suggest, however, that in fact there are no ‘competing versions of historical truth’. Instead, Ammianus presents the truth, which nevertheless must be filtered out from the lies and misdirection which usually attends it.Footnote ⁵¹ Thus readers do not ‘construct their own histories’ as much as learn about and perpetuate the history propounded by Ammianus. The author is a broker of information, but so too are the characters he describes.

Just as Ammianus himself is at times the omniscient narrator and at others the fallible searcher for truth, so too are Silvanus, Ursicinus and Constantius by turns fully informed on one hand and scrambling for information on the other. Ammianus executes a series of bewildering shifts in perspective as he offers competing viewpoints, with the result that the reader becomes just as confused as the participants. There are fourteen individuals packed into the Silvanus episode who all have some impact on the formation and suppression of the revolt,Footnote ⁵² and one of these is Ammianus himself, who is sent along with the commander Ursicinus to put a stop to the usurpation as expeditiously as possible. Each person, to a greater or lesser extent, has a stake in the information war.

Ammianus begins with an authorial comment on the seriousness of the uprising, commending the role of Fortune in ending the affair before it could cause lasting damage to the provinces (1).Footnote ⁵³ Then he praises Silvanus for fighting on behalf of the state in Gaul, valiantly pushing back barbarian raiders. And yet straightaway Silvanus has received misleading information, for he had been given this assignment by his rival Arbitio, in the hope that he would perish in his duty (2).Footnote ⁵⁴ The next section (3) introduces a certain Dynamius (Dynamius quidam), who asks the commander for letters of recommendation, thus appearing to others as if he were close to Silvanus. The latter, suspecting nothing (nihil suspicans), duly provides the material, which is kept by Dynamius for some scheme in the future.

Dynamius enlists the help of co-conspirators, including the praetorian prefect Lampadius, the comes rei priuatae Eusebius and the magister officiorum Aedesius, before erasing Silvanus’ words, though keeping his signature, and writing a new, incriminating version. This is brought to Constantius, who orders that those named in the letter should be summoned to explain themselves (4, 5). But Malarich (6, 7), a general at court and a Frank, complains that those devoted to the empire (dicatos imperio) should not be slandered by factions and tricks (factiones et dolos).

These initial stages establish the shape of the chapter as it develops—a straightforward and unsuspecting general fighting on behalf of Rome in the provinces dutifully responds to a favour. But this favour is misused, and it becomes a means of undermining him. Ammianus sets up two camps: one side comprises the innocent and guileless Silvanus, and his advocates with the emperor; the other the underhanded accomplices of Dynamius and Arbitio. Silvanus is oblivious to the machinations occurring behind the scenes. Indeed, he had been sent to Gaul in the first place by a conniving colleague who hoped that he would perish; and the letter of recommendation he had provided in good faith is immediately repurposed for nefarious ends. Ammianus writes how the presumably laudatory words are rubbed away with a sponge (peniculo … abstersa, 4), demonstrating how the little information over which Silvanus did have command is literally destroyed without his knowledge, casting forwards to Ammianus’ warning in the sphragis that his own words would never ruin truth (31.16.9). At this stage, then, Silvanus is losing the information war. In fact, he is not even aware of its existence.

The emperor Constantius is little better off: he orders Silvanus brought back from Gaul to defend himself (8). However, the man selected to retrieve the commander, Apodemius, is hand-picked by the hostile Arbitio. Apodemius neglects to follow the instructions he had been given. He refuses not just to hand over the summons to Silvanus, but even to meet him, treating the man's dependents as if they were slaves and as if their master were already dead. Constantius, then, begins this episode believing himself fully informed, and he dispatches Apodemius to retrieve Silvanus. But straightaway efforts are made to further confuse the situation. In the meantime, Dynamius, the author of the whole plot and the most informed of everyone, aims to reinforce his skulduggery, this time writing a letter in his own hand (though using the name of Silvanus and Malarich), to the tribune at the Cremona armoury, urging the man to hasten unspecified preparations (9). But the tribune is confused (since he had scarcely spoken to the Frankish pair), and returns the letter to Malarich, asking him to explain clearly what he wants, since the tribune confesses himself a rustic and simple man (subagrestem et simplicem) and unused to interpreting obscure meanings (10). This tribune has little information at his disposal and, like Silvanus and Constantius, is somewhat at the mercy of those who do have complete information.

The confusion is cleared somewhat as the chapter develops, thanks to the intervention of a particularly informed individual. Malarich, upon receiving the letter from the bewildered tribune, realizes the severity of the plot, assembles the Franks in the palace, and laments the trickery (fallacia) involved (11). Constantius orders the deputy magister officiorum Florentius to investigate the document (12), ostensibly written by Silvanus but in fact the work of Dynamius, and, upon scrutiny, he detects the shadow of Silvanus’ original words (those he had written for the letter of recommendation) beneath the forgery. The cloud of deceit (fallaciarum nube) is dispersed (13) and Constantius finally learns the truth of the business through trusty report (imperator doctus gesta relatione fideli). As Ammianus grapples with issues of accuracy and fidelity in his historiography, so too do his characters, for it is only through careful study that the truth is revealed. Crucially, there are not competing versions of truth; instead, there is the actual truth over which characters fight for control.

It is only upon examination of the offending document that Constantius becomes fully informed once more, and yet even this is achieved, not because the emperor is available himself, but because he has learned second-hand the truth of the matter and, presumably, the original and utterly harmless contents of the letter. It is a truism that the later Roman emperor was far removed from the daily administration of the empire, but nowhere is this clearer than in Constantius’ case, and, though it is a theme which runs through the whole text, Constantius is particularly susceptible to his officials’ propensity for disinformation.Footnote ⁵⁵ In the event, the hitherto passive Silvanus is allowed to speak indirectly as fragments of his earlier words (apicumque pristinorum reliquias) are at length retrieved.

Still, things are not yet resolved, and once more the interaction between complete and incomplete information dictates events. As regards the former, Ammianus reveals that Silvanus possessed a fuller picture than previously known—it happens that through his friends’ constant messages he had been informed of Apodemius’ efforts all along (15). Despite this information, however, he is still fatally uninformed; he fears Constantius’ paranoid mind, completely ignorant of the fact that the emperor had already been told of and accepted Silvanus’ innocence. As a result, Silvanus consults another soldier, the Frank Laniogaisus, regarding the possibility of fleeing to the tribes across the Rhine. But even this individual is surer of the situation than his commanding officer and assures him that such a course of action is impossible, for the tribes would either kill him or deliver him to Constantius. Therefore, driven by necessity, Silvanus assumes the purple (16).

Silvanus’ rebellion is the product of disinformation combined with wilful misdirection on the part of the conspirators. It is also somewhat ironic (even tragic) that Silvanus decides to rebel even after he had been found innocent of aiming beyond his station. Ordinarily, it might be assumed that the ‘not guilty’ verdict simply could not be relayed to Silvanus fast enough, but Ammianus seems to discount this possibility with his telescoping of time. Silvanus proclaims himself at section 16 and the very next section has its reporting to the emperor in the present tense (15.5.17):

The distance from Cologne to Milan is just under four hundred miles as the crow flies, though the ancient route would have been considerably longer.Footnote ⁵⁶ It would have been impossible for a messenger to make the journey in under three to four days,Footnote ⁵⁷ and yet Ammianus writes as if the announcement occurs late on the same day or very soon after. We might have expected a formulaic ‘within a few days’ (diebus paucis) or something similar to account for travel time.Footnote ⁵⁸ Instead the action in Gaul occurs simultaneously to its announcement to the emperor in Milan (dumque haec aguntur in Galliis). Ammianus compresses the events for dramatic effect.

Importantly, however, this compression also removes from the picture the question of time, which is not subject to human manipulation. Without the justification of time delay, the Silvanus episode becomes not a simple case of unfortunate circumstances exacerbated by the limitations of communication, but instead a wholly man-made construct. In this instance, in the literary world of the RG, communication is instantaneous and information is not disseminated or restricted by natural circumstance but rather by human agency. Indeed, it is interesting that Ammianus has an unexpected messenger (insperabilis nuntius) announcing the news rather than, say, abstract Rumour or the impersonal ‘when it was learned’. The chapter itself reveals Ammianus’ intentionality in this regard, for as soon as the shadowy operatives have done their work and Silvanus is dead, he reverts to describing the communication of information through impersonal statements. Constantius learns (we know not how) of the rebel's death with inconceivable joy (inaestimabili gaudio re cognita princeps, 15.5.35); and the people in Rome, in a prophetic moment, predict Silvanus’ impending doom—‘whether excited by some story or by some foreknowledge is uncertain’ (incertum relatione quadam percitus an praesagio, 15.5.34). Ammianus, then, makes the revolution of Silvanus the result of clandestine manoeuvrings which keep a tight grip on the flow of information. The truth exists, but it must be actively discerned, like an author interpreting his sources.

2.2: Valentinian and Firmus (28.6, 29.5)

Hanaghan has argued that, unlike Julian, Constantius is an especially gullible emperor in the RG, easily led astray and fed ‘alternative facts’ by his courtiers.Footnote ⁵⁹ The Silvanus episode mentioned above is a case in point. Valentinian, however, also struggles for complete information. This is most obvious in the circumstances surrounding the misdeeds of Romanus in Africa (28.6), which leads directly to the revolt of Firmus (29.5) in 373–5.Footnote ⁶⁰ It is customary to read Ammianus’ account of Firmus as complementary to his narrative of Procopius’ rebellion (26.5–9), as yet another example of the cruelty and instability of the Valentiniani.Footnote ⁶¹ There are a number of similarities with the Silvanus episode, however, especially in the circumstances surrounding its causes. As with Silvanus, the misdeeds of an imperial official on the ground complicate the situation such that the emperor is left completely ignorant of events for a long time, and this individual is quickly joined by co-conspirators. Once more Ammianus’ methodology informs the action's unfolding.

Similar to 15.5, Ammianus introduces a bewildering number of names into his narrative to exacerbate the confusion, even more so than in the previous episode: around twenty-three individuals are named in 28.6 as having some part or other to play in the plot or its attempted suppression. Most of these individuals appear only here. Perhaps Ammianus goes into such depth because he had access to a number of eyewitnesses and wished to do their material justice.Footnote ⁶² At the very least, it is interesting that he includes the names of so many incidental characters, because names come in for particular attention in the second preface (26.1.1) as examples of trivial details that do not deserve a place in proper history. Just as with the Silvanus episode, Ammianus focusses on names to render the narrative all the more disorientating while also alluding to his own methodological remarks concerning the quantity of information available.

An outline of the matter shows how the information war plays out on the ground. Romanus, the new governor of Tripolis in 363, refuses to bring help to the provincials, who are under constant barbarian attack (28.6.6). Dismayed, the people of Lepcis send a pair of named individuals to Valentinian ostensibly to hand over accession gifts, but also to inform him of their plight. Romanus acts quickly and manages to get a message to the magister officiorum Remigius, his relative and a ‘partner in his thievery’ (rapinarum participem, 28.6.8) asking that he ensure investigation of the complaint be assigned to compliant officials. Valentinian, the recently elected emperor, receives the envoys who present a full account of the whole affair (obtulerunt decreta, textum continentia rei totius, 28.6.9). But this account is challenged by Remigius such that the emperor does not know whom to believe, and the latter orders a full investigation (disceptatio plena). Already, then, the quantity of information, presented and required, is at issue, and harks back to Ammianus’ own thoughts in the methodological statements. Indeed, it is interesting that it takes the written word—a text (textum)—to approach the truth, since Ammianus’ own opus professes to do exactly that (31.16.9).

As the narrative advances, the quality of information becomes relevant. At length, Valentinian sends Palladius to Africa to pay the troops and conduct further investigations; specifically, to scrutinize with suitable trustworthiness what had transpired at Tripolis (et gesta per Tripolim fide congrua scrutaretur, 28.6.12). Palladius witnesses the devastation wrought on Lepcis and seems intent on getting to the truth of the matter (utque ad ueritatis perueniret indaginem, 18). These words echo claims to accuracy made by Ammianus in both prefaces and sphragis, again keeping methodology and action somewhat interlinked.Footnote ⁶³ Eventually, however, Palladius is also corrupted and (unlike Ammianus), fully committed to the ‘impious art of lying’ (arte mendaciorum impia, 20), returns to court, reporting that the African provincials had no cause for complaint. Only after Gratian had risen to the throne did he receive trustworthy information, and even here the language focusses on its quality and quantity (28.6.28):

The affair is only ended when a proper investigation is completed, and the emperor and his officials win the information war against the plotters. But in order to win the war they must adopt a methodology akin to Ammianus’ own.

Firmus has arguments for the defence, but he is not allowed to present them to the emperor, whose officials conceal from him the particulars of the matter with the claim that he did not need to be consulted on unimportant and unnecessary things (minima et superflua). This justification bears a striking resemblance in spirit, if not in word, to the second preface, which declares that it is best ‘not to search for the trifling details of unimportant matters’ (26.1.1) when writing history. The conspirators, of course, could not be more wrong as to the seriousness of the situation, but it is telling that they, like Ammianus himself, are aware of the dynamic between complete and incomplete information. The only difference is that they use the dynamic to confuse and spread disharmony and, as with Silvanus, Firmus is compelled to rebel in order to preserve his life.

As with Silvanus, too, hostile agents manage to control the flow of information to and from the court (29.5.2). A conspirator on the ground quickly enlists the help of the magister officiorum, and the situation is managed so that one of their own is sent to gather further information; only after great difficulty is the truth finally uncovered. While Silvanus’ revolt and death comprise one chapter of Book 15, Ammianus splits up his account of the context surrounding Firmus’ attempt and the attempt itself, which comprises the lengthy fifth chapter of Book 29. Though the presentation of the usurpations are different, similar characters are involved. In place of Dynamius and Arbitio stand Romanus and Remigius, introduced earlier (28.6.8).

Once Valentinian finally receives adequate information as to the situation in the province, he sends Theodosius the Elder, a seasoned general, to Africa. Firmus confirms the part played by shadowy conspirators, declaring to Theodosius that it was his treatment by Romanus that led to his insurrection (29.5.8). To be sure, Theodosius himself falls victim to courtly machinations in 375, but this also has obvious parallels to Constantius’ sending of Ursicinus (and Ammianus himself) to deal with Silvanus. Indeed, just as Firmus blames shadowy agents for leading him to rebel, so does Silvanus, who even includes Ursicinus, the architect of his impending doom, in the group of those loyal generals so harassed by hostile operatives (15.5.28). But this commonality is not enough to save Silvanus, who is in turn deceived by his erstwhile colleague. Both rebels lose the information war to their accusers, culminating in their losing the actual war to the emperor's generals.