Chapter VIII: Part 8

Only One can give comfort here. Hold fast by Him. Cling to the Lord our Shepherd.

A WOMAN.

Know you this, oh man of God,—the Emperor has commanded that all our sacred scriptures shall be burnt!

GREGORY.

I have heard it; but I cannot believe that his folly is so great.

APOLLINARIS.

It is true. Alexander, the new governor, has sent out soldiers to search the houses of the brethren. Even women and children are whipped till they bleed, if they are suspected of hiding books.

CYRILLUS.

The Emperor’s decree applies not to Antioch only, nor even to Syria; it applies to the empire and the whole world. Every smallest word that is written concerning Christ is to be wiped out of existence, and out of the memory of believers.

APOLLINARIS.

Oh ye mothers, weep for yourselves and for your children!

The day will come when ye shall dispute with those ye now carry in your arms, as to what was in truth written in the lost Word of God. The day will come when your children’s children shall mock at you, and shall not know who or what Christ was.

The day will come when no heart shall remember that once on a time the Saviour of the world suffered and died.

The last believer shall go in darkness to his grave, and from that hour shall Golgotha vanish away from the earth, like the place where the Garden of Eden lay.

Woe, woe, to the new Pilate! He is not content, like the first, to slay the Saviour’s body. He murders the word and the faith!

THE WOMEN.

[_Tearing their hair and rending their garments._] Woe, woe, woe!

GREGORY.

And I say unto you, be of good cheer! God does not die. ’Tis not from Julian that the danger comes. The danger was there long ere he arose, in the weakness and contentiousness of our hearts.

CYRILLUS.

Oh, Gregory, how can you ask us to remain steadfast amid these horrors?—Brethren and sisters—know you what has happened in Arethusa? The unbelievers have maltreated the old bishop Marcus, dragged him by the hair through the streets, cast him into the sewers, dragged him up again, bleeding and befouled, smeared him over with honey and set him in a tree, a prey to wasps and poisonous flies.

GREGORY.

And has not God’s power been gloriously manifested in this very Marcus? What was Marcus before? A man of doubtful faith. When the troubles broke out in Arethusa, he even fled from the city. But behold—-no sooner had he heard in his hiding-place that the raging crew were avenging the bishop’s flight on innocent brethren, than he returned of his own free will. And how did he bear the torments which so appalled even his executioners, that in order to withdraw with some show of credit, they offered to release him if he would pay a very trifling fine? Was not his answer: No—and no, and again no? The Lord God was with him. He neither died nor yielded. His countenance showed neither terror nor impatience. In the tree wherein he hung, he thanked God for being lifted a few steps nearer heaven, while the others, as he said, crawled about on the flat earth.

CYRILLUS.

A miracle must have happened to the resolute old man. If you had heard, as I did, the shrieks from the prison, that day in the summer when Hilarion and the others were tortured——! They were like no other shrieks—agonised, rasping, mixed with hissing sounds every time the white-hot iron buried itself in the raw flesh.

APOLLINARIS.

Oh, Cyrillus, have you forgotten how the shrieks passed over into song? Did not Hilarion sing even in death? Did not that heroic Cappadocian boy sing until he gave up the ghost under the hands of the torturers? Did not Agathon, that boy’s brother, sing until he swooned away, and then woke up in madness?

Verily I say unto you, so long as song rings out above our sorrows, Satan shall never conquer!

GREGORY.

Be of good cheer. Love one another and suffer one for another, as Serapion in Doristora lately suffered for his brothers, for love of whom he let himself be scourged, and cast alive into the furnace!

See, see,—has not the Lord’s avenging hand already been raised against the ungodly? Have you not heard the tidings from Heliopolis under Lebanon?

APOLLINARIS.

I know it. In the midst of the ribald feast of Aphrodite, the heathen broke into the house of our holy sisters, violated them, murdered them amid tortures unspeakable——

THE WOMEN.

Woe, woe!

APOLLINARIS.

——ay, some of the wretches even tore open the bodies of the martyrs, dragged forth the entrails and ate the liver raw!

THE WOMEN.

Woe, woe, woe!

GREGORY.

The God of Wrath seasoned the meal. How have they thriven on it? Go to Heliopolis, and you shall see those men with a putrefying poison in all their veins, their eyes and teeth dropping out, bereft of speech and understanding. Horror has fallen on the city. Many heathens have been converted since that night.

Therefore I fear not this pestilent monster who has risen up against the church; I fear not this crowned hireling of hell, who is bent upon finishing the work of the enemy of mankind. Let him fall upon us with fire, with sword, with the wild beasts of the amphitheatre! Should his madness even drive him further than he has yet gone—what does it matter? For all this there is a remedy, and the path lies open to victory.

THE WOMEN.

Christ, Christ!

OTHER VOICES.

There he is! There he comes!

SOME.

Who?

OTHERS.

The Emperor! The murderer! The enemy of God!

GREGORY.

Be still! Let him pass by in silence.

[_A detachment of the Imperial Guards comes along the street.
JULIAN follows, accompanied by courtiers and philosophers,
all surrounded by guards. Another division of the Household
Guard, led by FROMENTINUS, closes the procession._

A WOMAN.

[_Softly to the others._] See, see, he has wrapped himself in rags, like a beggar.

ANOTHER WOMAN.

He must be out of his senses.

A THIRD WOMAN.

God has already stricken him.

A FOURTH WOMAN.

Hide your little ones against your breasts. Let not their eyes behold the monster.

JULIAN.

Aha, are not these all Galileans? What do you here in the sunshine, in the open street, you spawn of darkness?

GREGORY.

You have closed our churches; therefore we stand without and praise the Lord our God.

JULIAN.

Ah, is that you, Gregory? So you still linger here. But beware; my patience will not last for ever.

GREGORY.

I seek not a martyr’s death; I do not even desire it; but if it be allotted me, I shall glory in dying for Christ.

JULIAN.

Your phrases weary me. I will not have you here. Why cannot you keep to your stinking dens? Go home, I tell you!

A WOMAN.

Oh, Emperor, where is our home?

ANOTHER WOMAN.

Where are our houses? The heathen have plundered them and driven us out.

A VOICE IN THE THRONG.

Your soldiers have taken from us all our goods.

OTHER VOICES.

Oh Emperor, Emperor, why have you seized upon our possessions?

JULIAN.

You ask that? I will tell you, ignorant creatures! If your riches are taken from you, ’tis out of care for your souls’ weal. Has not the Galilean said that you shall possess neither silver nor gold? Has not your Master promised that you shall one day ascend to heaven? Ought you not, then, to thank me for making your rising as easy as possible?

THE PHILOSOPHERS.

Oh, incomparably answered!

APOLLINARIS.

Sire, you have robbed us of what is more precious than gold and silver. You have robbed us of God’s own word. You have robbed us of our sacred scriptures.

JULIAN.

I know you, hollow-eyed psalm-singer! Are not you Apollinaris? I believe if I take away your senseless books, you are capable of making up others, just as senseless, in their stead. But you are a pitiful bungler, let me tell you, both in prose and verse! By Apollo! no true Greek would suffer a line of yours to pass his lips. The pamphlet you sent me the other day, which you had the effrontery to entitle “The Truth,” I have read, understood, and condemned.

APOLLINARIS.

’Tis possible you may have read it; but understood it you have not; for if you had, you would not have condemned it.

JULIAN.

Ha-ha! the rejoinder I am preparing will prove that I understood it.—But as to those books whose loss you lament and howl over, I may tell you that you will presently hold them cheaper when it is proved that Jesus of Nazareth was a liar and deceiver.

THE WOMEN.

Woe to us; woe to us!

CYRILLUS.

[_Stepping forward._] Emperor—what mean you by that?

JULIAN.

Did not the crucified Jew prophesy that the Temple of Jerusalem should lie in ruins till the end of time?

CYRILLUS.

So shall it be!

JULIAN.

Oh fools! At this moment my general, Jovian, with two thousand workmen, is at Jerusalem, rebuilding the temple in all its glory. Wait, wait, you stiff-necked doubters—you shall learn who is the mightier, the Emperor or the Galilean.

CYRILLUS.

Sire, that you yourself shall learn to your dismay. I held my peace till you blasphemed the Highest, and called him a liar; but now I tell you that you have not a feather-weight of power against the Crucified One!

JULIAN.

[_Constraining himself._] Who are you, and what do you call yourself?

CYRILLUS.

[_Coming forward._] I will tell you. First and foremost I call myself a Christian, and that is a most honourable name; for it shall never be wiped away from the earth.

Furthermore, I bear the name of Cyrillus, and am known by that name among my brethren and sisters.

But if I keep the former name unspotted, I shall reap eternal life as a reward.

JULIAN.

You are mistaken, Cyrillus! You know I am not unversed in the mysteries of your creed. Believe me—he in whom you put your trust is not the being you imagine. He died, in very truth, at the time when the Roman, Pontius Pilate, was governor in Judea.

CYRILLUS.

I am not mistaken. ’Tis you, oh Emperor, who err in this. ’Tis you, who repudiated Christ at the moment when he gave you dominion over the world.

Therefore I tell you, in his name, that he will quickly take from you both your dominion and your life; and then shall you recognise, too late, how mighty is he whom in your blindness you despise.

Yea, as you have forgotten his benefits, he will not remember his lovingkindness, when he shall rise up to punish you.

You have cast down his altars; he shall cast you down from your throne. You have taken delight in trampling his law under foot, that very law which you yourself once proclaimed to believers. In like manner shall the Lord trample you under his heel. Your body shall be scattered to the wild winds, and your soul shall descend to a place of greater torments than you can devise for me and mine!

[_The women flock around CYRILLUS, with cries and lamentations._

JULIAN.

I would fain have spared you, Cyrillus! The gods are my witnesses that I hate you not for your faith’s sake. But you have mocked at my imperial power and authority, and that I must punish.

[_To the Captain of the Guard._

Fromentinus, lead this man to prison, and let the executioner Typhon give him as many lashes with the scourge as are needful to make him confess that the Emperor, and not the Galilean, has all power upon earth.

GREGORY.

Be strong, Cyrillus, my brother!

CYRILLUS.

[_With upraised hands._] How blessed am I, to suffer for the glory of God!

[_The soldiers seize and drag him out._

THE WOMEN.

[_With tears and sobs._] Woe to us! Woe, woe, to the apostate!

JULIAN.

Disperse these maniacs! Let them be driven out of the city as rebels. I will no longer endure this defiance and scandal.

[_The guard drives the lamenting crowd into the side streets.
Only the Emperor and his suite remain behind. A man who has
hitherto been hidden is now seen lying at the church door;
he is in torn garments, and has ashes strewn on his head._

A SOLDIER.

[_Stirring him with a lance-shaft._] Up, up; be off!

THE MAN.

[_Looking up._] Tread under foot this salt without savour, rejected of the Lord!

JULIAN.

Oh everlasting gods!—Hekebolius——!

THE COURTIERS.

Ah, so it is,—Hekebolius!

HEKEBOLIUS.

That is no longer my name! I am nameless. I have denied the baptism that gave me my name!

JULIAN.

Arise, friend! Your mind is distempered——

HEKEBOLIUS.

Judas’s brother is pestiferous. Away from me——

JULIAN.

Oh feeble-hearted man——

HEKEBOLIUS.

Avaunt, tempter! Take back your thirty pieces of silver! Is it not written, “Thou shalt forsake wife and children for the Lord’s sake”? And I——? For the sake of wife and children have I betrayed the Lord my God! Woe, woe, woe!

[_He casts himself down again on his face._

JULIAN.

Such flames of madness do these writings kindle over the earth!

And do I not well to burn them?

Wait! Ere a year has passed the Temple of the Jews shall stand again on Zion hill,—the splendour of its golden dome shining over the world, and testifying: Liar, liar, liar!

[_He goes hastily away, followed by the philosophers._

SCENE THIRD.

_A road outside the city. To the left, by the wayside, stands a statue
of Cybele amid the stumps of hewn-down trees. At a little distance
to the left is a fountain, with a stone basin. It is towards
sunset._

_On a step at the foot of the goddess’s statue sits an old priest, with
a covered basket in his lap. A number of men and women carry water
from the fountain. Passers-by are seen on the road. From the left
enters the dyer PHOCION, meanly clad, with a great bundle on his
head. He meets EUNAPIUS the barber, who comes from the city._

PHOCION.

Aha!—my friend Eunapius in full court dress!

EUNAPIUS.

Shame on you for mocking a poor man.

PHOCION.

Call you that mockery? I thought it was the highest distinction.

EUNAPIUS.

You may say so indeed. ’Tis now the height of distinction to go in rags, especially if they have lain long enough in the gutter.

PHOCION.

How will all this end, think you?

EUNAPIUS.

What should I care? I know how it has ended with me, and that is enough.

PHOCION.

Are you no longer in the Emperor’s service?

EUNAPIUS.

What should the Emperor Julian want with a barber? Think you he has his hair cut, or his beard trimmed? He does not even comb them. But how goes it with you? You do not look much better off.

PHOCION.

Alas, Eunapius, purple-dyeing has had its day.

EUNAPIUS.

Right, right; now we dye only the backs of the Christians. But what is that you are toiling with?

PHOCION.

A bundle of willow bark. I am to dye fools’ cloaks for the philosophers.

[_A detachment of soldiers enters from the right; they range
themselves beside the statue of Cybele._

PHOCION.

[_To one of the men beside the stone basin._] What does this mean?

THE MAN.

The statue is to be fed once more.

PHOCION.

Will the Emperor sacrifice here this evening?

ANOTHER MAN.

Does he not sacrifice both morning and evening—sometimes here, sometimes there?

A WOMAN.

Tis hard on us poor folk that the new Emperor is so much in love with the gods.

ANOTHER WOMAN.

Nay, Dione, say not so. Ought we not all to love the gods?

THE FIRST WOMAN.

Maybe, maybe; but ’tis hard on us none the less——

ONE OF THE MEN.

[_Points to the right._] Look—there he comes.

_The EMPEROR JULIAN advances in priestly attire, with a
sacrificial knife. Many philosophers, priests, and servants
surround him, along with his guard. After them comes a crowd
of people, some mocking, some indignant._

ONE OF THE NEWCOMERS.

There stands the goddess. Now you shall see sport.

AN OLDER MAN.

Do you call that sport? How many hungry mouths could be fed with what is wasted here?

JULIAN.

[_Approaching the statue._] Oh, this sight! It fills my heart with rapture and my eyes with tears of sorrow.

Yes, I must indeed weep, when I remember that this awe-inspiring goddess’s statue, overthrown by impious and audacious hands, has lain so long as if in a sleep of oblivion—and that, moreover, in a place I loathe to mention.

[_Suppressed laughter among the listeners. JULIAN turns
angrily._

But I feel no less rapture when I remember that to me it was vouchsafed to rescue the Divine Mother from so unworthy a situation.

May I not well be enraptured by this thought?—Men say of me, that I have won a few victories over the barbarians, and praise me for them. For my part, I set more value on what I am doing for the gods; for to them we owe all our strength and all our care.

[_To those by the stone basin._

It pleases me, however, to find that there are some in this stiff-necked city who are not deaf to my exhortations, but have come forth with seemly piety—and, I doubt not, have brought with them suitable offerings.

[_He goes up to the Old Priest._

What do I see? One solitary old man! Where are your brethren of the temple?

THE OLD PRIEST.

Sire, they are all dead but I.

JULIAN.

All dead! The road laid irreverently close to the sanctuary. The venerable grove hewn down——

Old man—where are the sacrificial offerings?

THE OLD PRIEST.

[_Pointing to the basket._] Here, sire!

JULIAN.

Yes, yes; but the rest?

THE OLD PRIEST.

This is all.

[_He opens the basket._

JULIAN.

A goose! And this goose is all?

THE OLD PRIEST.

Yes, sire!

JULIAN.

And what pious man have we to thank for so generous an offering?

THE OLD PRIEST.

I brought it with me myself. Oh, sire, be not wroth; this one was all I had.

[_Laughter and mutterings among the bystanders._

SUPPRESSED VOICES.

’Tis enough. A goose is more than enough.

JULIAN.

Oh Antioch—you put my patience to a hard test!

A MAN IN THE CROWD.

Bread first, offerings afterwards!

PHOCION.

[_Nudging him in the side._] Well said; well said!

ANOTHER MAN.

Give the citizens food; the gods may do as best they can.

A THIRD MAN.

We were better off under Chi and Kappa!

JULIAN.

Oh you shameless brawlers, with your Chi and Kappa! Think you I do not know whom you mean by Chi and Kappa? Ho-ho, I know very well. ’Tis a by-word among you. You mean Christ and Constantius. But their dominion is past, and I shall soon find means of subduing the frowardness and ingratitude you display both towards the gods and towards me. You are offended because I allot the gods their due offerings. You mock at my modest attire and my untrimmed beard. This beard is a very thorn in your eyes! You call it, irreverently, a goat’s beard. But I tell you, oh fools, it is a wise man’s beard. I am not ashamed to let you know that this beard harbours vermin, as willow copses harbour game—and yet this despised beard is more honourable to me than your smooth-shaven chins to you!

EUNAPIUS.

[_Half aloud._] What foolishness; most unreasonable!

JULIAN.

But think you I will leave your mockeries unanswered? No, no, you will find yourselves mistaken. Only wait; you shall hear from me sooner than you think. I am at this moment preparing a treatise, entitled “The Beard-Hater.” And would you know against whom it is directed? It is directed against you, citizens of Antioch—against you, whom I describe in it as “those ignorant hounds.” You will find in it my reasons for many things that now seem strange to you in my behaviour.

FROMENTINUS.

[_Entering from the right._] Great Emperor, I bring you good news. Cyrillus has already given way——

JULIAN.

Ah, I thought so.

FROMENTINUS.

Typhon did his work bravely. The prisoner was stripped, tied by the wrists, and slung to the rafters, so that the tips of his toes barely touched the floor; then Typhon scourged him from behind with a lash of ox sinews that circled his body round to the breast.

JULIAN.

Oh how wicked to force us to use such means!

FROMENTINUS.

Lest he should die under our hands, we had at last to release the obstinate wretch. He remained for a time quite still, and seemed to reflect; then suddenly he demanded to be brought before the Emperor.

JULIAN.

This pleases me. And you are having him brought hither?

FROMENTINUS.

Yes, sire—here they come with him.

_A detachment of soldiers enters, conducting CYRILLUS._

JULIAN.

Ah, my good Cyrillus,—you are not quite so overweening as you were, I see.

CYRILLUS.

Have you read in the entrails of some beast or bird what I have to say to you?

JULIAN.

Methinks there needs no divination to foresee that you have come to your senses, that you renounce your delusions concerning the Galilean’s power, and that you acknowledge both the Emperor and our gods to be greater than he.

CYRILLUS.

Imagine no such thing. Your gods are powerless; and if you cling to these graven images, that can neither hear nor see, you yourself will soon be as powerless as they.

JULIAN.

Cyrillus—is this what you have to say?

CYRILLUS.

No; I come to thank you. Hitherto I have dreaded you and your tortures. But in the hour of agony I won the victory of the spirit over all that is corruptible. Yes, Emperor, while your hirelings thought I was hanging in torment from the prison roof,—I lay, happy as a child, in my Saviour’s arms; and when your executioners seemed to be flaying my body with stripes, the Lord passed his healing hand over the wounds, took away the crown of thorns, and placed on my brow the crown of life.

Therefore I thank you; no mortal has ever done me so great a service as you.

And lest you should think I fear you for the future, see——

[_He throws back his cloak, tears open his wounds and casts
pieces of flesh at the Emperor’s feet._

—see—see—gorge yourself with the blood you thirst after! But as for me, know that I thirst after Jesus Christ alone.

[_Shrieks of horror are heard among the crowd._

MANY VOICES.

This will bring disaster on us all!

JULIAN.

[_Who has recoiled._] Hold the madman, lest he lay hands on us!

[_The soldiers surround CYRILLUS and drag him to the water
basin; at the same moment the voices of singing women are
heard to the right._

JULIAN.

Look there, Fromentinus—what strange company is that——?

FROMENTINUS.

My gracious Emperor, ’tis the psalm-singers——

JULIAN.

Ah, that band of raving women——

FROMENTINUS.

The governor Alexander has taken from them some writings which they hold sacred. They are going out of the city to weep at the graves of the Christians.

JULIAN.

[_With clenched hands._] Defiance; defiance—from men and women alike!

[_Old PUBLIA, and many other women, come along the road._

PUBLIA.
[_Sings._

Their gods are of marble, and silver and gold.
They shall crumble to mould.

CHORUS OF WOMEN.

To mould; to mould!

PUBLIA.

They murder our brothers; our children they smite.
Soar up, doves of song, and pray God to requite!

CHORUS OF WOMEN.

Pray God to requite!

PUBLIA.

[_Catching sight of JULIAN._] There he stands! Woe to the miscreant who has burnt the word of the Lord! Think you you can burn the word of the Lord with fire? I will tell you where it burns.

[_She wrests a knife from one of the sacrificing priests, cuts
open her breast and probes into the wound._

Here the word burns. You may burn our books; but the word shall burn in the hearts of men until the uttermost end of time!

[_She casts the knife from her._

THE WOMEN.
[_Sing with growing ecstasy._

Let writings be burnt, and let bodies be slain;
The word shall remain—
The word shall remain!

[_They take PUBLIA into their midst and go out towards the
country._

THE PEOPLE BY THE FOUNTAIN.

Woe to us; the Galileans’ God is the strongest!

OTHER VOICES.

What avail all our gods against this one?

OTHERS AGAIN.

No offering! No worship! ’Twill incense the terrible _one_ against us.

JULIAN.

Oh fools! You fear to incense a man long dead,—a false prophet—you shall have proof of it. He is a liar, I say! Wait but a little longer. Every day, every hour, may bring tidings from Jerusalem——

_JOVIAN, much travel-stained, enters hastily, with a few
followers, from the right._

JOVIAN.

Most gracious Emperor, pardon your servant for seeking you here.

JULIAN.

[_With a cry of joy._] Jovian! Oh welcome news-bearer!

JOVIAN.

I come direct from Judea. I learned at the palace that you were here——

JULIAN.

Oh, ever-praiseworthy gods,—yon setting sun shall not go down upon the lie. How far have you progressed? Speak, my Jovian!

JOVIAN.

[_With a glance at the crowd._] Sire, shall I tell all?

JULIAN.

All, all—from first to last!

JOVIAN.

I arrived at Jerusalem with the architects and soldiers, and the two thousand workmen. We went to work at once to clear the ground. Mighty remnants of the walls remained. They fell before our pickaxes and crowbars so easily that it seemed as though some unseen power were helping us to efface them——

JULIAN.

You see! What did I tell you!

JOVIAN.

In the meantime immense heaps of mortar were being brought together for the new building. Then, without any warning, there arose a whirlwind, which spread the lime like a cloud over the whole region.

JULIAN.

Go on; go on!

JOVIAN.

The same night the earth shook repeatedly.

VOICES IN THE CROWD.

Hear that! The earth shook.

JULIAN.

Go on, I say!

JOVIAN.

We were nothing daunted by this strange event. But when we had dug so deep into the ground as to open the subterranean vaults, and the stone-hewers went down to work by torchlight——

JULIAN.

Jovian,—what then?

JOVIAN.

Sire, a terrible, a monstrous stream of fire burst out of the caverns. A thundering noise shook the whole city. The vaults burst asunder; hundreds of workmen were killed in them, and the few who escaped fled with lacerated limbs.

WHISPERING VOICES.

The Galileans’ God!

JULIAN.

Can I believe all this? Did you see it?

JOVIAN.

With my own eyes. We began anew. Sire, in the presence of many thousands—awestruck, kneeling, exulting, praying—the same wonder was twice repeated.

JULIAN.

[_Pale and trembling._] And then——? In one word,—what has the Emperor achieved in Jerusalem?

JOVIAN.

The Emperor has fulfilled the Galilean’s prophecy.

JULIAN.

Fulfilled——?

JOVIAN.

Through you is the saying accomplished: “Not one stone shall remain upon another.”

MEN AND WOMEN.

The Galilean has overcome the Emperor! The Galilean is greater than Julian!

JULIAN.

[_To the priest of Cybele._] You may go home, old man! And take your goose with you. We will have no sacrifice this evening.

[_He turns to the crowd._

I heard some say the Galilean had conquered. It may appear so; but I tell you it is a delusion. Oh senseless clods; oh contemptible dolts,—believe me, it will not be long before the tables are turned! I will——; I will——! Ah, only wait! I am already collecting material for a treatise against the Galilean. It is to be in seven chapters; and when his followers have read _that_,—and when “The Beard-Hater,” too——

Give me your arm, Fromentinus! This defiance has wearied me.

[_To the guard, as he passes the fountain._

Set Cyrillus free!

[_He returns with his retinue to the city._

THE CROWD AT THE FOUNTAIN.

[_Shouting after him with scornful laughter._] There goes the altar-butcher?—There goes the ragged bear!—There goes the ape with the long arms!

SCENE FOURTH

_Moonlight. Among the ruins of the temple of Apollo._

_The EMPEROR JULIAN and MAXIMUS THE MYSTIC, both in robes, appear among
the overthrown columns._

MAXIMUS.

Whither, my brother?

JULIAN.

Where it is loneliest.

MAXIMUS.

But here—in this desolation? Among these rubbish-heaps——?

JULIAN.

Is not the whole earth a rubbish-heap?

MAXIMUS.

Yet you have shown that what has fallen can be restored.

JULIAN.

Mocker! In Athens I saw how a cobbler had made himself a little workshop in the temple of Theseus. In Rome, I hear, a corner of the Basilica Julia is used for a bullock-stable. Call you _that_ restoration?

MAXIMUS.

Why not? Does not everything happen little by little? What is a whole but the sum of all the parts?

JULIAN.

Foolish wisdom!

[_He points to the overturned statue of Apollo._

See this noseless face. See this splintered elbow,—these shattered loins. Does the sum of all these deformities restore to us the divine perfection of bygone beauty?

MAXIMUS.

How know you that that bygone beauty was beautiful—in itself—apart from the spectator’s idea?

JULIAN.

Ah, Maximus, that is just the question. What _exists_ in itself? After to-day I know of nothing.

[_He kicks the head of Apollo._

Have you ever been mightier, in yourself?

Strange, Maximus, that there should dwell such strength in delusion. Look at those Galileans. And look at me in the old days, when I thought it possible to build up again the fallen world of beauty.

MAXIMUS.

Friend—if delusion be a necessity to you, return to the Galileans. They will receive you with open arms.

JULIAN.

You know well that that is impossible. Emperor and Galilean! How reconcile that contradiction?

Yes, this Jesus Christ is the greatest rebel that ever lived. What was Brutus—what was Cassius, compared with _him_? They murdered only the man Julius Caesar; but he murders all that is called Caesar or Augustus. Is peace conceivable between the Galilean and the Emperor? Is there room for the two of them together upon the earth? For he lives on the earth, Maximus,—the Galilean lives, I say, however thoroughly both Jews and Romans imagined that they had killed him; he lives in the rebellious minds of men; he lives in their scorn and defiance of all visible authority.

“Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,—and to God the things that are God’s!” Never has mouth of man uttered a craftier saying than that. What lies behind it? What, and how much, belongs to the Emperor? That saying is nothing but a bludgeon wherewith to strike the crown from off the Emperor’s head.

MAXIMUS.

Yet the great Constantine knew how to compound matters with the Galilean—and your predecessor too.

JULIAN.

Yes, could one only be as easily satisfied as they! But call you that ruling the empire of the world? Constantine widened the boundaries of his dominion, but did he not fix narrow boundaries to his spirit and his will? You rate that man too high when you call him “the great.” Of my predecessor I will not speak; he was more slave than Emperor, and I cannot be contented with the name alone.

No, no, a truce is not to be thought of in this contest. And yet—to have to give way! Oh, Maximus, after these defeats I cannot retain the crown—yet neither can I renounce it.

You, Maximus, who can interpret omens whose mystic meaning is hidden from all others—you who can read the volume of the eternal stars,—can you foretell the issue of this struggle?

MAXIMUS.

Yes, my brother, I can foretell the issue.

JULIAN.

Can you? Then tell me—! Who shall conquer? The Emperor or the Galilean?

MAXIMUS.

Both the Emperor and the Galilean shall succumb.

JULIAN.

Succumb——? Both——?

MAXIMUS.

Both. Whether in our times or in hundreds of years, I know not; but so it shall be when the right man comes.

JULIAN.

And who is the right man?

MAXIMUS.

He who shall swallow up both Emperor and Galilean.

JULIAN.

You solve the riddle by a still darker riddle.

MAXIMUS.

Hear me, brother and friend of truth! I say you shall both succumb—but not that you shall perish.

Does not the child succumb in the youth, and the youth in the man? Yet neither child nor youth perishes.

Oh, my best-loved pupil—have you forgotten all our discourse in Ephesus about the three empires?

JULIAN.

Ah Maximus, years have passed since then. Speak!

MAXIMUS.

You know I have never approved the course you have taken as Emperor. You have striven to make the youth a child again. The empire of the flesh is swallowed up in the empire of the spirit. But the empire of the spirit is not final, any more than the youth is. You have striven to hinder the growth of the youth,—to hinder him from becoming a man. Oh fool, who have drawn your sword against that which is to be—against the third empire, in which the twin-natured shall reign!

JULIAN.

And he——?

MAXIMUS.

The Jews have a name for him. They call him Messiah, and they await him.

JULIAN.

[_Slowly and thoughtfully._] Messiah?—Neither Emperor nor Redeemer?

MAXIMUS.

Both in one, and one in both.

JULIAN.

Emperor-God—God-Emperor. Emperor in the kingdom of the spirit,—and God in that of the flesh.

MAXIMUS.

_That_ is the third empire, Julian!

JULIAN.

Yes, Maximus, _that_ is the third empire.

MAXIMUS.

In that empire shall the present watchword of revolt be realised.

JULIAN.

“Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s,—and to God the things that are God’s.” Yes, yes, then the Emperor is in God, and God in the Emperor.—Ah, dreams, dreams,—who shall break the Galilean’s power?

MAXIMUS.

Wherein lies the Galilean’s power?

JULIAN.

I have brooded over that question in vain.

MAXIMUS.

Is it not somewhere written: “Thou shalt have none other gods but me”?

JULIAN.

Yes—yes—yes!

MAXIMUS.

The Seer of Nazareth did not preach this god or that; he said: “God is I;—I am God.”

JULIAN.

Ay, this thing without me——! ’Tis that which makes the Emperor powerless.

The third empire? The Messiah? Not the Jews’ Messiah, but the Messiah of the two empires, the spirit and the world——?

MAXIMUS.

The God-Emperor.

JULIAN.

The Emperor-God.

MAXIMUS.

Logos in Pan—Pan in Logos.

JULIAN.

Maximus,—how comes he into being?

MAXIMUS.

He comes into being in the man who wills himself.

JULIAN.

My beloved teacher,—I must leave you

MAXIMUS.

Whither are you going?

JULIAN.

To the city. The Persian king has made overtures of peace, which I too hastily accepted. My envoys are already on the way. They must be overtaken and recalled.

MAXIMUS.

You will reopen the war against King Sapor?

JULIAN.

I will do what Cyrus dreamed of, and Alexander attempted——

MAXIMUS.

Julian!

JULIAN.

I will possess the world.—Good-night, my Maximus!

[_He makes a gesture of farewell, and goes hastily away. MAXIMUS
looks thoughtfully after him._

THE CHORUS OF THE PSALM-SINGERS.
[_Far away, beside the graves of the martyrs._

Ye gods of the nations, of silver and gold,
Ye shall crumble to mould!

ACT FOURTH

SCENE FIRST.

_The eastern frontier of the empire. A wild mountain landscape. A deep
valley separates the high foreground from the mountains behind._

_The EMPEROR JULIAN, in military dress, stands on the edge of a rocky
promontory, and looks into the depths. A little way from him, to
the left, stand NEVITA, the Persian prince HORMISDAS, JOVIAN, and
several other generals. To the right, beside a roughly-built stone
altar, crouch the soothsayer, NUMA, and two other Etruscan
soothsayers, examining the entrails of the sacrifices for omens.
Further forward sits MAXIMUS THE MYSTIC on a stone, surrounded by
PRISCUS, KYTRON, and other philosophers. Small detachments of
light-armed men now and then pass over the height from left to
right._

JULIAN.

[_Pointing downwards._] See, see—the legions wind like a scaly serpent through the ravine.

NEVITA.

Those just below us, in sheepskin doublets, are the Scythians.

JULIAN.

What piercing howls——!

NEVITA.

That is the Scythians’ customary song, sire!

JULIAN.

More howl than song.

NEVITA.

Now come the Armenians. Arsaces himself is leading them.

JULIAN.

The Roman legions must already be out on the plains. All the neighbouring tribes are hastening to make their submission.

[_He turns to the officers._

The twelve hundred ships, containing all our stores and munitions, lie assembled on the Euphrates. I am now fully assured that the fleet can cross over to the Tigris by the ancient canal. The whole army will pass the river by means of the ships. Then we will advance along by the eastern bank as rapidly as the current will suffer the ships to follow us.

Tell me, Hormisdas, what think you of this plan?

HORMISDAS.

Invincible general, I know that under your victorious protection it will be vouchsafed me to tread once more the soil of my fatherland.

JULIAN.

What a relief to be rid of those narrow-breasted citizens! What terror was in their eyes when they pressed round my chariot as I left the city! “Come again quickly,” they cried, “and be more gracious to us than now.” I will never revisit Antioch. I will never again set eyes on that ungrateful city! When I have conquered I will return by way of Tarsus.

[_He goes up to the soothsayers._

Numa,—what omens for our campaign do you find this morning?

NUMA.

The omens warn you not to pass the frontier of your empire this year.

JULIAN.

H’m! How read you this omen, Maximus?

MAXIMUS.

I read it thus: the omen counsels you to subdue all the regions you traverse; thus you will never pass the frontier of your empire.

JULIAN.

So is it. We must look closely into such supernatural signs; for there is wont to be a double meaning in them. It even seems at times as if mysterious powers took a delight in leading men astray, especially in great undertakings. Were there not some who held it an evil omen that the colonnade in Hierapolis fell in and buried half a hundred soldiers, just as we marched through the city? But I say that that is a presage of a twofold good. In the first place it foreshows the downfall of Persia, and in the second place the doom of the unhappy Galileans. For what soldiers were they who were killed? Why, Galilean convict-soldiers, who went most unwillingly to the war; and therefore fate decreed them that sudden and inglorious end.

JOVIAN.

Most gracious Emperor, here comes a captain from the vanguard.

AMMIAN.

[_Entering from the right._] Sire, you commanded me to inform you should anything strange befall during our advance.

JULIAN.

Well? Has anything happened this morning?

AMMIAN.

Yes, sire, two portents.

JULIAN.

Quick, Ammian,—speak on!

AMMIAN.

First, sire, it happened that when we had gone a little way beyond the village of Zaita, a lion of monstrous size burst from a thicket and rushed straight at our soldiers, who killed it with many arrows.

JULIAN.

Ah!

THE PHILOSOPHERS.

What a fortunate omen!

HORMISDAS.

King Sapor calls himself the lion of the nations.

NUMA.

[_Busied at the altar._] Turn back; turn back, Emperor Julian!

MAXIMUS.

Go fearlessly forward, chosen son of victory!

JULIAN.

Turn back after this? As the lion fell at Zaita, so shall the lion of the nations fall before our arrows. Does not history warrant me in interpreting this omen to our advantage? Need I remind such learned men that when the Emperor Maximian conquered the Persian king, Narses, a lion, and a huge wild boar besides, were, in like manner, slain in front of the Roman ranks?

[_To Ammian._

But now the other——? You spoke of two signs.

AMMIAN.

The other is more doubtful, sire! Your charger, Babylonius, was led forth, as you commanded, fully equipped, to await your descent on the other side of the mountain. But just at that time a detachment of Galilean convict-soldiers happened to pass. Heavily laden as they were, and by no means over willing, they had to be driven with scourges. Nevertheless they lifted up their arms as in rejoicing, and burst forth into a loud hymn in praise of their deity. Babylonius was startled by the sudden noise, reared in his fright, and fell backwards; and as he sprawled upon the ground, all his golden trappings were soiled and bespattered with mud.

NUMA.

[_At the altar._] Emperor Julian,—turn back, turn back!

JULIAN.

The Galileans must have done this out of malice,—and yet, in spite of themselves, they have brought to pass a portent which I hail with delight.

Yes, as Babylonius fell, so shall Babylon fall, stripped of all the splendour of its adornments.

PRISCUS.

What wisdom in interpretation!

KYTRON.

By the gods, it must be so!

THE OTHER PHILOSOPHERS.

So, and not otherwise!

JULIAN.

[_To NEVITA._] The army shall continue to advance. Nevertheless, for still greater security, I will sacrifice this evening and see what the omens indicate.

As for you Etruscan jugglers, whom I have brought hither at so great a cost, I will no longer suffer you in the camp, where you serve only to damp the soldiers’ spirits. You know nothing of the difficult calling you profess. What effrontery! What measureless presumption! Away with them! I will not set eyes on them again.

[_Some of the guards drive the Soothsayers out to the left._

Babylonius fell. The lion succumbed before my soldiers. Yet these things do not tell us what invisible help we have to depend upon. The gods, whose essence is as yet by no means duly ascertained, seem sometimes—if I may say so—to slumber, or, on the whole, to concern themselves very little with human affairs. We, my dear friends, are so unfortunate as to live in such an age. We have even seen how certain divinities have neglected to support well-meant endeavours, tending to their own honour and glory.

Yet must we not judge rashly in this matter. It is conceivable that the immortals, who guide and uphold the universe, may sometimes depute their power to mortal hands,—not thereby, assuredly, lessening their own glory; for is it not thanks to them that so highly-favoured[11] a mortal—if he exist—has been born into this world?

PRISCUS.

Oh matchless Emperor, do not your own achievements afford proof of this?

JULIAN.

I know not, Priscus, whether I dare rate my own achievements so highly. I say nothing of the fact that the Galileans believe the Jew, Jesus of Nazareth, to have been thus elected; for these men err—as I shall conclusively establish in my treatise against them. But I will remind you of Prometheus in ancient days. Did not that pre-eminent hero procure for mankind still greater blessings than the gods seemed to vouchsafe—wherefore he had to suffer much, both pain and despiteful usage, till he was at last exalted to the communion of the gods—to which, in truth, he had all the while belonged?

And may not the same be said both of Herakles and of Achilles, and, finally, of the Macedonian Alexander, with whom some have compared me, partly on account of what I achieved in Gaul, partly, and especially, on account of my designs in the present campaign?

NEVITA.

My Emperor—the rear-guard is now beneath us—it is perhaps time——

JULIAN.

Presently, Nevita! First I must tell you of a strange dream I had last night.

I dreamed that I saw a child pursued by a rich man who owned countless flocks, but despised the worship of the gods.

This wicked man exterminated all the child’s kindred. But Zeus took pity on the child itself, and held his hand over it.

Then I saw this child grow up into a youth, under the care of Minerva and Apollo.

Further, I dreamed that the youth fell asleep upon a stone beneath the open sky.

Then Hermes descended to him, in the likeness of a young man, and said: “Come; I will show thee the way to the abode of the highest god!” So he led the youth to the foot of a very steep mountain. There he left him.

Then the youth burst out into tears and lamentations, and called with a loud voice upon Zeus. Lo, then, Minerva and the Sun-King who rules the earth descended to his side, bore him aloft to the peak of the mountain, and showed him the whole inheritance of his race.

But this inheritance was the orb of the earth from ocean to ocean, and beyond the ocean.

Then they told the youth that all this should belong to him. And therewith they gave him three warnings: he should not sleep, as his race had done; he should not hearken to the counsel of hypocrites; and, lastly, he should honour as gods those who resemble the gods. “Forget not,” they said, on leaving him, “that thou hast an immortal soul, and that this thy soul is of divine origin. And if thou follow our counsel thou shalt see our father and become a god, even as we.”

PRISCUS.

What are signs and omens to this!

KYTRON.

It can scarcely be rash to anticipate that the Fates will think twice ere they suffer their counsels to clash with yours.

JULIAN.

We dare not build with certainty on such an exception. But assuredly I cannot but find this dream significant, although my brother Maximus, by his silence—against all reasonable expectation—seems to approve neither of the dream itself, nor of my relation of it.—But that we must bear with!

[_He takes out a roll of paper._

See, Jovian; before I arose this morning, I noted down what I had dreamt. Take this paper, let numerous copies of it be made, and read to the various divisions of the army. I hold it of the utmost moment, on so hazardous an expedition, that, amid all dangers and difficulties, the soldiers may leave their fate securely in their leader’s hands, considering him infallible in all that concerns the issue of the war.

JOVIAN.

I pray you, my Emperor, let me be excused from this.

JULIAN.

What do you mean?

JOVIAN.

That I cannot lend my aid to anything that is against the truth.—Oh, hear me, my august Emperor and master! Is there a single one of your soldiers who doubts that he is safe in your hands? Have you not, on the Gallic frontier, in spite of overwhelming numbers and difficulties of all kinds, gained greater victories than any other living commander can boast of?

JULIAN.

Well, well! What startling news!

JOVIAN.

All know how marvellously fortune has hitherto followed you. In learning you excel all other mortals, and in the glorious art of eloquence you bear the palm among the greatest.

JULIAN.

And yet——? In spite of all this——?

JOVIAN.

In spite of all this, my Emperor, you are but mortal. By publishing this dream through the army you would seek to make men deem you a god,—and in that I dare not assist you.

JULIAN.

What say you, my friends, to this speech?

KYTRON.

It assuredly shows no less effrontery than ignorance.

JULIAN.

You seem to forget, oh truth-loving Jovian, that the Emperor Antoninus, surnamed the Pious, has been worshipped in a special temple on the Roman forum as an immortal god. And not he alone, but also his wife, Faustina, and other Emperors before and after him.

JOVIAN.

I know it, sire,—but it was not given to our forefathers to live in the light of truth.

JULIAN.

[_With a long look at him._] Ah, Jovian!——

Tell me,—last evening, when I was taking the omens for the coming night, you brought me a message just as I was laving the blood from my hands in the water of purification——

JOVIAN.

Yes, my Emperor!

JULIAN.

In my haste, I chanced to sprinkle a few drops of the water on your cloak. You shrank sharply backward and shook the water off, as if your cloak had been defiled.

JOVIAN.

My Emperor,—so that did not escape you?

JULIAN.

Did you think it would have escaped me?

JOVIAN.

Yes, sire; for it was a matter between me and the one true God.

JULIAN.

Galilean!

JOVIAN.

Sire, you yourself sent me to Jerusalem, and I was witness to all that happened there. I have pondered much since then; I have read the scriptures of the Christians, have spoken with many of them,—and now I am convinced that in their teaching lies the truth of God.

JULIAN.

Is this possible? Can it be possible? Thus does this infectious frenzy spread! Even those nearest me—my own generals desert me——

JOVIAN.

Place me in the van against your foes, sire,—and you shall see how gladly I render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.

JULIAN.

How much——?

JOVIAN.

My blood, my life.

JULIAN.

Blood and life are not enough. He who is to rule must rule over the minds, over the wills of men. It is in this that your Jesus of Nazareth bars my way and contests my power.

Think not that I will punish you, Jovian! You Galileans covet punishment as a benefaction. And after it you are called martyrs. Have they not thus exalted those whom I have been obliged to chastise for their obduracy?

Go to the vanguard! I will not willingly see your face again.—Oh, this treachery to me, which you veil in phrases about double duty and a double empire! This shall be altered. Other kings besides the Persian shall feel my foot on their necks.

To the vanguard, Jovian!

JOVIAN.

I shall do my duty, sire!

[_He goes out to the right._

JULIAN.

We will not have this morning darkened, which rose amid so many happy omens. This, and more, will we bear with an even mind. But my dream shall none the less be published through the army. You, Kytron, and you, my Priscus, and my other friends, will see that this is done in a becoming manner.

THE PHILOSOPHERS.

With joy, with unspeakable joy, sire!

[_They take the roll and go out to the right._

JULIAN.

I beg you, Hormisdas, not to doubt my power, although it may seem as though stubbornness met me on every hand. Go; and you too, Nevita, and all the rest, each to his post;—I will follow when the troops are all gathered out on the plains.

[_All except the EMPEROR and MAXIMUS go out to the right._

MAXIMUS.

[_After a time, rises from the stone where he has been seated and goes up to the Emperor._] My sick brother!

JULIAN.

Rather wounded than sick. The deer that is pierced by the hunter’s shaft seeks the thicket where its fellows cannot see it. I could no longer endure to be seen in the streets of Antioch;—and now I shrink from showing myself to the army.

MAXIMUS.

No one sees you, friend; for they grope in blindness. But you shall be as a physician to restore their sight, and then they shall behold you in your glory.

JULIAN.

[_Gazing down into the ravine._] How far beneath us! How tiny they seem, as they wind their way forward, amid thicket and brushwood, along the rocky river-bed!

When we stood at the mouth of this defile, all the leaders, as one man, made for the pass. It meant an hour’s way shortened, a little trouble spared,—on the road to death.

And the legions were so eager to follow. No thought of taking the upward path, no longing for the free air up here, where the bosom expands with each deep draught of breath. There they march, and march, and march, and see not that the heaven is straitened above them,—and know not there are heights where it is wider.—Seems it not, Maximus, as though men lived but to die? The spirit of the Galilean is in this. If it be true, as they say, that his father made the world, then the son contemns his father’s work. And it is just for this presumptuous frenzy that he is so highly revered!

How great was Socrates compared with him! Did not Socrates love pleasure, and happiness, and beauty? And yet he renounced them.—Is there not a bottomless abyss between not desiring, on the one hand, and, on the other, desiring, yet renouncing?

Oh, this treasure of lost wisdom I would fain have restored to men. Like Dionysus of old, I went forth to meet them, young and joyous, a garland on my brow, and the fulness of the vine in my arms. But they reject my gifts, and I am scorned, and hated, and derided, by friends and foes alike.

MAXIMUS.

Why? I will tell you why.

Hard by a certain town where once I lived, there was a vineyard, renowned far and wide for its grapes; and when the citizens wished to have the finest fruits on their tables, they sent their servants out to bring clusters from this vineyard.

Many years after I came again to that city; but no one now knew aught of the grapes that were once so renowned. Then I sought the owner of the vineyard and said to him, “Tell me, friend, are your vines dead, since no one now knows aught of your grapes?” “No,” he answered, “but let me tell you, young vines yield good grapes but poor wine; old vines, on the contrary, bad grapes but good wine. Therefore, stranger,” he added, “I still gladden the hearts of my fellow citizens with the abundance of my vineyard, only in another form—as wine, not as grapes.”

JULIAN.

[_Thoughtfully._] Yes, yes, yes!

MAXIMUS.

You have not given heed to this. The vine of the world has grown old, and yet you think that you can still offer the raw grapes to those who thirst for the new wine.

JULIAN.

Alas, my Maximus, who thirsts? Name me a single man, outside our brotherhood, who is moved by a spiritual craving.—Unhappy I, to be born into this iron age!

MAXIMUS.