CHARACTERS:

ACT ONE.

Hymn (within the church).

Potamon the goldsmith (with a paper lantern, comes from the left, taps one of the soldiers on the shoulder and asks):

Pst, good friend, – when does the emperor come?

The soldier.

Don't know.

Phocion the dyer (turns his head in the crowd).

The emperor? I thought someone asked about the emperor? The emperor comes a little before midnight. Quite a little before. I have it from Memnon himself.

Eunapius the barber (comes running in haste and shoves a fruit-seller aside).

Out of the way, heathen!

The fruit-seller.

Gently, sir!

Potamon the goldsmith.

The swine grumbles!

Eunapius the barber.

Dog, dog!

Phocion the dyer.

To grumble at a well-dressed Christian; – at a man of the emperor's own faith!

Eunapius the barber (knocks the fruit-seller over).

Into the dirt with you!

Potamon the goldsmith.

Just so! Wallow there, like your gods.

Phocion the dyer (strikes him with his stick).

Take that, – and that, – and that!

Eunapius the barber (kicks him).

And there; and there! I'll soften your God-hated hide.

Phocion the dyer (with the evident intention that it shall be heard by the captain of the watch).

I should heartily wish that someone would bring this scene to the ears of our blessed emperor. The emperor has lately voiced his displeasure that we Christian citizens keep company with the heathens, just as though nothing parted us –

Potamon the goldsmith.

You mean that notice in the marketplaces? I have read it too. And I think that, just as there is both genuine and false gold in the world –

Eunapius the barber.

One ought not to judge all by one measure; that is my opinion. There are still, God be praised, zealous souls among us.

Phocion the dyer.

We are far from zealous enough, you dear brothers! Just see how cocksure these scoffers carry themselves. Or do you think there are many of these ragged ones who bear the sign of the cross and the fish on their arm?

Potamon the goldsmith.

No, – just think, they swarm and crawl before the very court chapel –

Phocion the dyer.

– on such a most holy night –

Eunapius the barber.

– blocking the way for the church's pure members –

A painted woman (in the crowd).

Are Donatists pure?

Phocion the dyer.

What? Donatist! Are you a Donatist?

Eunapius the barber.

What now? Are you not the same?

Phocion the dyer.

I? I! May the lightning strike your tongue!

Potamon the goldsmith (makes the sign of the cross).

May plague and boils –!

Phocion the dyer.

A Donatist! You carrion; you rotten tree!

Potamon the goldsmith.

Just so; just so!

Phocion the dyer.

Chip on Satan's hearth!

Potamon the goldsmith.

Just so! Rail at him; rail at him, dear brother!

Phocion the dyer (shoves the goldsmith away).

Hold your tongue; get far away from me. Now I know you; – you are Potamon the Manichaean!

Eunapius the barber.

A Manichaean? A stinking heretic! Fie, fie!

Potamon the goldsmith (holds his paper lantern forward).

Aha! It is none other than Phocion the dyer from Antioch! The Cainite!

Eunapius the barber.

Woe is me, who have come into the company of lies!

Phocion the dyer.

Woe is me, who helped a son of the devil!

Eunapius the barber (strikes him on the ear).

Take that, as wages for the help!

Phocion the dyer (strikes back).

Oh, you wicked cur!

Potamon the goldsmith.

Cursed, cursed be you both!

The captain of the watch (calls to the soldiers).

The emperor is coming!

Hymn (from the high altar).

Emperor Constantius (stops suddenly, turns to Prince Julian and asks sharply):

Where is Gallus?

Prince Julian (turns pale).

Gallus? What do you want with Gallus?

Emperor Constantius.

There I caught you!

Prince Julian.

Sire –!

Empress Eusebia (takes the emperor's hand).

Come; come!

Emperor Constantius.

Conscience cried out. What are you two plotting?

Prince Julian.

We?

Emperor Constantius.

You and he!

Empress Eusebia.

Oh, come; come, Constantius!

Emperor Constantius.

So black a deed! What answer did the oracle give?

Prince Julian.

The oracle? By my holy saviour –

Emperor Constantius.

If anyone lies about you, he shall pay for it at the stake. (draws the prince aside.) Oh, let us hold together, Julian! Dear kinsman, let us do so!

Prince Julian.

Everything lies in your hands, beloved sire!

Emperor Constantius.

My hands –!

Prince Julian.

Oh, stretch them in mercy over us!

Emperor Constantius.

My hands? What were you thinking of my hands?

Prince Julian (grasps his hands and kisses them).

The emperor's hands are white and cool.

Emperor Constantius.

What else should they be? What were you thinking? Now I caught you again!

Prince Julian (kisses them again).

They are like the rose-petals here in the moonlit night.

Emperor Constantius.

Yes, yes, yes, Julian!

Empress Eusebia.

Forward; it is time.

Emperor Constantius.

Oh, to go before the face of the Lord! I, I! Oh, pray for me, Julian! They will offer me the holy wine. I see it! It glistens, like serpent's eyes in the golden chalice –. (cries out.) Bloody eyes –! Oh, Jesus Christ, pray for me!

Empress Eusebia.

The emperor is ill –!

Princess Helena.

Where is Caesarius? The physician, the physician, – fetch him!

Empress Eusebia (beckons).

Memnon, good Memnon!

Prince Julian (in an undertone).

Sire, have mercy, and send me far from here.

Emperor Constantius.

Where would you most like to go?

Prince Julian.

To Egypt. There by preference, if it so please you. So many go there, after all, – into the great solitude.

Emperor Constantius.

Into the solitude? So? In solitude one broods. I forbid you to brood.

Prince Julian.

I shall not brood, if only you would permit me –. Here my soul's distress grows with each day. Evil thoughts throng about me. For nine days and nights I have worn a hair-shirt, and it has not warded them off; for nine nights I have scourged myself with the penitent's whip, but it does not drive them away.

Emperor Constantius.

We must be steadfast, Julian! The devil is sorely active in us all. Speak with Hecebolius –

Memnon the slave (to the emperor).

Now it is time –

Emperor Constantius.

No, no, I will not –

Memnon the slave (takes him by the wrist).

Come, most gracious sire; – come, I say.

Emperor Constantius (draws himself up and says with dignity):

Into the house of the Lord!

Memnon the slave (softly).

And then the other thing –.

Emperor Constantius (to Julian).

Gallus shall appear before me.

Prince Julian (behind the emperor's back, folds his hands pleadingly toward the empress).

Empress Eusebia (quickly and in an undertone).

Fear not!

Emperor Constantius.

Stay outside. Do not go into the church with the mind you now have. When you pray before the altar, it is to call down evil upon me. – Oh, do not load such guilt upon yourself, my beloved kinsman!

A palsied man.

Oh, mightiest ruler of the world, let me touch the hem of your garment, that I may be healed.

A blind man.

Pray for me, you anointed of the Lord, that I may get my sight again!

Emperor Constantius.

Be of good cheer, son! – Memnon, scatter silver coins for them. In, in!

Prince Julian (looks toward the church).

What does he want with Gallus? On this holy night he surely cannot be thinking of –! Oh, would that one knew – – (turns and bumps into the departing blind man.) Watch where you go, friend!

The blind man.

I am blind, sir!

Prince Julian.

Still? Can you really not see even so much as that twinkling star? Shame on you, you of little faith. Did not God's anointed promise to pray for your sight?

The blind man.

Who are you, that mocks a blind brother?

Prince Julian.

A brother in unbelief and blindness.

A voice (softly, behind him, among the bushes).

Julian, Julian!

Prince Julian (with a cry).

Ah!

The voice (nearer).

Julian!

Prince Julian.

Stand, stand; – I am armed! Beware.

A young man, (in humble clothes and with a wanderer's staff, comes into view among the trees).

Quiet; it is I –

Prince Julian.

Stay where you are! Come not near me, man!

The young man.

Oh, do you then not remember Agathon –?

Prince Julian.

Agathon! What do you say? Agathon was but a boy –

Agathon.

Six years ago. I knew you at once.

Prince Julian.

Agathon; – yes, by the holy cross, I do believe it is you!

Agathon.

Look at me; look closely –

Prince Julian (embraces and kisses him).

Friend of my childhood! Playmate! You dearest of them all! And you are here? What a wonder! You have travelled the long way over the mountains, and then over the sea, – all that long way from Cappadocia!

Agathon.

I came two days ago by a ship from Ephesus. Oh, how vainly I have sought you in these two days. At the palace gates the guard would not let me in, and –

Prince Julian.

Did you name my name to anyone? Or that you sought me?

Agathon.

No, such a thing I dared not mention at all, for –

Prince Julian.

In that you have done right; one should never let anyone know more than is strictly necessary. –

Here, Agathon; out into the full moonlight, that I may see you. – You; you! How you have grown, Agathon; – how strong you look.

Agathon.

And you are paler.

Prince Julian.

I cannot bear the air in the palace. I think it is unwholesome here. – It is not here as in Macellum. Macellum lies high. No other place lies so high in all Cappadocia; ah, how the fresh snow-wind from Taurus sweeps across –! Are you weary, Agathon?

Agathon.

Oh, by no means.

Prince Julian.

But let us sit down. It is so still and lonely here. Close together; there now! (draws him down onto a bench by the railing.) – «Can anything good come from Cappadocia», they say. Yes, – friends can come. Is there anything better?

Unfathomable, that I did not know you at once. Oh you, my beloved possession, is it not as in the years of childhood –?

Agathon (down before him).

I at your feet, just as then.

Prince Julian.

No, no, no –!

Agathon.

Oh, let me lie thus!

Prince Julian.

Alas, Agathon, it is sin and blasphemy to kneel before me. You should know how guilt-laden I have become. Hecebolius, my precious teacher, has much sorrow on my account, Agathon. He could tell you – – –

How full and moist your hair has grown. And how curly it is. – But Mardonius, – how does he fare? By now he must be almost white-haired?

Agathon.

He is quite white-haired.

Prince Julian.

How Mardonius understood how to expound Homer! I do not think my old Mardonius has his equal in that respect. – Hero against hero in battle; – and kindling gods above them. I saw it with my own eyes.

Agathon.

In those days your mind was set on becoming a great and happy warrior.

Prince Julian.

Those were glad years, those six in Cappadocia. Were the years longer then than now? It seems so when I call to mind all that they hold. – –

Yes, those were glad years. We at our books, and Gallus on his Persian horse. Like the shadow of a cloud he raced over the plain. – Oh, but one thing you must tell me. The church –?

Agathon.

The church? Over holy Mamas's grave?

Prince Julian (smiles faintly).

That Gallus and I built. Gallus got his wing finished; but I –; it would never quite succeed. – How has it gone since?

Agathon.

It came to nothing. The builders said it was impracticable that way.

Prince Julian (thoughtful).

To be sure; to be sure. I did them wrong when I thought them unskilled. Now I know why it could not succeed. I will tell you, Agathon; – Mamas was a false saint.

Agathon.

Was holy Mamas?

Prince Julian.

That Mamas was never a martyr. The whole legend of him was a strange error. Hecebolius has, with exceedingly great learning, discovered the true connection, and I myself have lately composed a humble treatise on this matter, a treatise, my Agathon, which certain friends of wisdom, incomprehensibly enough, are said to have spoken of with praise in the lecture-halls. –

May the Lord keep my heart pure of all vanity! The evil tempter has countless secret paths; one can never know –.

That it should succeed for Gallus, but not for me! Alas, my Agathon, when I think of that church-building, I see Cain's altar –

Agathon.

Julian!

Prince Julian.

God will have nothing to do with me, Agathon!

Agathon.

Oh, do not speak so! Was not God strong in you when you led me out of the darkness of heathendom and gave me light for all time, – you, a child, as you then were!

Prince Julian.

Yes, that matter is to me like a dream.

Agathon.

And yet so blessed a truth.

Prince Julian (heavily).

Would it were now! – Where did I take the fire of the word from? There was a hymn in the air, – a ladder between heaven and earth – – (stares out.) Did you see it?

Agathon.

Which?

Prince Julian.

The star that fell; there, behind the two cypresses. (is silent a moment and suddenly changes tone.) – Have I told you what my mother dreamed the night before I was born?

Agathon.

That I do not remember.

Prince Julian.

No, no, that is true, I learned of it only later.

Agathon.

What did she dream?

Prince Julian.

My mother dreamed that she gave birth to Achilles.

Agathon (eagerly).

Do you still believe as strongly in dreams?

Prince Julian.

Why do you ask?

Agathon.

You shall hear; for it is bound up with that which drove me over the sea –

Prince Julian.

You have a special errand here? I had not thought to ask you about it at all –

Agathon.

A strange errand; and just for that reason I hesitate in doubt and unrest. There is so much I would gladly know first, – about life in the city, – about yourself, – about the emperor –

Prince Julian (looks fixedly at him).

Tell the truth, Agathon; – with whom have you spoken here before you met me?

Agathon.

With no one.

Prince Julian.

When did you come?

Agathon.

I told you before, – two days ago.

Prince Julian.

And at once you want to know –? What sort of things do you want to know about the emperor? Is there someone who has bidden you –? (throws his arms about him.) Oh, forgive me, Agathon, friend!

Agathon.

What? What thing?

Prince Julian (rises and listens).

Hush! – No, it was nothing; it was only a bird in the bushes. – –

I am very happy here. Why do you not believe it? Why should I not be happy? Have I not here all my kin gathered? Yes, I mean – all those over whom a merciful saviour has held his hand.

Agathon.

And the emperor is to you, after all, in a father's place?

Prince Julian.

The emperor is beyond all measure wise and good.

Agathon, (who has also risen).

Julian, is the rumour true that you are one day to be the emperor's successor?

Prince Julian (hastily).

Speak not of those dangerous things. I do not know what foolish rumours tell. – Why do you question me so much? Not a word will you get out of me before you tell me what you want in Constantinople.

Agathon.

I come on behalf of the Lord God.

Prince Julian.

If you hold dear your saviour and your salvation, then go home again. (listens out over the railing.) Speak softly; a boat is putting in there. –

What do you want here? To kiss the splinter of the holy cross? – Go home again, I say! Do you know what Constantinople has become in the last fifteen months? A Babylon of blasphemy. – Have you not heard it, – do you not know that Libanius is here?

Agathon.

Alas, Julian, I do not know Libanius.

Prince Julian.

You solitary Cappadocian! Happy region, where his voice and teaching have not struck down.

Agathon.

Ah, he is one of those heathen false teachers –?

Prince Julian.

The most dangerous of them all.

Agathon.

Yet not more dangerous than Aedesius in Pergamon?

Prince Julian.

Eh, what; – who thinks any longer of Aedesius in Pergamon? Aedesius is decrepit –

Agathon.

Is he more dangerous, too, than that enigmatic Maximus?

Prince Julian.

Maximus! Speak not of that mountebank. Who knows anything reliable about Maximus?

Agathon.

He claims to have slept three years in a cave beyond the Jordan.

Prince Julian.

Hecebolius holds him to be an impostor, and in that he is surely not much in the wrong. – –

No, no, Agathon, – Libanius is the most dangerous. Our sinful earth has, as it were, writhed under this scourge. Signs went before his coming. A plague-like sickness murdered people right and left in the city. And then, when it was over, in the month of November, fire rained here every night from the sky. You must not doubt, Agathon! I have myself seen the stars loosen themselves from their rings, sink down toward the earth and go out on the way. –

Since then he has taught here, he, the lover of wisdom, the orator. All call him the king of the teachers of eloquence. Yes, well they may. I tell you, he is terrible. Youths and men throng about him; he binds their souls, so that they must follow him; denial flows beguiling from his lips, like poem and song of Trojans and Greeks –

Agathon (in terror).

Oh, you too have sought him out, Julian!

Prince Julian (draws back).

I! – God shield me from such a thing! Should certain rumours come to your ears, then put no faith in them. It is not true that I have sought Libanius out by night or in disguise. His nearness would be a horror to me. The emperor, moreover, has forbidden it, and Hecebolius still more urgently. – All the faithful who come near this subtle man fall away and become mockers. And not they alone. His words are carried from mouth to mouth right into the imperial palace. His playful scorn, his irrefutable reasons, his lampoons strike down into my prayer; – all this together is to me like those monsters in bird-shape that of old befouled the food of a pious wandering hero. I sometimes feel with horror that I am sickened by the food of faith and the word – (with an outburst of unruliness.) Had I imperial power, I would send you Libanius's head on a silver platter!

Agathon.

But how is it possible that the emperor tolerates this? How can our pious, believing emperor –?

Prince Julian.

The emperor? Praised be the emperor's faith and piety! But the emperor has no thought for anything but the wretched Persian war. It fills every mind. No one heeds the war that is waged here against the Prince of Golgotha. Ah, my Agathon, it is not now as it was two years ago. In those days the mystic Maximus's two brothers had to pay with their lives for their false doctrines. You do not know what mighty supporters Libanius has. Some one or other of the lesser teachers of wisdom is now and then driven out of the city. Him no one dares to touch. I have urged, I have implored both Hecebolius and the empress to work for his expulsion. But no, no! – What good does it do that the others are removed? This one man poisons the air for us all. Oh, you my saviour, if I could flee from all this heathen abomination! To live here is to live in the lion's den –

Agathon (eagerly).

Julian, – what did you say there!

Prince Julian.

Yes, yes; only a miracle can free us.

Agathon.

Oh, then listen! That miracle has happened.

Prince Julian.

What do you mean?

Agathon.

You shall hear it, Julian; for now I dare no longer doubt that it is you whom it concerns. What drove me to Constantinople was a vision –

Prince Julian.

A vision, you say!

Agathon.

A holy revelation –

Prince Julian.

Oh, for the sake of God's grace, speak! – Hush; speak not. Wait; someone is coming. Stand here; quite indifferent; – act as if nothing were amiss.

The teacher of wisdom.

Lose nothing in the water, my merry Gregory! Remember, what you carry is worth more than gold.

Prince Julian (who stands close by him).

By your leave, – is there any tangible good worth more than gold?

The teacher of wisdom.

Can you buy back the fruits of your life with gold?

Prince Julian.

True; true. But if that is so, you ought not to trust yourself to the faithless waters.

The teacher of wisdom.

Men's favour is more faithless.

Prince Julian.

That word was wisdom. And where do you sail, then, with your treasures?

The teacher of wisdom.

To Athens.

Prince Julian (with suppressed laughter).

To Athens? Oh, rich sir, then you do not own your own riches.

The teacher of wisdom (stops).

How so?

Prince Julian.

Is it a wise man's work to carry owls to Athens?

The teacher of wisdom.

My owls do not agree with the church-light in the imperial city. (to one of the young men.) Give me your hand, Sallust!

Sallust the student (halfway down the stair, softly).

By the gods, it is he!

The teacher of wisdom.

He –?

Sallust the student.

As sure as I live! I know him; – I have seen him walking with Hecebolius.

The teacher of wisdom.

Ah!

You smiled just now. What did you smile at?

Prince Julian.

When you complained of the church-light, I wondered whether it was not rather the king-light in the lecture-hall that cut too sharply into your eyes.

The teacher of wisdom.

Envy finds no room beneath the short cloak.

Prince Julian.

What finds no room sticks out.

The teacher of wisdom.

You have a sharp tongue, noble Galilean!

Prince Julian.

Why Galilean? What is my Galilean mark?

The teacher of wisdom.

The court dress.

Prince Julian.

I am a friend of wisdom underneath; for I wear a very coarse shirt. – But tell me, what do you seek in Athens?

The teacher of wisdom.

What did Pontius Pilate seek?

Prince Julian.

Eh, what! Is the truth not here, where Libanius is?

The teacher of wisdom (looks fixedly at him).

Hm! – Libanius, yes! Libanius will soon fall silent. Libanius is weary of the strife, sir!

Prince Julian.

Weary? He, – the invulnerable, the ever-victorious –?

The teacher of wisdom.

He is weary of waiting for his equal.

Prince Julian.

Now you jest, stranger! Where can Libanius think to find his equal?

The teacher of wisdom.

His equal exists.

Prince Julian.

Who? Where? Name him!

The teacher of wisdom.

That might be dangerous.

Prince Julian.

Why?

The teacher of wisdom.

Are you not a courtier?

Prince Julian.

And what of that?

The teacher of wisdom (more softly).

Have you yourself the audacity to praise the emperor's successor?

Prince Julian (deeply shaken).

Ah!

The teacher of wisdom (quickly).

If you betray me, then I deny everything!

Prince Julian.

I betray no one. Surely, surely not! – The emperor's successor, you say? I do not know whom you mean; – the emperor has chosen none. – But why that jest? Why did you speak of Libanius's equal?

The teacher of wisdom.

Yes or no, – does there live at the imperial court a youth who, by force and harsh commands, through prayers and persuasions, is kept far from the light of the lecture-hall?

Prince Julian (in haste.)

Such things are done to keep his faith pure!

The teacher of wisdom (smiles).

Has this young man so little faith in his faith? What does he know of his faith? What does a warrior know of his shield before it has shielded him?

Prince Julian.

True, true; – but it is loving kinsmen and teachers, you hear –

The teacher of wisdom.

Empty phrases, sir! I will tell you. It is for the emperor's sake that his young kinsman is kept away from the friends of wisdom. The emperor has not the divine gift of the word. The emperor is great in other respects; but he cannot bear that his successor should shine over the realm –

Prince Julian (bewildered.)

And that you dare –!

The teacher of wisdom.

Yes, yes, you grow wroth on your ruler's behalf, but –

Prince Julian.

Far from it; on the contrary –; yes, that is to say – –

Listen, I stand fairly close to this young prince. It would be dear to me to learn –

Go further aside, Agathon; I must speak in private with this man.

You said shine? Shine over the realm? What do you know, what do you all know of Prince Julian?

The teacher of wisdom.

Can Sirius be hidden by a cloud? Will not the driving wind tear a rift here or there in the cloud, so that it –

Prince Julian.

Plainly; I beg you.

The teacher of wisdom.

The palace and the church are like a double cage, in which the prince is held captive. The cage is not tight enough. Now and then he lets a strange word fall; – the court-vermin – forgive me, sir – the courtiers carry it out, to mock it; the deep meaning is not there for these gentlemen, – forgive me, sir, – for most of them it is not there.

Prince Julian.

For none. You may safely say, for none.

The teacher of wisdom.

For you it seems to be, though. And in any case for us. – –

Yes, he could shine over the realm! Is there not a tale of him from his boyhood years in Cappadocia, when in a war of words with his brother Gallus he took the gods' part and defended them against the Galilean?

Prince Julian.

That was jest, exercises in speech –

The teacher of wisdom.

What has Mardonius not recorded of him? And Hecebolius since! What art there already lay in the boy's speech, – what beauty, what grace in the light play of his thoughts!

Prince Julian.

And it seems so to you?

The teacher of wisdom.

Yes, well might he become an adversary to us, one whom we both must fear and long for. What does he lack to reach so honourable a height? Does he lack anything but to go through the same school that Paul went through, and which he came through so unscathed that he could afterward join the Galileans, shining more than all the other preachers together, because he had knowledge and eloquence! Hecebolius fears for his pupil's faith. Oh, I know it well; it is from him it comes. But does he forget, then, this over-scrupulous man, that he himself in his youth drank of the springs that he now would stop up for his pupil? Or is it not with us that he learned to wield those weapons of language which he now, with so highly lauded a skill, swings against us?

Prince Julian.

Oh, true; indisputably true!

The teacher of wisdom.

And what gifts, then, has this Hecebolius in comparison with the gifts that revealed themselves so wondrously in that princely child who, according to what is said, in Cappadocia, on the graves of the executed Galileans, preached a doctrine which I hold to be erroneous and which therefore wins acceptance all the harder, but which he nonetheless preached with such rapture of spirit that – if I dare believe a most widespread rumour – manifold children of his own age gave themselves under him and followed him as disciples! Ah, Hecebolius is, like the rest of you, – more envious than zealous; and so Libanius has waited in vain.

Prince Julian (grasps him by the arm).

What has Libanius said? For God's sake – I conjure you, let me know it!

The teacher of wisdom.

He has said all that you have just heard. And he has said more than that. He has said: behold that princely Galilean; he is the Achilles of the spirit.

Prince Julian.

Achilles! (more softly.) My mother's dream.

The teacher of wisdom.

Yonder, within the open lecture-halls, the battle stands. Day and gladness are over the strife and over the strivers. The arrows of the word whir; the sharp sword of wit crackles in the fray; the blessed gods sit smiling in the cloud –

Prince Julian.

Oh, away from me with your heathendom –

The teacher of wisdom.

– and the heroes go home to the camp, arm in arm, without rancour, with glowing cheeks, with the swelling stream of blood in every vein, with the spoils of knowledge and with leaves about their brows. Ah, where is Achilles? I do not see him. Achilles is wroth –

Prince Julian.

Achilles is unhappy! – But can I believe it! Oh, tell me –; my head reels –; all that Libanius has said?

The teacher of wisdom.

Why did Libanius come to Constantinople? Did he come hither for any other reason than to seek a certain youth's honouring friendship?

Prince Julian (tensely).

Speak the truth! No, no, this cannot be true. How should it be reconciled with all the scorn and mockery that –? One does not mock the man whose friendship one seeks.

The teacher of wisdom.

Galilean intrigues, to raise a wall of hatred and wrath between the two champions.

Prince Julian.

You will surely not deny that it was Libanius –?

The teacher of wisdom.

I will deny all such things to the uttermost.

Prince Julian.

The lampoons did not come from him?

The teacher of wisdom.

Not a single one. They have all together been made in the imperial palace and spread abroad under his name –

Prince Julian.

Ah, what do you say there –?

The teacher of wisdom.

What I dare maintain before whoever it may be. You have a sharp tongue; – who knows whether you yourself have not –

Prince Julian.

I –! But can I believe this? Libanius did not write them? None of them?

The teacher of wisdom.

No, no!

Prince Julian.

Not even that shameful poem about Atlas with the sloping shoulders?

The teacher of wisdom.

No, no, I say.

Prince Julian.

Nor that foolish and most insolent verse about the ape in court dress?

The teacher of wisdom.

Ha-ha; that is written in the church and not in the lecture-hall. You do not believe it? I tell you, it is Hecebolius –

Prince Julian.

Hecebolius!

The teacher of wisdom.

Yes, Hecebolius; Hecebolius himself, who, to sow strife between his enemy and his pupil –

Prince Julian (with clenched hands).

Ah, were it so!

The teacher of wisdom.

Had this blinded and deceived youth known us friends of wisdom, then he would not have dealt so harshly with us.

Prince Julian.

What are you speaking of?

The teacher of wisdom.

Now it is too late. Fare well, sir!

Prince Julian (grasps his hand).

Friend and brother, – who are you?

The teacher of wisdom.

A man who sorrows because he sees the godborn go under.

Prince Julian.

What do you call the godborn?

The teacher of wisdom.

The uncreated in the changing.

Prince Julian.

Just as dark to me.

The teacher of wisdom.

There is a whole and glorious world to which you Galileans are blind. In it, existence is a festival among statues and beneath temple-songs, with brimming, foaming bowls and with roses in the hair. Dizzying bridges span from spirit to spirit, even to the farthest lights in space. –

I know one who could be ruler in this great sun-filled realm.

Prince Julian (in anguish).

Yes, with the shipwreck of his salvation!

The teacher of wisdom.

What is salvation? Reunion with the origin.

Prince Julian.

Yes, in conscious life; reunion for me, as the one I am!

The teacher of wisdom.

Reunion, like the raindrop's with the sea, like the crumbling leaf's with the earth that bred it.

Prince Julian.

Oh, had I learning! Had I weapons to lift against you!

The teacher of wisdom.

Fetch yourself weapons, young man! The lecture-hall is a fencing-hall of thoughts and faculties –

Prince Julian (drawing back).

Ah!

The teacher of wisdom.

See those merry youths over there. There are Galileans among them. Errors in divine matters cause no discord between us. –

Fare well! You Galileans have made truth an exile. See now how we bear the blows of fate. See us with leaves about our lifted brows. Thus we go away, – beguiling the night with song, and awaiting Helios.

Prince Julian (looks long out over the water).

Who was he, that enigmatic man?

Agathon (comes nearer).

Hear me, Julian –!

Prince Julian (in lively agitation).

He understood me! And Libanius himself; the great, incomparable Libanius –! Just think, Agathon, Libanius has said – –. Oh, how sharp the heathen eye must be!

Agathon.

This was a work of temptation, believe me!

Prince Julian (without heeding him).

I can bear it no longer among these people. From them, then, came those abominable lampoons! Here I am scorned; they laugh behind my back; here there is no one who believes in what I carry within me. They mimic me; they twist my gestures and my speech; Hecebolius himself –! Oh, I feel it, – Christ withdraws from me; I grow evil here.

Agathon.

Oh, you do not know it, – it is just you who are especially under grace.

Prince Julian (paces up and down by the railing).

I am the one Libanius would deign to fight with. What a strange wish! Libanius holds me to be his equal. It is me he waits for –

Agathon.

Hear and obey; Christ waits for you!

Prince Julian.

Friend, what do you mean?

Agathon.

The vision that drove me to Constantinople –

Prince Julian.

Yes, yes, the vision; I had nearly forgotten it. A revelation, you said? Oh, tell, tell!

Agathon.

It was at home in Cappadocia a month ago, or a little more. Then a rumour got abroad that the heathens had again begun to hold secret gatherings by night in Cybele's temple –

Prince Julian.

The foolhardy ones! It is strictly forbidden them, after all –

Agathon.

All the faithful rose up too in wrath. The authorities had the temple torn down, and we shattered the offensive idols. Yes, the more zealous among us were driven by the Lord's spirit to go further. With psalm-singing, and with holy banners borne before us, we went through the city and fell like wrath's messengers upon the ungodly; we took their treasures from them; many houses were set ablaze; many heathens perished in the fire; still more we slew as they fled in the streets. Oh, it was a great time, to God's glory!

Prince Julian.

And then? The vision, my Agathon!

Agathon.

For three full nights and days the lord of vengeance was strong in us. But behold, then the frailty of the flesh could no longer keep pace with the spirit's ardour, and we left off from the persecution. –

I lay on my couch; I could neither wake nor sleep. It seemed to me that I was hollow within and that the spirit had departed from me. I lay in burning heat; I tore my hair, I wept, I prayed, I sang; – I no longer know how it was. –

Then, all at once, I saw before me by the wall a white shining light, and in the gleam stood a man in an ankle-length robe. Rays went out from his head; he held a reed in his arm and fixed his eyes mildly upon me.

Prince Julian.

That you saw!

Agathon.

I saw it. And then he spoke and said: arise, Agathon; seek him who shall inherit the kingdom; bid him go into the den and wrestle with the lions.

Prince Julian.

Wrestle with the lions? Oh, strange, strange! – Ah, were it so –! The meeting with that wise man –. A revelation; a message to me –; I should be among the chosen?

Agathon.

That you surely are.

Prince Julian.

Wrestle with the lions! – Yes, I see it; – so it is, my Agathon! It is God's will that I shall seek Libanius –

Agathon.

No, no, hear me to the end!

Prince Julian.

– wheedle out of him his art and his learning, – fell the unbelievers with their own weapons, – strike, strike, like Paul, – conquer, like Paul, in the Lord's cause!

Agathon.

No, no, it is not so meant.

Prince Julian.

Can you doubt it? Libanius, – is he not mighty as the lion of the mountains, and is not the lecture-hall –?

Agathon.

I tell you, it is not so; for the figure added: proclaim to the chosen one that he shall shake the dust of the imperial city from his feet, and never again pass through its gates.

Prince Julian.

And of that you are certain, Agathon?

Agathon.

Yes, fully.

Prince Julian.

Then not here. Wrestle with the lions? Where, where? Oh, where shall I find light in this!

Prince Julian (toward him).

Gallus!

Prince Gallus.

What good news? (points at Agathon.) Who is that man?

Prince Julian.

Agathon.

Prince Gallus.

Which Agathon? You seek the company of so many kinds –. Ah, by God, it is the Cappadocian! You have become a grown man –

Prince Julian.

Do you know, Gallus, – the emperor has asked after you.

Prince Gallus (tensely).

Now? Tonight?

Prince Julian.

Yes, yes; he wishes to speak with you. He seemed to be in the utmost wrath.

Prince Gallus.

How do you know that? What did he say?

Prince Julian.

I did not understand it. He wanted to know what an oracle had answered.

Prince Gallus.

Ah!

Prince Julian.

Conceal nothing from me. What is it about?

Prince Gallus.

It is a matter of death or banishment.

Agathon.

Merciful saviour!

Prince Julian.

What did I not suspect! Yet no, the empress was of good cheer. Oh, but speak, speak!

Prince Gallus.

What shall I say? Do I know more than you? If the emperor has hinted at an oracle, then a certain messenger must be imprisoned, or someone has betrayed me –

Prince Julian.

A messenger? – Gallus, what is it you have ventured!

Prince Gallus.

Oh, could I then any longer live this life in uncertainty and dread? Let him deal with me as he will; anything else is better than this –

Prince Julian (softly, leads him a few paces aside).

Careful, Gallus! What is this about the messenger?

Prince Gallus.

I have put a question to the priests of Osiris in Abydos –

Prince Julian.

Ah, the oracle! And this heathenry –!

Prince Gallus.

The heathenry one might well set aside; but – yes, now you may as well know it – I have asked about the outcome of the Persian war –

Prince Julian.

What madness! – Gallus, – I see it in you; you have asked about more!

Prince Gallus.

Stop; I have not asked –

Prince Julian.

Yes, yes; you have asked about a mighty man's life or death!

Prince Gallus.

And what if it were so? What lies closer to both our hearts than this?

Prince Julian (catches him by the arms).

Be still, you madman!

Prince Gallus.

Away from me! Go on and crawl before him, like a dog; – I am not minded to endure it any longer. I will scream it out in every marketplace – (cries to Agathon.) Have you seen him, Cappadocian? Have you seen the murderer?

Prince Julian.

Gallus! Brother!

Agathon.

The murderer!

Prince Gallus.

The murderer in the red cloak; my father's murderer, my stepmother's, my eldest brother's –

Prince Julian.

Oh, you call down destruction upon us!

Prince Gallus.

Eleven heads in a single night; eleven corpses; our whole kin. – Ah, but believe me, conscience tumbles him about; it trickles through his marrow-bones like a swarm of worms.

Prince Julian.

Do not listen to him! Away, away!

Prince Gallus (seizes Julian by the shoulder).

Stop; – you look so pale and distraught; is it perhaps you who have betrayed me?

Prince Julian.

I! Your own brother –!

Prince Gallus.

Ah, what brother, brother! Brotherhood shields no one in our kin. If you have secretly spied out my ways, then say so! Who else should it be? Do you not think I know what is whispered here? The emperor is thinking of you, after all, as his successor.

Prince Julian.

Never! I swear to you, beloved Gallus, it shall never happen! I will not. A stronger one has chosen me. – Oh, believe me, Gallus; my path is marked. I do not go that way, I tell you. Oh, you God of hosts, – I on the imperial throne; – no, no, no!

Prince Gallus.

Ha-ha; well played, mountebank!

Prince Julian.

Yes, well may you mock, you who do not know what has happened. I scarcely know it myself. Oh, Agathon, – were this head to be anointed! Would it not be an apostasy, – a sin unto death? Would not the Lord's holy oil burn me like dripping lead!

Prince Gallus.

Then our exalted kinsman would have to be balder than Julius Caesar.

Prince Julian.

Do not transgress –! Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's –

Prince Gallus.

My father's blood, – your father's and your mother's –!

Prince Julian.

Oh, what do we know of those horrors? We were small then. Most of it was the soldiers' fault; it was the rebels, – evil counsellors –

Prince Gallus (laughs).

The successor is practising!

Prince Julian (in tears).

Oh, Gallus, would that I might die or be driven out in your stead! I am forfeiting my soul here. I ought to forgive, – and I cannot. The evil grows in me; hatred and vengeance whisper –

Prince Gallus (quickly, looks toward the church).

Now he is coming!

Prince Julian.

Be composed, precious brother! – Ah, Hecebolius!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar (as he is about to pass by to the left).

Is it you, my Julian? Alas, I have once again had a heavy hour for your sake.

Prince Julian.

Unhappily; that you have surely had all too often.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Christ is angered at you, my son! It is your defiant temper that he is wroth over; it is your loveless thoughts, all this worldly vanity –

Prince Julian.

I know it, my Hecebolius! You tell me so often enough.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Just now I raised myself in prayer for your betterment. Oh, it was as if our otherwise so grace-rich saviour turned it aside, – as if he would not listen to me; he let triviality and distraction steal into my thoughts –

Prince Julian.

You prayed for me? Oh, you loving Hecebolius, – you even pray for us dumb beasts, – that is to say, when we go in court dress!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

What do you say, my son!

Prince Julian.

Hecebolius, how could you write that shameful poem?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

I! I swear to you by all that is high and holy –!

Prince Julian.

It stands in your eyes that you lie! I know with full certainty that you have written it. How could you write it, I ask, – and that, moreover, in Libanius's name?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Well then, my heartily dear one, since you know it, then –

Prince Julian.

Ah, Hecebolius! Deceit and lies and falsehood –

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

See, you precious one, so dearly do I love you! I can do anything for the soul of the man whom the Lord shall one day anoint. If I have deceived and lied out of care for you, then I know that a merciful God has looked down with favour upon my course and stretched his approving hand over it.

Prince Julian.

I, blind one! Let me press these perjured fingers –

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

The emperor!

Emperor Constantius.

Oh, this blessed heaven-peace over me!

Empress Eusebia.

Do you feel strengthened, my Constantius?

Emperor Constantius.

Yes, yes! I saw the dove descend living upon me. It took all burdens of guilt away. – Now I dare venture much, Memnon!

Memnon the slave (softly).

Venture at once, sire!

Emperor Constantius.

There they both stand.

Prince Gallus (grasps involuntarily for his sword and cries in dread):

Do me no harm!

Emperor Constantius (with outstretched arms).

Gallus! Kinsman!

Behold, in the light of the Easter night's stars I choose the one who lies near my heart. – Bow down, all of you, to the ground. Hail Caesar Gallus!

Empress Eusebia (with a cry).

Constantius!

Prince Gallus (stunned).

Caesar!

Prince Julian.

Ah!

Emperor Constantius (makes a warding-off gesture toward him).

Come not near! What would you? Is not Gallus the elder? What hope have you conceived? What rumours have you, in your blinded pride –? Away; away!

Prince Gallus.

I – I Caesar!

Emperor Constantius.

My heir and my successor. Within three days you go to the army in Asia. The Persian war lies, after all, so close to your heart –

Prince Gallus.

Oh, my most gracious sire –!

Emperor Constantius.

Thank me in deed, beloved Gallus! King Sapor stands west of the Euphrates. I know how anxious you are for my life; let it therefore be your task to defeat him.

And you, Julian, pious friend and brother, – so it had to be.

Prince Julian.

A blessing upon the emperor's will!

Emperor Constantius.

No wishes! Yet hear, – I have thought of you too. Know, Julian, that now you may breathe freely in Constantinople –

Prince Julian.

Yes, praised be Christ and the emperor!

Emperor Constantius.

You know it already? Who has told you?

Prince Julian.

What, sire?

Emperor Constantius.

That Libanius is banished?

Prince Julian.

Libanius – banished!

Emperor Constantius.

I have banished him to Athens.

Prince Julian.

Ah!

Emperor Constantius.

Out there lies the ship; he sails tonight.

Prince Julian (softly).

He himself; he himself!

Emperor Constantius.

You have long wished it. I could not indulge you before; but now –; let this be a small recompense to you, my Julian –

Prince Julian (grasps his hand quickly).

Sire, show me one favour more!

Emperor Constantius.

Ask anything you will.

Prince Julian.

Let me travel to Pergamon. You know, old Aedesius teaches there –

Emperor Constantius.

A most strange wish. You, among the heathens –?

Prince Julian.

Aedesius is not dangerous; he is a high-minded old man and, moreover, decrepit –

Emperor Constantius.

And what do you want with him, brother?

Prince Julian.

I will learn to wrestle with the lions.

Emperor Constantius.

I understand your pious thought. And you are not afraid –; you think yourself strong enough –?

Prince Julian.

The Lord God has called upon me with a loud voice. Like Daniel I go safe and glad into the lions' den.

Emperor Constantius.

Julian!

Prince Julian.

This night you yourself were his instrument without knowing it. Oh, let me go and cleanse the world!

Prince Gallus (softly to the emperor).

Indulge him, sire; it will keep him from scheming after greater things.

Empress Eusebia.

I beg you, Constantius, – do not stand against this pull of longing.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar (softly).

Exalted emperor, let him travel to Pergamon. I despair of bending him here, and now, after all, there is not so much at stake –

Emperor Constantius.

How could I deny you anything in this hour? Go with God, Julian!

Prince Julian (kisses his hands).

Oh, thanks, – thanks!

Emperor Constantius.

And now to the feast of joy! My Capuan cook has devised some new fasting-dishes, carp necks in Chian wine and –. Forward; – next after me, Caesar Gallus!

Prince Gallus (softly).

Helena, what a wondrous turn!

Princess Helena.

Oh, Gallus, now day breaks over our hope.

Prince Gallus.

I can scarcely believe it! Who is the cause of this?

Princess Helena.

Hush!

Prince Gallus.

You, beloved? Or who – who?

Princess Helena.

Memnon's Spartan dog.

Prince Gallus.

What do you mean?

Princess Helena.

Memnon's dog. Julian gave it a kick; it is that which is being avenged.

Emperor Constantius.

Why so silent, Eusebia?

Empress Eusebia (softly, in tears).

Oh, Constantius, – that you could choose so!

Emperor Constantius.

Eleven shades demanded it.

Empress Eusebia.

Woe to us; this will not lay the shades to rest.

Emperor Constantius (cries).

Flute-players! Why are the rascals silent? Blow, blow!

Prince Julian.

Gallus his successor; and I – free, free, free!

Agathon.

Wondrously is the Lord's counsel revealed.

Prince Julian.

Did you hear what passed here?

Agathon.

Yes, everything.

Prince Julian.

And tomorrow, my Agathon, tomorrow to Athens!

Agathon.

To Athens? You are going to Pergamon.

Prince Julian.

Hush! You do not know –; we must be cunning as serpents. First to Pergamon, – and then to Athens!

Agathon.

Farewell, my friend and lord!

Prince Julian.

Will you go with me, Agathon?

Agathon.

That I cannot. I must go home; I have my little brother to care for.

Prince Julian (at the railing).

There they weigh anchor. – Fair wind, you winged lion; Achilles follows in your wake.

Ah!

Agathon.

What was that?

Prince Julian.

Yonder a star fell.

ACT TWO.

Basil of Caesarea (looks up from his book).

What mean those wild cries?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

A ship from Ephesus has landed.

Basil of Caesarea.

With new disciples?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes.

Basil of Caesarea (rises).

Then we shall have a clamorous night. Come, Gregory; let us not look upon all that wantonness.

Gregory of Nazianzus (points out to the left).

Look there. Is that a more delightful sight?

Basil of Caesarea.

Prince Julian –; with roses in his hair, with flushed face –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes, and behind him this reeling, glassy-eyed throng. Hear how their slack tongues babble with wine! They have sat the whole day in Lycon's tavern.

Basil of Caesarea.

And many among them are our own, Gregory; they are Christian youths –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

So they call themselves. Did not Lampon call himself a Christian, – he who violated the oil-merchant Zeno's daughter? And Hilarion of Agrigentum, and the two others, who did that which I am loath to name –

Prince Julian (is heard calling outside to the left).

Eia, look, look, – Castor and Pollux from Cappadocia!

Basil of Caesarea.

He has caught sight of us. I will go; I cannot bear to see him thus.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I shall stay; he has need, surely, of a friend.

Many in the crowd.

Long live the light of Athens! Long live the lover of wisdom and eloquence!

Prince Julian.

All flattery is wasted. Not one verse more shall you have today.

Sallust of Perusia.

When our leader falls silent, we feel it empty, like the morning after a night's feast.

Prince Julian.

If it must be, then let it be something new. Let it be a trial-game.

The whole throng.

Yes, yes, yes; Prince Julian on the judgment seat!

Prince Julian.

Away with the prince, you friends –

Sallust of Perusia.

Step up, you incomparable one!

Prince Julian.

I should presume –? Yonder stands the man. Who is so versed in the law as Gregory of Nazianzus?

Sallust of Perusia.

That is true!

Prince Julian.

On the judgment seat, my wise Gregory; I am an accused man.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I beg you, friend, leave me out of it.

Prince Julian.

On the judgment seat, I say! On the judgment seat! (to the others.) What is my crime?

Some voices.

Yes, what shall it be? Choose for yourself!

Sallust of Perusia.

Let it be something Galilean, as we ungodly call it.

Prince Julian.

Right; something Galilean. Now I have it. I have refused to pay the emperor tribute –

Many voices.

Ha-ha; not bad! Excellent!

Prince Julian.

Here I am led forth; shoved by the neck; with bound hands –

Sallust of Perusia (to Gregory).

Blind judge – yes, I mean, inasmuch as justice is blind –, behold this audacious man; he has refused to render the emperor tribute.

Prince Julian.

Allow me to cast a word into the scales of deliberation. I am a Greek citizen. How much does a Greek citizen owe the emperor?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

What the emperor demands.

Prince Julian.

Good; but how much, – yes, answer now as if the emperor himself were present in the court –, how much dare the emperor demand?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

All.

Prince Julian.

That was truly the answer, as if the emperor himself were present. But now there is a knot; for it is written: render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, – and unto God what is God's.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

And what then?

Prince Julian.

Then tell me, o shrewd judge, – how much of what is mine belongs to God?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

All.

Prince Julian.

And how much of God's property am I permitted to give the emperor?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Dear friends, no more of this game.

The disciples (amid noise and laughter).

Yes, yes; answer him!

Prince Julian.

How much of God's property dare the emperor demand?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I will not answer. This is unseemly both toward God and the emperor. Let me get away!

Many voices.

Form a ring about him!

Prince Julian.

Hold him fast! What, you most hapless judge, you have muddled the emperor's cause, and now you would escape it? You would flee? Whither, whither? To the Scythians? Forth before me! Answer me, you budding servants of the emperor and of wisdom, – has he not sought to withdraw himself from the emperor's power?

The disciples.

Yes, yes!

Prince Julian.

And what punishment do you set for such a misdeed?

Voices.

Death! Death in a wine-vat!

Prince Julian.

Let us consider. Let us answer, as if the emperor himself were present. Where is the limit of the emperor's power?

Some in the crowd.

The emperor's power is without limit.

Prince Julian.

That I should think. But to seek to withdraw from the limitless, o you friends, is that not madness?

The disciples.

Yes, yes; the Cappadocian is mad!

Prince Julian.

And what, then, is madness? What did our forefathers judge of that condition? What did the Egyptian priests teach? And what do Maximus the mystic and the other friends of wisdom in the eastern lands say? They say that the heavenly riddle reveals itself in the madman. Our Gregory – inasmuch as he sets himself up against the emperor – is therefore in especial league with the heavenly. – Pour out wine for the Cappadocian; sing songs in our Gregory's praise; – a monument of honour for Gregory of Nazianzus!

The disciples (amid laughter and jubilation).

Praised be the Cappadocian! Praised be the Cappadocian's judge!

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Why, look, – I do believe my brother Julian is proclaiming wisdom in the open marketplace!

Prince Julian.

Say folly, my precious one; wisdom has, after all, wandered out.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Has wisdom wandered out?

Prince Julian.

Or about to wander out; for, is it not so, you too are minded to go down to Piraeus?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

I, my brother; what should I do in Piraeus?

Prince Julian.

Our Libanius is, then, the only teacher who does not know that a ship from Ephesus has lately landed?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Eh, friend, what do I care about that ship!

Prince Julian.

It is laden to the brim with sprouts of learning –

Libanius the teacher of wisdom (scornfully).

It comes, after all, from Ephesus!

Prince Julian.

Is the gold not equally weighty, wherever it comes from?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Gold? Ha-ha! The golden ones Maximus keeps for himself; those he does not let go. What sort of disciples are they who usually come here from Ephesus? Tradesmen's sons, the firstborn of artisans. Gold, you say, my Julian? I say lack of gold. But this lack of gold I will turn to account, to coin from it a true and weighty gold coin for you, you young ones! Or is perhaps a profitable teaching for life, – when it is set forth in an ingenious and attractive form – not to be likened to a full-weight gold coin? –

Hear, then, if it so please you. It was said here that certain men have in haste hurried down to Piraeus? Who are they, these hasty ones? Far be it from me to name names; they call themselves lovers of wisdom and teachers of wisdom. Move yourselves now in thought down to Piraeus. What is going on there at this moment, while I stand here in your kindly listening cluster? I shall tell you what is going on. Those men, who hold themselves to love and to proclaim wisdom, they crowd together on the landing-bridge; they jostle, they wrangle, bite, forget all decency and set all decorum aside. And why? To be the first on the thwarts, – to snatch to themselves the best-dressed youths, lead them to their houses, take them in there, hoping thereafter to draw profit from them in all manner of ways. – What shamefulness, what awakening into emptiness, as after a drunkenness, when after a little while it appears – ha-ha-ha! – that those youths scarcely brought with them what was needful to pay for the arrival-feast! – Learn from this, you young ones, how ill it becomes a lover of wisdom, and how little it pays, to covet those goods which lie outside the truth.

Prince Julian.

Oh, my Libanius, when I hear you with closed eyes, then I sink down into a sweet dream that Diogenes is reborn among us.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Your mouth is princely lavish, my dearly beloved!

Prince Julian.

Nothing less. And yet I was near to breaking off your speech; for this time at least one of your brethren will hardly feel disappointed.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

My friend jests.

Prince Julian.

Your friend assures you that the governor Milon's two sons are aboard.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom (grasps him by the sleeve).

What do you say?

Prince Julian.

That successor of Diogenes who has them to bring up will hardly have need, for poverty's sake, to drink from the hollow hand.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

The governor Milon's sons! That noble Milon, who sent the emperor seven Persian horses with saddle-gear sewn with pearls –

Prince Julian.

Many found that it was too paltry a gift for Milon.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Very true. Milon should have sent a poem; or he should have sent a well-composed speech or a letter. Milon is a richly endowed man; the whole of the governor Milon's kin is richly endowed.

Prince Julian.

Most of all the two youths.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

That I can well believe. The gods grant, for the sake of the benevolent and generous father, that they may fall into good hands! So you were right after all, o Julian; the ship truly brought gold from Ephesus. For are not the gifts of the spirit the genuine gold? But I have no peace within me; these young men's welfare is in truth an important matter; so much depends on who first gets hold of them. My young friends, if you think as I do, then let us reach these two strangers a guiding hand, help them to make the most profitable choice of teacher and lodging and –

Sallust of Perusia.

I am with you!

The disciples.

To Piraeus! To Piraeus!

Sallust of Perusia.

We shall hew like wild boars for Milon's sons!

Prince Julian (follows them with his eyes).

See how they frolic, like a herd of fauns. How they lick the corners of their mouths in lust after the meal that will be had tonight. (turns to Gregory.) Had they at this moment a sigh to God, it should be that he would empty their bellies of their breakfast.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Julian –

Prince Julian.

Just look at me; I am sober.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I know it. You are temperate in all things. And yet you live this life along with them.

Prince Julian.

Why not? Do you or I know when the lightning will strike? Why, then, not live one bright sunny day? Do you forget that I have dragged out both my childhood and my first years of youth in a golden slavery? It had become a habit to me, yes, I may say a kind of necessity, to feel that certain dread over me. And now? This grave-stillness on the emperor's side; – this lurking dumbness! I left Pergamon without the emperor's consent; the emperor kept silent about it. I went on my own to Nicomedia; I lived there and learned both from Nicocles and from the others; the emperor let it happen. I came to Athens, sought out Libanius, whom the emperor had forbidden me to see; – the emperor has kept silent to this day. How shall I interpret this?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

You shall interpret it in love, Julian!

Prince Julian.

Oh, you do not know –! I hate this power outside me, terrible when it acts, – yet more terrible when it rests.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Be honest, friend, and tell me whether it is only this that has led you onto all those strange paths.

Prince Julian.

What do you mean by strange paths?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Is it true, what rumour says, – that you spend your nights exploring the heathen mysteries in Eleusis?

Prince Julian.

Ah, what! I can assure you, there is little to be gained from those riddle-loving dreamers. Let us speak no more of it.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

So it is true after all! Oh, Julian, how could you seek this shameful intercourse!

Prince Julian.

I must live, Gregory, – and this here at the school of wisdom, it is not life. This Libanius! I shall never forgive him that I have loved him so dearly! Did I not, on my arrival, go humble and trembling with joy before that man, bow before him, kiss him and call him my great brother.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes, it was all Christians' opinion that you carried it too far.

Prince Julian.

And yet I came here with solemnity in my soul. I saw in the spirit a mighty struggle between us two, – the truth of the world, which should wrestle against the truth of God. – What has it come to? Libanius has never in earnest wanted this struggle. He has never wanted any struggle at all; he wants only his own. I tell you, Gregory, – Libanius is no great man.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yet all enlightened Hellas cries out that he is.

Prince Julian.

And yet he is no great man, I tell you. A single time have I seen Libanius great; it was that night in Constantinople. Then he was great, because he had suffered a great wrong, and because a lofty wrath filled him. But here! Oh, what have I not here been witness to! Libanius has great learning, but he is no great man. Libanius is greedy; he is vain; he is inflamed with envy. Or do you think he could have endured the renown that I, – admittedly in great part through my friends' indulgence – have been so fortunate as to acquire? Come to Libanius, and he can reckon up for you the essence and marks of all the virtues. He has them ready to hand, just as he has the books in his book-hall. But does he practise these virtues? Is his life like his teaching? He a successor of Socrates and of Plato, – ha-ha! Did he not flatter the emperor before he was driven out? Did he not flatter me at our meeting in Constantinople, that meeting which he has since made a most unfortunate attempt to set in a ridiculous light! And what am I to him now? Now he writes letters to Gallus, to Caesar Gallus, to the emperor's heir, and wishes him joy of his progress against the Persians, although this progress has hitherto been paltry enough and although Caesar Gallus distinguishes himself neither by learning nor by any notable eloquence. – And this Libanius the Greeks persist in calling the king of the lovers of wisdom! Ah, I will not deny that this vexes me. I did think, to tell the truth, that the Greeks should have been able to make a better choice, if they fixed their eyes a little more on those cultivators of wisdom and eloquence who in recent years –

Basil of Caesarea (comes from the right side).

Letters! Letters from Cappadocia!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

For me too?

Basil of Caesarea.

See here; from your mother.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

My pious mother!

Prince Julian (to Basil).

Is it your sister who writes?

Basil of Caesarea (who has come with his own letter open).

Yes, it is Macrina. She reports both heavy and strange tidings.

Prince Julian.

Which; which?

Basil of Caesarea.

First of your exalted brother Gallus. He exercises a stern rule in Antioch.

Prince Julian.

Yes, Gallus is hard. – Does Macrina write «stern rule»?

Basil of Caesarea (looks at him).

Macrina writes «bloody» –

Prince Julian.

Ah, I thought as much! Why did the emperor give him this dissolute widow, this Constantina, in marriage!

Gregory of Nazianzus (reading).

Oh, what unheard-of infamy!

Prince Julian.

What is it, friend?

Gregory of Nazianzus (to Basil).

Does Macrina mention nothing of what is going on in Antioch?

Basil of Caesarea.

Nothing more particular. What is it? You are pale –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

You knew, surely, the noble Clematius, the Alexandrian?

Basil of Caesarea.

Yes, yes; what is the matter with him?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

He is murdered, Basil!

Basil of Caesarea.

What do you say! Murdered?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I call it murdered; – they have executed him without law or judgment.

Prince Julian.

Who? Who has executed him?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes, who? How can I say who? My mother relates the circumstances thus: Clematius's mother-in-law had been inflamed with an impure love for her daughter's husband; but when she could get nowhere with him, she gained for herself, through a back door, admittance to the palace –

Prince Julian.

Which palace?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

My mother writes only the palace.

Prince Julian.

Well? And then –?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

One knows only that there she presented to a distinguished and powerful woman a very costly jewel, to bring about a death-sentence –

Prince Julian.

Ah, but that they did not get!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

They got it, Julian!

Prince Julian.

Oh, Jesus!

Basil of Caesarea.

Terrible! And Clematius –?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

The death-sentence was sent to the governor Honoratus. This weak man did not dare to oppose so high a command. Clematius was imprisoned and executed early the next morning, without his being able, as my mother writes, to open his mouth in defence.

Prince Julian (softly and pale).

Burn these dangerous letters; they can bring us all into misfortune.

Basil of Caesarea.

Such open violence; in the midst of a great city! Where are we; where are we?

Prince Julian.

Yes, well may you ask, where are we! A Christian murderer, a Christian harlot, a Christian –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Complaints do not mend this matter. What do you intend to do?

Prince Julian.

I? I will go no more to Eleusis; I will break off all intercourse with the heathens, and thank the Lord my God that he took the temptation of power from me.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Good; but then?

Prince Julian.

I do not understand you –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Then hear. You must not think the murder of Clematius is enough. This unheard-of deed of infamy has struck down like a plague over Antioch. All evil wakes up and swarms forth from its hiding-holes. My mother writes that it is as if a stinking abyss had opened. Wives denounce their husbands, sons denounce their fathers, the priests their own congregation-members –

Prince Julian.

This will spread further. The abomination will corrupt us all. – Oh, Gregory, if I could flee to the world's end –!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Your place is at the world's navel, Prince Julian!

Prince Julian.

What do you demand?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

You are this bloody Caesar's brother. Step forth before him, – he calls himself a Christian, after all. Cast his deed in his face; strike him to the ground in terror and remorse –

Prince Julian (shrinking back).

Madman, what are you thinking!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Do you hold your brother dear? Will you save him?

Prince Julian.

I held Gallus dear as no one else.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

You held –?

Prince Julian.

As long as he was only my brother. But now –; is he not Caesar? Gregory, – Basil, – oh you precious friends, – I tremble for my life, I breathe in dread of Caesar Gallus. And I should think of stepping before his eyes, I, whose mere existence is a danger to him!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Why did you come to Athens? You had it proclaimed with great pomp over the lands: Prince Julian travels from Constantinople to fight against the false wisdom, – to uphold the Christian truth against the lie of heathendom. What have you accomplished in that respect?

Prince Julian.

Oh, it was not here either that the battle was to be fought.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

No, it was not here; – not with phrase against phrase, not with book against book, not with the word's fencing game in the lecture-hall! No, Julian, it is out in life that you shall come forth, with life in your hands –

Prince Julian.

I see it; I see it!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes, as Libanius sees it! Him you mocked. He knew the essence and marks of all virtues; but the teaching was to him only a teaching. How much of what is yours belongs to God? How much dare the emperor demand?

Prince Julian.

You said yourself, it was blasphemy –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Against whom? Against God or the emperor?

Prince Julian (quickly).

Very well; shall we go together?

Gregory of Nazianzus (declining).

I have my little circle; I have my kin to protect. Further than that goes neither my power nor my abilities.

Prince Julian (would answer; suddenly he listens toward the right and cries):

To the bacchanal!

Basil of Caesarea.

Julian!

Prince Julian.

To the bacchanal, you friends!

Basil of Caesarea (nearer).

Julian, will you hear me?

Prince Julian.

Look, look! They have led their new friends into the bath, – anointed their hair. See how they swing the cudgels; how they howl and beat on the cobblestones. What do you say, Pericles? I think I perceive your wrathful shade –

Basil of Caesarea.

Come, come!

Prince Julian.

Ah, see him whom they drive naked among them. Now come dancing-girls. Ah, do you see what –!

Basil of Caesarea.

Fie, fie; – turn your eye away!

Prince Julian (after a short silence).

Tell me, Basil, why was the heathen sin so beautiful?

Basil of Caesarea.

You err, friend; the heathen sin has been beautifully sung and told of; but it was not beautiful.

Prince Julian.

Oh, what do you say? Was Alcibiades not beautiful when, hot with wine, he stormed like a young god through the streets of Athens at night-time? Was he not beautiful in his defiance, when he mocked Hermes and hammered on the citizens' doors, – when he called out for their wives and daughters, while the women within trembled and in sighing breathless silence wished for nothing so much as to –

Basil of Caesarea.

Oh, I beg you imploringly, lend me your ear.

Prince Julian.

Was Socrates not beautiful at the symposium? And Plato and all the merry carousing brothers! And yet they did things that those Christian half-swine over there would swear before God they were innocent of, if anyone accused them of it. And think besides of Oedipus, Medea, Leda –

Basil of Caesarea.

Poetry, poetry; – you mix poetry and truth together.

Prince Julian.

Have not the minds and wills of poetry the conditions of created beings? And look then to our holy scriptures, both the older and the new. Was sin beautiful in Sodom and Gomorrah? Did not Jehovah's fire avenge what Socrates did not shrink back from? – Oh, when I live this life in storm and revel, then I often think on whether truth might be beauty's enemy.

Basil of Caesarea.

And in such an hour can you sigh after beauty? Have you so easily forgotten what you lately heard –?

Prince Julian (covers his ears).

Not a word more of those horrors! All that from Antioch we will shake off. – –

Tell me, what does Macrina write further? There was something else; I think you said –; what did you call the other tidings?

Basil of Caesarea.

Strange.

Prince Julian.

Yes, yes; – what was it?

Basil of Caesarea.

She writes of Maximus in Ephesus –

Prince Julian (animated)

The mystic?

Basil of Caesarea.

Yes, this enigmatic man. Now he has turned up again; this time in Ephesus. All the surrounding regions are in ferment. Maximus is named on all lips. Either he is a mountebank, or he stands in an ill-boding pact with certain spirits. Even Christians are strangely drawn by his blasphemous signs and deeds.

Prince Julian.

More, more; I beg you!

Basil of Caesarea.

There is no more of him. Macrina writes only that in Maximus's reappearance she sees a testimony that we are under the Lord's wrath. She believes that great tribulations lie before us for our sins' sake.

Prince Julian.

Yes, yes, yes! – Hear, Basil, she must surely be a rare woman, your sister.

Basil of Caesarea.

In truth, she is.

Prince Julian.

When you impart to me from her letter, then it is as if I perceived something whole and full, that I had long sighed after. Tell me, is she still minded to turn away from the world and to live in a desolate region?

Basil of Caesarea.

That thought stands always firm with her.

Prince Julian.

Truly? She, over whom all gifts seem to be strewn down? She, who is said to be both young and beautiful; she, who has riches in waiting and who commands a – for a woman to possess – most unusual learning! Do you know, Basil, that I burn to see her? – What does she want in the solitude?

Basil of Caesarea.

I have told you, after all, her bridegroom died. She holds him to be her waiting husband, to whom she owes all her thoughts and whom she is bound to meet pure.

Prince Julian.

Strange, how many are drawn toward the solitude in these times. – When you write to Macrina, you can tell her that I too –

Basil of Caesarea.

She knows it, Julian; but she does not believe it.

Prince Julian.

Why not? What does she write?

Basil of Caesarea.

I beg you, friend, spare me –

Prince Julian.

If you hold me dear, then you will not conceal a word of what she writes!

Basil of Caesarea (hands him the letter).

You will it; – read; it begins there.

Prince Julian (reads).

«Every time you write of the emperor's young kinsman, who is your friend, then my mind is filled with a great and radiant joy –». Oh, Basil, be you my eye; read on for me.

Basil of Caesarea (reads).

«Your account of all the confident certainty with which he came to Athens was to me like an image from the time of the old scriptures. Yes, I believe he is the reborn David, who shall strike down the heathens' champions. God's spirit be over him in the strife and all his days».

Prince Julian (grasps him by the arm).

Let that be enough of this! She too? What is it that you all, as if with one mouth, demand of me? Have I given you any bond of debt to wrestle with the lions of power –?

Basil of Caesarea.

Whence comes it that all believers in breathless expectation look toward you?

Prince Julian (walks a couple of times up and down in the colonnade, stops and reaches for the letter).

Give it here; let me see. (reads ) «God's spirit be over him in the strife and all his days». –

Oh, Basil, if I could –! But I feel myself like that Daedalus between heaven and sea. A dizzying height and an engulfing depth –. What meaning is there in these voices that cry to me from east and west that I shall save Christianity? Where is it, this Christianity that is to be saved? Is it with the emperor or with Caesar? I think their deeds cry out: no, no! Is it with the mighty and the distinguished, – with these lustful half-men of the court, who fold their hands over the sated belly and pipe: is the Son of God then created out of nothing? Or is it with the enlightened, with those who, like you and me, have drunk beauty and learning from the heathen springs? Do not most of these our brothers incline to the Arian heresy, for which the emperor himself has so great a fondness? And now the whole ragged rabble in the realm, – all those who rage against the temples, who murder heathens and heathens' kin! Is it for Christ's sake? Ha-ha! afterward they fall to blows among themselves over the slain ones' leavings. – You may ask Macrina whether Christianity is to be sought in the solitude, – on the pillar, where the pillar-saint stands on one leg. Or is it in the cities? Perhaps with those bakers in Constantinople, who lately fought with their fists to settle the question whether the Trinity consists of three persons or of three hypostases! – Which of all these would Christ care to take into his mouth, if he descended to earth again? – Forth with the lantern of Diogenes, Basil! Light up in this gloom of night. – Where is Christianity?

Basil of Caesarea.

Seek the answer there, where it was to be found in all frail times.

Prince Julian.

Do not close up the well of your knowledge! Slake my thirst, if you can. Where shall I seek and find?

Basil of Caesarea.

In the writings of the holy men.

Prince Julian.

The same answer of despair. Books, – always books! Came I to Libanius, then it rang out: books, books! Come I to you, – books, books, books! Stones for bread! I cannot use books; – it is life I hunger for, communion, face to face with the spirit. Was Saul made to see by a book? Was it not a flood of light that struck toward him, a vision, a voice –!

Basil of Caesarea.

Do you forget the vision and the voice that that Agathon from Macellum –?

Prince Julian.

An enigmatic message; an oracle-cry that I cannot interpret. Was I the chosen one? The realm's heir, it said. And which realm –? A thousand doubts brood over that matter. This only I know: the lion's den is not in Athens. But where, where? Oh, I grope like Saul in the night. If Christ wants something of me, then he must speak plainly. The finger in the nail-wound –

Basil of Caesarea.

And yet it is written –

Prince Julian (throws out his hand).

I know all that is written. This matter of the written word, it is not truth in the flesh. Do you not feel disgust and nausea, as if aboard a ship in a dead calm, tossed about between life, scripture, heathen wisdom and beauty? There must come a new revelation. Or a revelation of something new. It must, I say; – the time is at hand. – Yes, a revelation! Oh, Basil, could you pray it down over me! The blood-death, if so it must be –! The blood-death –, ah, I reel in its sweetness; the crown of thorns about my temple –! (he grasps his head with both hands, takes hold of the rose-wreath, which he tears off, collects himself a long while and says softly:) This one. I had forgotten it. (throws the wreath away.) One single thing have I learned in Athens.

Basil of Caesarea.

What, Julian?

Prince Julian.

The old beauty is no longer beautiful, and the new truth no longer true.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom (still at a distance).

Now we have him; now we have him!

Prince Julian.

Him? I thought you had them both.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Which two?

Prince Julian.

Milon's sons.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Ah, yes, them I have too. But we have him, my Julian!

Prince Julian.

Who, precious brother?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

He has caught himself in his own net!

Prince Julian.

Aha, – a wise man, then?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

The adversary of all wisdom.

Prince Julian.

Who, who, I ask?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Do you really not know it? Have you not heard the news of Maximus?

Prince Julian.

Of Maximus? Oh, have the goodness –

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

To that it had to come with this restless enthusiast, – step by step, into madness –

Prince Julian.

In other words: into the highest wisdom.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Yes, such may be said. But now it is a matter of acting and seizing the moment. You, our highly esteemed Julian, you are the man. You are the emperor's near kinsman. The hope of all true friends of wisdom is directed at you, both here and in Nicomedia –

Prince Julian.

Listen, o excellent Libanius, – inasmuch as I am not all-knowing –

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Then learn that Maximus has lately stepped forth openly with that which lies at the bottom of his teaching.

Prince Julian.

And for that you blame him?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

He has declared that he can command spirits and shades.

Prince Julian (seizes his cloak).

Libanius!

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

All on the ship were full of the most wondrous tales, and here (brings forth a letter) here my brother Eusebius writes in detail of the matter.

Prince Julian.

Spirits and shades –

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

In Ephesus Maximus has lately, in a great assembly, both of followers and of adversaries, practised forbidden arts with Hecate's statue. It happened in the goddess's temple. Eusebius writes that he himself was present, and was witness to everything, from first to last. It was raven-black night around them. Maximus spoke strange incantations; thereupon he sang a hymn that no one understood. Then the marble torch kindled itself in the statue's hand –

Basil of Caesarea.

Ungodly work!

Prince Julian (breathless).

And then –?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

And in the strong bluish light they all saw that the statue's face took life and smiled toward them.

Prince Julian.

What more?

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

Terror gripped the minds of most. All rushed toward the exit. Many have lain in sickness or delirium afterward. But he himself, – would you believe it, Julian? – in spite of the fate that struck both his brothers in Constantinople, presses on along his dangerous and offensive way.

Prince Julian.

Offensive? Do you call this way an offensive way? Does not the goal of all wisdom issue in this? Communion between spirit and spirit –

Basil of Caesarea.

Oh, precious erring friend –!

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

More than offensive, I say! What is Hecate? What are the gods at all to the understanding of the enlightened? Happily we do not live, after all, in the time of that old blind singer. Maximus ought to know better than that. Has not Plato – and after him the rest of us – cast the light of interpretation over the whole? Is it not offensive, now, in these our own days, again to want to wrap up in riddles and misty dreams this admirable, tangible and, I dare well say, laboriously erected edifice of concept and of exposition, which we, as the lovers of wisdom, as the school, as –

Prince Julian (impetuously).

Farewell, Basil! I glimpse a light on my way!

Basil of Caesarea (throws his arms about him).

I will not let you go; I hold you fast!

Prince Julian (twists himself free of him).

No one holds me; – kick not against the pricks –

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

What a fit of madness! Friend, brother, brother in the faith, where would you go?

Prince Julian.

There, there, where torches kindle and where statues smile!

Libanius the teacher of wisdom.

And that you could do! You, Julian, you, our pride, our light, our hope, – you would hasten to this blinded Ephesus to give yourself into a mountebank's power! Know that in the same moment that you abase yourself so deeply, in the same moment you have stripped from yourself the glorious renown for learning and for eloquence which you in these years both in Pergamon and in Nicomedia and especially here at the academy of Athens –

Prince Julian.

Oh, school, school! Stay you with your books; – now you have pointed out the man I was seeking.

Libanius the teacher of wisdom (looks a while after him).

This princely youth is dangerous to scholarship.

Basil of Caesarea (half to himself).

Prince Julian is dangerous to more.