ACT TWO.

Emperor Julian (speaks to the assembled).

Such great success have the gods granted me. Scarcely a single city have I approached on my journey without Galileans thronging out to meet me on the highway in whole crowds, lamenting over their errors and giving themselves into the keeping of the divine powers. What is the ill conduct of the scoffers to be reckoned against this? Are not the scoffers most fitly likened to dogs that in their ignorance howl up at the disc of the moon? Yet I will not deny that it has angered me to learn that certain of this city's inhabitants have let fall scornful words about the manner of life which I have enjoined upon the priests of Cybele, the good goddess. Should not reverence for so exalted a deity exempt her servants from being made the objects of mockery? I cry out to those foolhardy men: are you barbarians, since you do not know who Cybele is? Must I be forced earnestly to remind you that when the Roman dominion was so hard threatened by that Punic general, whose grave I not long ago saw in Libyssa, – then the Cumaean Sibyl gave the counsel to take Cybele's image out of the temple in Pessinus and bring it to Rome? Now as concerns the priests' way of life, some have taken offence that it has been forbidden them to eat roots and all that grows along the ground, while they are permitted to enjoy herbs and fruits that have their growth on high. Oh, you most ignorant ones, – I pity you, that you do not grasp this! Can then the spirit of man nourish itself on what creeps along the ground? Does not the soul live on all that strives upward toward heaven and toward the sun? These things I will not discuss more at length today. What more there is to say of it, you shall learn from a writing that I am working on in my waking nights, and which I hope before long shall be read aloud both in the lecture-halls and in the market-places.

And herewith, my friends, if no one has anything further to bring forward –

A citizen (presses forward).

Oh, most gracious emperor, let me not go unheard!

Emperor Julian (seats himself again).

Indeed not, my friend! Who are you?

The citizen.

I am Medon the corn-merchant. Oh, lord, did not my love for you, you exalted and divine one –

Emperor Julian.

Out with your business, man!

Medon.

I have a neighbour, Alites, who now for many years has harmed me in every conceivable way; for he too deals in corn and undercuts me in my trade in the most shameful manner –

Emperor Julian.

Aha, my good Medon, yet you look well-fed enough.

Medon.

Neither is it this, most gracious emperor! Oh, by the venerable gods, whom I learn to love and praise more highly day by day, – the affronts he offers me I could overlook; but what I cannot possibly endure –

Emperor Julian.

Surely he does not mock the gods?

Medon.

He does what is worse, – yes, at any rate what is just as audacious; he – oh, I scarcely know whether my indignation permits me to utter it – he mocks you yourself, most gracious lord!

Emperor Julian.

So? What words has he used?

Medon.

He has used no words at all; he has used what is worse.

Emperor Julian.

And what is worse?

Medon.

A purple-coloured cloak –

Emperor Julian.

He wears that? Well, well, that is bold.

Medon.

Yes, you great wing-footed Mercury, when I think how that cloak would have fared with him in your predecessor's time! And this garment of arrogance I have before my eyes every day –

Emperor Julian.

This garment, bought with money that could have been yours –

Medon.

Oh, most gracious emperor, – punish this presumptuous man; let him be driven out of the city; my love for our great and exalted ruler does not permit me to be a witness to such insolent presumption.

Emperor Julian.

Tell me, good Medon, what sort of garments does Alites wear besides the purple cloak?

Medon.

That I truly do not remember, lord; the usual ones, I suppose; I have only noticed the purple cloak.

Emperor Julian.

So then, a purple cloak and untanned soles –

Medon.

Yes, lord; it looks as ridiculous as it is insolent.

Emperor Julian.

That thing we must remedy, Medon!

Medon (happy).

Ah, most gracious lord –!

Emperor Julian.

Tomorrow morning you come here to the palace –

Medon (happier still).

I shall come quite early, most gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

You report to my steward –

Medon.

Yes, yes, my most gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

From him you receive a pair of purple boots, stitched with gold –

Medon.

Alas, alas, my generous lord and emperor!

Emperor Julian.

These boots you carry over to Alites, put them on him and tell him that he must by all means put them on every time he henceforth takes it into his head to show himself in a purple cloak on the street in broad daylight –

Medon.

Oh!

Emperor Julian.

– and when you have done that, you may tell him from me that he is a fool if he thinks himself honoured by the purple cloak without possessing the purple's power. – Go; and come again for the boots tomorrow!

Another citizen (steps forward from the crowd).

Praised be the emperor's justice! Oh, how this envious corn-hoarder has deserved to be punished thus! Oh, hear me and let your grace –

Emperor Julian.

Aha; I think I know your face. Were you not one of those who shouted before my chariot when I entered the city?

The citizen.

I was one of the most eager shouters, incomparable emperor! I am Malchus the tax-collector. Alas, take up my cause! I am pursuing a lawsuit with an evil and miserly person –

Emperor Julian.

And about that you come to me? Are there not judges here –?

Malchus the tax-collector.

The matter is somewhat involved, noble emperor! It concerns a field which I have let to that evil man on lease and which I acquired seven years ago, when a part of the Church of the Apostles' landed estate was sold.

Emperor Julian.

See, see; church-property, then?

Malchus.

Honestly acquired; but now this fellow refuses to pay me the rent, nor will he give the property back, all on the pretext that this field once belonged to Apollo's temple and, as he says, was wrongfully taken from the temple many years ago.

Emperor Julian.

Hark, tell me, Malchus, – you are surely one of the Galilean's followers?

Malchus.

Most gracious emperor, it is an old custom in our family to confess Christ.

Emperor Julian.

And you say that so straight out, without shrinking?

Malchus.

My adversary is bolder than I, lord! He goes in and out of his house as before; he did not flee from the city when it was rumoured that you would come.

Emperor Julian.

Did not flee? And why should he, he, a man who is on the gods' side?

Malchus.

Most gracious emperor, you have without doubt heard tell of Thalassius the book-keeper?

Emperor Julian.

What! That Thalassius who, to ingratiate himself with my predecessor, while I stood slandered and in peril in Gaul, here, in Antioch, in the middle of the marketplace proposed to the citizens that they should ask the emperor to send them Caesar Julian's head!

Malchus.

Lord, it is this mortal enemy of yours who wrongs me.

Emperor Julian.

Truly, Malchus, against this man I have as great cause for complaint as you.

Malchus.

Tenfold greater, my gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

And what do you think? Shall we two join our causes together and accuse him at once?

Malchus.

Oh, what exceeding grace! I, tenfold happy man!

Emperor Julian.

You tenfold fool! Thalassius goes out and in of his house as before, you say? He has not fled from the city at my coming. Thalassius has known me better than you. Away with you, fellow! When I accuse Thalassius on account of my head, you may accuse him on account of your field.

Malchus (wringing his hands).

I, tenfold wretched!

Emperor Julian.

Rightly so, my friends; rejoice that it has been granted me, not quite unworthily, to begin this day, which is especially consecrated to a festival for the radiant Apollo. For is it not worthy of a friend of wisdom to overlook the affronts directed against himself, while he sternly punishes the wrong done to the immortal gods? I do not recall whether that crowned devotee of learning, Marcus Aurelius, was ever in a like case; but if he was, then we may hope that he acted not wholly unlike me, who count it an honour humbly to follow in his footsteps.

Let this serve you as a rule for what you have to observe in future. In the palace, in the marketplace, yes, in the theatre – if I did not loathe to set foot in such a place of folly – it may be seemly that you greet me with acclamations and a glad clapping of hands. Such homage, I know, was well received both by Alexander the Macedonian and by Julius Caesar, men to whom the goddess of fortune also granted to shine above other mortals.

But if you see me step into a temple, then it is another matter. Then I would have you keep silent or direct your acclamations toward the gods and not toward me, whom you see stride forward with downcast eyes and a lowered brow. And most of all I hope you will observe this today, when I have to sacrifice to so exceedingly extraordinary and mighty a deity as he whom we know under the name of the Sun-King, and who grows even greater in our eyes when we consider that he is the same whom certain eastern peoples call Mithra.

And herewith, – if no one else has anything to say –

The priest at the door (draws himself up).

In the name of the Lord God!

Emperor Julian.

Who speaks there?

The priest.

A servant of God and of the emperor.

Emperor Julian.

Come closer. What do you want?

The priest.

To speak to your heart and to your conscience.

Emperor Julian (springs up).

What a voice! What do I see! Despite beard and garb –! Gregory!

The priest.

Yes, my noble lord!

Emperor Julian.

Gregory! Gregory of Nazianzus!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes, gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian (has stepped down, has grasped his hands and gazes long at him).

A little aged; browner; portlier. No; that was only in the first moment; now you are the same as then.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Oh, were it but so with you, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Athens. That night in the arcade. No man has lain so near my heart as you.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Your heart? Alas, emperor, from your heart you have torn out a better friend than me.

Emperor Julian.

You mean Basil?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I mean a greater than Basil.

Emperor Julian (darkening).

Ah, so! It is this you come to say to me? And in this garb –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I have not chosen this garb, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Not you? Who then?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

He who is greater than the emperor.

Emperor Julian.

I know these Galilean turns of phrase. For our friendship's sake, pass this over.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Let me then begin by telling you how it has come about that you see me here, consecrated as a priest in the church which you persecute.

Emperor Julian (with a sharp glance).

Persecute!

Now you may speak on.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

You know what I thought of the divine things during our glad life together in Athens. But far was it then from my thought to renounce the joys of the earth. Ambition or thirst for riches, that I may well say, has never tempted me; yet I should hardly be true to the truth if I would deny that my eye and my mind hung wondering upon all the glory that opened itself to me in the Greeks' ancient science and art. The wranglings, all those petty quarrels in our church, grieved me deeply; but I took no part in them; I served my countrymen in worldly matters; no further. –

Then came tidings from Constantinople. It was said that Constantius had died of terror at your undertakings and had appointed you his heir. Received as one more than human, and with the rumour of victory flying before you, you, the hero of Gaul and Germania, had without a sword-stroke ascended to Constantine's seat. The world lay at your feet.

Then came tidings once more. The lord of the world was arming himself for war against the lord of heaven –

Emperor Julian.

Gregory, what do you dare –!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

The lord of bodies was arming himself for war against the lord of souls. I stand here before you in the fear and trembling of the flesh; but I dare not lie. Will you hear the truth, or shall I be silent?

Emperor Julian.

You shall speak, Gregory!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

What have my fellow-believers not had to suffer already in these few months? How many death-sentences have been pronounced and carried out in the cruellest manner? Gaudentius the secretary of state, – Artemius, that former governor of Egypt, – both the tribunes Romanus and Vincentius –

Emperor Julian.

You do not know these things. I tell you that the goddess of justice would have shed tears had those traitors escaped with their lives.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Be that as it may, my emperor; but I tell you that one death-sentence has been passed which the god of justice can never forgive you. Ursulus! This man, who was a friend to you in days of tribulation! Ursulus, who at the risk of his own life supplied you with money in Gaul; Ursulus, whose whole crime was his Christian faith and his sincerity –

Emperor Julian.

Ah, this you have from your brother Caesarius!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Punish me, lord; but spare my brother.

Emperor Julian.

You know well that you risk nothing, Gregory! For the rest, I will grant you that Nevita has proceeded too severely.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes, this barbarian, who beneath the Greek veneer does not manage to disown his descent –!

Emperor Julian.

Nevita is zealous for his office, and I cannot myself be everywhere. Over Ursulus I have sincerely grieved, and I deeply regret that neither time nor circumstances allowed me to examine his case myself. I should surely have spared him, Gregory! I have also thought of giving back to his heirs whatever he may have left behind.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Noble emperor, you owe me no account for your actions. I have only wished to tell you that all these tidings struck like lightning both in Caesarea and in Nazianzus and in the other Cappadocian places. How shall I depict for you the effect? Our mutual disputes fell silent under the common danger. Many of the church's unsound members fell away; but in many indifferent hearts the Lord's light was kindled in a clarity never before divined. Amid all this the tribulations broke in upon God's people. The heathens – yes, my emperor, those whom I call heathens – began to threaten, to wrong, to persecute us –

Emperor Julian.

Retribution, – retribution, Gregory!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Far be it from me to defend all that my fellow-believers may have committed in extravagant zeal for the church's cause. But you, who are highly enlightened, and who are the ruler of all, you must not suffer the living to be punished for the faults of the dead. Yet this has happened in Cappadocia. The Christians' enemies, few in number, but thirsting for gain and burning with zeal to please the new officials, have stirred up unrest and anxiety among the population both in the towns and in the countryside.

I do not here think chiefly of the insults we have had to suffer, nor of the violations of our well-acquired right of property, to which we have of late continually been exposed. What most troubles me and all my earnest brethren is the danger which this brings for souls. Many are unconfirmed in the faith and cannot wholly look away from the earthly goods. The harsh treatment which must now be endured by everyone who bears the Christian name has already had more than one apostasy as its consequence. Lord, this is a robbery of souls from God's kingdom.

Emperor Julian.

Oh, my wise Gregory, – how can you speak so? I am astonished! Should you not rather, as a good Galilean, rejoice that your community is rid of these people?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Gracious emperor, I am not of that opinion. I have myself been one indifferent in the faith, and I hold every such one to be a sick man who has the possibility of healing in him so long as he remains in the bosom of the church. So thought too our little congregation in Nazianzus. Anxious brothers and sisters came together to take counsel about help against the distress of the time. With them joined envoys from Caesarea and from the other places. My father is decrepit, and – as he with sorrow confesses – he has not the firm, unshakable spirit that in these days of tribulation is required of him who sits on the bishop's seat. Then the assembly resolved that a younger man should be chosen as his helper, one who could hold the Lord's flock together.

The choice fell on me.

Emperor Julian.

Ah!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I was at that time absent on a journey. But in my absence, and without consulting me, my father consecrated me as a priest and sent me the priestly garb.

This message reached me in Tiberina, at my country estate, where I spent some days together with my brother and with the friend of my youth Basil of Caesarea.

Lord, – had my death-sentence been proclaimed to me, it could not have terrified me more than this.

I a priest! I willed it, and I willed it not. I had to, – and I dared it not. I strove with the Lord God, as the patriarch strove with him in the days of the old covenant. What passed with me in the night that followed, I do not know. But this I know, that before the cock crowed, I spoke face to face with the crucified one. – Then I became his.

Emperor Julian.

Folly; folly! I know these dreams.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

On the homeward journey I came through Caesarea. Oh, what a sorrowful condition I found there! I found the city full of fleeing country-folk, who had left house and home because the drought this summer had scorched the crops and laid waste all the vineyards, all the olive-gardens. To escape death by famine they had taken refuge among the starving. There they lay – men, women and children – in clusters along the house-walls; fever shook them, hunger gnawed in their bowels. What had Caesarea to offer them, – this impoverished, unhappy city, which has still only half risen after the great earthquake two years ago? And amid all this, under burning heat, under frequent earth-tremors, we had to see ungodly sacrificial festivals go on by day and night. The overthrown altars were rebuilt in all haste; the sacrificial blood ran in streams; jugglers and harlots roamed with song and dance through the city's streets.

Lord, – can it astonish you if my sorely tried brethren, in the visitation that came upon them, believed they descried a punishment of heaven because they had so long tolerated unbelief and unbelief's offensive signs among them?

Emperor Julian.

What signs do you refer to?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

The cries of the terrified, of the fever-stricken, grew ever louder; they demanded that the city's magistrates should render to Christ a tangible testimony by causing to be pulled down what still stands as a memorial of heathendom's former power in Caesarea.

Emperor Julian.

You surely do not mean thereby to say that –?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

The city's rulers had a meeting proclaimed, at which I too was present. You know, most gracious emperor, that all temples are the property of the citizenry. The citizens may therefore dispose of them according to their own free will.

Emperor Julian.

Well, well? And if that were so?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

In that terrible earthquake which came upon Caesarea two years ago, all the temples were destroyed but one.

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes; the temple of Fortuna.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

At the meeting I speak of, the congregation resolved to complete God's punishing work, as a testimony that they would hold to him wholly and alone and no longer tolerate the offence in their midst.

Emperor Julian (hoarsely).

Gregory – friend of old, – do you hold your life dear?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

The congregation then took a decision which I could not approve, but which received almost all the votes. But since we feared that the matter might come in a distorted shape to your ears, and perhaps kindle you to wrath against the city, it was resolved that a man should betake himself here to let you know what we have decided and what will now happen.

Exalted ruler, – there was found no other who was willing to take upon himself this charge. I had then to take it upon myself. It is therefore, lord, that I here in humility stand before you and let you know that we Christians in Caesarea have resolved that the temple, wherein the heathens in their time worshipped a false deity under the name of Fortuna, shall be pulled down and levelled with the ground.

Emperor Julian (springs up).

And this I must hear with my own ears! Such unheard-of things a single man dares to say to me!

Courtiers, orators and poets.

Oh, pious emperor, do not endure this! Punish this reckless man!

Hecebolius the teacher.

He is insane, lord! Let him go. See, see, – the madness flashes out of his eyes.

Emperor Julian.

Yes, well may this be called madness. But it is more than madness. To want to pull down this excellent temple, raised for an equally excellent goddess! And is it not precisely this goddess to whose favour I owe the deeds of which even the most distant peoples speak? What hope of victory and fortune could I entertain after this day, if I let such a thing happen? – Gregory, I command you to travel back to Caesarea and let the citizens know that I forbid this presumptuous work.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

It is not feasible, lord! The matter has now come to this, that it has become for us a choice between fear of man and obedience to God. We cannot yield.

Emperor Julian.

Then you shall surely feel how far the emperor's arm reaches!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

The emperor's arm is mighty in earthly things; and I, like others, tremble under it.

Emperor Julian.

Then show it in deed! Ah, you Galileans, you rely on my forbearance. Do not trust in it; for truly –

Emperor Julian.

What is this? Eunapius, what has happened to you?

Eunapius the barber.

Oh, that my eyes had to witness such a sight!

Emperor Julian.

What sight have you had?

Eunapius the barber.

See, most gracious emperor, I come bloody, beaten, and yet happy to be the first who calls down your punishment –

Emperor Julian.

Speak, man; – who has struck you?

Eunapius the barber.

Permit me, lord, to bring forward my complaint.

I went this morning outside the city to seek out the little temple of Venus which you have lately had put in order. When I came out there, song and flute-playing met me. Women performed lovely dances in the vestibule, and within I found the whole room filled with a jubilant throng, while the priests before the altar performed the sacrifices you have ordained.

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes; and then?

Eunapius the barber.

Scarcely had I had time in devotion to turn my thoughts toward this enrapturing goddess, whom I especially honour and worship, – when a great swarm of young men pressed into the temple –

Emperor Julian.

Surely not Galileans?

Eunapius the barber.

Yes, lord, – Galileans.

Emperor Julian.

Ah!

Eunapius the barber.

What a scene then followed! Weeping under the ruffians' abuse and blows of staves, those dancing girls fled from the vestibule in to us. The Galileans fell upon us all, maltreated us and reviled us in the most shameful manner.

Emperor Julian (steps down from the platform).

Wait, wait!

Eunapius the barber.

Alas, had this outrage struck only us alone! But the untamable ones went further. Yes, most gracious emperor, – in one word: the altar is torn down, the goddess's image shattered to pieces, the entrails of the sacrificial animals thrown outside as food for the dogs –

Emperor Julian (walks up and down).

Wait, wait, wait!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Lord, this one man's word is not enough –

Emperor Julian.

Silence!

Did you know any of these temple-desecrators?

Eunapius the barber.

Not I, lord; but these citizens knew several of them.

Emperor Julian.

Take a guard with you. Seize as many of the guilty as you can lay hold of. Cast them into prison. The captured shall name the rest; and when I have them all in my power –

Gregory of Nazianzus.

What then, lord?

Emperor Julian.

That the executioner will be able to tell you. Both you and the citizens of Caesarea shall learn what you have to expect, if with Galilean obstinacy you hold fast to your purpose.

A citizen.

But, you good god of heaven, when did this misfortune happen?

Another citizen.

This morning, I tell you; quite early this morning.

Phocion the dyer (who has come walking from the street to the right).

My dear man, do you find it fitting to call this a misfortune? I call it a crime, and, what is more, a most impudent crime.

The other citizen.

Yes, yes; that is quite true; it was most impudently done.

Phocion the dyer.

Just imagine – yes, is it not the assault in the temple of Venus you are speaking of? Yes. Just imagine, I say, at a time when the emperor himself is in the city –! And then to choose a day like this, – a day –

A third citizen (approaches the speakers).

Hark, tell me, good stranger, what is it really –?

Phocion the dyer.

I say, a day like this, when our exalted ruler will himself officiate at the festival of Apollo.

The third citizen.

Yes, indeed, that I know; but why are these Christians being imprisoned?

Phocion the dyer.

What? Are they being imprisoned? Have they really been tracked down?

Hush; what is that? Yes, by the gods, I do believe they have them!

The old woman.

Do not hold me! He is my only one; he is the child of my old age! Let me go; let me go! Can no one then tell me where I shall find the emperor?

Phocion the dyer.

What do you want with the emperor, old mother?

The old woman.

I want my son back. Help me! My son! Hilarion! Oh, think, they took him from me! They broke into our house, – and then they took him!

One of the citizens (to Phocion).

Who is that woman?

Phocion the dyer.

What? Do you not know the widow Publia, – the hymn-singer?

The citizen.

Ah, yes, yes, yes!

Publia the woman.

Hilarion! My child! What will they do with him? Ah, see, Phocion, – are you there? A godsend that I have met a Christian brother –

Phocion the dyer.

Hush, quiet, quiet; do not cry out so; the emperor is coming.

Publia the woman.

Oh, the ungodly emperor! The Lord of wrath visits us because of his sins; famine ravages the lands; the earth trembles under us!

The troop-leader.

Stand aside; make room here!

Publia the woman.

Oh, come, good Phocion; – help me for the sake of our friendship and our brotherhood –

Phocion the dyer.

Are you mad, woman? I do not know you.

Publia the woman.

What? Do you not know me? Are you not Phocion the dyer? Are you not the son of –?

Phocion the dyer.

I am no one's son. Go away from me, woman! You are surely mad. I do not know you; I have never seen you.

An under-officer (with soldiers from the right.)

Clear the way here!

Phocion the dyer. (in the cluster behind the sentries to the right.)

Yes, by the god of the sun, is that not he coming there, the blessed lord!

A soldier.

Do not press so there behind!

Phocion the dyer.

Can you see him? The man with the white band about his brow, that is the emperor.

A citizen.

The man who is dressed all in white?

Phocion the dyer.

Yes, yes, that very man.

The citizen.

But why is he dressed in white?

Phocion the dyer.

Probably because of the heat; – or no, wait a little, I think it is as sacrificial priest that he –

Another citizen.

Will the emperor then perform the sacrifice himself?

Phocion the dyer.

Yes, Emperor Julian does everything himself.

A third citizen.

He does not look so mighty as Emperor Constantius.

Phocion the dyer.

Yet I think he does. He is not so tall as the former emperor; but then his arms are longer than the other's. And then he has a look, – oh, you friends –! Yes, now you cannot see it; he casts his eyes down modestly as he walks. Yes, modest he is, you may believe it. Women he does not so much as look at. I dare swear that since his wife's death he has not many times –; I tell you, he writes all night long. That is why his fingers too are often as black as a dyer's; yes, just like mine. I am a dyer too. You may believe it, I know the emperor better than most. I was born here in the city; but I have lived fifteen years in Constantinople until quite recently –

A citizen.

Could there be anything in the rumour that the emperor thinks of living here permanently?

Phocion the dyer.

I know the emperor's barber, and he says so. If only these shameful riots do not provoke him all too much.

A citizen.

Alas, alas, that would be vexing!

Another citizen.

If the emperor stayed here, there would be a little something to fall to us all.

Phocion the dyer.

On that too I had counted; that is why I moved over here. But now we must do our best, friends; when the emperor passes by, we will raise glad acclamations both to him and to Apollo.

A citizen (to another).

What sort of Apollo is it, really, that people have begun to talk so much about?

The other citizen.

Why, it is the priest in Corinth, – he who watered what Saint Paul had planted.

The first citizen.

Is that so; yes, now I think I remember it.

Phocion the dyer.

No, no, no, it is not that Apollo; it is quite another; it is the Sun-King, – the great lyre-playing Apollo.

The other citizen.

Ah, so; that Apollo! Is he better?

Phocion the dyer.

Yes, I should think so. – See, see, there he comes. Oh, the most blessed lord!

The crowd in the square (clapping their hands).

Praised be the emperor! Blessed be Julian, the hero and the bringer of fortune!

Phocion the dyer.

Hail to Julian and the Sun-King! Long live Apollo!

The citizens (in the foreground to the right).

Emperor, emperor, stay long among us!

Emperor Julian.

Citizens of Antioch! I cannot on the instant name the thing that could gladden my heart more than these encouraging acclamations of yours. And well may my heart need this refreshment.

It was with dejection of spirit that I set out on this procession, which should have been a walk of gladness and of elevation. Yes, I will not conceal it, I was this morning not far from being brought out of that equilibrium of mind which it is most seemly for a lover of wisdom to preserve under all dispensations.

But should anyone have the heart to reproach me for this? I give everyone to consider what presumptuous deeds are elsewhere being plotted and here have already been set in motion.

Publia the woman.

Lord, lord!

Phocion the dyer.

Oh, pious and just-minded emperor, punish these reckless ones!

Publia the woman.

Lord, give me Hilarion back!

Phocion the dyer.

All good citizens implore your favour for the city.

Emperor Julian.

Seek to win the gods' favour, then you shall surely have mine. And is it not just that Antioch should here go first? Is it not as though the sun-god's eye rested with especial pleasure upon this city? Inquire of widely travelled men, and you shall learn in what sorrowful excess error has elsewhere succeeded in laying waste our holy places. What remains? A relic here and there; and nothing of the best.

But among you, you citizens of Antioch! Oh, my eyes filled with tears of joy when I first saw this incomparable sanctuary, Apollo's own house, which one could scarcely imagine to have been raised by human hands. Does not the image of the glorious one stand within, as before, in inviolate beauty? Not an edge is chipped or crumbled on his altar; not a crack is to be seen in the slender supporting pillars.

Oh, when I consider this, – when I feel the band about my brow, – when I look down at this garb, which is dearer to me than the purple cloak, then I feel the god's nearness in a holy shudder.

See, see, the light quivers about us in glory!

Feel, feel, the air is heavy with the fragrance of fresh garlands!

Fair earth, home of light and of life, home of gladness, and home of fortune and of beauty, – what you were, you shall become! – In the Sun-King's embrace! Mithra, Mithra!

Onward on our march of victory!

Emperor Julian.

What hinders us?

Hecebolius the teacher.

Most gracious lord, there is something afoot up in the street.

Song (far away).

Phocion the dyer.

The Galileans, lord! They have them!

Publia the woman.

Hilarion!

Phocion the dyer.

They have them! I hear the chains –

Emperor Julian.

Past them –!

Eunapius the barber (hastily through the crowd).

It has succeeded beyond all measure, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Who are they, these shameless ones?

Eunapius the barber.

Some of them are citizens here of the city; but most are said to be fleeing country-folk from Cappadocia.

Emperor Julian.

I will not see them. Onward, I have commanded!

The prisoners' song (nearer).

Emperor Julian.

The frenzied ones. Not so near to me! Guard, guard!

Publia the woman.

My child! Hilarion!

Hilarion (among the prisoners).

Rejoice, my mother!

Emperor Julian.

You poor deluded ones! When I hear the madness speak thus out of you, I almost doubt whether I have the right to punish you.

Another voice (among the prisoners).

Stand aside; do not take the crown of thorns from us.

Emperor Julian.

Night and terror, – what a voice is that!

The captain of the guard.

Lord, it was this one who spoke.

Emperor Julian (with a cry).

Agathon!

The prisoner (looks at him and keeps silent).

Emperor Julian.

Agathon, Agathon! Answer me; are you not Agathon?

The prisoner.

Yes.

Emperor Julian.

You among these! Speak to me!

Agathon.

I do not know you.

Emperor Julian.

You do not know me? You do not know who I am?

Agathon.

I know that you are the lord of the earth; therefore I disown you.

Emperor Julian.

And the child –? Is it your young brother?

This man must be innocent.

Eunapius the barber.

Lord, this man is the very leader of the whole thing. He has himself confessed it; yes, he has even boasted of his deed.

Emperor Julian.

So strangely, then, can hunger and sickness and misfortune derange a man's mind.

Only say in a word that you repent, and no harm shall be done to you.

Publia the woman (cries out).

Do not say it, Hilarion!

Agathon.

Be strong, dear brother!

Publia the woman.

Go, go to that which awaits you, my only one!

Emperor Julian.

Hear and bethink yourselves, you others –

Agathon (to the prisoners).

Choose between Christ and the emperor!

The prisoners.

Blessed be the Lord on high!

Emperor Julian.

Terrible is the Galilean's deluding power. This must be broken. Past them, the abominable ones! They cast a shadow over joy; they darken the day with their brooding death-longing. – Flute-players, – men, women, – strike up! Song, – song in praise of life and light and fortune!

The Apollo procession (sings).

The prisoners' procession.

The Apollo procession.

The prisoners' procession.

The Apollo procession.

The prisoners' procession.

The Apollo procession.

The prisoners' procession.

Women.

Mercy! Now the earth trembled again!

A fleeing man.

What terror! Thunderclaps under our feet –

Another man.

Was it really so? Was it the earth that trembled?

A woman.

Did you not feel it? The tree there swayed so that it rustled in its leafy crown.

Many voices.

Hark, hark, hark!

Some.

It is wagons on the cobblestones.

Others.

It is drums. Hear the music –; the emperor is coming!

Emperor Julian (turned toward the temple, with uplifted hands).

I receive the omen! –

Never have I felt myself so near in league with the immortal gods.

The Bow-bender is among us. The earth resounds under his heel, as it resounded of old when in wrath he trod the Trojan shore.

But it is not against us that he directs his frowning brow. It is against those unhappy ones who hate him and his sun-bright realm.

Yes, – as surely as the fullness of fortune or misfortune gives the right measure of the gods' favour toward mortals, – so surely does the difference between us and those others reveal itself here.

Where are the Galileans now? Some under the executioner's hands, others fleeing in the narrow alleys, ashen-grey with terror, with staring eyes, – a scream between their half-open teeth –, and with their hair standing on end in fright or torn out in despair.

And where are we? Here, in Daphne's fresh grove, where the fragrant breath of dryads cools our temples, – here, before the glorious one's glorious temple, surrounded by the sound of lyres and of flutes, – here, in light, in fortune, in safety, and with the god himself revealed among us.

Where is the Galileans' god? Where is the Jew, that crucified carpenter's son? Let him reveal himself. He takes good care not to!

And therefore it well befits us to fill the sanctuary. There will I with my own hands perform the service which, so far from seeming to me lowly and unfitting, I on the contrary set above every other.

A voice (cries out in the throng).

Halt, ungodly one!

Emperor Julian.

A Galilean among us?

The same voice.

No further, denier of God!

Emperor Julian.

Who is the man that speaks?

Other voices in the crowd.

A Galilean priest. A blind old man. Here he stands.

Yet others.

Away, away with the shameless one!

Emperor Julian.

Ah, what must I see! Tell me, old man, are you not Bishop Maris of Chalcedon?

The old man.

Yes, I am the unworthiest servant of this our church.

Emperor Julian.

The unworthiest you call yourself; and I do not think you are so wholly wrong. If I do not err, you have been one of those who most zealously sowed discord among the Galileans themselves.

Bishop Maris.

I have done that which weighs me down deeper in repentance. When you took the dominion, and your disposition was rumoured abroad, then my heart was gripped by an unspeakable anguish. Weakened by age, and blind as I was, I gave no room to the thought of setting myself against the earth's mighty lord. Yes, – God be merciful to me – I forsook the flock I was set to shield, drew myself faint-heartedly out of all that gathered threateningly about the Lord's congregation, and sought shelter here in Syria at my country estate –

Emperor Julian.

See, see; most strange! And you, this faint-hearted man, who before prized the emperor's favour so highly, you now step forward before me, as you have just done, and cast a cry of scorn straight in my face!

Bishop Maris.

Now I fear you no longer; for now Christ has my heart wholly and entirely. In the church's time of tribulation its light and glory dawned on me. All the blood you shed, – all the violence and wrong you commit, cries out toward heaven, strikes back with force, resounds for my deaf ear and shows me in the night of my blindness what way I have to go.

Emperor Julian.

Go home, old man!

Bishop Maris.

Not before you have promised to desist from this your devilish conduct. What are you thinking of? Will the dust rise against the spirit? Will the lord of the earth overthrow the lord of heaven? Do you not then see that the day of wrath is upon us because of your sins? The springs dry up, like eyes that have wept themselves empty. The clouds, that should let the manna of fruitfulness fall upon us, pass by over our heads and do not pour themselves out. The earth, which has been cursed since the morning of days, trembles and trembles under the emperor's blood-guilt!

Emperor Julian.

What favour do you expect from your god for this excessive zeal, foolish old man? Do you hope that your Galilean master, as of old, will work a miracle and give you your sight again?

Bishop Maris.

I have the sight I wish; and I thank the Lord that he quenched my bodily eye, so that I am spared from seeing the man who walks in a more dreadful night than I.

Emperor Julian.

Make way for me!

Bishop Maris.

Whither?

Emperor Julian.

Into the Sun-King's house.

Bishop Maris.

You shall not go. I forbid it you in the name of the only One!

Emperor Julian.

Mad greybeard! – Away with him!

Bishop Maris.

Yes, lay hands on me! But whoever dares it, his hand shall wither. The God of wrath shall reveal himself in his might –

Emperor Julian.

Your god is no mighty god. I shall show you that the emperor is stronger than he –

Bishop Maris.

Lost man! – Then I pronounce the curse over you, you apostate son of the church!

Hecebolius the teacher (pale).

Lord and emperor, do not let this happen!

Bishop Maris (in a loud voice).

Cursed be you, Julianus Apostata! Cursed be you, Emperor Julian! The Lord God has spat you out of his mouth! Cursed be your eyes and your hands! Cursed be your head and all your work!

Woe, woe, woe upon the apostate! Woe, woe, woe – –

Bishop Maris (whose two attendants have fled, stands alone and says in a subdued voice):

God has spoken.

Emperor Julian (pale and with subdued voice).

Apollo has spoken. His temple was defiled; therefore he shattered it.

Bishop Maris.

And I tell you, it was the Lord who laid the temple of Jerusalem in ruins.

Emperor Julian.

If that is so, then the Galilean's churches shall be closed, and his priests shall under the lash be whipped to raise this temple again.

Bishop Maris.

Try, powerless one! Who was able to raise the temple of Jerusalem, when the prince of Golgotha had pronounced its destruction over it?

Emperor Julian.

I shall be able to do it! The emperor shall be able to do it! Your god shall be made a liar. Stone upon stone I shall build up that temple of Jerusalem, in raiment and glory, as it was in the days of Solomon.

Bishop Maris.

Not a stone shall you succeed in joining to a stone; for it is cursed by the Lord.

Emperor Julian.

Wait, wait; you shall see – if you could see – you who stand there forsaken and helpless, groping out into the night without knowing whither you shall move your foot.

Bishop Maris.

For me shines the lightning that shall one day strike you and yours.