Act Two
Emperor and Galilean

ACT ONE.

(At the harbour in Constantinople. In the foreground to the right a magnificent landing-bridge covered with carpets. Up on the high shore, a little from the bridge, is seen a veiled stone, surrounded by a guard. Far out on the Bosporus lies the imperial fleet, hung with mourning-flags.)
(A countless crowd of people in boats and on the shore. Up at the end of the landing-bridge stands Emperor Julian, clad in purple and golden ornaments. He is surrounded by courtiers and high officers of state. Among those standing nearest him are Nevita the Commander, Caesarius the Royal Physician, and the orators Themistius and Mamertinus.)

Emperor Julian (gazes far out over the water).

What a meeting! The dead emperor and the living. – Oh, that he had to draw his last breath in regions so far away! Oh, that I, for all my haste, was not granted to taste the sweetness of embracing my kinsman for the last time! A bitter lot for us both! – – –

Where is the funeral ship?

Nevita the Commander.

There it comes.

Emperor Julian.

That long boat?

Nevita the Commander.

Yes, most gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

Poor kinsman! So great in life; and now you must be content with so low a roof. Now you shall not strike your brow against the coffin-lid, you who bowed your head as you rode through Constantine's arch.

A citizen among the onlookers (to Potamon the goldsmith).

How young he looks, our new emperor.

Potamon the goldsmith.

Yet he has grown sturdy of limb. When I saw him last, he was slight and lean; – that is now some nine or ten years ago.

Another citizen.

Yes, he has done great deeds in those years.

A woman.

And all the dangers he has passed through, ever since he was a child!

A priest.

Wondrously saved from them all; the divine protection is over him.

Potamon the goldsmith.

Rumour says that in Gaul he has put himself under another sort of protection.

The priest.

Lies, lies; you may rely on that.

Emperor Julian.

Now he comes. The Sun, whom I invoke, and the great lightning-hurling god know that I have not wished Constantius's death. It has in truth been far from my thoughts. I have sent up prayers for his life. – Tell me, Caesarius, – you must surely know it best – has the imperial body been shown all seemly honour on the way?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

The funeral procession was like a conqueror's triumph through all Asia Minor. In every town we passed through, the faithful thronged together in the street; whole nights the churches resounded with prayers and hymns; the darkness turned to bright day beneath the blaze of the thousand kindled tapers –

Emperor Julian.

Good, good, good! – I am seized by an incredible dread at the thought of taking up the government after so great and virtuous and dearly loved an emperor. Why was it not granted me to live in withdrawn quiet!

Mamertinus the orator.

And who, then, could have done justice to the great and difficult calling, as you, incomparable lord, will do it? I boldly call out to those others who have coveted the imperial dignity: come hither and take the helm of the realm; but take it as Julian takes it. Watch night and day for the welfare of all. Be lords in name and yet the servants of the citizens' freedom. Choose your place foremost in the ranks of the fighters and not at the banquets. Take nothing for yourselves; but pour out gifts to all. Let your justice be as far from indulgence as from cruelty. Live so that no maiden on the round earth shall wring her hands over you. Bid defiance – both to Gaul's impassability and Germania's cold. What would they answer? Appalled at demands so stern, they would stop up their effeminate ears and cry: only a Julian can do justice to all this!

Emperor Julian.

May the All-Ruler grant that hopes so great be not disappointed. But how much is not lacking in me? A shudder comes over me. To be compared with Alexander, with Marcus Aurelius, and with so many other excellent men! Has not Plato said that only a god can rule over men? Oh, pray with me that I may go free of ambition's snares and of power's temptations. Athens, Athens! Thither goes my longing! I was like a man who, for his health's sake, took some wholesome bodily exercise; – and now they come to me and say: step forth on the stage and conquer in the Olympic games. All the Greeks shall sit as spectators! Must not my mind be seized with terror even before I begin the contest?

Themistius the orator.

What terror, O emperor? Have you not already the Greeks' applause before the contest? Have you not come to reinstate all the exiled virtues in their ancient right? Is there not gathered in you, in one man, all that victory-winning power which Heracles, which Dionysus, which Solon, which –?

Emperor Julian.

Silence! Only the praise of the dead shall be heard today. There they put in to land. Take the brow-band and my chains; I will not wear imperial adornments at an hour like this.

(He gives the ornaments to one of the bystanders. The funeral procession comes in over the landing-bridge with great pomp. Priests with lighted candles at the head; the coffin is drawn on a low-wheeled wagon; church banners are borne before and after the wagon; choirboys swing censers; throngs of Christian citizens follow after.)

Emperor Julian (lays his hand on the coffin and sighs aloud).

Ah!

An onlooker.

Did he make the sign of the cross over himself?

Another in the crowd.

No.

The first.

You see; you see!

A third onlooker.

Nor did he bow before the holy things.

The first onlooker (to the other).

You see! What did I say?

Emperor Julian.

So fare homeward in pomp and honour, you my kinsman's soul-bereft body! I do not hold this dust answerable for what your spirit did against me. What am I saying? Was it your spirit that dealt so harshly with our kindred that I now stand alone, the last one left? Was it your spirit that bade my childhood be darkened by a thousand fears? Was it your spirit that let yon noble Caesar's head fall? Was it you who set me, the untried youth, at so difficult a post in inhospitable Gaul, and who afterwards, when adversity and hardships failed to overcome me, grudged me the honour of my victories? Oh, Constantius, my kinsman, – all this had not its source in your great heart. Why did you writhe in rancour and torment; why did you see bloody shadows about you on your last painful bed? Evil counsellors have embittered your life and your dying hour. I know them, these counsellors; they were men who took harm from moving in the unceasing sunshine of your favour. I know them, these men, who so readily donned the raiment of that conviction which seemed most pleasing to the court.

Heathen citizens (among the bystanders).

Long live Emperor Julian!

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Most gracious lord, the procession waits –

Emperor Julian (to the priests).

Let not your pious song fall silent for my sake. Onward, my friends!

(the procession moves slowly out to the left.)

Follow after, whoso will; and stay, whoso will. But this you shall all know on this day, that my place is here.

(Unrest and movement in the crowd.)

What am I? The emperor. But have I thereby said all? Is there not one imperial office that seems to have been scornfully wiped from memory in later years? What was the crowned friend of wisdom, Marcus Aurelius? Emperor? Only emperor? I had almost asked: was he not something more than emperor? Was he not high priest as well?

Voices in the crowd.

What does the emperor say? What was that? What did he say?

Themistius the orator.

Oh, lord, could it in truth lie in your thought –?

Emperor Julian.

Not even my great uncle Constantius dared to renounce this dignity. Even after he had granted a certain new doctrine of faith such wholly extraordinary privileges, he still continued to be called high priest by all those who held fast to the ancient deities of the Greek people. That this office was in later times sorrowfully neglected, I will not here speak of, but only of this: that none of my exalted predecessors, not even he to whom we today with tear-wet face call out the last greeting, has dared to lay it down. Should I presume to something that emperors so wise and just did not find right and advisable? Far be it from me!

Themistius the orator.

Oh, great emperor, do you then mean –?

Emperor Julian.

I mean thereby that there shall be full freedom for all citizens. Hold fast to the Christians' god, you who find it desirable for your peace of mind. As for me, I do not venture to build my hope on a god who has hitherto been hostile to me in all my undertakings. I have sure signs and omens that all the success I won on the borders of Gaul, I owe to those other deities who favoured Alexander in a somewhat similar way. Under the shelter and shield of these deities I slipped happily through all dangers; and it was they above all who bore me forward on my journey hither with so wondrous a speed and fortune that here in the streets I have heard cries that betoken men taking me for a divine being, – which is a great exaggeration, you friends! But sure it is that I dare not show myself ungrateful for such unremitting tokens of grace.

Voices in the crowd (subdued).

What will he do?

Emperor Julian.

So do I then reinstate our forefathers' venerable gods in their ancient right. But no injury shall be done to the Galileans' god, nor to that of the Jews. The temples that pious rulers in days of old had built with such great artistry shall be raised up again in renewed splendour, with altars and statues, each for its own particular gods, so that seemly worship may there find place anew. Yet I will by no means suffer that any hateful usage befall the Christians' churches; neither shall any outrage be wrought upon their burial-places or upon other spots that a strange delusion leads them to hold sacred. We will bear with the others' error; I myself have been ensnared in mistakes; – yet, over this I cast a veil. What I have thought since my twenty-first year concerning divine things, I will not dwell upon; I will only say that I congratulate those who imitate me, – that I smile at those who will not tread in my footsteps, – that I will try to persuade, but without willing to force anyone.

(He pauses a moment expectantly; faint applause is heard here and there in the throng.)

Emperor Julian (more vehemently).

With good reason I had counted on grateful acclamations, where now I trace only a curious astonishment. Yet, I should have known it; – there reigns a sorrowful indifference among those who profess to have held fast to our old faith. Oppression and mockery have brought the venerable customs of the fathers into oblivion. I have inquired, high and low; but hardly one has been able to give me trustworthy word of how a sacrifice to Apollo or to Fortuna is in each and every point to be performed. I must then go before in this, as in other things. It has cost me many a night's sleep to find out from old books what was of old the usage in this regard; but I do not complain of it when I consider how great a debt of thanks we owe to those very deities; nor am I ashamed to perform everything myself – –. Whither, Caesarius?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

To the church, most gracious emperor; I will pray for my departed lord's soul.

Emperor Julian.

Go, go! Everyone has his freedom in such matters.

(Caesarius, together with several older courtiers and officers of state, goes out to the left.)

But the freedom that I grant the meanest citizen, that I reserve also for myself. – So do I proclaim to you, you Greeks and Romans, that I turn back again with all my heart to the doctrines and customs that were holy to our forefathers, – that they may freely be spread abroad and practised alongside all new and foreign opinions, – and since I am a child of this city, and therefore hold it especially dear, I proclaim this in the name of the deities that protect the city.

(He gives a sign; some servants draw the covering from the veiled stone; one sees an altar and at its foot a wine-jug, an oil-jar, a little pile of firewood, and other appurtenances. Strong but mute movement in the crowd as Julian goes up to the altar and makes preparations for the sacrifice.)

Themistius the orator.

Oh, well may I, as a Greek, melt away in tears at the sight of so much humility and pious zeal!

A citizen.

See, he breaks the firewood himself.

Another citizen.

Over his left thigh. Is that how it is to be broken?

The first citizen.

So it must be, I suppose.

Mamertinus the orator.

The fire that you there kindle, O great emperor, in it shall inquiry and learning shine, yea, rise again renewed, even as that wondrous bird –

Nevita the Commander.

This fire will temper the Greek weapons. I do not know much of the Galilean fancies; but I have marked this, that all those who cling to them are faint-hearted and useless for greater things.

Themistius the orator.

In this fire, O you incomparable one, I see wisdom cleansed of all accusation and of all charges. The wine that you pour out is like a purple with which you adorn truth and set it upon a royal seat. Now, as you raise up your hands –

Mamertinus the orator.

Now, as you raise up your hands, it is as though you honour the brow of science with a golden wreath; and the tears you pour out –

Themistius the orator (presses nearer).

Yes, yes; the tears I see you pour out, they are like precious pearls, with which eloquence shall again be rewarded in imperial fashion. Oh, so it is then once more permitted to the Greeks to lift their eyes to heaven and follow the eternal stars on their course! How long is it not since this was granted us! Did we not, for fear of informers, have to tremble and bow our faces to the earth like the beasts? Who among us dared venture to gaze upon the sun's rising and setting?

(he turns to the crowd.)

Not even you tillers of the soil, who have streamed hither in such great throngs today, not even you dared to mark the position of the heavenly bodies, though you should yet order your labours by them –

Mamertinus the orator.

And you seamen, – have you or your fathers dared to utter the names of the constellations by which you should steer your course? Now you dare it; now it is forbidden to none to –

Themistius the orator.

Now no Greek any longer needs to live on land or water without consulting the unchangeable laws of heaven; he need not let himself be tossed about like a ball at the mercy of chances and happenings; he –

Mamertinus the orator.

Oh, what a man is not this emperor, to whom we owe such great benefits!

Emperor Julian (before the altar with uplifted arms).

So have I now, openly and in humility, poured out oil and wine for you, you beneficent deities, who so long have had to miss this remembrance so highly seemly to you. I have sent up my thanks to you, O Apollo, to whom some of the sages – and especially those of the Orient – give the name of the sun-king, because you bring and renew the light wherein life has its ground and its origin. – I have brought my offering to you, O Dionysus, you god of rapture, who lift the souls of men up out of baseness and bear them up to a communion, worthy of the spirit, with higher spirits. – And, though I name you last, I have not therefore least remembered you, O Fortuna! Did I stand here at all without your aid? Truly I know that you no longer show yourself in person, as was the case in the golden age of which that incomparable blind singer has told us. But this I do know – and herein all other friends of wisdom agree with me – that it is you who have an essential part in the choice of the attendant spirit, good or baneful, that shall follow every man on his life's path. I have no cause to complain of you, O Fortuna! Much more have I the highest summons to render you praise and glory. This duty, so precious to my heart, I have this day taken upon myself. I have not shunned even the meanest labour. Here I stand, in broad daylight; all the Greeks' eyes are turned upon me; I expect that all the Greeks' voices will join with mine in a shout to you, you immortal gods!

(During the sacrificial service most of the Christian onlookers have gradually withdrawn; only a small crowd has remained. As Emperor Julian pauses, a faint shout of applause is heard, mingled with soft laughter and a wondering whisper.)

Emperor Julian (looks about him).

Ah, so! What became of them all? Are they slinking away?

Themistius the orator.

Yes, with a blush of shame at so many years' ingratitude.

Mamertinus the orator.

No, it was a blush of joy. They went to spread the great tidings through all the streets.

Emperor Julian (comes away from the altar).

The ignorant crowd never knows how to find its way in what is unaccustomed. I have a troublesome work to do; but no toil shall vex me. What is more seemly for a friend of wisdom than to root out errors? To that end I count on you, you enlightened friends! Yet, our thoughts must leave this for a short while. Follow me; I go now to other duties.

(He goes swiftly away without returning the citizens' greeting; the courtiers and his other attendants follow him.)
(A great hall in the imperial palace. Doors on both sides and in the background; on a dais to the left by the wall in the foreground stands the imperial seat.)
(Emperor Julian surrounded by his court and high officials, among them Ursulus the treasurer, and the orators Themistius and Mamertinus.)

Emperor Julian.

Thus far the gods have helped. Now the work will roll forward, like the billows of a storm-flood. The mute defiance that I trace from certain quarters, where I should least expect it, shall not throw my mind off its balance. It is indeed the very mark of true wisdom to show forbearance. We all know that by fitting means one can heal the body's ills; – but can one, with fire and sword, annihilate errors concerning divine things? And what does it profit me that your hand sacrifices, if your souls condemn what the hand does?

So shall we live in concord with one another. My court shall be open to all distinguished men, whatever opinions they may hold. Let us show the world the unusual and exalted spectacle of a court without hypocrisy – assuredly the only court of its kind – a court where flattery is reckoned among the most dangerous enemies. We will accuse and censure one another, when such may be timely, yet without therefore loving one another the less.

(to Nevita the Commander, who comes from the background.)

Your face is beaming, Nevita; – what good tidings do you bring?

Nevita the Commander.

Truly the best and most joyful. A great number of envoys from princes in far-off India have come to bring you gifts and to sue for your friendship.

Emperor Julian.

Ah, tell me, then, – from what peoples?

Nevita the Commander.

From the Armenians and others beyond the Tigris. Yes, there are even some of the strangers who say they come from the islands of Diu and Serendib.

Emperor Julian.

So, then, from the world's uttermost bound, you friends!

Themistius the orator.

Even thither has rumour borne your name and your renown!

Mamertinus the orator.

Even in those unknown regions your sword is a terror to princes and peoples!

Themistius the orator.

Diu and Serendib! Far east in the Indian sea –

Mamertinus the orator.

I do not hesitate to say: beyond the circle of the earth –

Emperor Julian.

Let the barber come!

(a courtier goes out to the right.)

I will receive the envoys with seemliness, – yet without pomp and ornaments. Thus would the exalted Marcus Aurelius have received them; and I choose him rather for my model than the emperor who lately grieved us by his passing. No more of any display with perishable earthly things! Even the barbarians shall mark that wisdom – albeit in the shape of its meanest servant – has once more taken its place upon the imperial seat.

(The courtier comes back with Eunapius the barber, who is arrayed in a splendid garment.)

Emperor Julian (looks at him in wonder, goes to meet him and salutes him).

What do you seek here, sir?

Eunapius the barber.

Most gracious emperor, you have commanded me to come –

Emperor Julian.

You are mistaken, friend; I have not sent for any of my councillors.

Eunapius the barber.

Most gracious emperor –

Ursulus the treasurer.

Forgive me, lord; this man is the imperial barber.

Emperor Julian.

What do you say! Really? This man – oh, you jest – this man, in silk, with gold-embroidered boots, is supposed to be –? Ah, so! So you are the barber! (bows to him.) Never should I presume to let myself be served by such fine hands.

Eunapius the barber.

Most gracious emperor, – I beseech you, for God's and my Saviour's sake –

Emperor Julian.

Ho-ho! A Galilean! Yes, did I not think as much! Is this the self-denial that you boast of? But I know you well! What deity's temple have you plundered, or how many dips into the emperor's coffers have you made, to be able to deck yourself out like this? – You may go again; I have no use for you.

(Eunapius goes out to the right.)

Tell me, Ursulus, what does this fellow have in wages?

Ursulus the treasurer.

Most gracious emperor, by your exalted predecessor's command there is allotted to him the daily maintenance of twenty men –

Emperor Julian.

See, see; no more?

Ursulus the treasurer.

Yes, lord; of late he has had free keep for his horses in the imperial stables, besides a certain yearly sum in money and a gold-piece each time he –

Emperor Julian.

And all that for a barber! What then must not the others –? A sudden end shall be made of this. – Let the foreign envoys come in!

(Nevita the Commander goes out in the background.)

I will receive them with unshorn hair. It is most seemly so; for although I well know that it is not the uncombed hair nor the tattered cloak that makes the true friend of wisdom, yet I hold that the example set by both Antisthenes and Diogenes well ought to be heeded by the man who – even upon the imperial seat – would gladly follow in the footsteps of such great teachers.

(He mounts the dais, where the throne stands. The court arranges itself below. The envoys, ushered in by Nevita the Commander and Eutherius the steward, come in a splendid procession, attended by slaves who bear gifts of every kind.)

Nevita the Commander.

Most gracious emperor and lord! Not being masters of the noble tongue that so many eloquent men, and not least you yourself, have refined to perfection above all other tongues, – and withal guarding themselves well against letting barbarous sounds grate in your ears, these envoys from eastern princes have chosen me for their spokesman.

Emperor Julian (seated on the throne).

I am ready to hear you.

Nevita the Commander.

First, then, the king of Armenia lays at your feet this armour, which he begs you to wear in the fight against the enemies of the realm, though he well knows that you, invincible hero, stand under the sheltering eye of the gods, which allows no mortal's weapon to wound you. – Here are brought to you costly carpets, tents and saddle-gear from the princes beyond the Tigris river. They will thereby make known that, since the gods have granted those lands an exceeding wealth, it came to pass to the end that it should benefit the favourite of the gods. – The king of Serendib, and likewise the king of Diu, send you these weapons, swords, spears and shields, together with bows and arrows; for, they say, we deem it most advisable to stand defenceless before the conqueror who, like a deity, has shown himself mighty enough to break every resistance. – In return they all beg, as the highest grace, for your friendship, and in particular they beg that, if you, as a rumour has told them, mean in the spring to destroy the reckless Persian king, – that you will then spare their lands from hostile invasion.

Emperor Julian.

Such an embassy could not come to me wholly unlooked-for. The gifts they have brought shall be laid up in my treasury, and through you I let your rulers know that it is my purpose to keep friendship with all those peoples who do not – be it with weapons or with cunning – set themselves in the way of my designs. – As to the fact that, in your far-lying lands, men, misled by my fortunate victories, have let themselves be carried away to see in me a deity, upon that matter I will not further enter. I esteem the gods too highly to be willing to usurp an unseemly place among them, though I well know that there have often lived, and especially in older times, heroes and rulers who were so far advanced by the favour and grace of the gods that it was hard to say whether they were most rightly to be reckoned among the mortals or among the immortals. Concerning such things, however, it is a hazardous matter to judge, even for us Greeks. How much more, then, for you? So, enough of this. – You, Eutherius, lead the strangers to their rest and see that nothing is wanting to them.

(The envoys and their retinue leave the hall, attended by Eutherius the steward. Emperor Julian descends from the dais; the courtiers and the orators surround him with admiring congratulations.)

Themistius the orator.

So young, – and already so highly honoured above all other emperors!

Mamertinus the orator.

I ask: will not Fame lack lungs to proclaim your renown, if the gods, as I surely hope, grant you a long life?

Themistius the orator.

That cry of terror which the fleeing Alemanni uttered on the farthest banks of the Rhine, it has rolled eastward until it struck against the Taurus and the Caucasus –

Mamertinus the orator.

– now it resounds, like a rumbling echo, over all Asia.

Nevita the Commander.

What has appalled the Indians is this likeness between our Greek Julian and yon Macedonian Alexander –

Mamertinus the orator.

Oh, what likeness! Had king Alexander secret enemies in his own camp? Had he an envious and slanderous imperial court to fight against?

Nevita the Commander.

True, true; and there were no incapable generals either to hamper Alexander's advance.

Emperor Julian.

Ursulus, it is my will that the coming of these envoys shall be made known both in the city and in all the provinces of the realm. Everything shall be told exactly, – whence they come and what gifts they have brought. I will not withhold from the citizens anything that concerns my governance. You may also let fall a few words about the strange notion among the Indians, that Alexander is supposed to have come again.

Ursulus the treasurer (hesitating).

Forgive me, most gracious emperor, but –

Emperor Julian.

Well?

Ursulus the treasurer.

You have yourself said that at this court no flattery shall be tolerated –

Emperor Julian.

Assuredly, friend!

Ursulus the treasurer.

Then let me honestly tell you that these envoys came hither to seek your predecessor and not you.

Emperor Julian.

What do you dare to try to make me believe!

Themistius the orator.

Nay, what unreasonable talk!

Mamertinus the orator.

What a fabrication!

Ursulus the treasurer.

It is the truth. I have long known that these men would come, – long before Emperor Constantius closed his eyes. Oh, my most gracious lord, let not a false vanity find entrance into your young mind –

Emperor Julian.

Enough, enough! You mean then to say that –?

Ursulus the treasurer.

Consider for yourself. How could your victories in Gaul, however renowned they have been, in such haste have reached the ears of those distant peoples? When the envoys spoke of the emperor's heroic deeds, they were thinking of the war against the Persian king –

Nevita the Commander.

I did not know that the war against king Sapor had been waged in such a way as to spread terror to the world's end.

Ursulus the treasurer.

True; fortune has been against our arms in those regions. But it was the rumour of the great armaments that Emperor Constantius was planning for the spring that alarmed the Armenians and the other peoples. – Oh, reckon up the time, lord; count the days, if you will, and then say whether anything else is possible. Your journey hither from Gaul was made with a wondrous speed; but those men's journey from the Indian islands –; it would surely be tenfold more wondrous if –; ask them, and you shall hear –

Emperor Julian (pale with anger).

Why do you tell me all this?

Ursulus the treasurer.

Because it is the truth, and because I cannot bear to see your young and fair renown darkened by a borrowed cloak.

Themistius the orator.

What foolhardy talk!

Mamertinus the orator.

What most foolhardy talk!

Emperor Julian.

You cannot bear it? So! Oh, I know you better. I know all you old men of this court. It is the gods whose honour you would diminish. For is it not the gods' honour that they achieve great things through a man? But you hate them – these gods – whose temples you have pulled down, whose statues you have smashed to pieces and whose treasures you have plundered. You have hardly even tolerated them, these most beneficent gods of ours. You have hardly suffered the pious to bear them secretly in their hearts. Now you would also tear down the temple of thankfulness that I have raised for them in my heart; you would take from me the grateful thought that I owe to the immortals a new and most desirable benefaction; – for is honour not to be reckoned such a boon?

Ursulus the treasurer.

The one God of heaven is my witness that –

Emperor Julian.

The only one! There we have it again! So are you always. What intolerance! Yet mirror yourselves in us. Do we say that our gods are the only ones? Do we not honour both the Egyptians' gods and that Jewish Jehovah, who has assuredly done great things among his people? But you, on the other hand, – and that, a man like you, Ursulus –! Are you a Roman, born of Greek forefathers? The only one! What barbaric insolence!

Ursulus the treasurer.

You have promised that you will not hate anyone for the sake of his opinions.

Emperor Julian.

That I have promised; but neither will I bear that you tread too near upon us. The envoys are not supposed to have come in order to –? That is, in other words, to say that the great and divine Dionysus, who has his power especially in revealing to men the hidden things, – that he is not to be active now, as well as in the days gone by. Should I bear this? Is it not an excessive impudence? Am I not driven to call you to account?

Ursulus the treasurer.

Then all the Christians will say that it is their faith you are persecuting.

Emperor Julian.

No one shall be persecuted for his faith's sake. But have I the right to draw a line through whatever you may make yourselves guilty of, merely because you are Christians? Shall your errors shield your faults? What have you foolhardy men not long been doing, both here at the court and elsewhere? How have you not flattered every vice and bowed to every whim? Yes, what have you not, Ursulus, yourself turned a blind eye to? I am thinking of that shamelessly bedecked barber, that reeking, pomaded fool, who just now filled me with disgust here. Are you not treasurer? How could you give way to his shameless demands?

Ursulus the treasurer.

Is it a crime that I have been my lord's servant?

Emperor Julian.

I do not make use of such lavish servants. All those insolent half-men shall be driven out of the palace; and all the cooks and jugglers and dancers likewise. A seemly frugality shall be brought in again.

(to Themistius and Mamertinus.)

You, my friends, shall lend me your aid in this. – And you, Nevita, on whom I, that you may come forward with the greater authority, bestow the dignity of a general, – to you I entrust the inquiry into how the offices of the state have been administered under my predecessor, and especially in the later years. You may summon such fitting men as you please to judge with you in these matters.

(to the older courtiers and councillors.)

I have no use for you. When my lamented kinsman on his deathbed appointed me his heir, he also bequeathed to me the justice that his long infirmity had hindered him from exercising himself. Go home; and when you have rendered a true account of yourselves, then you may go whithersoever you please.

Ursulus the treasurer.

God the Lord uphold and shield you, my emperor!

(He bows and goes out in the background together with the older men. Nevita, Themistius and Mamertinus, together with all the young ones, gather about the emperor.)

Nevita the general.

My exalted ruler, how shall I fully thank you for the mark of your favour that you just now –

Emperor Julian.

No thanks. In these few days I have learned to value your loyalty and your judgment. The proclamation concerning the eastern envoys I also entrust to you to draw up. Write it in such a way that the beneficent gods shall find in it no cause to take offence at any of us.

Nevita the general.

I shall act according to my emperor's will both in the one thing and in the other.

(He goes out to the right.)

Emperor Julian.

And now, you faithful ones, now let us praise the immortal powers who have shown us the right way.

Themistius the orator.

The immortals and their more than mortal favourite! What rejoicing shall we not hear throughout the realm, when it is bruited that you have removed those violent and self-seeking men!

Mamertinus the orator.

With what suspense and with what impatient hope will men not await the choice of their successors!

Themistius the orator.

All the Greeks will cry with one mouth: Plato himself has taken the helm of state!

Mamertinus the orator.

No, no, worthy friend; all the Greeks will cry: Plato's saying has become reality, – only a god can rule over men!

Themistius the orator.

Now I only wish that the favour of the fortune-bringers may follow Nevita. He has been given a great and difficult charge; I do not know him very closely; but we ought surely all to hope that he may prove himself to be the right man –

Mamertinus the orator.

Quite so; though there might well be found other men who –

Themistius the orator.

I would not thereby have said that the choice which you, O incomparable emperor –

Mamertinus the orator.

No, no, by no means!

Themistius the orator.

But if it is a fault to burn with zeal to serve a beloved ruler –

Mamertinus the orator.

– then you have in truth more than one erring friend –

Themistius the orator.

– even though you do not honour them as you have honoured the most fortunate Nevita –

Mamertinus the orator.

– even though they must do without every visible token of your favour –

Emperor Julian.

We will leave no able man unused, nor yet unrewarded. As for you, Themistius, I hereby entrust to you the city-governorship here in Constantinople; and you, Mamertinus, may prepare yourself, in the coming year, to journey to Rome and take over one of the vacant consulates.

Themistius the orator.

My emperor! I grow dizzy at so much honour –!

Mamertinus the orator.

So high an honour! Consul! Was there ever a consul so highly honoured as I? Was it Lucius, was it Brutus, was it Publius Valerius? What was their honour beside mine? Those were appointed by the people, but I by Julian!

A courtier.

Praised be the emperor who lets justice rule!

Another courtier.

Praised be he whose mere name strikes the barbarians with dismay!

Themistius the orator.

Praised be all the exalted gods, who in concord have cast their enamoured eyes upon a single man, so that this single one, when for the first time – may it be late! – he brings us sorrow and departs, must be said to have cast Socrates and Marcus Aurelius and Alexander into the shade!

Emperor Julian.

There you struck the heart of the matter, my Themistius! It is to the gods that we shall lift up our hands and our hearts. I do not say this in order to instruct you, but to remind you of what has for so long been neglected at this court. Far be it from me to wish to compel anyone. But am I to be blamed, because I would gladly make others partakers in the sweet rapture that flows through me as I feel myself cradled in the communion of the immortals? Praised, praised be you, vine-leaf-crowned Dionysus! For it is you above all who work such great and mysterious things. Go now, each of you, to his own task. I, for my part, have proclaimed a festive procession through the streets of the city. It shall be no banquet for my courtiers, nor yet a feast within four walls. Freely may the citizens join themselves to me, or keep away; I will sift the pure from the impure, the pious from the erring. –

O sun-king, cast light and beauty over the day! O Dionysus, let your swelling glory sink upon the minds of men; fill the souls with your holy storm-rush, fill them until all bonds burst and the freed rejoicing draws breath in dance and song! – Life, life, life in beauty!

(He goes hastily out to the right. The courtiers gather in whispering knots and withdraw by degrees.)
(A narrow street in Constantinople.)
(A great gathering of people; all look in one direction along the street. Noise, song and music of flutes and drums are heard at some distance.)

A shoemaker (in his doorway, calls across the street).

What is afoot, dear neighbour?

A shopkeeper (in the house directly opposite).

They say it is some Syrian jugglers who have come to the city.

A fruit-seller (in the street).

No indeed; it is an Egyptian troupe, going about with monkeys and dromedaries.

Eunapius the barber (meanly dressed, seeks in vain to get through the crowd).

Make way, you fools! How the devil can anyone jest and chatter on such a day of calamity!

A woman (in a little window).

Pst, pst; Eunapius! Handsome sir!

Eunapius the barber.

Do not speak to me in the open street, you bawd!

The woman in the window.

Slip in by the back way, sweet friend!

Eunapius the barber.

Fie upon you! Am I in the mood to jest –

The woman in the window.

You will soon be in the mood. Come, handsome Eunapius; the day before yesterday I got a consignment of fresh doves –

Eunapius the barber.

Oh, you sinful world! (tries to get past.) Make way, make way, in Satan's name; let me get forward!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar (dressed for travel and followed by a couple of laden slaves, comes from a side street).

Has the city become a madhouse? All are shouting over one another, and no one can give me any information. Ah, see, – Eunapius, my pious brother!

Eunapius the barber.

Greeting and salutation, venerable sir! So you have come back to the city?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

This very moment; – I have consecrated the hot autumn months to quiet devotion on my estate in Crete. But tell me, I beg you, what is going on here?

Eunapius the barber.

Calamity and confusion. The new emperor –

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Yes, yes, I have heard strange rumours –

Eunapius the barber.

Tenfold worse than the rumours. All faithful servants are driven out of the palace.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Do you speak the truth?

Eunapius the barber.

Woe is me; I myself was the first –

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Frightful! So perhaps I too am –?

Eunapius the barber.

Assuredly. All accounts are to be examined, all gifts are to be taken back, all irregular collections –

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar (pale).

God have mercy!

Eunapius the barber.

The Lord be praised, I have a good conscience.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

I too, I too; but nevertheless –; ah, so it is doubtless true, then, that the emperor has sacrificed to Apollo and Fortuna?

Eunapius the barber.

Oh yes; but who cares about such trifles?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Trifles? Do you not understand, then, blinded friend, that it is our disposition, as good Christians, that he is persecuting?

Eunapius the barber.

What do you say? By the Lord's cross, could it be possible?

Women (in the crowd).

There they come!

A man (on a housetop).

I can see him!

Other voices.

Who is coming? Who, who?

The man on the roof.

Emperor Julian. He has vine-leaves in his hair.

People in the street.

The emperor!

Eunapius the barber.

The emperor!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Come, come, pious brother!

Eunapius the barber.

Let me go, sir; I am not pious at all.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Not pious –?

Eunapius the barber.

Who dares charge me with –? Do they want to ruin me? Pious? When was I ever pious? I once belonged to the fellowship of the Donatists; that is many years ago. May the devil take the Donatists! (knocks on the window.) Hey, Barbara, Barbara; open up, you old hag!

(he is let in through the house-door.)

The crowd.

There he is! There he comes!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

All irregular collections –! An inquiry! Oh, thunderbolt of terror!

(he slinks away with both slaves.)
(The procession of Dionysus comes down the street. Flute-players go in front; drunken men, partly disguised as fauns and satyrs, dance in time. In the middle of the procession is seen Emperor Julian, riding on an ass that is covered with a panther-skin; he is dressed as the god Dionysus, with a panther-hide over his shoulders, a wreath of vine-leaves about his brow, and in his hand a staff twined with green, on the upper end of which a pine-cone is fastened. Half-naked, painted women and youths, dancers and jugglers surround him; some carry wine-jugs and drinking-bowls, others beat tambourines and move forward with wild leaps and gestures.)

The dancers (sing).

Kindling draughts from brimming bowls! Kindling draughts! Lips a-sipping, eyes a-winking, goat-legs tripping, hail you, wine-god, in the reeling throng!

The women (sing).

Love's play, that night itself will not endure, try it, you bacchants! Practise it in the daylight's glittering beams! See, on his panther sits the glorious one! Embrace us, bacchants; feel, we are hot; feel, we are amorous; leaping, singing, reeling, swaying, embrace us, bacchants!

Emperor Julian.

Make way! Clear the road, you citizens! Draw reverently aside; not for us, but for him whom we honour!

A voice in the crowd.

The emperor in the company of harlots and jugglers!

Emperor Julian.

Shame on you, that I must content myself with such as these. Are you not ashamed to find greater piety and more zeal in these than in yourselves?

An old man.

May Christ enlighten you, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Aha, you are a Galilean! And you will have your say? Did not your great master sit at table with sinners? Did he not go in and out of houses that were held to be little seemly? Answer me that.

Eunapius the barber. (surrounded by girls in the doorway of the woman Barbara.)

Yes, answer, answer, if you can, you fool!

Emperor Julian.

Why, look, – are you not that barber who –?

Eunapius the barber.

A liberated man, most gracious emperor! – Make way, you bacchants; make way for a brother!

(he and the girls dance in among the ranks of the Dionysus procession.)

Emperor Julian.

That pleases me well. Mirror yourselves in this Greek, if you have a spark of the ancients' spirit left. And it is much needed, this, you citizens; for no god has been so misjudged – yea, made a laughing-stock – as this rapture-bringing Dionysus, whom the Romans also call Bacchus. Do you think he is a god for drunkards? Oh, you most ignorant ones, I pity you if you think so. To whom other than him do the seers and the poets owe their wondrous gifts? Well do I know that some ascribe this activity to Apollo, and that assuredly not without all ground; but then the connection is to be understood quite otherwise, – which I can prove from various writings. Yet, on this I will not dispute with you in the open street. Neither does the time allow it. Yes, mock away! Make the sign of the cross, then! I see it well. You would gladly whistle through your fingers; you would gladly throw stones after me, if you dared. – Oh, must I not be ashamed of this city, which has sunk down below the barbarians, and which knows nothing better than to hold fast to the erring fancy of an ignorant Jew! – Forward! Aside; – do not stop us!

The dancers.

See, on his panther sits the glorious one!

The women.

Feel, we are hot; feel, we are amorous; – embrace us, bacchants!
(The procession turns, amid the singing, into a side street; the crowd looks on in mute wonder.)
(The emperor's library in the palace. An entrance door on the left side; a smaller doorway with a curtain before it to the right.)
(Eutherius the steward comes from the left, followed by two servants who carry carpets.)

Eutherius the steward (calls toward the room on the right).

Agilo, Agilo, warm rose-water! The emperor will bathe.

(he goes out to the right with both servants.)
(Emperor Julian comes in hastily from the left. He still wears the panther-hide and the vine-leaf wreath; in his hand he holds the twined staff. He walks a few times up and down the floor, then flings the staff away into a corner.)

Emperor Julian.

Was there beauty in this? – –

Where were the old men with the white beards? Where were the pure maidens with fillets about their brows, with seemly bearing, chaste amid the joy of the dance?

Fie upon you, you harlots! – –

(he tears off the panther-hide and casts it aside.)

What has become of beauty? Can the emperor not bid it rise up again, and so it rises?

Fie upon this stinking lewdness! – –

What faces! Every vice cried out of those distorted features. The boils of body and soul –

Fie, fie! A bath, Agilo! The stench chokes me.

Agilo the bath-attendant (in the doorway to the right).

The bath is ready, most gracious lord!

Emperor Julian.

The bath? Let it be. What is the body's filth, reckoned against all the rest? Go!

(Agilo goes out again. The emperor stands a while in thought.)

The seer of Nazareth sat at the high table between publicans and sinners. –

Wherein lies the gulf between that and this? – –

(Hecebolius the scripture-scholar comes in from the left and stops anxiously by the door.)

Emperor Julian.

What do you want, man?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar (on his knees).

Lord!

Emperor Julian.

Ah, what do I see? Hecebolius; – is it really you?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

The same, and yet another.

Emperor Julian.

My old teacher. What do you want? Stand up!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

No, no, let me lie. And be not angry that I make use of my former right to go in and out of your quarters.

Emperor Julian (coldly).

I asked what you wanted of me.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

My old teacher, you said. Oh, that I could cast oblivion's veil over those times!

Emperor Julian (as before).

I understand. You mean that –

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Oh, that I could sink into the earth and hide my shame! See, see, – here I lie before you, a man whose hair is on the point of turning grey, – a man who has searched and pondered all his days and who now must confess that he went astray and that he led his beloved pupil astray!

Emperor Julian.

What do you wish to say by that?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

You called me your old teacher. See, here I lie at your feet, look up in wonder to you, and call you my new teacher.

Emperor Julian.

Rise, Hecebolius!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar (rises).

You shall hear all, lord, and then judge me according to your justice. – When you were gone, it became almost unbearable to me to live at your high predecessor's court. I do not know whether you have learned that I was advanced to be the empress's reader and distributor of alms? Alas, could posts of honour make up to me for the loss of my Julian? I could hardly bear any longer to look on at how men who paraded a showy virtue took bribes and gratuities of every kind. It grew hateful to me, this intercourse with greedy fortune-hunters, whose intercession was for sale to anyone who could outweigh ringing words with ringing gold. Oh, my emperor, you do not know what has been going on here –!

Emperor Julian.

I know it, I know it.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

A frugal life in solitude enticed me. As often as it could be, I went off to Crete, to my modest Tusculum – my little country house –, where not all virtue seemed to have fled from the world. There I have lived this summer too, meditating on human things and heavenly truths.

Emperor Julian.

Happy Hecebolius!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Then the rumour of all your wondrous deeds reached Crete –

Emperor Julian.

Ah!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

I asked myself: is he more than a man, this most matchless youth? Under whose protection does he stand? Is it in such a way that the Christians' god is wont to reveal his power –?

Emperor Julian (tensely).

Well; well!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

I set myself to search through the writings of the ancients anew. Light after light dawned upon me –; oh, to have to confess this!

Emperor Julian.

Speak out, – I conjure you!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar (casts himself on his knees).

Punish me in your justice, lord; but turn away from the errors of your youth concerning divine things! Yes, most gracious emperor, you are ensnared in error; and I – oh, unthinkable that shame does not slay me –, I, I have had a part in leading you astray –

Emperor Julian (with outstretched arms).

Come to my inmost embrace!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Oh, I beseech you, show thankfulness toward the immortal gods, whose favourite you are! And if you cannot do this, then punish me because I do it in your stead –

Emperor Julian.

Come, come into my open embrace, I say!

(he lifts him up, presses him in his arms and kisses him.)

My Hecebolius! What a great and unlooked-for joy!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Lord, how am I to understand this?

Emperor Julian.

Oh, do you not know then –? When did you come to the city?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

I came from the ship an hour ago.

Emperor Julian.

And hurried straight hither?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

On the wings of anguish and remorse, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Without speaking to anyone?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Yes, yes, without speaking to anyone; but –?

Emperor Julian.

Oh, then you cannot know –

(he embraces him again.)

My Hecebolius, learn it, then, now! I, as well as you, have cast off the yoke of error. The immortal sun-king, to whom we men owe so much, I have reinstated in his ancient right; Fortuna has received her offering from my humble hands, and if at this moment you find me weary and a little worn out, it is because I lately celebrated a festival in honour of the divine Dionysus.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

I hear, and I am astounded!

Emperor Julian.

See here, – the wreath still sits in my hair. Amid the crowd's glad acclamations –, yes, there were a good many –

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

And I, who have not divined such great things!

Emperor Julian.

Now we will gather about us all friends of truth and lovers of wisdom, all seemly and honourable worshippers of the gods; – there are already some, – though not very many –

(Caesarius the Royal Physician, attended by several officials and gentlemen of the former court, comes in from the left.)

Emperor Julian.

Ah, here we have the good Caesarius, – in numerous company, and with a face that betokens something important.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Most gracious emperor, will you permit your servant a question, in his own name and in the name of all these troubled men?

Emperor Julian.

Ask, my dearest Caesarius! Are you not my beloved Gregory's brother? Ask, ask!

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Tell me then, O lord –

(he notices Hecebolius.)

What do I see! Hecebolius here?

Emperor Julian.

Newly come home –

Caesarius the Royal Physician (is about to withdraw).

Then I beg leave to wait –

Emperor Julian.

By no means, my Caesarius; this friend may hear all.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Friend, you say? Oh, my emperor, these imprisonments do not happen, then, by your will?

Emperor Julian.

What are you talking about?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

You do not know it, then? Nevita the Commander – the general, as he now calls himself – causes, under pretext that it is done on your behalf, persecutions to be set on foot against all your predecessor's trusted men.

Emperor Julian.

Inquiries, most necessary inquiries, my Caesarius!

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Oh, but, lord, forbid him to proceed so violently. The bookkeeper Pentadius is being hunted by soldiers, and likewise a certain praetorian commander whose name you have forbidden to be spoken; you know whom I mean, lord, – that unhappy man, who already with his whole household keeps hidden in dread of you.

Emperor Julian.

You do not know this man. In Gaul he entertained most foolhardy thoughts.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Be that as it may; but now he is surely harmless. Yet not he alone is threatened with ruin; the treasurer Ursulus too is imprisoned –

Emperor Julian.

Ah, Ursulus? So it was needful after all.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Needful! Was that needful, lord? Only think of Ursulus, that old man, on whom no stain rests, – that man, at whose word high and low bow in reverence –

Emperor Julian.

This man without any judgment, I say! Ursulus is a spendthrift who, without demur, has sated the greed of the court servants. And he is besides a useless man in affairs of state. I have myself experienced it. I would never dare to entrust to him the receiving of foreign princes' envoys.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

And yet we beg you, lord, as many as we here stand before you: be magnanimous – both toward Ursulus and toward the rest.

Emperor Julian.

Who are the rest?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Far too many, I fear. I will name only the under-treasurer Evagrius, the former steward Saturninus, the chief judge Cyrenus, and – –

Emperor Julian.

Why do you stop?

Caesarius the Royal Physician (hesitating).

Lord, – among the accused is also Hecebolius the court-reader.

Emperor Julian.

What?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

I? Impossible!

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Accused of having taken bribes from unworthy office-seekers –

Emperor Julian.

And that Hecebolius –? A man like Hecebolius –?

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

What a shameful slander! O Christ – what was I about to say – oh, you heavenly deities!

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Ah!

Emperor Julian.

What do you mean?

Caesarius the Royal Physician (coldly).

Nothing, my most gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

Caesarius!

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Yes, my high lord?

Emperor Julian.

Not lord; call me your friend.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Dares a Christian call you so?

Emperor Julian.

I beg you: do not harbour such thoughts, Caesarius! You must not believe this. How can I help it that all those accused men are Christians? Does not that merely show that the Christians have contrived to grasp for themselves all the lucrative offices? But dare the emperor allow the realm's most important offices to be ill administered?

(to the rest.)

Surely you do not think that it is your faith that has kindled me to wrath against the dishonest? I call all the gods to witness that I do not wish anyone to proceed against you Christians except by law and judgment, nor that anyone should do you any harm at all. You, or at all events many of you, are indeed pious, since you too worship the Lord who is almighty and who rules over all the visible world. – Oh, my Caesarius, is it not he whom I also worship, only under other names?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Grant me, most gracious lord –

Emperor Julian.

For the rest, it is my intention to show mildness wherever such may seemly be done. As for Hecebolius, his secret enemies must not imagine that they shall be allowed to harm him with denunciations or with any other kind of base intrigues.

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

My emperor! My shield and my defence!

Emperor Julian.

Neither will I have the bread taken mercilessly from all the humbler court servants. I am thinking thus of that barber whom I drove away. I regret it. The man may stay. He looked to me like a man who understands his craft thoroughly. Honour to such men! So far can I go, my Caesarius, but no further. Ursulus must bear the consequences himself. I must act in such a way that the blind and yet so keen-sighted goddess of justice may find no cause to knit her brows at a mortal in whose hands she has laid so great a responsibility.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

After this I have not a word more to say for the unfortunate. I only beg to be allowed to leave the court and the city.

Emperor Julian.

You wish that?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Yes, most gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

You are stiff-necked, like your brother.

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

The new things give me much to think about.

Emperor Julian.

I had great designs for you, Caesarius! It would be very dear to me if you could let go of your errors. Can you not do so?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

God knows what I might have done a month ago; – now I cannot.

Emperor Julian.

A marriage into one of the mightiest families should stand open to you. Will you not think it over?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

No, most gracious lord!

Emperor Julian.

A man like you could rise swiftly from post to post. Caesarius, should it not be possible that you would dare to be with me in furthering the new things?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

No, most gracious lord!

Emperor Julian.

I do not mean here; but elsewhere. It is my intention to go away. Constantinople is highly repugnant to me; you Galileans have spoilt it for me in every way. I am going to Antioch; there I shall find a better soil. You should go with me. Will you, Caesarius?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Most gracious lord, I too will go to the eastern provinces; but I will travel alone.

Emperor Julian.

And what will you do there?

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Seek out my old father; help Gregory to strengthen him for the struggle that lies ahead.

Emperor Julian.

Go!

Caesarius the Royal Physician.

Farewell, my emperor!

Emperor Julian.

Happy father, who has such unhappy sons!

(he waves his hand; Caesarius and his companions bow deeply and go out to the left.)

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

What foolhardy and most unseemly defiance!

Emperor Julian.

My heart is wounded to the blood by this and by much else. You, my Hecebolius, shall follow me. The earth burns under me in this poisoned Galilean city! I will write to those friends of wisdom, Cytron and Priscus, who have won such great renown in these latter years. Maximus I may look for hither any day; he shall go with us. – I tell you, happy days of victory lie ahead of us, Hecebolius! In Antioch, friend, – there we shall meet with the incomparable Libanius, – and there we are nearer to Helios in his resurrection. – Oh, this pull of longing toward the sun-king –!

Hecebolius the scripture-scholar.

Yes, yes, yes –!

Emperor Julian (embraces him).

My Hecebolius! – Wisdom; light; beauty!

ACT TWO.

(A great hall in the emperor's palace in Antioch. An open entrance in the background; on the left wall is a door leading into the inner rooms.)
(On a raised seat in the foreground to the right sits Emperor Julian, surrounded by his court. Judges, orators, poets and teachers, among these Hecebolius the teacher, sit on lower seats below him. Leaning against the wall, near the exit, stands a man dressed as a Christian priest; he hides his face in his hands and seems sunk in prayer. A great assembly of the city's citizens fills the hall. At the exit-door stands a guard; likewise at the door on the left.)

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.

(he rises.)

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!

(Medon the corn-merchant goes off crestfallen amid the citizens' laughter; the courtiers, the orators, the poets and the rest clap their hands and cheer the emperor.)

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!

(He goes out in the background; the assembled once more cheer the emperor.)

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!

(he steps up again onto the platform and seats himself.)

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 –

(Noise at the entrance. Eunapius the barber, followed by several citizens, rushes in.)

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!

(to Eunapius.)

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.

(The emperor goes out to the left in violent wrath; Eunapius and his witnesses withdraw with the guard; the rest of the assembly disperses.)
(A square in Antioch. In the foreground to the right a street opens out onto the square; to the left in the background one looks into a narrow and winding alley.)
(A great crowd of people fills the square. Vendors cry their wares. In several places the citizens are gathered together in eagerly talking clusters.)

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?

(loud cries are heard.)

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

(An old woman, distraught and with disheveled hair, forces her way through the mass of people; she is surrounded by other women, who vainly try to hold her back.)

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!

(A troop of soldiers comes from the street to the right.)

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.

(he hurries into the throng.)

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

Clear the way here!

(The soldiers press the crowd in toward the house-walls. Old Publia falls back into the women's arms on the left. All stare expectantly down the street.)

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!

(Emperor Julian, dressed as high priest, comes surrounded by sacrificial priests and temple-servants. Courtiers and learned men, among them Hecebolius the teacher, have joined the procession; likewise townsfolk. Before the emperor go flute-players and harpists. Soldiers and city-servants with long staves clear the way in front and at the sides.)

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 gives a sign with his hand; the procession halts.)

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!

(The procession sets itself once more in motion, amid the crowd's cheers, but those in front halt at the entrance to the narrow alley, through which another procession comes down toward the square.)

Emperor Julian.

What hinders us?

Hecebolius the teacher.

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

Song (far away).

Blessed to suffer, blessed to be slain; blessed beyond the vale of tribulation to rise again.

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).

Blessed, to meet the martyrs gone before; blessed, to gain the martyr's crown.

Emperor Julian.

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

(The two processions have meanwhile collided in the throng. The Apollo procession is forced to halt, while the procession with the prisoners, men in chains, surrounded by soldiers and accompanied by a great crowd, passes by.)

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.

(he thrusts forward one of the prisoners, a young man, who holds a half-grown youth by the hand.)

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?

(to the captain of the guard.)

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.

(to the prisoners.)

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).

Lovely, cooled by the crown of the rose; lovely, cradled where the sun-day glows!

The prisoners' procession.

Blessed to sink in the blood-filled grave; blessed to die toward heaven's garden!

The Apollo procession.

Lovely to breathe in the incense-flood.

The prisoners' procession.

Blessed to choke in the reeking blood.

The Apollo procession.

The brimming, overflowing bowls of pleasure richly, Apollo, you mete to your worshipper.

The prisoners' procession.

Searing burns and flayed-open bone are healed by One!

The Apollo procession.

Lovely to exult in the sun-hope's glow!

The prisoners' procession.

Blessed to writhe in the blood-baptism's throe!
(During the song the two processions have passed each other. The crowd in the square looks on in dull silence.)
(The sacred grove around Apollo's temple. The portico, borne by columns, and to which a broad flight of steps leads up, is seen among the trees in the background to the left.)
(A crowd of people run about in the grove, terrified and with loud cries of lament. Far off is heard the music from the festival 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!

(The Apollo procession is seen coming from the right side through the grove and draws itself up, to the playing of flutes and harps, in a semicircle before the temple.)

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.

(He goes at the head of the procession through the crowd toward the temple.)

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!

(An old blind man, in priestly garb, and supported by two younger men, likewise priestly clad, is thrust forward so that he comes to stand below the temple-steps and before the emperor.)

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 – –

(A hollow rolling rumble is felt. The temple's roof and columns totter and seem to collapse amid a thundering peal while the whole building is wrapped in a cloud of dust. The crowd utters a scream of horror; many flee, others fall to the ground. For a while there is breathless silence. Little by little the dust-cloud sinks and one sees Apollo's temple in ruins.)

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.

(He gropes his way out. Emperor Julian remains behind, surrounded by a small, pale and terror-stricken company.)

ACT THREE.

(In Antioch. An open colonnade with statues and a fountain in front. On the left side, within the colonnade, a stairway leads up to the imperial palace.)
(A company of courtiers, teachers, poets and orators, among them Oribases the Royal Physician and Heracleus the poet, is assembled, partly within the colonnade, partly in front around the fountain; most of them are clad in tattered mantles with matted hair and beards.)

Heracleus the poet.

This mode of life I cannot endure long. To rise with the sun, go into a cold bath, and run and fence oneself weary afterward –

Oribases the Royal Physician.

Yet it is all of it quite healthy.

Heracleus the poet.

Is it healthy too to eat seaweed and raw fish?

A courtier.

Is it healthy to have to swallow meat in great lumps, quite bloody, as it comes from the butcher?

Heracleus the poet.

Meat I have not seen much of in the last week. Most of it goes to the sacrifices. I believe that before long one will be able to say of the most venerable gods that they are the only meat-eaters in Antioch.

Oribases the Royal Physician.

You are still the old mocker, O Heracleus!

Heracleus the poet.

Why, what are you thinking, friend! Far be it from me to mock the emperor's wise ordinances. Blessed be Emperor Julian! Does he not tread in the immortals' footsteps? For, tell me, does there not seem to have been introduced a certain thrift in the divine household too?

A courtier.

Ha-ha-ha; you are not so wholly wrong.

Heracleus the poet.

Just look at Cybele, this goddess once so abundant, whose image the emperor lately recovered in an ash-pit –

Another courtier.

It was in a dung-heap –

Heracleus the poet.

Likely enough; Cybele has to do with the making-fruitful, after all. But just look at this goddess, I say; – despite her hundred breasts, she flows with neither milk nor honey.

(A circle of laughing listeners has gathered about him. While he speaks, Emperor Julian has come forward up on the steps in the colonnade without being noticed by those standing below. He wears a tattered cloak, tied together with a rope; hair and beard are unkempt, his fingers soiled with ink; in both hands, under his arms and stuck into his belt he holds bundles of parchment rolls and papers. He stops and listens to Heracleus with every sign of exasperation.)

Heracleus the poet (continuing).

Yes, it really seems that this world's nurse has grown barren. One would almost believe she had passed the age when women –

A courtier (who has caught sight of the emperor).

Fie, fie, Heracleus, – for shame!

Emperor Julian (gives the courtier a sign that he should be silent).

Heracleus the poet (continues).

So let her be. But does it not go the same with Ceres? Does she not display a most sorrowful – I could almost call it imperial – stinginess? Yes, believe me, had we a little more intercourse with high Olympus nowadays, we should get to hear many such things. I dare swear that nectar and ambrosia are measured out as sparingly as may well be. O Zeus, how gaunt you must have grown! Oh, you roguish Dionysus, how much is now left of the fullness of your loins? Oh, you lustful, lightly-blushing Venus, – oh, you Mars who press so close upon all husbands –!

Emperor Julian (in full wrath).

Oh, you most insolent Heracleus! Oh, you base, gall-spewing venom-mouth –

Heracleus the poet.

Ah, my gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

Oh, you impudent reviler of all exalted things! So this, then, was to befall me, – to have to hear your croaking tongue in the very moment I step from my book-hall out into the fresh morning air!

(he comes nearer.)

Do you know what I hold here under my left arm? No, you do not know it. It is a polemic against you, you blasphemous and ludicrous Heracleus!

Heracleus the poet.

What, my emperor, – against me?

Emperor Julian.

Yes, a polemic against you. A polemic which I have composed this night in wrath. Or was I perhaps not to be kindled to wrath over your most unseemly conduct yesterday? What was it you allowed yourself in the lecture-hall in the hearing of me and many other earnest men? Did we not for several hours together have to endure those shameful fables about the gods which you served up? How dared you come forward with such inventions? Was it not all of it lies from first to last?

Heracleus the poet.

Alas, my emperor, if you call that lying, then both Ovid and Lucian have lied.

Emperor Julian.

What else? Oh, I cannot express what indignation seized me when I perceived whither your shameless talk was tending. «Man, let nothing surprise you,» so was I tempted, with the comedy-writer, to exclaim, when I heard you, like a shaggy peasant's cur, bark out – not cries of thankfulness, but certain absurd nursery-tales, which were, moreover, foolishly composed. For your verses were bad, Heracleus; – I have shown it here in the writing.

«Bear it, my heart, a little while; heavier things have you endured. Suffer, as before, that a mad dog reviles the eternal gods.»

Yes, what a desire I felt to rise from my seat and go away, when I saw you set forth both Dionysus and that great immortal after whom you are named, as though on a stage. But when I mastered myself and remained seated, I can assure you that it happened less out of regard for the poet than for the players – if I may dare to call them so. Yet it happened most of all out of regard for myself. For was I not to fear that it would look as though I were fleeing like a startled dove? See, therefore I let nothing be noticed, but held before myself in silence that verse of Homer:

Yes, we must surely endure this and more. The time is no better than this. Show me the happy man to whom it was granted to keep his eyes and ears undefiled in this age of iron!

Oribases the Royal Physician.

I beg you, my noble lord, do not work yourself up. Let it be a comfort to you that we all heard this man's follies with distaste.

Emperor Julian.

That is by no means true! I noticed on most faces something quite other than distaste, each time this shameless buffoon babbled out his indecencies and withal looked round the circle with a smug smile, just as though he had done something to be proud of.

Heracleus the poet.

Alas, my emperor, I am most unhappy –

Emperor Julian.

Yes, so you may well be; for this is in truth no small matter. Or have the tales about the gods perhaps not a great purpose and an important aim? Have not these tales come into being with the design of leading the human spirit by a way both pleasant and easy upward to the mysterious dwellings where the highest god reigns, – and thereby making souls fit to be united with him? What else? Is it not for this reason that the ancient poets invented such tales, and is it not therefore that both Plato and others repeated them, or even increased their number? I tell you that outside this aim those tales are of use only to children and barbarians, – yes, scarcely even that. But was it then children and barbarians you had before you yesterday? Whence do you take the boldness to speak to me as though I were a child? Do you think that you have become a sage and have gained the right to the sage's free speech, because you have put on a tattered cloak and taken the beggar's staff in hand?

A courtier.

Oh, how truly said, my emperor! No, no, there surely belongs more to it than that.

Emperor Julian.

So? Does there really? And what, then? Perhaps to let the hair grow and never to clean one's nails? Oh, you hypocritical Cleon! But I know you all together. Here in the writing I have given you a name which –; now you shall hear it –

(He turns over the piles of papers. At the same moment Libanius the orator, richly clad and with a haughty air, comes in from the right.)

Oribases the Royal Physician (in a low voice).

Ah, what luck that you have come, highly honoured Libanius!

Emperor Julian (still turning over the pages).

Where does it stand, now –?

Libanius the orator (to Oribases).

What luck do you mean, friend?

Oribases the Royal Physician.

The emperor is in great wrath; your coming will soften him.

Emperor Julian.

Ah, see, here I have it –

(vexed.)

What does that person want?

Oribases the Royal Physician.

Lord, it is –

Emperor Julian.

Good, good, good! Now you shall hear whether I know you or not. There are among the unhappy Galileans a number of frenzied ones who call themselves penitents. These reject all earthly goods, yet demand great gifts of all the foolish who honour them as holy and almost worthy of worship. See, these folk resemble you, save that I give you nothing. For I am not so foolish as they. Yes, yes, if I were not firm on that point, you would soon overrun the court with your insolence. Or do you not do so already? Are there not many among you who would come again, even if I drove them away? Oh, my dear friends, what is this to lead to? Are you lovers of wisdom? Are you followers of Diogenes, whose garb and manners you have assumed? In truth, one does not see you nearly so often in the lecture-halls as at my treasurer's. Oh, how wisdom has become a wretched and contemptible thing for your sake! Oh, you hypocrites and most ignorant orators! Oh, you – – but what does that fat man over there want?

Oribases the Royal Physician.

Lord, it is the city-governor –

Emperor Julian.

The city-governor may wait. The matters here dealt with take precedence over all lesser things. Or what? This man has so impatient an air. Is it then so important –?

Libanius the orator.

By no means, lord; I can come again another day.

(he is about to go.)

Oribases the Royal Physician.

Lord, do you not recognize this excellent man? It is Libanius the teacher of eloquence.

Emperor Julian.

What? Libanius? Impossible. Libanius – the incomparable Libanius – to be here? How is it conceivable?

Libanius the orator.

I thought the emperor knew that the citizens of Antioch had chosen me as chairman of the city-governors.

Emperor Julian.

Surely I knew it. But when I made my entry into the city and the governors came to meet me to greet me with a speech, I looked round in vain for Libanius. Libanius was not among them.

Libanius the orator.

The emperor had expressed no wish to hear Libanius speak on that occasion.

Emperor Julian.

Libanius the orator ought to know what the emperor wishes in such a matter.

Libanius the orator.

Libanius did not know what time and separation might have wrought. Libanius therefore found it most seemly to place himself among the crowd. There he stood in a place certainly not inconspicuous; but it did not please the emperor to let his eyes fall upon him.

Emperor Julian.

Yet I thought that the day after you received my letter –?

Libanius the orator.

Priscus, your new friend, brought it to me.

Emperor Julian.

And nonetheless – or perhaps therefore – you kept away –?

Libanius the orator.

Headache and important occupations –

Emperor Julian.

Alas, Libanius, of old you did not make yourself so hard to get.

Libanius the orator.

I come when I am invited. Should I be intrusive? Should I stand in the way of Maximus, so highly honoured by the emperor?

Emperor Julian.

Maximus never shows himself at court.

Libanius the orator.

Reasonable enough. Maximus holds court himself. The emperor has, after all, granted him a whole palace.

Emperor Julian.

Oh, my Libanius, have I not granted you my heart? How then can you envy Maximus his palace?

Libanius the orator.

I envy no one. I do not even envy my fellow-brethren Themistius and Mamertinus, though you have shown them such great proofs of your favour. Neither do I envy Hecebolius, whose possessions you have increased with such considerable gifts. Yes, I am even glad that I am the only one to whom you have given nothing. For I grasp well the reason for this exception. You have willed that the cities of your empire should have abundance of everything, and chiefly of eloquence, well knowing that this is the distinction which separates us from the barbarians. Now you have feared that I – like certain others – should grow lukewarm in my art, if you gave me riches. The emperor has therefore preferred to let his boyhood teacher remain poor, so that he might be bound the more firmly to his calling. It is in this way that I interpret a conduct which has astonished some whose names I would rather pass over in silence. It is for the sake of the state's honour and welfare that you have given me nothing. You wish that I should lack riches so that I may have abundance of eloquence.

Emperor Julian.

And I, my Libanius, have also grasped the reason why my boyhood teacher has let me remain here in Antioch for several months without presenting himself. Libanius has probably thought that the services which his former pupil may have rendered to the gods and the state or to science were not great enough rightly to deserve the praise of the man who is called the king of the teachers of eloquence. Libanius has doubtless thought that lesser orators were best suited for such mediocre matters. Besides, Libanius has surely omitted all this out of concern for the equilibrium of my mind. Yes, you have surely feared to see the emperor intoxicated with pride, reeling, like one who in thirst has drunk with all too great eagerness from a leaf-wreathed wine-bowl, if you lavished upon him any of that art which all Greeks admire in you, and thereby in a certain manner raised him to the height of the gods by pouring out for him so costly an offering.

Libanius the orator.

Alas, my emperor, if I could believe that my speech held such a power –

Emperor Julian.

And that you could not believe, you incomparable friend? Oh, go from me. I am angry with you, Libanius! But it is the lover's anger toward the one he loves.

Libanius the orator.

Is it really so? Oh, my crowned brother, let me then tell you that since your arrival not a day has come to an end without my having cursed the steadfastness that would not let me take the first step. My friends gave to understand – not without a certain show of right – that you had undertaken this long journey chiefly to see me and to hear me speak. But Julian himself gave no sign. What was I then to do? Should I flatter the emperor, whom I loved as a man?

Emperor Julian (embraces and kisses him).

My Libanius!

Libanius the orator (kisses Emperor Julian in return).

My friend and brother!

Oribases the Royal Physician.

How honouring for both!

Courtiers and teachers (clapping their hands).

How beautiful! How exalted!

Emperor Julian.

Oh, Libanius, you wicked friend, – how could you find it in your heart to withhold from me this joyful moment for so long a time? In the weeks and months I waited for you, my countenance was shrouded in a Scythian gloom.

Libanius the orator.

Alas, you were yet better placed than I; for you had at least some with whom you could speak of your absent friend.

Emperor Julian.

Do not say so. I had only the poor lovers' comfort; namely, sorrowfully to repeat your name and cry out: Libanius, Libanius!

Libanius the orator.

Ah, while you spoke thus to the empty air, I spoke to the four walls of my chamber. Most of the day's hours I spent in bed, picturing to myself who was now with you, – now this one, now that. Of old it was otherwise, I said to myself, – then it was I who had Julian's ear.

Emperor Julian.

And meanwhile you let me pine away with longing. Look at me. Have I not grown a century older?

Libanius the orator.

Oh, have I not then undergone as great a change? You did not know me again, after all.

Emperor Julian.

This meeting has for us both been a bath, from which we rise up healed.

(they embrace and kiss each other anew.)

And now, my heartily beloved, now you shall tell me what has driven you here today; for I cannot doubt that you come on a particular errand.

Libanius the orator.

My longing apart – it is so. Would that another had been sent out in my stead! But the place of honour to which the citizens' trust has called me makes it my duty to bear the one thing as the other.

Emperor Julian.

Speak, my Libanius, and say wherein I can serve you.

Libanius the orator.

Let me then begin by telling you that this city's inhabitants are sunk in sorrow because you have withdrawn your grace from them.

Emperor Julian.

Hm –!

Libanius the orator.

And this sorrow has been coupled with fear and unrest since Alexander, the new governor, took up his office.

Emperor Julian.

Aha; so!

Libanius the orator.

This elevation of such a man came to us assuredly unexpected. Alexander has hitherto administered only minor offices, and that in a manner which could not win him the citizens' respect or love.

Emperor Julian.

I know it well, Libanius!

Libanius the orator.

Alexander is violent in all his dealings, and justice counts for little in his eyes –

Emperor Julian.

I know it; I know it all. Alexander is a coarse man without manners and without eloquence. Alexander has by no means deserved so great an elevation. But you may tell Antioch's citizens that they have deserved Alexander. Yes, they had, if possible, deserved a still worse ruler, the miserly and unteachable people.

Libanius the orator.

It is, then, what we feared; it is a punishment –

Emperor Julian.

Hear me, Libanius! How did I come here? With confidence in this city's inhabitants. Antioch, which the Sun-King has especially chosen for his seat, should help me to make good again all the wrong and ingratitude which has so long been done to the immortals. But how have you met me? Some with defiance, others with lukewarmness. What must I not experience here? Does not that Cappadocian, Gregory of Nazianzus, still roam about the city and incite the ignorant Galileans with his reckless speeches? Has there not arisen a poet among them – a certain Apollinaris – who increases their errors even to madness with his wild songs?

And what must I not learn from elsewhere? Have they not in Caesarea made good their threat! Pulled down the temple of Fortuna! Oh, shame and disgrace! Where were the goddess's worshippers meanwhile? Did they perhaps prevent it? No, they calmly let it happen, Libanius, though they should have sacrificed their lives to defend the sanctuary.

But wait, wait! The Galileans in Caesarea shall pay with their blood and the whole city shall go up in flames, as soon as I have time somewhat at my disposal.

Libanius the orator.

Lord and friend, – if you would permit me –

Emperor Julian.

Permit me first. Yes, say yourself whether I ought to endure this? Say whether my zeal can put up with such insults against the divine ones, who place themselves shielding behind me and over me? But what am I to resort to? Have I not through long nights written against these unhappy errors, – written, Libanius, so that my eyes have grown red and my fingers black with ink? And what do you think it has availed? Mockery I have got in thanks, not only from the erring ones themselves, but even from those who say they share my opinions. Yes, and as the crown of all these vexations I must today experience seeing you here as spokesman for certain citizens who bring complaint against Alexander, of whom it must yet be said that he does his best to keep the Galileans in check.

Libanius the orator.

Oh, my exalted friend, – that he does so is precisely our ground for complaint.

Emperor Julian.

What must I hear from you!

Libanius the orator.

It is not of my own good will that I go on the city's errand. In the assembly I urged upon the citizens that for this charge they should choose the city's most distinguished man, thereby making known that I did not wish to be chosen. Despite this hint the choice fell nonetheless on me, who assuredly do not –

Emperor Julian.

Good, good, good! But that from your mouth, O Libanius, I must hear –!

Libanius the orator.

I beg my crowned brother to consider that I speak in the city's name. As for myself, I prize the immortal gods as highly as any. What would the art of eloquence be without the tales which the poets of bygone times left us? Are not these tales to be likened to a precious mine, from which a cultivated orator can forge himself both weapons and ornaments, when he understands how to use the metal with discernment? Yes, how flat and unsavoury would the rules of wisdom fall, were they to be expressed without images and similes drawn from the supernal?

But say, O friend, – can you hope to find this way of seeing among the crowd, particularly in an age like ours? I assure you, in Antioch at any rate things do not stand so well. The citizens here – both the Galileans and the better enlightened – have in recent years lived with one another without heeding such things much. There is scarcely a household in the city where differing opinions about the divine do not prevail. But this has, until a short time ago, not disturbed the good relations.

Now it has become otherwise. People have begun to dispute doctrine against doctrine. Discord has come between the nearest kinsfolk. Yes, lately a citizen, whose name I would rather not mention, has disinherited his son, because the young man renounced the Galileans' community. Trade and daily life suffer under all this, doubly perceptibly now, when high prices prevail and famine stands at the door.

Emperor Julian.

Enough, enough, – more than enough, Libanius! You complain of high prices. But tell me whether extravagance has ever flourished more than now? Does the theatre stand empty any day, when it is rumoured that a new lion has come from Africa? When last week there was talk of expelling from the city, because of the high prices, all idlers and loafers, did not the citizens demand with loud cries that an exception should be made for the gladiators and the dancing-girls; for them, it was held, one could not do without!

Alas, well may the gods withdraw their hand from you in wrath at your folly! There are teachers of wisdom enough in this city; but where is wisdom? Why do so few tread in my footsteps? Why do people stop at Socrates? Why do people not go a little further and follow Diogenes or – if I may dare say so – me, since we lead you to happiness? For is not happiness the aim of all teaching of wisdom? And what is happiness other than to be in agreement with oneself? Does the eagle crave feathers of gold? Does the lion wish itself claws of silver? Or does the pomegranate-tree covet to bear fruits of sparkling stones? I tell you that no man has the right to enjoy before he has shown himself hardened enough to bear the lack of enjoyment. Yes, he may not even touch enjoyment with his fingertip before he is able to tread it under foot.

Ah, truly, there is a long way to go. But I will lay all my strength on this. For the sake of these things I will give up others which are also important. The Persian king has – alarmed at my approach – made me offers of peace. These I think of accepting so as to get free hands to enlighten and improve you, you unteachable ones! As for the rest, it stays as it is. Alexander you shall keep. See to it that you come to terms with him.

Yet, my Libanius, I will not have it said that I have let you go from me in disfavour –

Libanius the orator.

Ah, my emperor –

Emperor Julian.

You spoke with a certain bitterness of my having given Themistius and Mamertinus much. But did I not also take something from them? Did I not take from them my daily company? To you I intend to give something more than to them.

Libanius the orator.

Alas, what do you say, my exalted brother!

Emperor Julian.

I do not intend to give you gold or silver. So foolish was I only at first, until I saw how people thronged about me, like thirsty harvesters about a spring, all pushing and jostling one another, all holding out the hollow hand to have it filled first and filled highest to the brim. I have grown wiser since. In particular I think it must be said that the goddess of wisdom has not withheld from me her assistance in the actions I have undertaken for this city's good.

Libanius the orator.

Surely, surely!

Emperor Julian.

Therefore I entrust to you, O my Libanius, the composing of a panegyric upon me.

Libanius the orator.

Ah, what an honour –!

Emperor Julian.

You shall compose it with especial regard to the benefactions for which Antioch's citizens owe me gratitude. I hope you will compose it so that it becomes worthy both of the orator and of the subject. This charge, my Libanius, be my gift to you. I know nothing better to give a man like you.

Libanius the orator.

Oh, my crowned friend, what exceeding grace!

Emperor Julian.

And now let us go to the fencing-hall. Thereafter, my friends, we walk through the streets to give these puffed-up natives a wholesome example of frugality in dress and moderation in manners.

Oribases the Royal Physician.

Through the streets, lord? Alas, in this midday heat –

A courtier.

Oh, lord, excuse me, but I feel most unwell –

Heracleus the poet.

I too, most gracious lord! All this morning I have battled with a nausea in my stomach –

Emperor Julian.

Then take an emetic, and see that you vomit up your ignorance at the same time.

Oh, Diogenes, – what followers you have! They are ashamed to wear your cloak on the open street.

(he goes off in wrath through the colonnade.)
(A mean street on the outskirts of the city. In the row of houses to the left stands a little church.)
(A great crowd of lamenting Christians is assembled. Apollinaris the hymn-writer and Cyril the teacher are among them. Women with children in their arms utter loud cries of distress. Gregory of Nazianzus passes through the street.)

Women (run up and hold him fast by his garment).

Alas, Gregory, Gregory, – speak to us! Comfort us in this anguish.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Only one can comfort here. Hold fast to him. Keep close to the Lord and shepherd.

A woman.

Oh, do you know it, you man of God, – the emperor has commanded that all our holy scriptures shall be burned!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I have heard it; but I cannot believe in such folly.

Apollinaris the hymn-writer.

It is true. Alexander, the new governor, has sent out soldiers who search our brethren's houses. Even women and children are whipped till they bleed, if they are suspected of keeping books hidden.

Cyril the teacher.

The emperor's decree does not concern Antioch alone, – not Syria alone; it concerns the empire and the whole earth. Every written jot that treats of Christ shall be blotted out of existence and out of the believers' memory.

Apollinaris the hymn-writer.

Oh, you mothers, weep over yourselves and over your children!

The time will come when you shall wrangle with those you now carry in your arms about what rightly stood in the lost Word of God. The time will come when your grandchildren shall mock at you and not know who and what Christ was.

The time will come when it shall be blotted out of hearts that the world's saviour once suffered and died.

The last believer shall go blind into his grave, and from that hour Golgotha shall be blown away from the earth, even as the place where the garden of Eden lay.

Woe, woe upon the new Pilate! He is not content, as that one was, to slay the saviour's body. He murders the word and the doctrine!

The women (tear their hair and rend their clothes).

Woe, woe, woe!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

And I tell you, be comforted! God does not die. It is not from Julian that the danger comes. The danger has been there, long before him, in the weakness and dissension of our hearts.

Cyril the teacher.

Oh, Gregory, how dare you demand that we should be steadfast in the midst of these horrors? – Brothers and sisters, – do you know what has happened in Arethusa? The unbelievers have maltreated Marcus, the old bishop, dragged him by the hair through the streets, cast him into the sewers, hauled him up again befouled and bleeding, smeared him over with honey and hoisted him up in a tree, exposed to the stings of wasps and venomous flies.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

And has not God's power revealed itself right gloriously in Marcus? What was Marcus formerly? A man of doubtful faith. Yes, when the disturbances broke out in Arethusa, he even fled from the city. But see, – scarcely had he in his hiding-place learned that the frenzied people were avenging the bishop's flight upon guiltless brethren, before he returned of his own free will. And how did he not bear the torments, which so appalled his own tormentors that they, in order to be able to withdraw with a kind of honour, offered to release him in return for paying an utterly trifling sum? Was not his answer: no, – and no, and again no? The Lord God was with him. He neither died nor gave in. His face showed neither horror nor impatience. In the tree where he hung, he counted himself happy, because he was raised some steps nearer toward heaven, while the others, as he said, crawled about on the flat earth.

Cyril the teacher.

A miracle must have happened to this steadfast old man. Had you, like me, heard the screams from the prison that day in summer, when Hilarion and the others were tortured –! They resembled no other screams, – involuntary, roaring, mingling with a hissing sound, each time the iron, white-hot, dug itself into the flayed flesh.

Apollinaris the hymn-writer.

Oh, Cyril, do you forget the song that took over from the screams? Did not Hilarion sing in death? Did not that heroic Cappadocian lad sing, until he gave up his spirit under the torturers' hands? Did not Agathon, this child's brother, sing, until a swoon overcame him and he woke up in madness?

Truly I say to you, as long as the song resounds over our distress, so long shall Satan not triumph!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Be comforted. Love one another and suffer for one another, as Serapion in Doristora lately suffered for his brethren, when for their sake he let himself be scourged and cast alive into the smelting-furnace.

See, see, – has not the Lord's avenging hand already clenched itself against the ungodly? Or have you not heard the tidings from Heliopolis under Lebanon?

Apollinaris the hymn-writer.

I know it. In the midst of the festival of Aphrodite's indecencies the heathens broke into our holy sisters' house, violated the women, murdered them under torments that cannot be told –

The women.

Woe, woe!

Apollinaris the hymn-writer.

– yes, there were some of the wretches who opened one of the martyrs' bodies, tore out the entrails and ate the liver raw!

The women.

Woe, woe, woe!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

The God of wrath seasoned the meal. How has it agreed with them? Travel to Heliopolis, and you may see those men with the poison of putrefaction in all their veins, with their eyes and teeth fallen out, robbed of the use of speech and of reason. Terror has struck the city. Many heathens have converted since that night.

Therefore I do not fear this ill-boding beast either, which has risen against the church; I do not fear this crowned hireling of hell, who plots to complete the arch-enemy's work. Let him fall upon us with fire, with sword, with wild beasts in the arena! Yes, should his madness drive him even further than has happened to this day, – what does that matter? Against all this there is a remedy and a way to victory!

The women.

Christ, Christ!

Other voices.

There he is! There he comes!

Some.

Who?

Others.

The emperor! The murderer! The enemy of God!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Quiet! Let him pass by in silence.

(A detachment of the imperial household troops comes through the street. After them follows Emperor Julian, accompanied by courtiers and friends of wisdom, all surrounded by a guard. Another detachment of palace-soldiers, led by Fromentinus the captain, closes the procession.)

A woman (softly to the others).

See, see, he has wrapped himself in rags, like a beggar.

Another woman.

He must be beside himself.

A third woman.

God has already smitten him.

A fourth woman.

Hide your children at your breast. Let not their eyes see the terror.

Emperor Julian.

Well, well, are these not all of them Galileans? What are you doing here in the sunshine, on the open street, you brood of darkness?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

You have closed our churches; therefore we stand outside and praise the Lord our God.

Emperor Julian.

See, it is you, Gregory? Yes, you still roam about here. But beware; I shall not endure it long.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I do not seek death by blood; nay, I do not even desire it; but if it is allotted to me, then I set my honour in dying for Christ.

Emperor Julian.

Your turns of phrase weary me. I will not see you here. Why do you not keep to your stinking dens? Go home, I say!

A woman.

Oh, emperor, where are our homes?

Another woman.

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

Voices in the crowd.

Your soldiers have taken our property from us!

Other voices.

Oh, emperor, emperor, why have you taken our property?

Emperor Julian.

You ask about that? I shall tell you, you ignorant people! If your property has been taken from you, it has been done out of concern for the welfare of your souls. Has not the Galilean said that you shall not own silver or gold? Has not your master promised you that you shall one day ascend to heaven? Should you not then thank me for making your journey as easy as possible?

The friends of wisdom.

Oh, incomparably said!

Apollinaris the hymn-writer.

Lord, you have taken from us that which is more than silver and gold. You have taken from us God's own word. You have taken from us our holy scriptures.

Emperor Julian.

I know you well enough, you hollow-eyed hymn-singer! You are Apollinaris, are you not? And I hold that if I take your absurd books from you, you will soon be man enough to string together something just as absurd. But I tell you that you are a wretched book-scribbler and verse-maker! By Apollo, no true Greek would take your verses in his mouth. The writing you lately sent me, and which you have been impudent enough to call «The Truth,» that I may let you know I have read, understood and condemned.

Apollinaris the hymn-writer.

It is possible that you have read it; but you have not understood it; for had you understood, you would not have condemned it.

Emperor Julian.

Ha-ha; the rejoinder I have in hand shall show that I have understood. – But as concerns those books, whose loss you now howl and lament over, I may tell you that before long you shall come to esteem them the less, since it will be shown that that Jesus of Nazareth was a liar and deceiver.

The women.

Woe to us; woe to us!

Cyril the teacher (steps forward from the crowd).

Emperor, – what did you say there?

Emperor Julian.

Has not the crucified Jew proclaimed that the temple of Jerusalem shall lie in ruins to the end of days?

Cyril the teacher.

So it shall come to pass!

Emperor Julian.

Oh, you fools! At this moment Jovian the Commander stands with two thousand workers in Jerusalem and raises the temple in all its glory. Wait, wait, you stiff-necked doubters, – you shall learn who is mightiest, the emperor or the Galilean.

Cyril the teacher.

Lord, that you shall to your terror learn for yourself. I kept silent until you blasphemed the holy one and called him a liar; but now I will tell you that not a whit can you avail against the crucified one!

Emperor Julian (controlling himself).

Who are you, and what is your name?

Cyril the teacher (coming nearer).

That you shall hear. First and foremost I am called a Christian, and that is a most honourable name; for it shall never be blotted out from the earth.

Next I bear also the name Cyril, and under that name I am known among brothers and sisters.

But if I keep the first name unstained, then I reap an eternal life as my reward.

Emperor Julian.

You are mistaken, Cyril! You know I am acquainted with something of the mysterious things in your doctrine. Believe me, – he in whom you put your trust is not such as you imagine. He himself died, and truly died, at the time when the Roman Pontius Pilate was governor in Judea.

Cyril the teacher.

I am not mistaken. It is you yourself, emperor, who err in this. It is you who have renounced Christ in the very moment he gave you the dominion over the earth.

Therefore I proclaim to you in his name that he will soon take from you both the dominion and your life, and then you shall too late acknowledge how strong he is, he whom you in your blindness despise.

Yes, as you have forgotten his benefactions, so shall he not give his love free rein, when he rises up to punish you.

You have overthrown his altars, – he shall cast you down from your imperial throne. You have found your joy in treading his law under foot, the same law which you yourself once proclaimed to the believers. In the same way shall the Lord tread you under his heel. Your body shall be blown away on the wild winds, and your soul shall go down there, where there are greater torments than those you can devise for me and mine!

(The women flock, weeping and lamenting, about Cyril.)

Emperor Julian.

I would gladly have spared you, Cyril! The gods are my witnesses that I do not hate you for your faith's sake. But you have insulted my imperial power and authority, and that I must punish.

(to the captain of the guard.)

Fromentinus, take this man to prison, and let the executioner Typhon give him as many lashes as are needful to make him declare that the emperor and not the Galilean has all power on earth.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Be strong, my brother Cyril!

Cyril the teacher (with uplifted hands).

I, blessed one, who am granted to suffer for the Lord's honour!

(The soldiers seize him and drag him out.)

The women (in weeping and lament).

Woe to us! Woe, woe upon the denier!

Emperor Julian.

Drive them apart, these frenzied ones! Let them be driven out of the city as rebels. I no longer endure this defiance and abomination!

(The guard drives the lamenting crowd into the side-streets. Only the emperor and his retinue remain. Then one notices, lying before the church-door, and hitherto hidden, a man in torn clothes and with ashes strewn on his head.)

A soldier (pokes at him with the lance-shaft).

Up, up; be off with you!

The man (looks up).

Tread under foot this savourless salt, which is cast off by the Lord's hand!

Emperor Julian.

Oh, eternal gods, – Hecebolius –!

The courtiers.

Ah, in truth, – Hecebolius!

Hecebolius the teacher.

I am not called so any more! I am nameless. I have betrayed the baptism that gave me my name!

Emperor Julian.

Rise up, friend! Your mind is sick –

Hecebolius the teacher.

Judas's brother is plague-stricken. Depart from me –

Emperor Julian.

Oh, you fickle man –

Hecebolius the teacher.

Depart from me, tempter! Take back your thirty pieces of silver! Is it not written: you shall leave wife and children for the Lord's sake? And I –? For wife's and children's sake I have betrayed the Lord, my God! Woe, woe, woe!

(he throws himself down again on his face.)

Emperor Julian.

Such fire of madness do these scriptures kindle over the earth.

And should I not burn them?

Wait! Before a year is out, the Temple of the Jews shall stand raised again on Mount Zion, – shining with the splendour of its golden roof over the lands and bearing witness: liar, liar, liar!

(he goes hastily away from there, followed by the friends of wisdom.)
(A highway outside the city. To the left at the roadside stands Cybele's image among felled tree-stumps. A little way off, toward the left, is a spring with a stone basin. It is toward sunset.)
(On a step at the base of the goddess's image sits an old priest with a covered basket on his lap. Around the stone basin a group of men and women who draw water. Comers and goers are seen now and then on the road. From the left comes Phocion the dyer, poorly clad, with a great bundle on his head. He meets Eunapius the barber, who comes from the city.)

Phocion the dyer.

Why, look, – my friend Eunapius in full court-dress!

Eunapius the barber.

Shame on you, that you mock a poor man.

Phocion the dyer.

Do you call that mockery? I meant it for the highest honour.

Eunapius the barber.

You may well say so. It has become an honour now to go about in rags, particularly if they have lain a very long time in a gutter.

Phocion the dyer.

How do you think all this will end?

Eunapius the barber.

That I do not care to think about. I know how it has ended with me, and that is enough.

Phocion the dyer.

Are you no longer in the emperor's service?

Eunapius the barber.

What would Emperor Julian do with a barber? Does he have his hair cut? Or does he have his beard trimmed, do you think? He does not even comb it. But how goes it with you? You do not look very happy either.

Phocion the dyer.

Alas, Eunapius, the time of the purple-dyers is past.

Eunapius the barber.

Yes, right; now only Christian backs are dyed. But what is that you are dragging along?

Phocion the dyer.

A bundle of willow-bark. I am to dye fools' cloaks for the friends of wisdom.

(A troop of soldiers comes from the right and posts itself by Cybele's image.)

Phocion the dyer (to one of the men at the water-basin).

What does this mean?

The man.

The stone image is to be fed again.

Phocion the dyer.

Will the emperor sacrifice here this evening?

Another man.

Does he not sacrifice both morning and evening, – now yonder, now here?

A woman.

It is a misfortune for poor folk that the new emperor is so fond of the gods.

Another woman.

Why, Dione, do not say so. Should we not all of us be fond of the gods?

The first woman.

Yes, that may be; but it is a misfortune all the same –

One of the men (pointing out to the right).

Will you look, – there he comes.

(Emperor Julian comes in priestly garb and with a sacrificial knife. Several teachers of wisdom, temple-priests, servants and a guard surround him. After them follows a crowd of people, partly mocking, partly embittered.)

One of the newcomers.

Over there stands the goddess. Now you shall see some fun.

An elderly man.

Do you call that fun? How many hungry mouths could not be filled with what here goes to waste?

Emperor Julian (goes toward the image).

Oh, this sight! It fills my heart with rapture and my eyes with tears of melancholy.

Yes, verily I must weep when I think that the image of this awe-inspiring goddess – overthrown by impious and reckless hands – has for so long a time lain as though in a sleep of oblivion, – and that, moreover, in a place which I loathe to describe.

(Suppressed laughter among the curious.)

Emperor Julian (turns sternly).

But I feel no less rapture when I consider that it was I to whom it was granted to deliver the divine mother from so unworthy a condition.

And should I not be enraptured by this thought? – People say of me that I have won some battles against the barbarians and praise me for it. As for me, I set greater store by what I accomplish for the gods' good; for to them we owe all our powers and all our care.

(to those at the water-basin.)

For the rest, it gratifies me that there are yet some in this stubborn city who do not show themselves deaf to my exhortations, but present themselves, as seemly piety enjoins, – and I do not doubt that you have brought decent offerings with you.

(goes over to the old priest.)

What do I see there? A single old man! Where are your temple-brethren?

The old priest.

Lord, there is none of them alive but I.

Emperor Julian.

Died out. The highway laid in unfitting nearness past the sanctuary. The venerable grove felled. –

Old man, – where are the offerings?

The old priest (pointing at the basket).

Here, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Good, good. But the rest?

The old priest.

This is all.

(he opens the basket.)

Emperor Julian.

A goose! So this goose is all?

The old priest.

Yes, lord!

Emperor Julian.

And who was the pious man who remembered us with so open-handed a gift?

The old priest.

I myself have brought it. Oh, lord, be not wroth; I had no more than the one.

(Laughter and murmuring among the assembled.)

Subdued voices.

It is enough. A goose is more than enough.

Emperor Julian.

Oh, Antioch, – you put my patience to a hard test!

A man in the crowd.

First bread, then offerings!

Phocion the dyer (nudges him in the side).

Well said; well said!

Another man.

Give the citizens to eat; the gods must help themselves as they can.

A third man.

We were better off here under Chi and Kappa!

Emperor Julian.

Fie, you impudent bawlers! You with your Chi and Kappa! You perhaps do not think I know whom you mean by Chi and Kappa? Ho-ho, I know it well. It has become a common byword among you. You mean Christ and Constantius. But their dominion is over, and I shall surely find means to bend the defiance and the ingratitude which you show both toward the gods and toward me. You take offence that I render the gods the due sacrifices. You mock at my putting on a plain garment and letting my beard grow uncut. Yes, this beard is truly a thorn in your side! You call it, without all reverence, a goat's beard. But I tell you, you fools, that it is a sage's beard. Yes, I am not ashamed to let you know that this beard harbours vermin, even as the willow-thicket harbours game, – and yet I bear this scorned beard of mine with greater honour than you your smooth-shaven chins!

Eunapius the barber (half aloud).

Ill spoken; most unreasonable!

Emperor Julian.

But do you think I let these mockeries pass without answering? No, no, you shall come to know otherwise. Only wait; you shall hear from me sooner than you think. I am at this time working out a writing which is called «The Beard-Hater». And do you know against whom this writing is directed? It is directed against you, you citizens of Antioch, – yes, against you, whom in the writing I call «the ignorant dogs». There you shall get my reasons both for the one thing and for the other which now seems strange to you in my conduct.

Fromentinus the captain (comes from the right).

Noble emperor, I have a joyful message to bring. Cyril has already given in –

Emperor Julian.

Ah, I thought as much.

Fromentinus the captain.

Typhon also did his work excellently. The prisoner was bound naked by the wrists so high beneath the roof that his toe-tips just touched the ground; then Typhon whipped him from behind with a scourge of ox-sinews, so that the blows struck round about his breast.

Emperor Julian.

Oh, the vicious ones, who compel us to use such means!

Fromentinus the captain.

In order not to rob him of his life we had at last to release the obstinate man. Then he was for a while quite still and seemed to reflect; but suddenly he nevertheless demanded to be brought before the emperor.

Emperor Julian.

This is most welcome to me. And you bring him here?

Fromentinus the captain.

Yes, lord, – there they come with him.

(A troop of soldiers leads Cyril the teacher between them.)

Emperor Julian.

Ah, my good Cyril, – you are not quite so cocksure as last time, I see.

Cyril the teacher.

Have you perhaps in the entrails of a beast or a bird found out what I have to say to you?

Emperor Julian.

Well, I think that I, without omens, may believe you have come to your senses, that you give up your errors about the Galilean's power, and that you now acknowledge both the emperor and our gods to be greater than he.

Cyril the teacher.

Do not imagine such a thing. Your gods are powerless; and if you hold fast to these stone images, which can neither see nor hear, you will soon be as powerless as they.

Emperor Julian.

Cyril, – is this what you have to say?

Cyril the teacher.

No; I come to thank you. Before, I trembled before you and your torments. But in the hour of anguish I won the spirit's victory over the corruptible. Yes, emperor, when your hirelings thought I hung in agony beneath the prison-roof, – then I lay, blessed as a child, in my saviour's arms; and when your executioners fancied that they tore strips from my body, then the Lord stroked with his soothing hand over the wounds, took away the crown of thorns and set upon me the crown of life.

Therefore I thank you; for no man has shown me so great a benefaction as you.

And that you may not believe I fear you henceforth, then see –

(he flings his cloak aside, tears open his wounds and throws pieces at the emperor's feet.)

– see, see; – glut yourself with my blood, for which you thirst! But of me you shall know that I glut myself with Jesus Christ.

(Cries of horror are heard among the crowd.)

Several voices.

This brings misfortune upon us all!

Emperor Julian (who has drawn back).

Hold this madman, that he lay not hands on us!

(Soldiers surround Cyril and drag him over to the water-basin; at the same time the song of women is heard outside to the right.)

Emperor Julian.

See yonder, Fromentinus, – what strange procession is that –?

Fromentinus the captain.

Most gracious emperor, it is the women hymn-singers –

Emperor Julian.

Ah, that league of frenzied women –

Fromentinus the captain.

The governor Alexander has taken from them some writings which they hold to be holy. Now they are marching out of the city to weep on the Christian graves.

Emperor Julian (with clenched hands).

Defiance; defiance – both from women and men!

(Old Publia and a great throng of women come along the highway.)

Old Publia (sings).

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

Chorus of the women.

To mould; to mould!

Publia.

They murdered our brethren; they murdered our sons. Rise, doves of song, with vengeance's orisons!

Chorus of the women.

Vengeance's orisons!

Publia (catches sight of the emperor).

There he stands! Woe upon the ungodly one who has burned the Lord's word! Do you think you can burn up the Lord's word? I shall tell you where the word burns.

(she snatches a knife from one of the sacrificial priests, cuts open her breast and tears at the wound.)

Here burns the word. Burn our books, then. The word shall burn in the hearts of men until the last day!

(she throws the knife from her.)

The women (singing with rising wildness).

Let bodies be murdered; let scriptures decay. The Word shall stand; – the Word shall stand!
(They take Publia between them and go on out over the country.)

People at the well.

Woe to us; the Galileans' god is the strongest!

Other voices.

What can all our gods do against this one?

Yet others.

No sacrifice! No worship! It will provoke the terrible one against us.

Emperor Julian.

Oh, you fools! You fear to provoke one who is long since dead, – a false preacher; – yes, you yourselves shall see. He is a liar, I tell you! Only have patience a little while yet. Every day, every hour I may expect a message from Jerusalem –

Jovian the Commander (in dusty clothes, comes hastily from the right with some attendants).

Most gracious emperor, forgive that your servant seeks you here.

Emperor Julian (with a cry of joy).

Jovian! Oh, joyful tidings –!

Jovian the Commander.

I come straight from Judea. At the palace I heard you were out here –

Emperor Julian.

Oh, you praiseworthy gods, – so the sinking sun shall not go down over the lie after all! How far are we? Speak, my Jovian!

Jovian the Commander (with a glance at the crowd).

Lord, – shall I tell everything?

Emperor Julian.

Everything, everything, – from first to last!

Jovian the Commander.

I came to Jerusalem with the master-builders and the soldiers and the two thousand workers. We set to work at once clearing the ground. Mighty remnants of walls still stood. They fell before our picks and crowbars, easily, as though an invisible power helped us to efface them –

Emperor Julian.

You see; do you see!

Jovian the Commander.

While this was going on, immense heaps of lime were dragged together for the new building. Then quite unexpectedly a whirling storm arose, which scattered the lime like a cloud out over the whole region.

Emperor Julian.

Further; further!

Jovian the Commander.

That same night the earth shook repeatedly.

Voices in the crowd.

Do you hear? The earth shook.

Emperor Julian.

Further, I say!

Jovian the Commander.

We did not, however, let our courage be cast down by this strange occurrence. But when we had pressed deeper down into the ground and had opened the underground vaults, and the stone-breakers went into them to work by torchlight –

Emperor Julian.

Jovian, – what then?

Jovian the Commander.

Lord, then a terrible, a monstrous stream of fire broke out of the caverns. A thundering rumble shook the whole city. The vaults were blasted asunder, hundreds of workers were killed down there, and the few who saved themselves fled with mangled limbs.

Whispering voices.

The Galileans' god!

Emperor Julian.

Can I believe all this? Did you see it?

Jovian the Commander.

I was myself present. We began anew. Lord, in the presence of many thousands – terrified, kneeling, exulting, praying – the same wonder repeated itself twice.

Emperor Julian (pale and trembling).

And then –? In one word, – what has the emperor accomplished in Jerusalem?

Jovian the Commander.

The emperor has fulfilled the Galilean's prophecy.

Emperor Julian.

Fulfilled –

Jovian the Commander.

Through you that word became full truth: not a stone upon a stone shall be left behind.

Men and women.

The Galilean has triumphed over the emperor! The Galilean is greater than Julian!

Emperor Julian (to Cybele's priest).

You may go home, old man! And take your goose with you. We will make no sacrifice this evening.

(turns to the crowd.)

I heard someone here say that the Galilean has triumphed. It might seem so; but I tell you, it is an error. You ignorant ones; you contemptible dolts, – you may believe me: it shall not be long before the tide has turned! I shall –; I shall –! Yes, only wait! I am already preparing a writing against the Galilean. It shall be in seven chapters; and when his followers get that to read, – and when besides «The Beard-Hater» – –

Take my arm, Fromentinus! This resistance has wearied me.

(to the guard, as he passes by the water-basin.)

Set Cyril free!

(He goes back to the city with his retinue.)

The crowd at the well (shouting after him with jeering laughter).

There goes the sacrifice-butcher! – There goes the shaggy bear! – There goes the ape with the long arms!

(Moonlit night. On the ruins of Apollo's temple.)
(Emperor Julian and Maximus the mystic, both in long robes, come forward between the overthrown columns in the background.)

Maximus the mystic.

Whither, my brother?

Emperor Julian.

Where it is most solitary.

Maximus the mystic.

But here – in the abomination? In the midst of heaps of rubble –?

Emperor Julian.

Is not the whole world a heap of rubble?

Maximus the mystic.

Yet you have shown that what has fallen can be raised again.

Emperor Julian.

Mocker! In Athens I saw a cobbler who had set himself up a little workshop in the temple of Theseus. In Rome, I hear, a corner of the Julian basilica has been made serviceable as a buffalo-stall. Call that too raising up again!

Maximus the mystic.

Why not? Do not all things happen piecemeal? What is the whole other than the full sum of all the pieces?

Emperor Julian.

Poor wisdom!

(points at the overthrown image of Apollo.)

See this noseless head. See this shattered elbow, – these splintered loins. Is the sum of all these deformities the whole full divine beauty of old?

Maximus the mystic.

Whence do you know that that beauty of old was beautiful – in and for itself – except in the beholder's imagination?

Emperor Julian.

Alas, Maximus, there is precisely the kernel. What is in and for itself? I know nothing to name after this day.

(he kicks at the head of Apollo.)

Have you at any time been mightier in yourself?

Strange, Maximus, that there can lie strength in error. Look at the Galileans. And look at me of old, when I held it possible to raise up again the fallen world of beauty.

Maximus the mystic.

Friend, – if error is a necessity to you, then go back to the Galileans. They will receive you with open arms.

Emperor Julian.

You know well that this is not feasible. Emperor and Galilean! How reconcile the contradiction?

Yes, this Jesus Christ is the greatest rebel that ever lived. What was Brutus, – what was Cassius against him? They murdered only the one Julius Caesar; but he murders Caesar and Augustus altogether. Or is there any thinking of reconciliation between the Galilean and the emperor? Is there room for the two of them together on earth? And he lives on earth, Maximus, – the Galilean lives, I tell you, however thoroughly both Jews and Romans imagined they had slain him; – he lives in the rebellious minds of men; he lives in their defiance and scorn of all visible power.

«Render to the emperor what is the emperor's, – and to God what is God's!» – Never has the mouth of man uttered a more insidious word than this. What lies behind it? What and how much belongs to the emperor? This word is like a war-club that strikes the crown from the emperor's head.

Maximus the mystic.

Yet the great Constantine knew how to come to terms with the Galilean, – and your predecessor likewise.

Emperor Julian.

Yes, one who could be content, like those. But do you call that ruling the earth's realm? Constantine extended the boundaries of his dominion. But did he not draw the boundaries narrowly together about his spirit and his will? You place that man too high, when you call him the great. My predecessor I will not even speak of; he was more slave than emperor, and I cannot linger at the name.

No, no, there is no thinking of a settlement in these things. And yet – to have to give in! Oh, Maximus, after these defeats I cannot go on being emperor, – and neither can I renounce being it.

Maximus, you who can interpret omens whose enigmatic meaning is hidden from all others, – you who can read in the book of the eternal stars, – can you tell me the outcome of this strife?

Maximus the mystic.

Yes, my brother, I can tell you the outcome.

Emperor Julian.

You can? Then tell it! Who shall triumph, the emperor or the Galilean?

Maximus the mystic.

Both the emperor and the Galilean shall go under.

Emperor Julian.

Go under –? Both –?

Maximus the mystic.

Both. Whether in our times, or in hundreds of years, I do not know; but come to pass it shall when the right one comes.

Emperor Julian.

And who is the right one?

Maximus the mystic.

He who shall swallow up both the emperor and the Galilean.

Emperor Julian.

You solve the riddle with a yet darker riddle.

Maximus the mystic.

Hear me, friend of truth and brother! I say, they shall both go under – but not perish.

Does not the child go under in the youth, and the youth again in the man? But neither the child nor the youth perishes.

Oh, you my most beloved pupil, – have you forgotten our conversations in Ephesus about the three empires?

Emperor Julian.

Ah, Maximus, there lie years between. Speak!

Maximus the mystic.

You know, I have never approved of what you, as emperor, have undertaken. You have wished to make the youth over into a child again. The empire of the flesh is swallowed up by the empire of the spirit. But the empire of the spirit is not the final one, just as little as the youth is. You have wished to hinder the youth's growth, – to hinder him from becoming a man. Oh, you fool, who have drawn the sword against that which is to come, – against the third empire, where the twofold one shall reign!

Emperor Julian.

And this one –?

Maximus the mystic.

The Jewish people has a name for him. They call him the Messiah, and they wait for him.

Emperor Julian (slowly and thoughtfully).

Messiah? – Neither emperor nor redeemer?

Maximus the mystic.

Both in one and one in both.

Emperor Julian.

Emperor-god; – god-emperor. Emperor in the empire of the spirit – and god in that of the flesh.

Maximus the mystic.

That is the third empire, Julian!

Emperor Julian.

Yes, Maximus, that is the third empire.

Maximus the mystic.

In that empire the provisional one's word of rebellion has become truth.

Emperor Julian.

«Render to the emperor what is the emperor's, – and to God what is God's.» Yes, yes, – then the emperor is in God, and God in the emperor. – Ah, dreams, dreams; – who breaks the Galilean's power!

Maximus the mystic.

Wherein lies the Galilean's power?

Emperor Julian.

I have brooded on it in vain.

Maximus the mystic.

It stands written somewhere: «you shall have no strange gods before me.»

Emperor Julian.

Yes – yes – yes!

Maximus the mystic.

The Seer of Nazareth proclaimed neither this god nor that; he said: God am I; – I am God.

Emperor Julian.

Yes, this beyond –! Therefore the emperor is powerless.

The third empire? The Messiah? Not the Jewish people's, but the Messiah of the empire of the spirit and of the empire of the world –?

Maximus the mystic.

The god-emperor.

Emperor Julian.

The emperor-god.

Maximus the mystic.

Logos in Pan – Pan in Logos.

Emperor Julian.

Maximus, – how does he come to be?

Maximus the mystic.

He comes to be in the one who wills himself.

Emperor Julian.

My beloved teacher, – I must leave you.

Maximus the mystic.

Where are you going?

Emperor Julian.

To the city. The Persian king has made me offers of peace, which in rashness I accepted. My envoys are already on the way. They shall be overtaken and called back.

Maximus the mystic.

You will open the war against King Sapor anew?

Emperor Julian.

I will what Cyrus dreamed of and what Alexander attempted –

Maximus the mystic.

Julian!

Emperor Julian.

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

(he waves his hand in farewell and goes quickly away. Maximus looks thoughtfully after him.)

Chorus of the women hymn-singers (far away on the martyr-graves).

Man-gods of silver and gold, – you shall crumble to mould!