ACT TWO.

Emperor Julian (speaks to the assembled).

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

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

A citizen (presses forward).

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

Emperor Julian (seats himself again).

Indeed not, my friend! Who are you?

The citizen.

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

Emperor Julian.

Out with your business, man!

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

Surely he does not mock the gods?

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

So? What words has he used?

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

And what is worse?

Medon.

A purple-coloured cloak –

Emperor Julian.

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

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

So then, a purple cloak and untanned soles –

Medon.

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

Emperor Julian.

That thing we must remedy, Medon!

Medon (happy).

Ah, most gracious lord –!

Emperor Julian.

Tomorrow morning you come here to the palace –

Medon (happier still).

I shall come quite early, most gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

You report to my steward –

Medon.

Yes, yes, my most gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

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

Medon.

Alas, alas, my generous lord and emperor!

Emperor Julian.

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

Medon.

Oh!

Emperor Julian.

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

Another citizen (steps forward from the crowd).

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

Emperor Julian.

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

The citizen.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Malchus the tax-collector.

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

Emperor Julian.

See, see; church-property, then?

Malchus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Malchus.

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

Emperor Julian.

And you say that so straight out, without shrinking?

Malchus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Malchus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Malchus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Malchus.

Tenfold greater, my gracious emperor!

Emperor Julian.

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

Malchus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Malchus (wringing his hands).

I, tenfold wretched!

Emperor Julian.

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

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

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

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

The priest at the door (draws himself up).

In the name of the Lord God!

Emperor Julian.

Who speaks there?

The priest.

A servant of God and of the emperor.

Emperor Julian.

Come closer. What do you want?

The priest.

To speak to your heart and to your conscience.

Emperor Julian (springs up).

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

The priest.

Yes, my noble lord!

Emperor Julian.

Gregory! Gregory of Nazianzus!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Yes, gracious emperor!

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

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Oh, were it but so with you, lord!

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

You mean Basil?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I mean a greater than Basil.

Emperor Julian (darkening).

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

I have not chosen this garb, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Not you? Who then?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

He who is greater than the emperor.

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian (with a sharp glance).

Persecute!

Now you may speak on.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

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

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

Emperor Julian.

Gregory, what do you dare –!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

You shall speak, Gregory!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

Ah, this you have from your brother Caesarius!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

Punish me, lord; but spare my brother.

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

Retribution, – retribution, Gregory!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

The choice fell on me.

Emperor Julian.

Ah!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

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

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

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

Emperor Julian.

Folly; folly! I know these dreams.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

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

Emperor Julian.

What signs do you refer to?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

You surely do not mean thereby to say that –?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

Well, well? And if that were so?

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes; the temple of Fortuna.

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian (hoarsely).

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

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

Emperor Julian (springs up).

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

Courtiers, orators and poets.

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

Hecebolius the teacher.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian.

What sight have you had?

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian.

Speak, man; – who has struck you?

Eunapius the barber.

Permit me, lord, to bring forward my complaint.

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

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes; and then?

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian.

Surely not Galileans?

Eunapius the barber.

Yes, lord, – Galileans.

Emperor Julian.

Ah!

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian (steps down from the platform).

Wait, wait!

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian (walks up and down).

Wait, wait, wait!

Gregory of Nazianzus.

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

Emperor Julian.

Silence!

Did you know any of these temple-desecrators?

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Gregory of Nazianzus.

What then, lord?

Emperor Julian.

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

A citizen.

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

Another citizen.

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

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

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

The other citizen.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

A third citizen (approaches the speakers).

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

The third citizen.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

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

The old woman.

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

Phocion the dyer.

What do you want with the emperor, old mother?

The old woman.

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

One of the citizens (to Phocion).

Who is that woman?

Phocion the dyer.

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

The citizen.

Ah, yes, yes, yes!

Publia the woman.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

Publia the woman.

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

The troop-leader.

Stand aside; make room here!

Publia the woman.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

Publia the woman.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

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

Clear the way here!

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

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

A soldier.

Do not press so there behind!

Phocion the dyer.

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

A citizen.

The man who is dressed all in white?

Phocion the dyer.

Yes, yes, that very man.

The citizen.

But why is he dressed in white?

Phocion the dyer.

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

Another citizen.

Will the emperor then perform the sacrifice himself?

Phocion the dyer.

Yes, Emperor Julian does everything himself.

A third citizen.

He does not look so mighty as Emperor Constantius.

Phocion the dyer.

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

A citizen.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

A citizen.

Alas, alas, that would be vexing!

Another citizen.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

A citizen (to another).

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

The other citizen.

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

The first citizen.

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

The other citizen.

Ah, so; that Apollo! Is he better?

Phocion the dyer.

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

The crowd in the square (clapping their hands).

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

Phocion the dyer.

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

The citizens (in the foreground to the right).

Emperor, emperor, stay long among us!

Emperor Julian.

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

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

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

Publia the woman.

Lord, lord!

Phocion the dyer.

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

Publia the woman.

Lord, give me Hilarion back!

Phocion the dyer.

All good citizens implore your favour for the city.

Emperor Julian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Onward on our march of victory!

Emperor Julian.

What hinders us?

Hecebolius the teacher.

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

Song (far away).

Phocion the dyer.

The Galileans, lord! They have them!

Publia the woman.

Hilarion!

Phocion the dyer.

They have them! I hear the chains –

Emperor Julian.

Past them –!

Eunapius the barber (hastily through the crowd).

It has succeeded beyond all measure, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Who are they, these shameless ones?

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

The prisoners' song (nearer).

Emperor Julian.

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

Publia the woman.

My child! Hilarion!

Hilarion (among the prisoners).

Rejoice, my mother!

Emperor Julian.

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

Another voice (among the prisoners).

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

Emperor Julian.

Night and terror, – what a voice is that!

The captain of the guard.

Lord, it was this one who spoke.

Emperor Julian (with a cry).

Agathon!

The prisoner (looks at him and keeps silent).

Emperor Julian.

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

The prisoner.

Yes.

Emperor Julian.

You among these! Speak to me!

Agathon.

I do not know you.

Emperor Julian.

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

Agathon.

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

Emperor Julian.

And the child –? Is it your young brother?

This man must be innocent.

Eunapius the barber.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

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

Publia the woman (cries out).

Do not say it, Hilarion!

Agathon.

Be strong, dear brother!

Publia the woman.

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

Emperor Julian.

Hear and bethink yourselves, you others –

Agathon (to the prisoners).

Choose between Christ and the emperor!

The prisoners.

Blessed be the Lord on high!

Emperor Julian.

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

The Apollo procession (sings).

The prisoners' procession.

The Apollo procession.

The prisoners' procession.

The Apollo procession.

The prisoners' procession.

The Apollo procession.

The prisoners' procession.

Women.

Mercy! Now the earth trembled again!

A fleeing man.

What terror! Thunderclaps under our feet –

Another man.

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

A woman.

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

Many voices.

Hark, hark, hark!

Some.

It is wagons on the cobblestones.

Others.

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

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

I receive the omen! –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A voice (cries out in the throng).

Halt, ungodly one!

Emperor Julian.

A Galilean among us?

The same voice.

No further, denier of God!

Emperor Julian.

Who is the man that speaks?

Other voices in the crowd.

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

Yet others.

Away, away with the shameless one!

Emperor Julian.

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

The old man.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

Go home, old man!

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

Make way for me!

Bishop Maris.

Whither?

Emperor Julian.

Into the Sun-King's house.

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

Mad greybeard! – Away with him!

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Bishop Maris.

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

Hecebolius the teacher (pale).

Lord and emperor, do not let this happen!

Bishop Maris (in a loud voice).

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

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

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

God has spoken.

Emperor Julian (pale and with subdued voice).

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

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Bishop Maris.

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

Emperor Julian.

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

Bishop Maris.

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

ACT THREE.

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.

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!

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.

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 –

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 –

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.

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.

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.

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 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!

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.

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 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!

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!

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 –

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

Several voices.

This brings misfortune upon us all!

Emperor Julian (who has drawn back).

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

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 (sings).

Chorus of the women.

Publia.

Chorus of the women.

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.

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

The women (singing with rising wildness).

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.

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.

Set Cyril free!

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!

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!

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.

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!

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

ACT FOUR.

Emperor Julian (pointing downward).

See, see, – the legions wind like an armoured serpent through the ravine.

Nevita the general.

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

Emperor Julian.

What piercing howls –!

Nevita the general.

That is the Scythians' wonted song, lord!

Emperor Julian.

More howl than song.

Nevita the general.

Now come the Armenians. Arsaces leads them himself.

Emperor Julian.

The Roman legions must already be out on the plains. All the neighbouring peoples hasten up and submit.

On the Euphrates lie assembled the twelve hundred ships that hold all our stores and necessities. I have now got full certainty that the fleet, through that old artificially dug channel, can pass up into the Tigris. The whole army shall go over onto the ships. Thereafter we push forward along the eastern bank, as swiftly as the counter-current allows the fleet to follow us.

Tell me, Hormisdas, what faith have you in these measures?

Prince Hormisdas.

Unconquerable commander, I know that it shall be granted me, under your victorious protection, to better my fatherland again.

Emperor Julian.

What a relieving feeling to be out of those narrow-chested citizens' company! With what terror in their eyes did they not run about my chariot when I left the city? "Come back soon, and be then more gracious to us than now," they cried. I return never again to Antioch. I will see this ungrateful city no more. When I have conquered, I shall lay my homeward way over Tarsus.

Numa, – what auguries for our march do you read this morning?

Numa the soothsayer.

The augury counsels you this year not to overstep the borders of your realm.

Emperor Julian.

Hm! How do you interpret this augury, Maximus?

Maximus the mystic.

I interpret it thus: the augury counsels you to subdue all the land you pass through; then you do not overstep the borders of your realm.

Emperor Julian.

So it is. We must give close heed to such wondrous signs; for there lies most often a double meaning in them. Yes, it seems at times as though mysterious powers set a joy in leading men astray, especially in great undertakings. Were there not also some who would interpret it to our hurt that the colonnade in Hierapolis fell together and buried half a hundred soldiers, just as we passed through the city? But I say that this proclaims a double fortune. For first it augurs that the Persian realm shall crash together, and next it heralds to us the doom of the wretched Galileans. For those soldiers who were killed, – who were they, then? They were Galilean penal soldiers, who went most unwillingly to the war and therefore were dealt by fate an end at once so sudden and so dishonourable.

Jovian the Commander.

Most gracious emperor, yonder comes a captain from the vanguard.

Ammian the captain (comes from the right).

Lord, you have commanded me to report if anything strange should happen at the march-out.

Emperor Julian.

Well then! Has anything of the kind happened this morning?

Ammian the captain.

Yes, lord, a double augury.

Emperor Julian.

Why, Ammian, – tell it, then!

Ammian the captain.

First, lord, it came to pass, when we had come some way past the village of Zaita, that a lion of enormous bodily size broke out of the thicket and went straight at our soldiers, who killed it with many arrow-shots.

Emperor Julian.

Ah!

The teachers of wisdom.

What a happy augury!

Prince Hormisdas.

King Sapor calls himself the lion of the lands.

Numa the soothsayer (busied at the altar).

Turn back; turn back, Emperor Julian!

Maximus the mystic.

Go boldly forward, you victory-chosen one!

Emperor Julian.

Turn back after this? As the lion yonder before Zaita, so shall the lion of the lands fall for our arrows. Or have I not earlier testimony to lean upon when I interpret this to our advantage? Need I remind such enlightened men that when Emperor Maximian conquered the Persian king Narseus, then likewise a lion – and therewith a mighty boar – was laid low before the Roman ranks?

But now the other –? I thought you spoke of two signs.

Ammian the captain.

The other is more doubtful, lord! Your war-horse Babylonios was, as you had commanded, led forth fully saddled to await you at the descent beyond the mountain. But see, at that same moment a detachment of the Galilean penal soldiers was driven past. Heavily laden as they were, and not particularly willing, it became needful to use whip-strokes against them. None the less they raised their arms, as if in joy, and struck up a loud song in honour of their deity. At this sudden clamour Babylonios shied, reared in terror, fell backward, and as it rolled on the ground, the gold-adorned harness was bespattered and befouled with the mire of the road.

Numa the soothsayer (at the altar).

Emperor Julian, – turn back, turn back!

Emperor Julian.

This the Galileans have done out of malice, – and yet they have thereby, against their will, brought about an augury that I hail with high joy.

Yes, even as Babylonios fell, so shall Babylon also fall, bereft of the splendour and glory of its jewels.

Priscus the teacher of wisdom.

What wisdom in the exposition!

Cytron the teacher of wisdom.

By the gods, so it is!

The other teachers of wisdom.

So, and not otherwise!

Emperor Julian (to Nevita).

The army shall continue to push forward. Yet this evening, for a still greater surety's sake, I will hold sacrifices and see what the signs may confirm.

But as concerns you, you Etruscan jugglers, whom at such great cost I have let come hither, then you shall know that I no longer tolerate you in the camp, where you only serve to make the soldiers downcast. I say, you understand nothing of the difficult craft you have taken upon yourselves. What impudence! What excess of foolhardiness! Away with them! I will not see them again.

Emperor Julian.

Babylonios fell. The lion lay low before my soldiers. Yet we do not therefore know what unseen help we dare rely on. The gods, whose nature is far from sufficiently explored, seem at times – if I may so say – to slumber or to intervene but little in human things. We, my dear friends, find ourselves, alas, in such a time. Yes, we have even been witness that certain gods have neglected to support well-meant endeavours aimed at their own advantage and honour.

Yet we dare not judge further of this. It might be conceived that the immortals, who govern and uphold the world, at certain times lay their power in human hands, – whereby the gods are surely in no way diminished; for it is due to them, after all, that one so especially favoured – if such be found – has been able to arise on earth.

Priscus the teacher of wisdom.

O, matchless emperor, do not your own deeds bear witness to this?

Emperor Julian.

I know not, O Priscus, whether I dare value my deeds so highly. That the Galileans ascribe such an election to the Jew Jesus of Nazareth, I will not speak of; for these men err, – which I shall show in detail in my writing against them. But I will name Prometheus in olden days, which excellent hero procured for men even greater goods than the immortals seemed to grant them, – wherefore he also had to suffer much, both pain and scornful usage, until at last he is taken up into the communion of the gods, – to which he in truth had belonged the whole time.

And can not the same be said both of Heracles and of Achilles, and finally of the Macedonian Alexander, with whose deeds some have compared, partly what I have accomplished in Gaul, and partly and chiefly what I have in view on this march?

Nevita the general.

My emperor, – the rearguard is now just below us; – perhaps it were time –

Emperor Julian.

At once, Nevita! Yet I will first tell you a strange dream I had this night.

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

This evil man rooted out all the child's kinsmen. But over the child itself Zeus had pity, and he held his hand over it.

Thereupon I saw this child grow up to youth under Minerva's and Apollo's keeping.

Moreover I dreamed that the youth fell asleep on a stone under the open sky.

Then Hermes descended to the field in the shape of a young man and said: come; I will show you the way that leads to the highest god's dwelling! – So he led the youth to the foot of an exceeding steep mountain. There he left him.

Then the youth broke out in weeping and lament and called with a loud voice on Zeus. See, then Minerva and the sun-king, who rules over the earth, descended near to him, lifted him up to the mountain's summit, pointed out for him and showed him the whole inheritance of his race.

But this inheritance was the round of the earth from sea to sea, and beyond the sea.

Then they proclaimed to the youth that all this should belong to him. And three admonitions they gave him therewith: he should not sleep, as his kinsmen had done; he should not listen to hypocrites' counsel; and finally he should honour as gods those who resemble the gods. Forget not, said they as they left him, that you have an immortal soul and that this your soul is of divine origin. And if you follow our counsel, you shall see our father and become a god even as we.

Priscus the teacher of wisdom.

What are signs and auguries to weigh against this!

Cytron the teacher of wisdom.

I do not think it too much said when I expect that the goddesses of fate bethink themselves twice, in case their counsels should not accord with yours.

Emperor Julian.

We dare not with certainty build on such an exception. But surely I continue to find this dream striking, though my brother Maximus, by his silence – against all fair expectation – seems to find pleasure neither in the dream nor in the garb I have given it. – This, however, we must bear!

See here, Jovian; here have I early this morning on my couch noted down what I dreamed. Take this, and have it read aloud in numerous copies to the various parts of the army. I hold it important on so hazardous a march that the soldiers, in the midst of all dangers and hardships, with confidence lay their fate in the leader's hands, holding him for infallible in the things that decide the war's outcome.

Jovian the Commander.

I beg you, my emperor, to excuse me from this.

Emperor Julian.

What would you mean by that?

Jovian the Commander.

That I dare not lend my hand to anything that is against the truth. – O, hear me, my exalted emperor and lord! Is there a single one of your soldiers who doubts that he is safe in your hands? Have you not on Gaul's borders, despite hostile superior force and difficulties of various kinds, won for yourself greater victories than any other commander in our days can boast of?

Emperor Julian.

Why, – see, see, what news!

Jovian the Commander.

All know that fortune in wondrous measure has followed you until this time. In learning you stand above all other mortals, and in the fair art of eloquence you bear the prize among the foremost.

Emperor Julian.

And so –? Despite this –?

Jovian the Commander.

Despite this, my emperor, you are but a man. But in imparting to the army that dream, you would spread the opinion that you are a god, – and herein I dare not make myself your helper.

Emperor Julian.

What say you, my friends, to this speech?

Cytron the teacher of wisdom.

It is surely as bold as it bears witness to ignorance.

Emperor Julian.

It seems as though you, O truth-loving Jovian, forget that that Emperor Antoninus, with the surname the Pious, has in a special temple on Rome's forum been worshipped as an immortal god. Yes, not he alone, but also his wife Faustina and other emperors both before and after that time.

Jovian the Commander.

I know it, lord; – but to our forefathers it was not given to walk in the light of truth.

Emperor Julian (with a long look at him).

Ah, Jovian! –

Tell me, – yesterday evening, when I took auguries for the coming night, you stepped up and brought me a message just as I with cleansing water rinsed the blood from my hands.

Jovian the Commander.

Yes, my emperor!

Emperor Julian.

Hasty as I was, I chanced to sprinkle some drops of water on your cloak. Then you sharply took a step backward and shook the water off, as though the cloak had been defiled.

Jovian the Commander.

My emperor, – it escaped you not, then?

Emperor Julian.

Was it your thought that it should have escaped me?

Jovian the Commander.

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

Emperor Julian.

Galilean!

Jovian the Commander.

Lord, you yourself sent me to Jerusalem, and I was witness to all that there went on. Much have I pondered since that time; I have read in the Christians' writings, have spoken with many of them, – and now am I come to know that in this doctrine lies the divine truth.

Emperor Julian.

Is it possible! Is this really possible? So then that infectious madness spreads its grip! My nearest surroundings, – my own commanders fall away from me –

Jovian the Commander.

Set me foremost against your foes, lord, – and you shall see that I gladly give the emperor what is the emperor's.

Emperor Julian.

How much –?

Jovian the Commander.

Life and blood.

Emperor Julian.

Life and blood are not enough. He who shall rule must be able to rule over the wills, over the minds of men. In this it is that that Jesus of Nazareth stands against me and disputes the power with me.

Imagine not that I will punish you, Jovian! Those you belong to yearn after such things as after a happiness. And then one calls you martyrs afterward. Or what? Has one not thus exalted those I was forced to chastise for their stubbornness' sake?

Go to the vanguard! I would rather not see you again. – O, this deceit against me, which you veil with phrases about a double duty and a double kingdom! This shall become otherwise. There are other kings than the Persian king who shall come to feel my foot on their necks.

To the vanguard, Jovian!

Jovian the Commander.

I shall do my duty, lord!

Emperor Julian.

We will not that this morning, which is risen under so many fortune-boding auguries, shall be darkened for us. We will take this, and more besides, with an even mind. My dream shall yet be made known to the army. You, Cytron, and you, my Priscus, and you other friends, will see to it that it is done in a worthy manner.

The teachers of wisdom.

With joy, with unspeakable joy, lord!

Emperor Julian.

I beg you, O Hormisdas, not to doubt my power, though it might seem as though contending wills ruled here. Go; and you likewise, Nevita, and all you others, each to his own; – I come after, when the army is gathered out on the plains.

Maximus the mystic (after a while, rises from the stone where he has sat, and goes over to the emperor).

My sick brother!

Emperor Julian.

More wounded than sick. The hart that is struck by a marksman's arrow seeks into the thicket, where the beasts cannot see it. It was unbearable to me to show myself longer on Antioch's streets; – now it seems to me I cannot show myself to the army.

Maximus the mystic.

None sees you, friend; for they grope in blindness. But you shall become a healer for their eyes, and then shall they see you in your glory.

Emperor Julian (stares down into the mountain-cleft).

How deep below us! How vanishingly small they wind their way forward among brushwood and thorns along the stony stream.

When we stood before this narrows, the leaders, one and all, made straight into the strait. It was an hour's road to shorten, a little toil to spare – on the wandering toward death.

And the flocks followed them so willingly. No thought of taking the way up above; no longing for the free air up here, that widens the breast and makes the breath roomy. There they go, and go and go, and see not that they have a narrow heaven over them – and know not that there are heights where it is greater. – Is it not, Maximus, as though men lived in order to come to die? The Galilean's spirit is in this. If it is true, as is said, that his father created the world, then the son despises the father's work. And just for this presumptuous madness it is that he is praised so highly!

What was Socrates, then, against him! Did not Socrates love enjoyment and happiness and beauty? And yet he renounced. – But what a bottomless gulf between this – on the one side not to desire, – and on the other side to desire and yet renounce.

O, this lost treasure of wisdom would I bring men back. Like Dionysus of old, I came to meet them glad and young, with foliage about my brow, with the fullness of grapes in my arms. But they refuse my gift, and I am scorned and hated and blasphemed by friends and by foes.

Maximus the mystic.

Why? I shall tell you why.

In the neighbourhood of a certain city where I once lived, there was a vineyard, widely famed for its grapes; and when the city's citizens wished right sweet fruits on their table, they sent their servants out to that vineyard and had grapes fetched there.

Many years after, I came to the same city; but then none knew any longer of the once so highly prized grapes. Then I sought out the vine-dresser and asked him: tell me, O friend, are your vines died out, so that none any more knows your grapes? No, answered the vine-dresser, but you know that young vines give good grapes but poor wine; old vines, on the other hand, bad grapes but good wine. Therefore, O stranger, he added, I still gladden my fellow-citizens' hearts with this vineyard's abundance, only in another shape, – as wine, and not as grapes.

Emperor Julian (thoughtful).

Yes, yes, yes!

Maximus the mystic.

It is this that you have not taken heed of. The world's vine has grown old, and yet you think, as of old, to be able to offer the grapes raw to those who thirst after the new wine.

Emperor Julian.

Alas, my Maximus, who thirsts? Name me a single one, outside our brotherhood, who is drawn by a spiritual need. – Unhappy am I, that I was born in such an iron age.

Maximus the mystic.

Blame not the age. Had the age been greater, then you had become less. The world-soul is like a rich man who has innumerable sons. Does he divide his wealth equally among all the sons, then they all become well-to-do, but none of them rich. Does he, on the other hand, make them all disinherited save one, and bestow all on this one, then this one stands as a rich man in a circle of the poor.

Emperor Julian.

No likeness fits less than this. – Or do I stand so? Is there not precisely, divided among many hands, that which the world's ruler should possess in richer measure than all others; yes, I dare well say – which he alone should possess! O, how is the power not divided! Has not Libanius the power of eloquence in so full a measure that one has called him the king of orators? Have not you, my Maximus, the power of enigmatic wisdom? Has not that raging Apollinaris in Antioch the power of song and rapture in such a fullness as I might well envy him! And now the Cappadocian Gregory! Has not he the unbending power of will in such excess that manifold men give him the surname – unbecoming for a subject –: the great! Yes, – what is stranger still, – the same surname is given to Gregory's friend, Basil, the man with the soft mind and the maidenlike eye. And yet he steps not forth into the world; here he lives, this Basil, – just in this remote region, clad in a hermit's garb, in communion only with his disciples, and with his sister Macrina and other women who are called pious and holy. And how do not both he and the sister work through the letters that at times go forth from them? All, even renunciation and withdrawnness, becomes power against my power. But worst of them all is yet the crucified Jew.

Maximus the mystic.

Then break with all this scattered authority! But think not that you can crush the rebels if you come upon them as a general, sent out by a ruler whom they do not know. In your own name must you come, Julian! Came Jesus of Nazareth as envoy from another? Said he not himself to be the one who sent him? Truly, in you is the fulfilment of the time, and you see it not. Do not all signs and auguries point with an unerring finger straight to you? Shall I remind you of your mother's dream –?

Emperor Julian.

She dreamed that she gave birth to Achilles.

Maximus the mystic.

Shall I remind you that fortune has borne you, as on strong wings, through a stirred and perilous life? Who are you, lord? Are you the Alexander come again, at that time unfinished, now full-born and armed to complete the work?

Emperor Julian.

Maximus!

Maximus the mystic.

There is one who always, at certain intervals, comes again in the life of the human race. He is like a rider who on the riding-ground shall tame a wild horse. Each time the horse throws him off. A while, then the rider is in the saddle again, always surer, always more practised; but off he had to go in his changing shapes each time until this day. Off he had to go as the god-sprung man in Eden's grove; off he had to go as the world-empire's founder; – off he must go as the god-kingdom's prince. Who knows how many times he has wandered among us without any knowing him?

Know you, Julian, whether you were not in him whom you now persecute?

Emperor Julian (looks before him).

O, bottomless riddle –!

Maximus the mystic.

Shall I remind you of that old prophecy that is now set in circulation again? It has been proclaimed that as many years as the year has days – so many years shall the Galilean's kingdom stand in power. In two years it will be three hundred and sixty-five years since this man was born in Bethlehem.

Emperor Julian.

Do you believe in this prophecy?

Maximus the mystic.

I believe in the one that is coming.

Emperor Julian.

Always riddles!

Maximus the mystic.

I believe in the free necessity.

Emperor Julian.

Still more enigmatic.

Maximus the mystic.

See, Julian, – when Chaos rolled in the empty, dreadful void, and Jehovah was alone, – the day when he, according to the old Jewish writings, struck out with his hand and divided between light and darkness, between sea and land, – that day the great creating god stood on the summit of his power.

But with men arose wills upon the earth. And men and beasts and trees and herbs created their like after eternal laws; and after eternal laws go all the stars in the space of heaven.

Has Jehovah repented? All peoples' old legends know how to tell of a repentant creator.

The law of maintenance he has laid in the creation. Too late to repent! The created will maintain itself – and so it is maintained.

But the two kingdoms of one-sidedness wage war with each other. Where is he, where is he, the king of peace, the double-sided one, he who shall reconcile them?

Emperor Julian (to himself).

Two years? All gods inactive. No capricious power behind, that cares to cross my purposes – –

Two years? In two years I can lay the earth under my dominion.

Maximus the mystic.

You spoke, my Julian; – what said you?

Emperor Julian.

I am young and strong and sound. Maximus, – it is my will to live long.

Macrina.

O, Basil, see, – the one paler, the one more wasted than the other!

Basil of Caesarea.

And so countless many Christian brothers among them! Woe over Emperor Julian! This is more cruelly devised than all the rack's torments. Against whom is it that he leads his hosts? Less against the Persian king than against Christ.

Macrina.

Believe you this dreadful thing of him?

Basil of Caesarea.

Yes, Macrina, it dawns on me more and more that it is us the blow shall strike. All the defeats he has suffered in Antioch, all the resistance he has met, all the humiliations and disappointments he has had to endure for his ungodly conduct, all this he thinks to cover over with forgetfulness by a victorious campaign. And it will succeed for him. A great victory will efface all that. Men are not otherwise; they see the right in fortune, and under power the most bow down.

Macrina (points out to the left).

New throngs! Uncountable, without end –

An under-officer (strikes him with his staff).

Up with you, you lazy dog!

Macrina (hastens up).

O, strike him not!

The soldier.

Let them strike; – I suffer so gladly.

Ammian the captain (comes).

Again a stoppage! – Now, it is he. Can he really no more?

The under-officer.

I know not what to say, lord; he falls every moment.

Macrina.

O, be patient! Who is this unhappy one? – See here; suck the juice of these fruits. – Who is he, lord?

Ammian the captain.

A Cappadocian, – one of the erring ones, who was among those who profaned the Venus-temple in Antioch.

Macrina.

O, one of those martyrs –!

Ammian the captain.

Try to raise yourself, Agathon! I pity this man. They chastised him more violently than he could bear. He has not been in his right mind since.

Agathon (raises himself).

I can well bear it. And I am fully in my right mind, lord! Strike, strike, strike; – I suffer so gladly.

Ammian the captain (to the under-officer).

Forward; here is no time to lose.

The under-officer (to the soldiers).

Forward; forward!

Agathon.

Babylonios fell; – soon shall the Babylonian whoremonger fall. Zaita's lion was felled; – felled shall the world's crowned lion be!

Ammian the captain (to Basil and Macrina.)

You strange people; – you go astray and yet do the good. Thanks, that you have refreshed the exhausted; and would that the emperor's interest allowed me to deal as mildly with your brothers as I would gladly do.

Basil of Caesarea.

God be with you, you noble heathen!

Macrina.

Who might this man have been?

Basil of Caesarea.

I knew him not.

O, see, see, – there is he himself!

Macrina.

The emperor? Is that the emperor?

Basil of Caesarea.

Yes, it is he.

Emperor Julian (to his companions).

What – weary? Should a horse's fall bring me to halt? Or should it be less seemly to go on foot than to bestride a meaner beast? Weary! My forefather has declared that it befits an emperor to die standing. I say that it befits an emperor, in his whole life – not only in the hour of death – to show a perseverance worthy of imitation; I say – – Ah, by heaven's great light, do I not see there before my eyes the Caesarean Basil!

Basil of Caesarea (bows deeply).

Your humble servant, O most mighty lord!

Emperor Julian.

Yes, that I well believe! You serve me in truth well, Basil!

So this, then, is the country house that has come into such great renown by the letters that go forth from here. One speaks round about in all lands more of this house than one speaks of the lecture-halls, though I have shunned neither diligence nor toil to bring them on their feet again.

Is it not so, – this woman is surely your sister Macrina?

Basil of Caesarea.

So it is, lord!

Emperor Julian.

You are a fair woman, and young still. And yet you have, as I hear, renounced life.

Macrina.

Lord, I have renounced life in order to come to live rightly.

Emperor Julian.

Alas, I know exceeding well your errors. You sigh after that which lies beyond and whereof you know nothing with certainty; you mortify your flesh; you suppress all human desires. And yet I tell you that this may be a vanity, as good as any other.

Basil of Caesarea.

Think not, lord, that I am blind to the danger that lies in renunciation. I know well that my friend Gregory is right when he writes that he trusts himself to be a hermit with the heart without being one with the body. And I know also that this coarse garb little profits my soul, in case I reckon it to me for a merit to wear it.

But so I feel it not. This withdrawn life fills me with an unspeakable happiness; that is all. Those wild convulsions that the world undergoes in this time appear not here before my eyes in their unbeauty. Here I feel my body uplifted in prayer, and my soul cleansed by a frugal way of life.

Emperor Julian.

O, my frugal Basil, I think yet you strive after something more. If one has spoken truly, then your sister here has gathered about her a host of young women, whom she trains after her example. And you yourself have, even like your Galilean master, chosen for yourself twelve disciples. What is your intent with them?

Basil of Caesarea.

To send them out to all lands to strengthen our brothers in the strife.

Emperor Julian.

Ay so! Equipped with all eloquence's weapons you send your army against me. And where have you this eloquence, this fair Greek art from? You have it from our lecture-halls. And with what right do you possess it? You have stolen yourself as a spy into our camp to find out where we can most surely be struck. And now you use this knowledge to our greatest hurt!

Know you well, Basil, that I am not minded to tolerate this unseemliness longer? I will strike this weapon out of your hands. Hold you to Matthew and Luke and other such uncouth book-writers. But you shall not henceforth be allowed to interpret our old poets, nor yet our old teachers of wisdom; for I hold it unfair that you suck knowledge and profit from these sources, in whose truth you have no faith at all. Likewise it shall be forbidden to all Galilean disciples to come into our lecture-halls; for what will they there? To steal from us our art in order to use it against ourselves.

Basil of Caesarea.

Lord, I have already before heard this strange purpose spoken of. And I must give Gregory my assent when he writes that you have no exclusive right to the Greek learning, nor yet to the Greek art of speech. I must give him my assent when he says that you indeed use alphabetic script, which was after all invented among the Egyptians, and that you clothe yourself in the purple, though it first came into use among the peoples of Tyre.

Yes, lord, – more than that. You subdue lands and make yourself ruler over peoples whose tongue you understand not and whose customs you know not. And to that you have a right. But the same right you have in the visible world, the same right has he whom you call the Galilean, in the invisible –

Emperor Julian.

Enough of this! I will not hear such again. You speak as though there were two rulers of the world, and with that objection you try to stop me on all my ways. O, you laughable ones! You set a dead one against a living. But you shall soon come to know how it hangs together. That writing against you, on which I have long laboured, you must not think that I have laid it aside amid the war's business. Think you perhaps that I pass my nights in sleep? Ah, you reckon amiss! For the "Beard-hater" I reaped only mockery, – and that even among those who might have had singular profit from laying certain truths to heart. But that shall in no wise deter me. Or should it befit a man with a staff in his hand to draw back before a pack of barking dogs? – Why smiled you, woman? What was it you laughed at?

Macrina.

Why, O lord, do you rage so strongly against one whom you call dead?

Emperor Julian.

Ah, I understand! You would thereby say that he lives.

Macrina.

I would thereby say that you, O mighty lord, in your heart feel that he surely lives.

Emperor Julian.

I? What now! I should feel –?

Macrina.

What is it you hate and persecute? Not him but your faith in him. And lives he not in your hatred and in your persecution, as he lives in our love?

Emperor Julian.

I know your twisted phrases. You Galileans say one thing and mean thereby another. And such you call the art of speech! O, you mediocre spirits! What folly! I should feel that the crucified Jew lives? O, what a sunken time, that can content itself with such! But men are no better nowadays. Madness is counted for wisdom. How have I not in unspeakably many nights waked and searched to find the true ground of things? But where are they who follow after me? Many praise my speech; but few or none let themselves be convinced.

Yet, truly, the end is not yet. There shall come something over you like a surprise. You shall feel whither all the scattered strives, in order to unite itself in one. You shall learn that all that which you now despise, that has the glory in it, – and that cross whereon you hang your trust, that will I fashion over into a ladder for him whom you do not know.

Macrina.

And I tell you, emperor, that you are nothing other than a scourge in God's hand, – a scourge that must strike us for our sins' sake. Woe to us, that this should come! Woe to us, that we, discordant and loveless, turned aside from the right way!

There was no king any more in Israel. Therefore the Lord struck you with madness, that you should chastise us.

What spirit has he not darkened, that it should rage against us! What blossoming tree has he not lopped of branches for a rod to our guilt-burdened shoulders!

Auguries warned you, and you heeded them not. Voices called you, and you heard them not. Hands wrote their fiery writing on the wall for you, and you struck the writing out without interpreting it.

Emperor Julian.

Basil, – I could gladly have known this woman before this day.

Basil of Caesarea.

Come, Macrina!

Macrina.

Woe to me that I got to see these shining eyes! Angel and serpent, united into one; the apostate's longing and the tempter's cunning at once! O, how have our brothers and sisters been able to bear the hope of victory high in this envoy's nearness? In him is a greater. See you it not, Basil, – in him will God the Lord strike us to death.

Emperor Julian.

You have said it!

Macrina.

Not I!

Emperor Julian.

First won soul!

Macrina.

Depart from me!

Basil of Caesarea.

Come, – come!

Emperor Julian.

Stay here! – Anatolus, set a guard about them! – It is my will that you shall follow the army, – both you and your disciples, – youths and women.

Basil of Caesarea.

Lord, that you cannot will.

Emperor Julian.

It is not wise to leave fortresses in one's rear. See, I strike out with my hand and quell this burning rain of arrows that you have poured out from that little country house.

Basil of Caesarea.

No, no, lord, – this deed of violence –

Macrina.

Alas, Basil, – here or there – all is over!

Emperor Julian.

Stands it not written that you shall give the emperor what is the emperor's? I use all hands on this march. You can tend my sick and wounded. Thereby you serve the Galilean at the same time; and if you hold this still for a duty, then I counsel you to use the time. He has not long left.

Macrina.

Sinking sun over the home; sinking hope and sinking light of the world! O, Basil, that we should live to see the night.

Basil of Caesarea.

The light is.

Emperor Julian.

The light shall be. Your backs to the sunset-glow, Galileans! The eye toward the east, toward the east, where Helios dreams. Truly, I say to you, you shall see the earth's sun-king.

Nevita the general.

See now whether the emperor did not choose the right. Here we stand without sword-stroke on the enemy's ground; none has disputed the crossing of the rivers with us; not so much as a single Persian horseman is to be spied.

Jovian the Commander.

No, lord, by this way the enemy has surely not expected us.

Nevita the general.

You say this as though you still held fast that the choice of this way was unwise.

Jovian the Commander.

Yes, lord, it is still my opinion that we should rather have struck into a more northerly direction. There we could have supported our left wing on Armenia, which is friendly disposed to us, and fetched all needful sustenance from that abundant region. But here? Hampered in our advance by the heavy freight-ships. Round about us a desolate plain, almost a wilderness – – Ah, the emperor comes. I will go; he is not gracious to me in this time.

Emperor Julian.

Thus we see the empire grow. Every step I tread toward the east moves the empire's border.

This earth is mine! I am within the realm, not outside it. – Now, Priscus –?

Priscus the teacher of wisdom.

Incomparable emperor, your bidding is carried out. What you so wondrously dreamed, we have had read aloud to all the army's detachments.

Emperor Julian.

Well, well. And what effect did my dream seem to work on the soldiers?

Cytron the teacher of wisdom.

Some praised you with glad voice and called you the divine one; others, on the other hand –

Priscus the teacher of wisdom.

These others were Galileans, O Cytron!

Cytron the teacher of wisdom.

Yes, yes, the most of the others were Galileans; and these beat upon their breast and uttered loud cries of lament.

Emperor Julian.

I will not stop at this. Those bust-images of me, which I have had wrought in order to set them up in the cities I shall come to subdue, they shall be raised round about in the camp by all the tables where the treasurers deal out the war-folk's pay. Lamps shall be lit beside the images, a brazier with sweet-smelling incense shall burn before them, and each soldier shall, as he steps forth to receive his pay, cast some incense-grains on the fire.

Oribases the Royal Physician.

My most gracious emperor, forgive me, but – is that advisable?

Emperor Julian.

Why not advisable? I am astonished at my Oribases.

Priscus the teacher of wisdom.

Alas, lord, you may well be astonished! Should it not be advisable to –?

Cytron the teacher of wisdom.

Should not a Julian dare venture what less divine men have ventured?

Emperor Julian.

I also find that the most venturesome thing here would be to lay concealment on the enigmatic powers' counsels. Is it come so far that the divine ones lay their power in earthly hands, – which from many signs we dare conclude to be the case, – then it would in truth be most ungrateful to conceal such a thing. It is, under such perilous circumstances as these, in no way indifferent whether the soldiers render their worship to the wrong one, when they should rather call upon a wholly other.

I tell you, Oribases, and I tell you others, – if there otherwise be any other here who thus will stake out borders for the imperial power, – that just this would be the real ungodliness, and that I therefore am forced to strive against it.

Has not already Plato proclaimed the truth that only a god can rule over men? What meant he by this utterance? Answer me on it, – what meant he? Far be it from me to want to assert that Plato – this otherwise matchless sage, – thereby, as in a prophecy, should have aimed at any single man, not even the foremost. But I think, we all have been witness to the disorders that flow from the highest power being as it were cloven and divided among several hands.

Enough of this. I have already ordered that the imperial images shall be put on show in the camp.

Ah, what seek you so hastily, Eutherius?

Eutherius the steward.

Exalted emperor, this Antiochene is sent out from the governor Alexandros and brings you a letter which he says is important.

Emperor Julian.

Ah, let me see, then! Light hither!

Emperor Julian.

Can this be possible! More light! Yes, it stands there; – and here –; what now? – This goes in truth beyond all I could have imagined!

Nevita the general.

Bad news from the western lands, lord?

Emperor Julian.

Nevita, tell me, how long a time do we need to reach Ctesiphon?

Nevita the general.

It cannot possibly be done in less time than thirty days.

Emperor Julian.

It must be done in less time! Thirty days! A whole month! And while we creep forward here, should I let these raging –

Nevita the general.

You know yourself, lord, we must for the ships' sake follow all the river's windings. The stream is swift, and moreover both shallow and stony. I hold it unfeasible to reach forward more swiftly.

Emperor Julian.

Thirty days! And thereafter the city shall be taken, – the Persian army shall be put to flight, – the peace shall be concluded. How long a time will not all this require? And still there were some among you who, worse still, counselled me to make a yet longer roundabout way. Ha-ha, one plots my downfall!

Nevita the general.

Lord, be secure; the march shall be furthered with all might.

Emperor Julian.

It is indeed needful. Can you imagine what Alexandros reports? The Galileans' madness surpasses all bounds since my departure. And this mischief grows day by day. They perceive that my victory in Persia will draw their extermination after it; and with that shameless Gregory as ringleader they now stand, like a hostile army, at my back; in the Phrygian regions secret things are being prepared, which none can rightly get to the bottom of –

Nevita the general.

What does that mean, lord? What are they about?

Emperor Julian.

What are they about? Pray, preach, sing, proclaim the world's last day. O, if only that were all; – but they sweep our adherents with them and draw them into their rebellious league. In Caesarea the congregation has chosen the judge Eusebius for bishop, – Eusebius, an unbaptized man, – and this deluded one has accepted such a call, which is even invalid after their own church-laws.

Yet, this is far from the worst. Worse, worse, tenfold worse is it that Athanasius is come back to Alexandria.

Nevita the general.

Athanasius?

Priscus the teacher of wisdom.

That enigmatic bishop who vanished into the wilderness six years ago?

Emperor Julian.

A church-council drove him out for his unseemly zeal's sake. The Galileans were compliant under my predecessor.

Yes, will you imagine, – now this raging fanatic is come back to Alexandria. His entry was like a king's; the highroad was laid with carpets and green palm-branches. And what happened thereafter? What think you, then? That same night a revolt broke out among the Galileans. Georgius, their lawful bishop, this upright and benevolent man, whom they accused of lukewarmness in the faith, has been murdered, torn asunder alive in the city's streets.

Nevita the general.

But, lord, how could it come so far? Where then was the governor Artemius?

Emperor Julian.

You may well ask where Artemius was. I shall tell you it. Artemius is gone over to the Galileans! Artemius has himself with armed hand forced his way into the Serapeion, that most glorious temple in the world, – has shattered the statues, – has plundered the altars and destroyed those immeasurable book-treasures, which we just in this erring and ignorant time had such high use for, and which I would bewail, like a friend snatched away by death, if my wrath allowed me to pour out tears.

Cytron the teacher of wisdom.

Truly, this goes beyond all conception!

Emperor Julian.

And not to be able to reach these wretches in order to chastise them! To have to be witness that such excesses spread further and further! – Thirty days, you say! Why does one tarry? Why does one pitch camp? Why does one sleep? Do my commanders not know what is here at stake? We must hold counsel. When I think what the Macedonian Alexander achieved in thirty days –

Jovian the Commander.

Be not wroth, lord, that I step before your eyes; but this stranger –

Emperor Julian.

A Persian warrior!

The Persian (throws himself down on the ground).

No warrior, you mighty one!

Jovian the Commander.

He came weaponless galloping on horseback over the plain and reported himself at the outposts –

Emperor Julian.

So your countrymen are near?

The Persian.

No, no!

Emperor Julian.

But whence come you, then?

The Persian (throws his clothes aside).

See these arms, you ruler of the earth, – bloody from rusty chain-rings. Feel this flayed back, – wound upon wound. I come from the rack, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Ah, – you have fled from King Sapor?

The Persian.

Yes, you mighty one, you who know all! I stood high in favour with King Sapor until I, driven by dread at your approach, dared to foretell him that this war would cause his downfall. Know you, lord, how he has rewarded me? My wife he gave over to his archers from the mountains; my children he had sold as slaves; all my possessions he let his servants divide among themselves; myself he had tortured for nine days. Thereupon he bade me ride out and die like a beast on the plains.

Emperor Julian.

And what would you of me?

The Persian.

What I would of you after this usage? I will help you to destroy my persecutor.

Emperor Julian.

Ah, you tortured man, – what can you help?

The Persian.

I can fasten wings to your war-folk's ankles.

Emperor Julian.

What mean you by that? Rise, and tell me what you mean.

The Persian (rises).

There was none in Ctesiphon who thought you would choose this way –

Emperor Julian.

That I know.

The Persian.

Now it is no secret any longer.

Emperor Julian.

You lie, man! You Persians know nothing of my purposes.

The Persian.

Lord, you whose wisdom stems from the fire and the sun, you know well that my countrymen now know your purposes. You have crossed over the rivers on your ships; these ships, more than a thousand in number, and laden with all the army's necessities, shall be drawn up the Tigris, and the army shall push forward abreast of the ships.

Emperor Julian.

Incredible –!

The Persian.

When the ships have come as near to Ctesiphon as possible, – which is to say two days' journey from the city, – then you will go straight at it, surround it and force King Sapor to surrender.

Emperor Julian (looks about him).

Who has betrayed us?

The Persian.

This undertaking now stands no longer to be carried out. My countrymen have in all haste built stone dams in the river-bed, and on them your ships will run aground.

Emperor Julian.

Man, know you what it costs you, in case you speak not the truth?

The Persian.

My body is in your power, you mighty one! Speak I not the truth, then it stands free to you to have me burned alive.

Emperor Julian (to Nevita).

The river closed! There will be needed weeks to make it passable again.

Nevita the general.

In case it can be done, lord! Such implements are lacking –

Emperor Julian.

And this should meet us now, – now, when it is a matter of conquering with all haste!

The Persian.

You ruler of the world, I have told you that I can bestow wings on your army.

Emperor Julian.

Speak! Know you some shorter way?

The Persian.

If you promise me, after the victory, to procure me my plundered property back and therewith a new wife of high birth, then can I –

Emperor Julian.

I promise you all; only speak – speak!

The Persian.

Lay you the way straight across the plains, then can you in four days stand before Ctesiphon's walls.

Emperor Julian.

Forget you the mountain-ridge beyond the plains?

The Persian.

Lord, have you never heard tell of that strange narrows between the mountains?

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes, a cleft; "Ahriman's gate" it is called. Is it true that such a one exists?

The Persian.

I rode through Ahriman's gate two days ago.

Emperor Julian.

Nevita!

Nevita the general.

In truth, lord, if so it be –

Emperor Julian.

Wondrous help in need –!

The Persian.

But will you forth by that way, you mighty one, then is there no time to lose. The Persian army, which was drawn together in the northern regions, is now called back to close the mountain-clefts.

Emperor Julian.

Know you that with certainty?

The Persian.

If you tarry, you will yourself learn it.

Emperor Julian.

How many days do your countrymen need to reach thither?

The Persian.

Four days, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Nevita, we must stand beyond the clefts within three days!

Nevita the general (to the Persian.)

Is it feasible for us to reach the clefts in three days?

The Persian.

Yes, great warrior, it is feasible, if you take this night to your aid.

Emperor Julian.

The camp shall be broken up! No sleep; no rest now. Within four days – at most five – must I stand before Ctesiphon. – What think you on? Ah, I know it.

Nevita the general.

The fleet, lord!

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes, yes, the fleet.

Nevita the general.

Comes the Persian army a day later to the clefts than we, then will it – though it can do you no other harm – turn westward against your ships –

Emperor Julian.

– make an immense booty to prolong the war with –

Nevita the general.

Could we leave twenty thousand men at the ships, then would they be secured –

Emperor Julian.

What think you on! Twenty thousand? Almost the third part of all the men fit to bear arms. Where then were the fighting force wherewith I should conquer? Split, scattered, divided. Not a single man can I spare to such a purpose.

No, no, Nevita; but there might well be a third means –

Nevita the general (draws back).

My great emperor –!

Emperor Julian.

The fleet must neither fall into the Persians' hands nor cause us loss of men. There is a third choice, I say! Why tarry you? Why utter you it not?

Nevita the general (to the Persian).

Know you whether the citizens in Ctesiphon have stores of corn and oil?

The Persian.

In Ctesiphon are abundant stores of all kinds.

Emperor Julian.

And once we have the city, then lies the whole rich region open for us.

The Persian.

The citizens will open their gates for you, lord! I am not the only one who hates King Sapor. They will rise against him and fall at your feet, if you come unexpectedly upon them, in the might of terror, and with all your gathered force.

Emperor Julian.

Just that; just that.

The Persian.

Burn the ships, lord!

Nevita the general.

Ah!

Emperor Julian.

His hatred sees, while your loyalty gropes, Nevita!

Nevita the general.

My loyalty saw, lord; but it writhed at what it saw.

Emperor Julian.

Are not these ships like a chain about our foot? We have provisions for four full days in the camp. It is good that the soldiers be not weighed down too much. And what then do the ships serve for? We have no more rivers to cross –

Nevita the general.

Lord, if it really is your will –

Emperor Julian.

My will, – my will? O, on an evening like this – storm-full and tempestuous –; why could not a lightning-bolt strike down and –

Maximus the mystic (comes hastily from the left).

You chosen son of the sun, – hear, hear!

Emperor Julian.

Not now, my Maximus!

Maximus the mystic.

Nothing is more important than this. You must hear me!

Emperor Julian.

In fortune's and wisdom's name, then speak, my brother!

Maximus the mystic (draws him aside and says in a subdued voice).

You know, I have searched and pored, both in books and through auguries, to come at the outcome of this campaign.

Emperor Julian.

I know that you have been able to foretell me nothing.

Maximus the mystic.

The auguries spoke and the writings agreed with them. But the answer that always came again was so strange that I had to believe I had reckoned amiss.

Emperor Julian.

But now –?

Maximus the mystic.

When we set out from Antioch I wrote to Rome to consult the Sibylline books –

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes –!

Maximus the mystic.

In this hour the answer is come; a letter-carrier from the governor in Antioch has brought it.

Emperor Julian.

Ah, Maximus, – and it runs –?

Maximus the mystic.

It runs like all that auguries and writings have told me; and now I dare interpret it. Rejoice, my brother, – you are invulnerable in this strife.

Emperor Julian.

The utterance, – the utterance?

Maximus the mystic.

The Sibylline books say: "Julian shall beware of the Phrygian regions."

Emperor Julian (draws back).

The Phrygian –? Ah, Maximus!

Maximus the mystic.

Why grew you pale, my brother?

Emperor Julian.

Tell me, precious teacher, – how interpret you this answer?

Maximus the mystic.

Is more than one interpretation thinkable? The Phrygian regions? What have you in Phrygia to do? In Phrygia, – a region that lies aside, far behind you, and where you never need set your foot? No danger threatens you, you happy one, – that is the meaning.

Emperor Julian.

This riddle-answer has a twofold meaning. No danger threatens me in the strife – but from that far region. –

Nevita; Nevita!

Nevita the general.

Lord –?

Emperor Julian.

In Phrygia, then? Alexandros writes of mysterious things being prepared in Phrygia. It has once been foretold that the Galilean shall come again –

Burn the ships, Nevita!

Nevita the general.

Lord, is that your firm, irrevocable will –?

Emperor Julian.

Burn them! Tarry not. There threaten us hidden dangers behind.

(to one of the captains.)

Give close heed to this stranger. He shall serve us as guide. Refresh him with food and drink, and let him rest his fill.

Jovian the Commander.

My emperor, I beseech you, – build not too surely on such a deserter's utterance.

Emperor Julian.

Aha, – you seem shaken, my Galilean counsellor! All this is surely not to your mind. Perhaps you know more than you care to say.

Go, Nevita, – and burn the ships!

Emperor Julian.

Traitors in my own camp! Wait, wait, – I shall well come to the bottom of these subtleties.

The army shall break up! Go, Jovian, and see that the vanguard marches out within an hour. The Persian knows the way. Go!

Jovian the Commander.

As you bid, my high emperor!

Maximus the mystic.

You burn the fleet? Surely you have great things in mind.

Emperor Julian.

I should like to know whether the Macedonian Alexander had ventured this?

Maximus the mystic.

Knew Alexander where the danger threatened?

Emperor Julian.

True; true! I know it. All victory-bringing powers are in league with me. Auguries and signs unfold their mysterious knowledge to the profit of my realm.

Is it not said of the Galilean that the spirits came and served him? – Whom do the spirits serve now?

What would the Galilean say, if he were invisibly present among us?

Maximus the mystic.

He would say: the third kingdom is near.

Emperor Julian.

The third kingdom is come, Maximus! I feel that the world's Messiah is living in me. The spirit is become flesh, and the flesh spirit. All created lies within my will and my might.

See, see, – yonder the first sparks fly into the air. The flames lick at the rigging and in the dense mast-clusters.

Kindle; kindle!

Maximus the mystic.

The wind divines your will. It grows and serves you.

Emperor Julian (bids with clenched hand).

Become storm! More westerly! I will it!

Fromentinus the captain (comes from the right).

Most gracious lord, – allow me to warn you. There has broken out a perilous unrest in the camp.

Emperor Julian.

I tolerate no more unrest. The army shall push forward.

Fromentinus the captain.

Yes, my emperor, – but the stubborn Galileans –

Emperor Julian.

The Galileans? What of them?

Fromentinus the captain.

When the treasurers lately were to deal out pay to the soldiers, they had set up your high image before the pay-tables –

Emperor Julian.

So shall it ever be henceforth.

Fromentinus the captain.

It was laid upon each man, as he stepped forth, to cast some incense into the braziers –

Emperor Julian.

Well, yes, yes?

Fromentinus the captain.

Many of the Galilean soldiers did it without thinking further of it; but others refused –

Emperor Julian.

What! They refused?

Fromentinus the captain.

At first, lord; but when the treasurers represented to them that it was an old custom which should again be introduced and which had nothing to do with the divine –

Emperor Julian.

Aha; what then?

Fromentinus the captain.

– then they gave way and did as they were bidden.

Emperor Julian.

See you well; they gave way!

Fromentinus the captain.

But afterward, lord, our own men smiled at them and mocked and said thoughtlessly that now they did best to efface the sign of the cross and the fish, which they are wont to inscribe on their arms; for now they had worshipped the divine emperor.

Emperor Julian.

Yes, yes! And the Galileans?

Fromentinus the captain.

They broke out in loud lamentations – –; hear, hear, lord; it is impossible to reason with them.

Emperor Julian.

These raging ones! Rebelliousness to the last. They know not that their master's power is broken.

A soldier.

Christ died for me, and I betrayed him!

Another soldier.

O, you punishing Lord in heaven, strike me; I have worshipped false gods!

Agathon the soldier.

The devil on the emperor's seat has slain my soul! Woe, woe, woe!

Other soldiers (tear off the lead-tokens they wear about their necks).

We will not serve idols!

Yet others.

The god-denier is not our ruler! We will home! Home!

Emperor Julian.

Fromentinus, seize these madmen! Cut them down!

Leaders and soldiers (terror-struck).

The fleet burns!

Emperor Julian.

Yes, the fleet burns! And more than the fleet burns. On this red, rolling bonfire the crucified Galilean burns to ashes; and the earthly emperor burns with the Galilean. But up out of the ashes rises – like that wondrous bird – the earth's god and the spirit's emperor in one, in one, in one!

Several voices.

Madness has struck him!

Nevita the general (comes from the left).

It is accomplished.

Jovian the Commander (hastily from the camp).

Quench, quench, quench!

Emperor Julian.

Burn, burn!

Ammian the captain (from the camp.)

Lord, you are betrayed! That Persian deserter was a deceiver –

Emperor Julian.

You lie, man! Where is he?

Ammian the captain.

Fled!

Jovian the Commander.

Vanished, like a shadow –

Nevita the general.

Fled!

Jovian the Commander.

Those who accompanied him declare that he became as it were lost between their hands.

Ammian the captain.

His horse is also gone from the enclosure where it stood; the stranger must have fled off across the plains.

Emperor Julian.

Quench the fire, Nevita!

Nevita the general.

Impossible, my emperor!

Emperor Julian.

Quench, quench! It shall be possible!

Nevita the general.

Nothing is more impossible. All the mooring-ropes are cut through; all the ships drift down upon the burning wrecks.

Prince Hormisdas (comes forth among the tents).

Curse upon my countrymen! O, lord, that you could listen to this intriguer.

Cries from the camp.

The fleet burns! Cut off from home! Death before us!

Agathon the soldier.

Idol, idol, – bid the storm be silent; bid the flames die!

Jovian the Commander.

The storm grows. The fire is like a rolling sea –

Maximus the mystic (whispers).

Beware of the Phrygian regions.

Emperor Julian (cries to the army).

Let the fleet burn! Within seven days you shall burn Ctesiphon.