THEY say that the Emperor Julian was an apostate that he was once
a Christian; that he fell from grace, and that in his last moments,
throwing some of his own blood into the air, he cried out to Jesus
Christ, "Galilean, thou hast conquered!"
It must be remembered that the Christians had persecuted and imprisoned
this very Julian; that they had exiled him; that they had threatened him
with death. Many of his relatives were murdered by the Christians.
He became emperor, and Christians conspired to take his life. The
conspirators were discovered and they were pardoned. He did what he
could to prevent the Christians from destroying each other. He held pomp
and pride and luxury in contempt, and led his army on foot, sharing the
privations of the meanest soldier.
Upon ascending the throne he published an edict proclaiming universal
religious toleration. He was then a Pagan. It is claimed by some that he
never did entirely forget his Christian education. In this I am
inclined to think there is some truth, because he revoked his edict of
toleration, and for a time was nearly as unjust as though he had been
a saint. He was emperor one year and seven months. In a battle with the
Persians he was mortally wounded. "Brought back to his tent, and
feeling that he had but a short time to live, he spent his last hours in
discoursing with his friends on the immortality of the soul. He reviewed
his reign and declared that he was satisfied with his conduct, and had
neither penitence nor remorse to express for anything that he had done."
His last words were: "I submit willingly to the eternal decrees of
heaven, convinced that he who is captivated with life, when his last
hour has arrived is more weak and pusillanimous than he who would rush
to voluntary death when it is his duty still to live."
When we remember that a Christian emperor murdered Julian's father and
most of his kindred, and that he narrowly escaped the same fate, we can
hardly blame him for having a little prejudice against a church
whose members were fierce, ignorant, and bloody--whose priests were
hypocrites, and whose bishops were assassins. If Julian had said he was
a Christian--no matter what he actually was, he would have satisfied the
church.
The story that the dying emperor acknowledged that he was conquered
by the Galilean was originated by some of the so-called Fathers of the
Church, probably by Gregory or Theodoret. They are the same wretches
who said that Julian sacrificed a woman to the moon, tearing out her
entrails with his own hands. We are also informed by these hypocrites
that he endeavored to rebuild the temple of Jerusalem, and that
fire came out of the earth and consumed the laborers employed in the
sacrilegious undertaking.
I did not suppose that an intelligent man could be found in the world
who believed this childish fable, and yet in the January number for
1880, of the _Princeton Review_, the Rev. Stuart Robinson (whoever
he may be) distinctly certifies to the truth of this story. He says:
"Throughout the entire era of the planting of the Christian Church, the
gospel preached was assailed not only by the malignant fanaticism of the
Jew and the violence of Roman statecraft, but also by the intellectual
weapons of philosophers, wits, and poets. Now Celsus denounced the new
religion as base imposture. Now Tacitus described it as but another
phase of the _odium generis humani. Now Julian proposed to bring into
contempt the prophetic claims of its founder by the practical test
of rebuilding the Temple_." Here then in the year of grace 1880 is a
Presbyterian preacher, who really believes that Julian tried to rebuild
the Temple, and that God caused fire to issue from the earth and consume
the innocent workmen.
All these stories rest upon the same foundation--the mendacity of
priests.
Julian changed the religion of the Empire, and diverted the revenues
of the church. Whoever steps between a priest and his salary, will find
that he has committed every crime. No matter how often the slanders may
be refuted, they will be repeated until the last priest has lost his
body and found his wings. These falsehoods about Julian were invented
some fifteen hundred years ago, and they are repeated to-day by just as
honest and just as respectable people as those who told them at first.
Whenever the church cannot answer the arguments of an opponent, she
attacks his character. She resorts to falsehood, and in the domain of
calumny she has stood for fifteen hundred years without a rival.
The great Empire was crumbling to its fall. The literature of the world
was being destroyed by priests. The gods and goddesses were driven from
the earth and sky. The paintings were torn and defaced. The statues were
broken. The walls were left desolate, and the niches empty. Art, like
Rachel, wept for her children, and would not be comforted. The streams
and forests were deserted by the children of the imagination, and the
whole earth was barren, poor and mean.
Christian ignorance, bigotry and hatred, in blind unreasoning zeal, had
destroyed the treasures of our race. Art was abhorred, Knowledge
was despised, Reason was an outcast. The sun was blotted from the
intellectual heaven, every star extinguished, and there fell upon the
world that shadow--that midnight,--known as "The Dark Ages."
This night lasted for a thousand years.
The First Great Star--Herald of the Dawn--was Bruno.