there! I found the town full of fugitive country people, who had
forsaken house and home because the drought had burnt up their crops,
and laid all the vineyards and olive-gardens desolate. To escape
starvation they had fled to the starving. There they lay—men, women, and
children—in heaps along the walls of the houses; fever shook them,
famine gnawed their entrails. What had Caesarea to offer them—that
impoverished, unhappy town, as yet but half rebuilt after the great
earthquake of two years ago? And in the midst of this, amid scorching
heat and frequent earthquake-shocks, we had to see ungodly festivals
going on day and night. The ruined altars were hastily rebuilt; the
blood of sacrifices ran in streams; mummers and harlots paraded the
streets with dance and song.
Sire—can you wonder that my much-tried brethren thought they saw in the
visitation that had come upon them a judgment of heaven because they had
so long tolerated heathenism and its scandalous symbols in their midst?
JULIAN.
What symbols do you mean?
GREGORY.
The cry of the terror-stricken and fevered multitude rose ever higher;
they demanded that the rulers of the city should give a palpable witness
for Christ by ordering the destruction of what still remains of the
former glory of heathendom in Caesarea.
JULIAN.
You cannot mean to say that——?
GREGORY.
The magistrates of the city called a meeting, where I too was present.
You know, most gracious Emperor, that all temples are the property of
the city; so that the citizens have the right to dispose of them at
their own free will.
JULIAN.
Well, well; what if it were so?
GREGORY.
In that terrible earthquake that ravaged Caesarea two years ago, all the
temples but one were destroyed.
JULIAN.
Yes, yes; the temple of Fortuna.
GREGORY.
At the meeting whereof I speak, the congregation determined to complete
God’s work of judgment, in testimony that they would trust wholly and
solely to him, and no longer tolerate the abomination in their midst.
JULIAN.
[_Hoarsely._] Gregory,—once my friend—do you hold your life dear?
GREGORY.
This resolution I did not myself approve, but almost all voices were in
favour of it. But as we feared that the matter might be represented to
you falsely, and might, perhaps, incense you against the city, it was
determined to send a man hither to announce to you what we have
resolved, and what will presently happen.
Great ruler,—no one else was found willing to undertake the task. It
fell perforce to me. Therefore it is, sire, that I stand here before you
in all humility, to announce that we Christians in Caesarea have
resolved that the temple where the heathen in bygone days worshipped a
false deity, under the name of Fortuna, shall be pulled down and
levelled with the ground.
JULIAN.
[_Springing up._] And I must listen to this with my own ears: One single
man dares to tell me such unheard-of things!
COURTIERS, ORATORS, AND POETS.
O pious Emperor, do not suffer it! Punish this audacious man!
HEKEBOLIUS.
He is distraught, sire! Let him go. See,—the frenzy glitters in his
eyes.
JULIAN.
Ay, it may well be called madness. But ’tis more than madness. To dream
of pulling down that excellent temple, dedicated to a no less excellent
divinity! Is it not to the favour of this very goddess that I ascribe my
achievements, the fame of which has reached the remotest nations? Were I
to suffer this, how could I ever again hope for victory or
prosperity?—Gregory, I command you to return to Caesarea and give the
citizens to understand that I forbid this outrage.
GREGORY.
Impossible, sire! The matter has come to such a pass that we have to
choose between the fear of man and obedience to God. We cannot draw
back.
JULIAN.
Then you shall feel how far the Emperor’s arm can stretch!
GREGORY.
The Emperor’s arm is mighty in earthly things; and I, like others,
tremble under it.
JULIAN.
Show it, then, in deeds! Ah, you Galileans, you reckon upon my
long-suffering. Do not trust to it; for truly——
_A noise at the entrance. The barber, EUNAPIUS, followed by
several citizens, rushes in._
JULIAN.
What is this? Eunapius, what has befallen you?
EUNAPIUS.
Oh that my eyes should see such a sight!
JULIAN.
What sight have you seen?
EUNAPIUS.
Behold, most gracious Emperor, I come bleeding and bruised, yet happy to
be the first to call down your wrath——
JULIAN.
Speak, man;—who has beaten you?
EUNAPIUS.
Permit me, sire, to lay my complaint before you.
I went forth from the town this morning to visit the little temple of
Venus which you have lately restored. When I came thither, the music of
flutes and singing greeted my ears. Women were dancing gracefully in the
outer court, and within I found the whole space filled with a rapturous
crowd, while at the altar priests were offering up the sacrifices you
have ordained.
JULIAN.
Yes, yes; and then——?
EUNAPIUS.
Scarcely had I had time to turn my thoughts in devotion toward that
enchanting goddess, whom I especially revere and worship,—when a great
crowd of young men forced their way into the temple——
JULIAN.
Not Galileans?
EUNAPIUS.
Yes, sire,—Galileans.
JULIAN.
Ah!
EUNAPIUS.
What a scene followed! Weeping under the assailants’ insults and blows,
the dancing-girls fled from the outer court to us within. The Galileans
fell upon us all, belaboured us and affronted us in the most shameful
manner.
JULIAN.
[_Descending from his throne._] Wait, wait!
EUNAPIUS.
Alas, would that their violence had fallen on us alone! But the madmen
went further. Yes, gracious Emperor—in one word, the altar is
overthrown, the statue of the goddess dashed to pieces, the entrails of
the sacrifices cast out to the dogs——
JULIAN.
[_Pacing up and down._] Wait, wait, wait!
GREGORY.
Sire, this one man’s word is not enough——
JULIAN.
Be silent!
[_To EUNAPIUS._] Did you know any of the sacrilegious crew?
EUNAPIUS.
Not I, sire; but these citizens knew many of them.
JULIAN.
Take a guard with you. Seize as many of the wretches as you can. Cast
them into prison. The prisoners shall give up the names of the rest; and
when I have them all in my power——
GREGORY.
What then, sire?
JULIAN.
Ask the executioner. Both you and the citizens of Caesarea shall be
taught what you have to expect if, in your Galilean obstinacy, you
should abide by your resolve.
[_The Emperor goes out in great wrath, to the left; EUNAPIUS and
his witnesses retire with the watch; the others disperse._
SCENE SECOND.
_A market-place in Antioch. In front, on the right, a street debouches
into the market; to the left, at the back, there is a view into a
narrow and crooked street._
_A great concourse of people fills the market. Hucksters cry their
wares. In several places the townspeople have gathered into
clusters, talking eagerly._
A CITIZEN.
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 entered from the street on the right._] My good man, do you
think it is fitting to call this a misfortune? I call it a crime, and a
most audacious crime to boot.
THE SECOND CITIZEN.
Yes, yes; that is quite true; it was a most audacious thing to do.
PHOCION.
Only think—of course it is the outrage on the temple of Venus you are
talking of? Only think of their choosing a time when the Emperor was in
the city——! And this day, too, of all others—a day——
A THIRD CITIZEN.
[_Drawing near._] Tell me, good friend, what is the matter——?
PHOCION.
This day of all others, I say, when our august ruler is himself to
officiate at the feast of Apollo.
THE THIRD CITIZEN.
Yes, I know that; but why are they taking these Christians to prison?
PHOCION.
What? Are they taking them to prison? Have they really caught them?
[_Loud shrieks are heard._
Hush; what is that? Yes, by the gods, I believe they have them!
[_An OLD WOMAN, much agitated, and with dishevelled hair, makes
her way through the crowd; she is beset by other women, who
in vain seek to restrain her._
THE OLD WOMAN.
I will not be held back! He is my only son, the child of my old age! Let
me go; let me go! Can no one tell me where I can find the Emperor?
PHOCION.
What would you with the Emperor, old mother?
THE OLD WOMAN.
I would have my son again. Help me! My son! Hilarion! Oh, they have
taken him from me! They burst into our house—and then they took him
away!
ONE OF THE CITIZENS.
[_To PHOCION._] Who is this woman?
PHOCION.
What? Know you not the widow Publia,—the psalm-singer?
CITIZEN.
Ah, yes, yes, yes!
PUBLIA.
Hilarion! my child! What will they do to him? Ah, Phocion,—are you
there? God be praised for sending me a Christian brother——!
PHOCION.
Hush, hush, be quiet; do not scream so loud; the Emperor is coming.
PUBLIA.
Oh, this ungodly Emperor! The Lord of Wrath is visiting his sins upon
us; famine ravages the land; the earth trembles beneath our feet!
[_A detachment of soldiers enters by the street on the right._
THE COMMANDER OF THE DETACHMENT.
Stand aside; make room here!
PUBLIA.
Oh come, good Phocion;—help me, for our friendship’s and our
fellowship’s sake——
PHOCION.
Are you mad, woman? I do not know you.
PUBLIA.
What? You do not know me? Are you not Phocion the dyer? Are you not the
son of——?
PHOCION.
I am not the son of anybody. Get you gone, woman! You are mad! I do not
know you; I have never seen you.
[_He hastens in among the crowd._
A SUBALTERN.
[_With soldiers, from the right._] Clear the way here!
[_The soldiers force the multitude back towards the houses. Old
PUBLIA faints in the arms of the women on the left. All gaze
expectantly down the street._
PHOCION.
[_In a knot of people behind the guard, to the right._] Yes, by the
Sun-God, there he comes, the blessed Emperor!
A SOLDIER.
Do not push so, behind there!
PHOCION.
Can you see him? The man with the white fillet round his brow, that is
the Emperor.
A CITIZEN.
The man all in white?
PHOCION.
Yes, yes, that is he.
THE CITIZEN.
Why is he dressed in white?
PHOCION.
Doubtless because of the heat; or,—no, stop,—I think it is as the
sacrificing priest that he——
A SECOND CITIZEN.
Will the Emperor himself offer the sacrifice?
PHOCION.
Yes, the Emperor Julian does everything himself.
A THIRD CITIZEN.
He does not look so powerful as the Emperor Constantius.
PHOCION.
I think he does. He is not so tall as the late Emperor; but his arms are
longer. And then his glance——oh my friends——! You cannot see it just
now; his eyes are modestly lowered as he walks. Yes, modest he is, I can
tell you. He has no eye for women. I dare swear that since his wife’s
death he has but seldom——; you see, he writes the whole night. That is
why his fingers are often as black as a dyer’s; just like mine; for I am
a dyer. I can tell you I know the Emperor better than most people. I was
born here in Antioch; but I have lived fifteen years in Constantinople,
until very lately——
A CITIZEN.
Is there aught, think you, in the rumour that the Emperor is minded to
settle here for good?
PHOCION.
I know the Emperor’s barber, and he reports it so. Let us trust these
shameful disturbances may not incense him too much.
A CITIZEN.
Alas, alas, that were a pity indeed!
A SECOND CITIZEN.
If the Emperor lived here, ’twould bring something in to all of us.
PHOCION.
’Twas on that reckoning that I returned here. So now we must do our
best, friends; when the Emperor comes past, we must shout lustily both
for him and for Apollo.
A CITIZEN.
[_To another_.] Who is this Apollo, that people begin to talk so much
about?
THE OTHER CITIZEN.
Why, ’tis the priest of Corinth,—he who watered what the holy Paul had
planted.
THE FIRST CITIZEN.
Ay, ay; to be sure; I think I remember now.
PHOCION.
No, no, no, ’tis not that Apollo; ’tis another one entirely;—this is the
Sun-King—the great lyre-playing Apollo.
THE OTHER CITIZEN.
Ah indeed; _that_ Apollo! Is he better?
PHOCION.
I should think so, indeed.—Look, look, there he comes. Oh, our most
blessed Emperor!
_The EMPEROR JULIAN, robed as a high priest, enters, surrounded by
priests and servants of the temple. Courtiers and learned men,
among whom is HEKEBOLIUS, have joined the procession; likewise
citizens. Before the Emperor go flute-players and harpers.
Soldiers and men of the city guard, with long staves, clear the
way before the procession and on either side._
THE MULTITUDE.
[_Clapping their hands._] Praise to the Emperor! Praise to Julian, hero
and benefactor!
PHOCION.
All hail to Julian and to the Sun-King! Long live Apollo!
THE CITIZENS.
[_In the foreground, on the right._] Emperor, Emperor, stay long among
us!
[_Julian makes a sign for the procession to stop._
JULIAN.
Citizens of Antioch! It were hard for me to name anything that could
more rejoice my heart than these inspiriting acclamations. And my heart
stands sorely in need of this refreshment.
It was with a downcast spirit that I set forth on this procession, which
should be one of joy and exaltation. Nay, more; I will not hide from you
that I was this morning on the verge of losing that equanimity which it
behoves a lover of wisdom to preserve under all trials.
But can any one chide me for it? I would have you all remember what
outrages are threatened elsewhere, and have already been committed here.
PUBLIA.
My lord, my lord!
PHOCION.
Oh pious and righteous Emperor, punish these desperate men!
PUBLIA.
My lord, give me back my Hilarion!
PHOCION.
All good citizens implore your favour towards this city.
JULIAN.
Seek to win the favour of the gods, and of mine you need have no doubt.
And surely it is fitting that Antioch should lead the way. Does it not
seem as though the Sun-God’s eye had dwelt with especial complacency on
this city? Ask of travellers, and you shall hear to what melancholy
extremes fanaticism has elsewhere proceeded in laying waste our holy
places. What is left? A remnant here and there; and nothing of the best.
But with you, citizens of Antioch! Oh, my eyes filled with tears of joy
when first I saw that incomparable sanctuary, the very house of Apollo,
which seems scarcely to be the work of human hands. Does not the image
of the Glorious One stand within it, in unviolated beauty? Not a corner
of his altar has broken or crumbled away, not a crack is to be seen in
the stately columns.
Oh, when I think of this,—when I feel the fillet round my brow—when I
look down upon these garments, dearer to me than the purple robe of
empire, then I feel, with a sacred tremor, the presence of the god.
See, see, the sunlight quivers around us in its glory!
Feel, feel, the air is teeming with the perfume of fresh-woven garlands!
Beautiful earth! The home of light and life, the home of joy, the home
of happiness and beauty;—what thou wast shalt thou again become!—In the
embrace of the Sun-King! Mithra, Mithra!
Forward on our victorious way!
[_The procession moves on again, amid the plaudits of the crowd;
those in front come to a stop at the mouth of the narrow
street, through which another procession enters the
market-place._
JULIAN.
What hinders us?
HEKEBOLIUS.
Gracious lord, there is something amiss in the other street.
SONG.
[_Far off._
Blissful our pangs, be they never so cruel;
Blissful our rising, the death-struggle o’er.
PHOCION.
The Galileans, sire! They have them!
PUBLIA.
Hilarion!
PHOCION.
They have them! I hear the fetters——
JULIAN.
Pass them by——!
EUNAPIUS.
[_Hastening through the press._] We have succeeded marvellously, sire.
JULIAN.
Who are they, these ruffians?
EUNAPIUS.
Some of them belong to this city; but most, it seems, are peasants
fleeing from Cappadocia.
JULIAN.
I will not see them. Forward, as I commanded!
THE PRISONERS’ SONG.
[_Nearer._
Blissful our crowning with martyrdom’s jewel;
Blissful our meeting with saints gone before.
JULIAN.
The madmen. Not so near to me! My guard, my guard!
[_The two processions have meanwhile encountered each other in
the crush. The procession of Apollo has to stand still while
the other, with the prisoners—men in chains, surrounded by
soldiers, and accompanied by a great concourse of
people—passes on._
PUBLIA.
My child! Hilarion!
HILARION.
[_Among the prisoners._] Rejoice, my mother!
JULIAN.
Poor deluded creatures! When I hear madness thus speaking in you, I
almost doubt whether I have the right to punish you.
ANOTHER VOICE.
[_Among the prisoners._] Stand aside; take not from us our crown of
thorns.
JULIAN.
Night and horror,—what voice is that?
THE LEADER OF THE GUARD.
’Twas this one, sire, who spoke.
[_He pushes one of the prisoners forward, a young man, who leads
a half-grown lad by the hand._
JULIAN.
[_With a cry._] Agathon!
[_THE PRISONER looks at him, and is silent._
Agathon, Agathon! Answer me; are you not Agathon?
THE PRISONER.
I am.
JULIAN.
You among these? Speak to me?
AGATHON.
I know you not!
JULIAN.
You do not know me? You know not who I am?
AGATHON.
I know you are the lord of the earth; therefore you are not my lord.
JULIAN.
And the boy——? Is he your young brother?
[_To the leader of the guard._
This man must be innocent.
EUNAPIUS.
My lord, this man is the very ringleader. He has confessed it; he even
glories in his deed.
JULIAN.
So strangely can hunger, and sickness, and misfortune disorder a man’s
mind.
[_To the prisoners._
If you will but say, in one word, that you repent, none of you shall
suffer.
PUBLIA.
[_Shrieks._] Say it not, Hilarion!
AGATHON.
Be strong, dear brother!
PUBLIA.
Go, go to what awaits you, my only one!
JULIAN.
Hear and bethink you, you others——
AGATHON.
[_To the prisoners._] Choose between Christ and the Emperor!
THE PRISONERS.
Glory to God in the highest!
JULIAN.
Terrible is the Galilean’s power of delusion. It must be broken. Pass
them by, the abominable crew! They cloud our gladness; they darken the
day with their brooding death-hunger!—Flute-players—men, women—why are
you silent? A song—a song in praise of life, and light, and happiness.
THE PROCESSION OF APOLLO.
[_Sings._
Gladsome with roses our locks to entwine;
Gladsome to bathe in the sunlight divine!
THE PROCESSION OF PRISONERS.
Blissful to sleep ’neath the blood-reeking sod;
Blissful to wake in the gardens of God.
THE PROCESSION OF APOLLO.
Gladsome ’mid incense-clouds still to draw breath.
THE PROCESSION OF PRISONERS.
Blissful in blood-streams to strangle to death.
THE PROCESSION OF APOLLO.
Ever for him who his godhead adoreth
Deep draughts of rapture Apollo outpoureth.
THE PROCESSION OF PRISONERS.
Bones racked and riven, flesh seared to a coal,
He shall make whole!
THE PROCESSION OF APOLLO.
Gladsome to bask in the light-sea that laves us!
THE PROCESSION OF PRISONERS.
Blissful to writhe in the blood-death that saves us!
[_The processions pass each other during the singing. The crowd
in the market-place looks on in dull silence._
SCENE THIRD.
_The sacred grove around the temple of Apollo. The portico, supported by
columns, and approached by a broad flight of steps, is seen among
the trees in the background, on the left._
_A number of people are rushing about in the grove with loud cries of
terror. Far away is heard the music of the procession._
WOMEN.
Mercy! The earth is quaking again!
A MAN IN FLIGHT.
Oh horror! Thunder beneath our feet——!
ANOTHER MAN.
Was it indeed so? Was it the earth that shook?
A WOMAN.
Did you not feel it? That tree there swayed so that the branches
whistled through the air.
MANY VOICES.
Hark, hark, hark!
SOME.
’Tis the roll of chariots on the pavements.
OTHERS.
’Tis the sound of drums. Hark to the music——, the Emperor is coming!
[_The procession of Apollo advances from the right through the
grove, and stations itself amid music of flutes and harps,
in a semicircle in front of the temple._
JULIAN.
[_Turning towards the temple, with upstretched hands._] I accept the
omen!——
Never have I felt myself in such close communion with the immortal gods.
The Bow-Wielder is among us. The earth thunders beneath his tread, as
when of old he stamped in wrath upon the Trojan shore.
But ’tis not on us he frowns. ’Tis on those unhappy wretches who hate
him and his sunlit realm.
Yes,—as surely as good or evil fortune affords the true measure of the
gods’ favour towards mortals,—so surely is the difference here made
manifest between them and us.
Where are the Galileans now? Some under the executioner’s hands, others
flying through the narrow streets, ashy pale with terror, their eyes
starting from their heads—a shriek between their half-clenched
teeth—their hair stiffening with dread, or torn out in despair.
And where are we? Here in Daphne’s pleasant grove, where the dryads’
balmy breath cools our brows,—here, before the glorious temple of the
glorious god, lapped in the melodies of flute and lyre,—here, in light,
in happiness, in safety, the god himself made manifest among us.
Where is the God of the Galileans? Where is the Jew, the carpenter’s
crucified son? Let him manifest himself. Nay, not he!
’Tis fitting, then, that we should throng the sanctuary. There, with my
own hands, I will perform the services which are so far from appearing
to me mean and unbecoming, that I, on the contrary, esteem them above
all others.
[_He advances at the head of the procession, through the
multitude, towards the temple._
A VOICE.
[_Calling out in the throng._] Stay, ungodly one!
JULIAN.
A Galilean among us?
THE SAME VOICE.
No further, blasphemer!
JULIAN.
Who is he that speaks?
OTHER VOICES IN THE CROWD.
A Galilean priest. A blind old man. Here he stands.
OTHERS AGAIN.
Away, away, with the shameless wretch!
[_A blind OLD MAN, in priestly garments, and supported by two
younger men, also dressed as priests, is pushed forward till
he stands at the foot of the temple steps, facing the
Emperor._
JULIAN.
Ah, what do I see? Tell me, old man, are not you Bishop Maris, of
Chalcedon?
THE OLD MAN.
Yes, I am that unworthiest servant of the Church.
JULIAN.
“Unworthiest,” you call yourself; and I think you are not far wrong. If
I mistake not, you have been one of the foremost in stirring up internal
strife among the Galileans.
BISHOP MARIS.
I have done that which weighs me still deeper down in penitence. When
you seized the empire, and rumour told of your bent of mind, my heart
was beleagured with unspeakable dread. Blind and enfeebled by age, I
could not conceive the thought of setting myself up against the mighty
monarch of the world. Yes,—God have mercy on me—I forsook the flock I
was appointed to guard, shrank timidly from all the perils that gathered
frowning around the Lord’s people, and sought shelter here, in my Syrian
villa——
JULIAN.
In truth a strange story! And you, timid as you say you are, you, who
formerly prized the Emperor’s favour so highly, now step forth before me
and fling insults in my very face!
BISHOP MARIS.
Now I fear you no longer; for now has Christ fully possessed my heart.
In the Church’s hour of need, her light and glory burst upon me. All the
blood you shed,—all the violence and wrong you do—cry out to heaven,
and, re-echoing mightily, ring in my deaf ears, and show me, in my night
of blindness, the way I have to go.
JULIAN.
Get you home, old man!
BISHOP MARIS.
Not till you have sworn to renounce your devilish courses. What would
you do? Would dust rise up against the spirit? Would the lord of earth
cast down the Lord of heaven? See you not that the day of wrath is upon
us by reason of your sins? The fountains are parched like eyes that have
wept themselves dry. The clouds, which ought to pour the manna of
fruitfulness upon us, sweep over our heads, and shed no moisture. This
earth, which has been cursed since the morning of time, quakes and
trembles under the Emperor’s blood-guiltiness.
JULIAN.
What favour do you expect of your God for such excess of zeal, foolish
old man? Do you hope that, as of old, your Galilean master will work a
miracle, and give you back your sight?
BISHOP MARIS.
I have all the sight I desire; and I thank the Lord that he quenched my
bodily vision, so that I am spared from seeing the man who walks in a
darkness more terrible than mine.
JULIAN.
Let me pass!
BISHOP MARIS.
Whither?
JULIAN.
Into the Sun-King’s house.
BISHOP MARIS.
You shall not pass. I forbid you in the name of the only God!
JULIAN.
Frantic old man!—Away with him!
BISHOP MARIS.
Ay, lay hands upon me! But he who dares to do so, his hand shall wither.
The God of Wrath shall manifest himself in his might——
JULIAN.
Your God is no mighty God. I will show you that the Emperor is stronger
than he——
BISHOP MARIS.
Lost creature!—Then must I call down the ban upon thee, thou recreant
son of the church!
HEKEBOLIUS.
[_Pale._] My lord and Emperor, let not this thing be!
BISHOP MARIS.
[_In a loud voice._] Cursed be thou, Julianus Apostata! Cursed be thou,
Emperor Julian! God the Lord hath spat thee forth out of his mouth!
Cursed be thine eyes and thy hands! Cursed be thy head and all thy
doings!
Woe, woe, woe to the apostate! Woe, woe, woe——