ACT FOURTH

Maximus.

The God-Emperor.

Julian.

The Emperor-God.

Maximus.

Logos in Pan—Pan in Logos.

Julian.

Maximus,—how comes he into being?

Maximus.

He comes into being in the man who wills himself.

Julian.

My beloved teacher,—I must leave you

Maximus.

Whither are you going?

Julian.

To the city. The Persian king has made overtures of peace, which I too hastily accepted. My envoys are already on the way. They must be overtaken and recalled.

Maximus.

You will reopen the war against King Sapor?

Julian.

I will do what Cyrus dreamed of, and Alexander attempted——

Maximus.

Julian!

Julian.

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

[He makes a gesture of farewell, and goes hastily away.Maximuslooks thoughtfully after him.

The Chorus of the Psalm-Singers.[Far away, beside the graves of the martyrs.

The Chorus of the Psalm-Singers.

[Far away, beside the graves of the martyrs.

Ye gods of the nations, of silver and gold,Ye shall crumble to mould!

Ye gods of the nations, of silver and gold,

Ye shall crumble to mould!

ACT FOURTH

The eastern frontier of the empire. A wild mountain landscape. A deep valley separates the high foreground from the mountains behind.

TheEmperor Julian, in military dress, stands on the edge of a rocky promontory, and looks into the depths. A little way from him, to the left, standNevita, the Persian princeHormisdas,Jovian, and several other generals. To the right, beside a roughly-built stone altar, crouch the soothsayer,Numa, and two other Etruscan soothsayers, examining the entrails of the sacrifices for omens. Further forward sitsMaximus the Mysticon a stone, surrounded byPriscus,Kytron, and other philosophers. Small detachments of light-armed men now and then pass over the height from left to right.

Julian.

[Pointing downwards.] See, see—the legions wind like a scaly serpent through the ravine.

Nevita.

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

Julian.

What piercing howls——!

Nevita.

That is the Scythians’ customary song, sire!

Julian.

More howl than song.

Nevita.

Now come the Armenians. Arsaces himself is leading them.

Julian.

The Roman legions must already be out on the plains. All the neighbouring tribes are hastening to make their submission.

[He turns to the officers.

The twelve hundred ships, containing all our stores and munitions, lie assembled on the Euphrates. I am now fully assured that the fleet can cross over to the Tigris by the ancient canal. The whole army will pass the river by means of the ships. Then we will advance along by the eastern bank as rapidly as the current will suffer the ships to follow us.

Tell me, Hormisdas, what think you of this plan?

Hormisdas.

Invincible general, I know that under your victorious protection it will be vouchsafed me to tread once more the soil of my fatherland.

Julian.

What a relief to be rid of those narrow-breasted citizens! What terror was in their eyes when they pressed round my chariot as I left the city! “Come again quickly,” they cried, “and be more gracious to us than now.” I will never revisit Antioch. Iwill never again set eyes on that ungrateful city! When I have conquered I will return by way of Tarsus.

[He goes up to the soothsayers.

Numa,—what omens for our campaign do you find this morning?

Numa.

The omens warn you not to pass the frontier of your empire this year.

Julian.

H’m! How read you this omen, Maximus?

Maximus.

I read it thus: the omen counsels you to subdue all the regions you traverse; thus you will never pass the frontier of your empire.

Julian.

So is it. We must look closely into such supernatural signs; for there is wont to be a double meaning in them. It even seems at times as if mysterious powers took a delight in leading men astray, especially in great undertakings. Were there not some who held it an evil omen that the colonnade in Hierapolis fell in and buried half a hundred soldiers, just as we marched through the city? But I say that that is a presage of a twofold good. In the first place it foreshows the downfall of Persia, and in the second place the doom of the unhappy Galileans. For what soldiers were they who were killed? Why, Galilean convict-soldiers, who went most unwillingly to the war; and therefore fate decreed them that sudden and inglorious end.

Jovian.

Most gracious Emperor, here comes a captain from the vanguard.

Ammian.

[Entering from the right.] Sire, you commanded me to inform you should anything strange befall during our advance.

Julian.

Well? Has anything happened this morning?

Ammian.

Yes, sire, two portents.

Julian.

Quick, Ammian,—speak on!

Ammian.

First, sire, it happened that when we had gone a little way beyond the village of Zaita, a lion of monstrous size burst from a thicket and rushed straight at our soldiers, who killed it with many arrows.

Julian.

Ah!

The Philosophers.

What a fortunate omen!

Hormisdas.

King Sapor calls himself the lion of the nations.

Numa.

[Busied at the altar.] Turn back; turn back, Emperor Julian!

Maximus.

Go fearlessly forward, chosen son of victory!

Julian.

Turn back after this? As the lion fell at Zaita, so shall the lion of the nations fall before our arrows. Does not history warrant me in interpreting this omen to our advantage? Need I remind such learned men that when the Emperor Maximian conquered the Persian king, Narses, a lion, and a huge wild boar besides, were, in like manner, slain in front of the Roman ranks?

[To Ammian.

But now the other——? You spoke of two signs.

Ammian.

The other is more doubtful, sire! Your charger, Babylonius, was led forth, as you commanded, fully equipped, to await your descent on the other side of the mountain. But just at that time a detachment of Galilean convict-soldiers happened to pass. Heavily laden as they were, and by no means over willing, they had to be driven with scourges. Nevertheless they lifted up their arms as in rejoicing, and burst forth into a loud hymn in praise of their deity. Babylonius was startled by the sudden noise, reared in his fright, and fell backwards; and as he sprawled upon the ground, all his golden trappings were soiled and bespattered with mud.

Numa.

[At the altar.] Emperor Julian,—turn back, turn back!

Julian.

The Galileans must have done this out of malice,—and yet, in spite of themselves, theyhave brought to pass a portent which I hail with delight.

Yes, as Babylonius fell, so shall Babylon fall, stripped of all the splendour of its adornments.

Priscus.

What wisdom in interpretation!

Kytron.

By the gods, it must be so!

The other Philosophers.

So, and not otherwise!

Julian.

[ToNevita.] The army shall continue to advance. Nevertheless, for still greater security, I will sacrifice this evening and see what the omens indicate.

As for you Etruscan jugglers, whom I have brought hither at so great a cost, I will no longer suffer you in the camp, where you serve only to damp the soldiers’ spirits. You know nothing of the difficult calling you profess. What effrontery! What measureless presumption! Away with them! I will not set eyes on them again.

[Some of the guards drive the Soothsayers out to the left.

Babylonius fell. The lion succumbed before my soldiers. Yet these things do not tell us what invisible help we have to depend upon. The gods, whose essence is as yet by no means duly ascertained, seem sometimes—if I may say so—to slumber, or, on the whole, to concern themselves very little with human affairs. We, my dear friends, are so unfortunate as to live in such anage. We have even seen how certain divinities have neglected to support well-meant endeavours, tending to their own honour and glory.

Yet must we not judge rashly in this matter. It is conceivable that the immortals, who guide and uphold the universe, may sometimes depute their power to mortal hands,—not thereby, assuredly, lessening their own glory; for is it not thanks to them that so highly-favoured[11]a mortal—if he exist—has been born into this world?

Priscus.

Oh matchless Emperor, do not your own achievements afford proof of this?

Julian.

I know not, Priscus, whether I dare rate my own achievements so highly. I say nothing of the fact that the Galileans believe the Jew, Jesus of Nazareth, to have been thus elected; for these men err—as I shall conclusively establish in my treatise against them. But I will remind you of Prometheus in ancient days. Did not that pre-eminent hero procure for mankind still greater blessings than the gods seemed to vouchsafe—wherefore he had to suffer much, both pain and despiteful usage, till he was at last exalted to the communion of the gods—to which, in truth, he had all the while belonged?

And may not the same be said both of Herakles and of Achilles, and, finally, of the Macedonian Alexander, with whom some have compared me, partly on account of what I achieved in Gaul, partly, and especially, on account of my designs in the present campaign?

Nevita.

My Emperor—the rear-guard is now beneath us—it is perhaps time——

Julian.

Presently, Nevita! First I must tell you of a strange dream I had last night.

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

This wicked man exterminated all the child’s kindred. But Zeus took pity on the child itself, and held his hand over it.

Then I saw this child grow up into a youth, under the care of Minerva and Apollo.

Further, I dreamed that the youth fell asleep upon a stone beneath the open sky.

Then Hermes descended to him, in the likeness of a young man, and said: “Come; I will show thee the way to the abode of the highest god!” So he led the youth to the foot of a very steep mountain. There he left him.

Then the youth burst out into tears and lamentations, and called with a loud voice upon Zeus. Lo, then, Minerva and the Sun-King who rules the earth descended to his side, bore him aloft to the peak of the mountain, and showed him the whole inheritance of his race.

But this inheritance was the orb of the earth from ocean to ocean, and beyond the ocean.

Then they told the youth that all this should belong to him. And therewith they gave him three warnings: he should not sleep, as his race had done; he should not hearken to the counsel of hypocrites; and, lastly, he should honour as gods those who resemble the gods. “Forget not,” they said, on leaving him, “that thou hast an immortal soul, and that this thy soul is of divine origin. And if thou follow our counsel thou shalt see our father and become a god, even as we.”

Priscus.

What are signs and omens to this!

Kytron.

It can scarcely be rash to anticipate that the Fates will think twice ere they suffer their counsels to clash with yours.

Julian.

We dare not build with certainty on such an exception. But assuredly I cannot but find this dream significant, although my brother Maximus, by his silence—against all reasonable expectation—seems to approve neither of the dream itself, nor of my relation of it.—But that we must bear with!

[He takes out a roll of paper.

See, Jovian; before I arose this morning, I noted down what I had dreamt. Take this paper, let numerous copies of it be made, and read to the various divisions of the army. I hold it of the utmost moment, on so hazardous an expedition,that, amid all dangers and difficulties, the soldiers may leave their fate securely in their leader’s hands, considering him infallible in all that concerns the issue of the war.

Jovian.

I pray you, my Emperor, let me be excused from this.

Julian.

What do you mean?

Jovian.

That I cannot lend my aid to anything that is against the truth.—Oh, hear me, my august Emperor and master! Is there a single one of your soldiers who doubts that he is safe in your hands? Have you not, on the Gallic frontier, in spite of overwhelming numbers and difficulties of all kinds, gained greater victories than any other living commander can boast of?

Julian.

Well, well! What startling news!

Jovian.

All know how marvellously fortune has hitherto followed you. In learning you excel all other mortals, and in the glorious art of eloquence you bear the palm among the greatest.

Julian.

And yet——? In spite of all this——?

Jovian.

In spite of all this, my Emperor, you are but mortal. By publishing this dream through thearmy you would seek to make men deem you a god,—and in that I dare not assist you.

Julian.

What say you, my friends, to this speech?

Kytron.

It assuredly shows no less effrontery than ignorance.

Julian.

You seem to forget, oh truth-loving Jovian, that the Emperor Antoninus, surnamed the Pious, has been worshipped in a special temple on the Roman forum as an immortal god. And not he alone, but also his wife, Faustina, and other Emperors before and after him.

Jovian.

I know it, sire,—but it was not given to our forefathers to live in the light of truth.

Julian.

[With a long look at him.] Ah, Jovian!——

Tell me,—last evening, when I was taking the omens for the coming night, you brought me a message just as I was laving the blood from my hands in the water of purification——

Jovian.

Yes, my Emperor!

Julian.

In my haste, I chanced to sprinkle a few drops of the water on your cloak. You shrank sharply backward and shook the water off, as if your cloak had been defiled.

Jovian.

My Emperor,—so that did not escape you?

Julian.

Did you think it would have escaped me?

Jovian.

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

Julian.

Galilean!

Jovian.

Sire, you yourself sent me to Jerusalem, and I was witness to all that happened there. I have pondered much since then; I have read the scriptures of the Christians, have spoken with many of them,—and now I am convinced that in their teaching lies the truth of God.

Julian.

Is this possible? Can it be possible? Thus does this infectious frenzy spread! Even those nearest me—my own generals desert me——

Jovian.

Place me in the van against your foes, sire,—and you shall see how gladly I render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s.

Julian.

How much——?

Jovian.

My blood, my life.

Julian.

Blood and life are not enough. He who is to rule must rule over the minds, over the wills of men. It is in this that your Jesus of Nazareth bars my way and contests my power.

Think not that I will punish you, Jovian! You Galileans covet punishment as a benefaction. And after it you are called martyrs. Have they not thus exalted those whom I have been obliged to chastise for their obduracy?

Go to the vanguard! I will not willingly see your face again.—Oh, this treachery to me, which you veil in phrases about double duty and a double empire! This shall be altered. Other kings besides the Persian shall feel my foot on their necks.

To the vanguard, Jovian!

Jovian.

I shall do my duty, sire!

[He goes out to the right.

Julian.

We will not have this morning darkened, which rose amid so many happy omens. This, and more, will we bear with an even mind. But my dream shall none the less be published through the army. You, Kytron, and you, my Priscus, and my other friends, will see that this is done in a becoming manner.

The Philosophers.

With joy, with unspeakable joy, sire!

[They take the roll and go out to the right.

Julian.

I beg you, Hormisdas, not to doubt my power, although it may seem as though stubbornness met me on every hand. Go; and you too, Nevita, and all the rest, each to his post;—I will follow when the troops are all gathered out on the plains.

[All except theEmperorandMaximusgo out to the right.

Maximus.

[After a time, rises from the stone where he has been seated and goes up to the Emperor.] My sick brother!

Julian.

Rather wounded than sick. The deer that is pierced by the hunter’s shaft seeks the thicket where its fellows cannot see it. I could no longer endure to be seen in the streets of Antioch;—and now I shrink from showing myself to the army.

Maximus.

No one sees you, friend; for they grope in blindness. But you shall be as a physician to restore their sight, and then they shall behold you in your glory.

Julian.

[Gazing down into the ravine.] How far beneath us! How tiny they seem, as they wind their way forward, amid thicket and brushwood, along the rocky river-bed!

When we stood at the mouth of this defile, all the leaders, as one man, made for the pass. It meant an hour’s way shortened, a little trouble spared,—on the road to death.

And the legions were so eager to follow. No thought of taking the upward path, no longing for the free air up here, where the bosom expands with each deep draught of breath. There they march, and march, and march, and see not that the heaven is straitened above them,—and know not there are heights where it is wider.—Seems it not, Maximus, as though men lived but to die? The spirit of the Galilean is in this. If it be true, as they say, that his father made the world, then the son contemns his father’s work. And it is just for this presumptuous frenzy that he is so highly revered!

How great was Socrates compared with him! Did not Socrates love pleasure, and happiness, and beauty? And yet he renounced them.—Is there not a bottomless abyss between not desiring, on the one hand, and, on the other, desiring, yet renouncing?

Oh, this treasure of lost wisdom I would fain have restored to men. Like Dionysus of old, I went forth to meet them, young and joyous, a garland on my brow, and the fulness of the vine in my arms. But they reject my gifts, and I am scorned, and hated, and derided, by friends and foes alike.

Maximus.

Why? I will tell you why.

Hard by a certain town where once I lived, there was a vineyard, renowned far and wide for its grapes; and when the citizens wished to have the finest fruits on their tables, they sent their servants out to bring clusters from this vineyard.

Many years after I came again to that city; but no one now knew aught of the grapes that were once so renowned. Then I sought the owner ofthe vineyard and said to him, “Tell me, friend, are your vines dead, since no one now knows aught of your grapes?” “No,” he answered, “but let me tell you, young vines yield good grapes but poor wine; old vines, on the contrary, bad grapes but good wine. Therefore, stranger,” he added, “I still gladden the hearts of my fellow citizens with the abundance of my vineyard, only in another form—as wine, not as grapes.”

Julian.

[Thoughtfully.] Yes, yes, yes!

Maximus.

You have not given heed to this. The vine of the world has grown old, and yet you think that you can still offer the raw grapes to those who thirst for the new wine.

Julian.

Alas, my Maximus, who thirsts? Name me a single man, outside our brotherhood, who is moved by a spiritual craving.—Unhappy I, to be born into this iron age!

Maximus.

Do not reproach the age. Had the age been greater, you would have been less. The world-soul is like a rich man with innumerable sons. If he share his riches equally, all are well to do, but none rich. But if he disinherit all but one, and give everything to him, then that one stands as a rich man amid a circle of paupers.

Julian.

No similitude could be less apt than this.—Am I like your single heir? Is not that very thingdivided among many which the ruler of the world should possess in fuller measure than all besides—nay, which he alone should possess? Oh how is not power divided? Has not Libanius the power of eloquence in such fulness that men call him the king of orators? Have not you, my Maximus, the power of mystic wisdom? Has not that madman Apollinaris of Antioch the power of ecstatic song in a measure I needs must envy him? And then Gregory the Cappadocian! Has he not the power of indomitable will in such excess, that many have applied to him the epithet, unbecoming for a subject, of “the Great”? And—what is stranger still—the same epithet has been applied to Gregory’s friend, Basil, the soft-natured man with girlish eyes. And yet he plays no active part in the world; he lives here, this Basil—here in this remote region, wearing the habit of an anchorite, and holding converse with none but his disciples, his sister Makrina, and other women, who are called pious and holy. What influence do they not exert, both he and his sister, through the epistles they send forth from time to time. Everything, even renunciation and seclusion, becomes a power to oppose my power. But the crucified Jew is still the worst of all.

Maximus.

Then make an end of all these scattered powers! But dream not that you can crush the rebels, by attacking them in the name of a monarch whom they do not know. In your own name you must act, Julian! Did Jesus of Nazareth come as the emissary of another? Did he not proclaim himself to be one with him that sent him? Truly in you is the time fulfilled, and you see it not. Donot all signs and omens point, with unerring finger, to you? Must I remind you of your mother’s dream——?

Julian.

She dreamed that she brought forth Achilles.

Maximus.

Must I remind you how fortune has borne you, as on mighty pinions, through an agitated and perilous life? Who are you, sire? Are you Alexander born again, not, as before, in immaturity, but perfectly equipped for the fufilment of the task?

Julian.

Maximus!

Maximus.

There is One who ever reappears, at certain intervals, in the course of human history. He is like a rider taming a wild horse in the arena. Again and yet again it throws him. A moment, and he is in the saddle again, each time more secure and more expert; but off he has had to go, in all his varying incarnations, until this day. Off he had to go as the god-created man in Eden’s grove; off he had to go as the founder of the world-empire;—off hemustgo as the prince of the empire of God. Who knows how often he has wandered among us when none have recognised him?

How know you, Julian, that you were not in him whom you now persecute?

Julian.

[Looking far away.] Oh unfathomable riddle——!

Maximus.

Must I remind you of the old prophecy now set afloat again? It has been foretold that so many years as the year has days should the empire of the Galilean endure. Two years more, and ’twill be three hundred and sixty-five years since that man was born in Bethlehem.

Julian.

Do you believe this prophecy?

Maximus.

I believe in him who is to come.

Julian.

Always riddles!

Maximus.

I believe in the free necessity.

Julian.

Still darker riddles.

Maximus.

Behold, Julian,—when Chaos seethed in the fearful void abyss, and Jehovah was alone,—that day when he, according to the old Jewish scriptures, stretched forth his hand and divided light from darkness, sea from land,—that day the great creating God stood on the summit of his power.

But with man arose will upon the earth. And men, and beasts, and trees, and herbs re-created themselves, each in its own image, according to eternal laws; and by eternal laws the stars roll through the heavenly spaces.

Did Jehovah repent? The ancient traditions of all races tell of a repentant Creator.

He had established the law of perpetuation in the universe. Too late to repent! The createdwillperpetuate itself—and is perpetuated.

But the two onesided empires war one against the other. Where, where is he, the king of peace, the twin-sided one, who shall reconcile them?

Julian.

[To himself.] Two years? All the gods inactive. No capricious power behind, which might bethink itself to cross my plans——

Two years? In two years I can bring the earth under my sway.

Maximus.

You spoke, my Julian;—what said you?

Julian.

I am young and strong and healthy. Maximus—it is my will to live long.

[He goes out to the right.Maximusfollows him.

A hilly wooded region with a brook among the trees. On an elevation a little farm. It is towards sunset.

Columns of soldiers pass from left to right at the foot of the slope.Basil of Caesarea, and his sisterMakrina, both in the dress of hermits, stand by the wayside and offer water and fruits to the weary soldiers.

Makrina.

Oh, Basil, see—each paler and more haggard than the last!

Basil.

And countless multitudes of our Christian brethren among them! Woe to the Emperor Julian! This is a cruelty more cunningly contrived than all the horrors of the torture-chamber. Against whom is he leading his hosts? Less against the Persian king than against Christ.

Makrina.

Do you believe this dreadful thing of him?

Basil.

Yes, Makrina, it becomes more and more clear to me that ’tis againstusthe blow is aimed. All the defeats he has suffered in Antioch, all the resistance he has met with, all the disappointments and humiliations he has had to endure on his ungodly path, he hopes to bury in oblivion by means of a victorious campaign. And he will succeed. A great victory will blot out everything. Men are fashioned so; they see right in success, and before might most of them will bend.

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