ACT THIRD
In Ephesus. A brightly lighted hall in Prince Julian’s dwelling. The entrance from the vestibule is on the right side; further back, a smaller door, covered by a curtain. On the left, a door, which leads to the inner part of the house. The wall in the back is pierced with an archway, through which a small enclosed court is visible, decked with small statues.
Servants prepare a festal supper, and lay cushions round the table. The Chamberlain, Eutherius, stands at the entrance, and, with much ceremony, half forces Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil of Caesarea to enter.
Eutherius.
Yes, yes; I assure you it is as I say.
Gregory.
Impossible! Do not make sport of us.
Basil.
You are jesting, friend! How can your master expect us? Not a creature knew of our leaving Athens; nothing has detained us on our way; we have kept pace with the clouds and the wild cranes.
Eutherius.
Look around; see yonder table. His daily fare is herbs and bread.
Gregory.
Ay, truly; all our senses bear you witness;—wine-flagons, wreathed with flowers and leaves; lamps and fruits; incense filling the hall with its odour; flute-players before the door——
Eutherius.
Early this morning he sent for me. He seemed unwontedly happy, for he paced the room to and fro, rubbing his hands. “Prepare a rich banquet,” said he, “for before evening I look for two friends from Athens——”
[He glances towards the door on the left, is suddenly silent, and draws back respectfully.
Basil.
Is he there?
[Eutherius nods in answer; then gives a sign to the servants to withdraw; they go out by the larger door on the right; he follows.
Prince Julian shortly afterwards enters from the left. He is dressed in long, Oriental garb; his whole demeanour is vivacious, and betrays strong inward excitement.
Julian.
[Going towards them, and greeting them with great warmth.] I see you! I have you! Thanks, thanks, for sending your spirits to herald your bodies!
Gregory.
Julian!
Basil.
My friend and brother!
Julian.
I have been like a lover, languishing for the pressure of your hands. The court vermin, eager for certain persons’ applause, called me an ape;—oh, would I had an ape’s four hands, to squeeze yours all at once!
Gregory.
But explain——; your servants meet us with flutes before the door, want to lead us to the bath, to anoint our hair and deck us with roses——
Julian.
I saw you last night. The moon was full, you see,—and then is the spirit always strangely alert within me. I sat at the table in my library, and had fallen asleep, weary, oh! so weary, my friends, with research and writing. Of a sudden it seemed as though a storm-wind filled the house; the curtain was swept flapping aloft, and I looked out into the night, far over the sea. I heard sweet singing; and the singers were two large birds, with women’s faces. They flew slanting towards the shore; there they dropped gently earthwards; the bird-forms melted away like a white mist, and, in a soft, glimmering light, I saw you two.
Gregory.
Are you sure of all this?
Julian.
Were you thinking of me? Were you speaking of me last night?
Basil.
Yes, yes—forward in the prow——
Julian.
What time of the night was it?
Gregory.
What was the time of your vision?
Julian.
An hour after midnight.
Gregory.
[With a look at Basil.] Strange!
Julian.
[Rubbing his hands, and walking up and down the room.] You see! Ha-ha; you see?
Basil.
[Following him with his eyes.] Ah, then it is true——
Julian.
What? What is true?
Basil.
The rumour of the mysterious arts you practise here.
Julian.
Oh, what will not rumour exaggerate?—But tell me, what has rumour found to say? I am told there are many reports afloat concerning me. If I could believe some people’s assurances, it would seem that there are few men in the empire so much talked about as I.
Gregory.
That you may safely believe.
Julian.
And what says Libanius to all this? He could never endure that the multitude should be busied with any one but himself. And what say all my never-to-be-forgotten friends in Athens? They know I am in disgrace with the Emperor and the whole court?
Gregory.
You? I have frequent intelligence from the court; but my brother Caesarius makes no mention of that.
Julian.
I cannot interpret it otherwise, good Gregory! From all sides they think it needful to watch me. The other day, Gallus Caesar sent his chaplain Aëtius hither, to find out whether I hold fast to the orthodox faith.
Basil.
Well——?
Julian.
I am seldom absent from matins in the church. Moreover, I reckon the martyrs among the noblest of men; for truly it is no light matter to endure so great torments, ay, and death itself, for the sake of one’s creed. On the whole, I believe Aëtius departed well content with me.
Basil.
[Grasping his hand.] Julian,—for the sake of our true friendship,—open your heart fully to us.
Julian.
I am the happiest man on earth, dear friends! And Maximus—ay, he is rightly named—Maximus is the greatest man that has ever lived.
Gregory.
[Preparing to depart.] We only wished to see you, my lord!
Julian.
Can this estrange brother from brother? You shrink in affright from the inexplicable. Oh, I do not wonder. So I, too, shrank before my eyes were opened, and I divined that which is the kernel of life.
Basil.
What do you call the kernel of life?
Julian.
Maximus knows it. In him is the new revelation.
Basil.
And it has been imparted to you?
Julian.
Almost. I am on the eve of learning it. This very night Maximus has promised me——
Gregory.
Maximus is a visionary, or else he is deceiving you——!
Julian.
How dare you judge of these hidden things? They are beyond your learning, my Gregory! Fearful is the way into the glory of glories. Those dreamers in Eleusis were near the right track; Maximus found it, and I after him—by his help. I have wandered through chasms of darkness. A dead swampy water lay on my left—I believe it was a stream that had forgotten to flow. Piercing voices shrilled through the night confusedly, suddenly, and, as it were, without cause. Now and then I saw a bluish light; dreadful shapes floated past me;—I went on and on in deathly fear; but I endured the trial to the end.—
Since then—oh, beloved ones—with this my body transformed to spirit, I have passed far into the land of paradise; I have heard the angels chant their hymns of praise; I have gazed at the midmost light——
Gregory.
Woe to this ungodly Maximus! Woe to this devil-devoted heathen juggler!
Julian.
Blindness, blindness! Maximus pays homage to his precursor and brother—to both his great brothers, the law-giver of Sinai and the seer of Nazareth.——
Would you know how the spirit of realisation filled me?—It happened on a night of prayer and fasting. I perceived that I was wafted far—far out into space, and beyond time; for there was broad and sun-shimmering day around me, and I stood alone on a ship, with drooping sails, in the midst of the glassy, gleaming Aegean sea. Islands towered aloft in the distance, like dim, still banks of clouds, and the ship lay heavily, as though sleeping, upon the wine-blue plain.—
Then behold! the plain became more and more transparent, lighter, thinner; at last, it was no longer there, and my ship hung over a fearful, empty abyss. No verdure down there, no sunlight,—only the dead, black, slimy bottom of the sea, in all its ghastly nakedness.——
But above, in the boundless dome, which before had seemed to me empty,—there was life; there invisibility clothed itself in form, and silence became sound.—Then I grasped the great redeeming realisation.
Gregory.
What realisation do you mean?
Julian.
That which is, is not; and that which is not, is.
Basil.
Oh, you are going to wreck and ruin in this maze of mists and gleams!
Julian.
I? Do not miracles happen? Do not both omens and certain strange appearances among the stars declare that the divine will destines me to issues yet unrevealed?
Gregory.
Do not believe such signs; you cannot know whose work they are.
Julian.
Am I not to believe in fortunate omens which events have already borne out?
[He draws them nearer to him, and says softly.
Know, my friends, that a great revolution is at hand. Gallus Caesar and I shall ere long share the dominion of the earth—he as Emperor, and I as—what shall I call it? the unborn cannot be called by a name, for it has none. So no more of this till the time be fulfilled. But of Caesar I dare speak.—Have you heard of the vision for which Apollinaris, a citizen of Sidon, has been imprisoned and put to the torture?
Basil.
No, no; how can we know——?
Julian.
Apollinaris declared that he heard some one knocking many times at his door by night. He arose, and went out from his house; and lo! there he saw an apparition—whether man or woman, he could not tell. And the apparition spoke to him, and bade him make ready a purple robe, such as newly-chosen rulers wear. But when Apollinaris, in affright, would have declined so dangerous a task, the apparition vanished, and only a voice cried: “Go, go, Apollinaris, and speedily prepare the purple robe.”
Gregory.
Was this the sign that you said events had borne out?
Julian.
[Nodding slowly.] Seven days later Caesar’s wife died in Bithynia. Constantina has always been his bad angel; therefore she had to be removed, in accordance with the change in the divine will. Three weeks after Constantina’s death, the Emperor’s emissary, the tribune Scudilo, came with a great retinue to Antioch, greeted Gallus Caesar with imperial honours, and invited him, in the Emperor’s name, to visit the imperial camp at Rome.—Caesar’s journey from province to province is now like a conqueror’s progress. In Constantinople he has held races in the hippodrome, and the multitude loudly acclaimed him when he, though as yet but Caesar by title, stood forth after the manner of the earlier Emperors, and gave the crown to Corax, the winner in the race. Thus marvellously does God again exalt our house, which had sunk under sin and persecution.
Gregory.
Strange! In Athens other reports were abroad.
Julian.
I have certain information. The purple robe will soon be needed, Gregory! How, then, can I doubt as to the things which Maximus has foretold as near at hand for me? To-night the last veil falls. Here shall the great enigma be made manifest. Oh, stay with me, my brothers—stay with me through this night of anxiety and expectation! When Maximus comes you shall witness——
Basil.
Never!
Gregory.
It cannot be; we are on our way home to Cappadocia.
Julian.
And what has driven you in such haste from Greece?
Basil.
My mother is a widow, Julian!
Gregory.
My father is feeble, both in body and mind; he needs my support.
Julian.
Oh, at least remain at the hostelry; only until to-morrow——!
Gregory.
Impossible; our travelling companions start at daybreak.
Julian.
At daybreak? Before midnight the day might dawn for you.
Basil.
Julian, let me not set forth in too great sorrow of soul. Tell me,—when Maximus has interpreted all riddles for you,—what then?
Julian.
Do you remember that river whereof Strabo writes—that river which rises in the Lybian mountains? It grows, and grows in its course; but when it is at its greatest, it oozes into the desert sands, and buries itself in the entrails of the earth, whence it arose.
Basil.
Say not that you long for death, Julian!
Julian.
What you slavishly hope for after death, ’tis the aim of the great mystery to win for all the initiated, here in our earthly life. ’Tis regeneration that Maximus and his disciples seek,—’tis our lost likeness to the godhead. Wherefore so full of doubt, my brothers? Why do you stand there as though before something insurmountable? I know what I know. In each successive generation there has been one soul wherein the pure Adam has been born again; he was strong in Moses the lawgiver; in the Macedonian Alexander he had power to subdue the world; he was well-nigh perfect in Jesus of Nazareth. But see, Basil—[He grasps him by the arm]—all of them lacked what is promised to me—the pure woman!
Basil.
[Freeing himself.] Julian, Julian!
Gregory.
Blasphemer—to this has your pride of heart brought you!
Basil.
Oh, Gregory, he is sick and beside himself!
Julian.
Why all this scornful doubt? Is it my small stature that witnesses against me? Ha, ha; I tell you this gross and fleshly generation shall pass away. That which is to come shall be conceived rather in the soul than in the body. In the first Adam, soul and body were equally balanced, as in those statues of the god Apollo. Since then the balance has been lost. Was not Moses tongue-tied? Had not his arms to be supported when he held them up in imprecation, there by the Red Sea? Did not the Macedonian need ever to be fired by strong drinks and other artificial aids? And Jesus of Nazareth, too? Was he not feeble in body? Did he not fall asleep in the ship, whilst the others kept awake? Did he not faint under the cross, that cross which the Jew Simon carried with ease? The two thieves did not faint.—You call yourselves believers, and yet have so little faith in miraculous revelation. Wait, wait—you shall see; the Bride shall surely be given me; and then—hand in hand will we go forth to the east, where some say that Helios is born,—we will hide ourselves in the solitudes, as the godhead hides itself, seek out the grove on the banks of Euphrates, find it, and there—oh glory of glories!—thence shall a new race, perfect in beauty and in balance, go forth over the earth; there, ye book-worshipping doubters, there shall the empire of the spirit be founded!
Basil.
Oh, well may I wring my hands in sorrow for your sake. Are you the same Julian who, three years ago, came out of Constantinople?
Julian.
Then I was blind, as you are now; I knew only the way that stops short at doctrine.
Gregory.
Know you where your present way ends?
Julian.
Where the path and the goal are one.—For the last time, Gregory, Basil—I implore you to stay with me. The vision I had last night,—that and many other things, point to a mysterious bond between us. To you, my Basil, I had so much to say. You are the head of your house; and who knows whether all the blessings that are promised me—may not come through you and yours——
Basil.
Never! No one with my good will shall ever be led away by your frenzies and your wild dreams.
Julian.
Ah, why talk of will? I see a hand writing on the wall; soon I shall interpret the writing.
Gregory.
Come, Basil.
Julian.
[With outstretched arms.] Oh, my friends, my friends!
Gregory.
Between us there is a gulf from this day forward.
[He drags Basil with him; both go out to the right.
Julian.
[Looking after them.] Ay, go! Go, go!—What do you two learned men know? What bring you from the city of wisdom? You, my strong, masterful Gregory,—and you, Basil, more girl than man—you know only two streets in Athens, the street to the schools, and the street to the church; of the third street toward Eleusis and further, you know naught; and still less——. Ah!
The curtain on the right is drawn aside. Two servants in eastern costume bring in a tall, veiled object, which they place in the corner, behind the table. Shortly after, Maximus the Mystic enters by the same door. He is a lean man of middle height, with a bronzed, hawk-like face; his hair and beard are much grizzled, but his thick eyebrows and moustache still retain their pitch-black colour. He wears a pointed cap and a long black robe; in his hand he carries a white wand.
Maximus goes, without heeding Julian, up to the veiled object, stops, and makes a sign to the servants; they retire noiselessly.
Julian.
[Softly.] At last!
[Maximus draws the veil away, revealing a bronze lamp on a high tripod; then he takes out a little silver pitcher, and pours oil into the lamp-bowl. The lamp lights of itself, and burns with a strong reddish glare.
Julian.
[In eager expectancy.] Is the time come?
Maximus.
[Without looking at him.] Art thou pure in soul and body?
Julian.
I have fasted and anointed myself.
Maximus.
Then may the night’s high festival begin!
[He gives a sign; dancing-girls and flute-players appear in the outer court. Music and dancing continue during what follows.
Julian.
Maximus,—what is this?
Maximus.
Roses in the hair! Sparkling wine! See, see the lovely limbs at play!
Julian.
And amid this whirl of the senses you would——?
Maximus.
Sin lies only in thy sense of sinfulness.
Julian.
Roses in the hair! Sparkling wine! [He casts himself down on one of the couches beside the table, drains a full goblet, puts it hastily from him, and asks:] Ah! What was in the wine?
Maximus.
A spark of that fire which Prometheus stole.
[He reclines at the opposite side of the table.
Julian.
My senses exchange their functions; I hear brightness and I see music.
Maximus.
Wine is the soul of the grape. The freed and yet willing captive. Logos in Pan!
The Dancing-Girls.
[Singing in the court]
Would’st thou know liberty?
Drain Bacchus’ blood;—
Rock on the rhythm-sea,
Float with its flood!
Julian.
[Drinking.] Yes, Yes; there is freedom in intoxication. Canst thou interpret this rapture?
Maximus.
This intoxication is thy marriage with the soul of nature.
Julian.
Sweet riddle; tempting, alluring——! What was that? Why didst thou laugh?
Maximus.
I?
Julian.
There is whispering on my left hand! The silk cushions rustle—— [Springing half up with a pale face.] Maximus, we are not alone!
Maximus.
[Loudly.] We are five at table!
Julian.
Symposium with the spirits!
Maximus.
With the shades.
Julian.
Name my guests!
Maximus.
Not now. Hark, hark!
Julian.
What is that? There is a rushing, as of a storm, through the house——
Maximus.
[Shrieks.] Julian! Julian! Julian!
Julian.
Speak, speak! What is befalling us?
Maximus.
The hour of annunciation is upon thee!
Julian.
[Springing up and shrinking far back from the table.] Ah!
[The table lamps seem on the point of extinction; over the great bronze lamp rises a bluish circle of light.
Maximus.
[Casting himself wholly down.] Thine eye toward the light!
Julian.
Yonder?
Maximus.
Yes, yes!
The Girls’ Song.
[Low, from the court.]
Night spreads her snares for thee,
All-seeing night;
Laughing-eyed Luxury
Lures to delight.
Julian.
[Staring at the radiance.] Maximus! Maximus!
Maximus.
[Softly.] Seest thou aught?
Julian.
Yes.
Maximus.
What seest thou?
Julian.
I see a shining countenance in the light.
Maximus.
Man, or woman?
Julian.
I know not.
Maximus.
Speak to it.
Julian.
Dare I?
Maximus.
Speak! speak!
Julian.
[Advancing.] Why was I born?
A Voice in the Light.
To serve the spirit.
Maximus.
Does it answer?
Julian.
Yes, yes.
Maximus.
Ask further.
Julian.
What is my mission?
The Voice.
To establish the empire.
Julian.
What empire?
The Voice.
The empire.
Julian.
And by what way?
The Voice.
By the way of freedom.
Julian.
Speak clearly! What is the way of freedom?
The Voice.
The way of necessity.
Julian.
And by what power?
The Voice.
By willing.
Julian.
What shall I will?
The Voice.
What thou must.
Julian.
It pales; it vanishes——! [Coming closer.] Speak, speak! What must I will?
The Voice.
[Wailing.] Julian!
[The circle of light passes away; the table lamps burn as before.
Maximus.
[Looking up.] Gone?
Julian.
Gone.
Maximus.
Dost thou now see clearly?
Julian.
Now less than ever. I hang in the void over the yawning deep—midway between light and darkness. [He lies down again.] What is the empire?
Maximus.
There are three empires.
Julian.
Three?
Maximus.
First that empire which was founded on the tree of knowledge; then that which was founded on the tree of the cross——
Julian.
And the third?
Maximus.
The third is the empire of the great mystery; that empire which shall be founded on the tree of knowledge and the tree of the cross together, because it hates and loves them both, and because it has its living sources under Adam’s grove and under Golgotha.
Julian.
And this empire shall come——?
Maximus.
It stands on the threshold. I have counted and counted——
Julian.
[Breaking off sharply.] The whispering again! Who are my guests?
Maximus.
The three corner-stones under the wrath of necessity.
Julian.
Who, who?
Maximus.
The three great helpers in denial.
Julian.
Name them!
Maximus.
I cannot; I know them not;—but I could show them to thee——
Julian.
Then show me them! At once, Maximus——!
Maximus.
Beware——!
Julian.
At once; at once! I will see them; I will speak with them, one by one.
Maximus.
The guilt be on thy head.
[He waves his wand and calls.
Take shape and come to sight, thou first-elected lamb of sacrifice!
Julian.
Ah!
Maximus.
[With veiled face.] What seest thou?
Julian.
[In a low voice.] There he lies; just by the corner.—He is great as Hercules, and beautiful,—yet no, not——
[Hesitatingly.
Speak to me if thou canst!
A Voice.
What wouldst thou know?
Julian.
What was thy task in life?
The Voice.
My sin.
Julian.
Why didst thou sin?
The Voice.
Why was I not my brother?
Julian.
Palter not with me. Why didst thou sin?
The Voice.
Why was I myself?
Julian.
And what didst thou will, being thyself?
The Voice.
What I must.
Julian.
And wherefore must thou?
The Voice.
I was myself.
Julian.
Thou art sparing of words.
Maximus.
[Without looking up.] In vino veritas.
Julian.
Thou hast hit it, Maximus?
[He pours forth a full goblet in front of the empty seat.
Bathe thee in the fumes of wine, my pallid guest! Refresh thee. Feel, feel—it mounts aloft like the smoke of sacrifice.
The Voice.
The smoke of sacrifice does not always mount.
Julian.
Why does that scar redden on thy brow? Nay, nay,—draw not the hair over it; What is it?
The Voice.
The mark.
Julian.
H’m; no more of that. And what fruit has thy sin borne?
The Voice.
The most glorious.
Julian.
What callest thou the most glorious?
The Voice.
Life.
Julian.
And the ground of life?
The Voice.
Death.
Julian.
And of death?
The Voice.
[Losing itself as in a sigh.] Ah, that is the riddle!
Julian.
Gone!
Maximus.
[Looking up.] Gone?
Julian.
Yes.
Maximus.
Didst thou know him?
Julian.
Yes.
Maximus.
Who was it?
Julian.
Cain.
Maximus.
By that way, then! Ask no more!
Julian.
[With an impatient gesture.] The second, Maximus!
Maximus.
No, no, no; I will not!
Julian.
The second, I say! Thou hast sworn that I should fathom the meaning of certain things. The second, Maximus. I will see him; I will know my guests!
Maximus.
Thou hast willed it, not I.
[He waves his wand.
Arise and come to light, thou willing slave, thou who didst help at the world’s next great turning-point.
Julian.
[Gazes for a moment into the empty space; suddenly he makes a gesture of repulsion towards the seat at its side, and says in a low voice:] No nearer!
Maximus.
[Who has turned his back.] Dost thou see him?
Julian.
Yes.
Maximus.
How dost thou see him?
Julian.
I see him as a red-bearded man. His garments are rent, and he has a rope round his neck——
Speak to him, Maximus!
Maximus.
’Tis thou must speak.
Julian.
What wast thou in life?
A Voice.
[Close beside him.] The twelfth wheel of the world chariot.
Julian.
The twelfth? The fifth is reckoned useless.
The Voice.
But for me, whither had the chariot rolled?
Julian.
Whither did it roll by means of thee?
The Voice
Into the glory of glories.
Julian.
Why didst thou help?
The Voice.
Because I willed.
Julian.
What didst thou will?
The Voice.
What I must.
Julian.
Who chose thee?
The Voice.
The master.
Julian.
Did the master foreknow when he chose thee?
The Voice.
Ah, that is the riddle!
[A short silence.
Maximus.
Thou art silent.
Julian.
He is no longer here.
Maximus.
[Looking up.] Didst thou know him?
Julian.
Yes.
Maximus.
How was he called in life?
Julian.
Judas Iscariot.
Maximus.
[Springing up.] The abyss blossoms; the night betrays itself!
Julian.
[Shrieks to him.] Forth with the third!
Maximus.
He shall come!
[He waves the wand.
Come forth, thou third corner-stone! Come forth, thou third great freed-man under necessity!
[He casts himself down again on the couch, and turns his face away.
What seest thou?
Julian.
I see nothing.
Maximus.
And yet he is here.
[He waves the wand again.
By Solomon’s seal, by the eye in the triangle—I conjure thee—come to sight!——
What seest thou now?
Julian.
Nothing, nothing!
Maximus.
[Waving his wand once more.] Come forth, thou——!
[He stops suddenly, utters a shriek, and springs up from the table.
Ah! lightning in the night! I see it;—all art is in vain.
Julian.
[Rising.] Why? Speak, speak!
Maximus.
The third is not yet among the shades.
Julian.
He lives?
Maximus.
Yes, he lives.
Julian.
And here, sayest thou——!
Maximus.
Here, or there, or among the unborn;—I know not——
Julian.
[Rushing at him.] Thou liest! Thou art deceiving me! Here, here thou saidst——!
Maximus.
Let go my cloak!
Julian.
Then it is thou, or I! But which of us?
Maximus.
Let go my cloak, Julian!
Julian.
Which of us? Which? All hangs on that!
Maximus.
Thou knowest more than I. What said the voice in the light?
Julian.
The voice in the light——!
[With a cry.] The empire! The empire? To found the empire——!
Maximus.
The third empire!
Julian.
No; a thousand times no! Away, corrupter! I renounce thee and all thy works——
Maximus.
And necessity?
Julian.
I defy necessity! I will not serve it! I am free, free, free!1
[A noise outside; the dancing-girls and flute-players take to flight.
Maximus.
[Listening towards the right.] What is this alarm and shrieking——?
Julian.
Strange men are forcing their way into the house——
Maximus.
They are maltreating your servants; they will murder us!
Julian.
Fear not; us no one can hurt.
The Chamberlain Eutherius.
[Comes hastily across the court.] My lord, my lord!
Julian.
What is that noise without?
Eutherius.
Strange men have surrounded the house; they have set a watch at all the doors; they are making their way in—almost by force. Here they come, my lord! Here they are!
The Quaestor Leontes, with a large and richly-attired retinue, enters from the right.
Leontes.
Pardon, a thousand pardons, most gracious lord——
Julian.
[Recoiling a step.] What do I see!
Leontes.
Your servants would have hindered me from entering; and as my errand was of the utmost moment——
Julian.
You here, in Ephesus, my excellent Leontes!
Leontes.
I have travelled night and day, as the Emperor’s envoy.
Julian.
[Turning pale.] To me? What would the Emperor with me? I swear I am unwitting of any crime. I am sick, Leontes! This man—[Pointing to Maximus]—attends me as my physician.
Leontes.
Permit me, my gracious lord——!
Julian.
Why do you force your way into my house? What is the Emperor’s will?
Leontes.
His will is to gladden you, my lord, by a great and weighty announcement.
Julian.
I pray you, let me know what announcement you bring.
Leontes.
[Kneels.] My most noble lord,—with praise to your good fortune and my own, I hail you Caesar.
The Quaestor’s Followers.
Long live Julian Caesar!
Maximus.
Caesar!
Julian.
[Retreating, with an exclamation.] Caesar! Stand up, Leontes! What mad words are these!
Leontes.
I do but deliver the Emperor’s commands.
Julian.
I—I Caesar!—Ah, where is Gallus?
Leontes.
Oh, do not ask me.
Julian.
Where is Gallus? Tell me, I conjure you,—where is Gallus?
Leontes.
[Standing up.] Gallus Caesar is with his beloved wife.
Julian.
Dead?
Leontes.
In bliss, with his wife.
Julian.
Dead! dead! Gallus dead! Dead in the midst of his triumphal progress! But when,—and where?
Leontes.
Oh, my dear lord, spare me——
Gregory of Nazianzus.
[Struggling with the guards at the door.] I must go to him! Aside, I say!—Julian!
Julian.
Gregory, brother,—after all, you come again?
Gregory.
Is it true, what rumour is scattering like a storm of arrows over the city?
Julian.
I am myself transfixed by one of its arrows. Dare I believe in this blending of good hap and of ill?
Gregory.
For Christ’s sake, bid the tempter avaunt!
Julian.
The Emperor’s commands, Gregory!
Gregory.
You will trample on your brother’s bloody corpse——
Julian.
Bloody——?
Gregory.
Know you it not? Gallus Caesar was murdered.
Julian.
[Clasping his hands.] Murdered?
Leontes.
Ah, who is this audacious——?
Julian.
Murdered? Murdered? [To Leontes.] Tell me he lies!
Leontes.
Gallus Caesar has fallen through his own misdeeds.
Julian.
Murdered!—Who murdered him?
Leontes.
What has occurred was inevitable, my noble lord! Gallus Caesar madly misused his power here in the East. He was no longer content with his rank as Caesar. His conduct, both in Constantinople and elsewhere on his progress, showed clearly what was in his mind.
Julian.
’Tis not his crime I would know, but the rest.
Leontes.
Oh, let me spare a brother’s ears.
Julian.
A brother’s ears can bear what a son’s ears have borne. Who killed him?
Leontes.
The tribune Scudilo, who escorted him, thought it advisable to have him executed.
Julian.
Where? Not in Rome?
Leontes.
No, my lord; it happened on the journey thither,—in the city of Pola, in Illyria.
Julian.
[Bowing himself.] The Emperor is great and righteous.—The last of the race, Gregory!—The Emperor Constantius is great.
Leontes.
[Taking a purple robe from one of his attendants.] Noble Caesar, deign to array yourself——
Julian.
Red! Away with it! Was it this he wore at Pola——?
Leontes.
This comes fresh from Sidon.
Julian.
[With a look at Maximus.] From Sidon! The purple robe——!
Maximus.
Apollinaris’s vision!
Gregory.
Julian! Julian!
Leontes.
See, this is sent to you by your kinsman, the Emperor. He bids me tell you that, childless as he is, he looks to you to heal this the deepest wound of his life. He wishes to see you in Rome. Afterwards, it is his will that you should go, as Caesar, to Gaul. The border tribes of the Alemanni have passed the Rhine, and made a dangerous inroad into the empire. He builds securely on the success of your campaign against the barbarians. Certain things have been revealed to him in dreams, and his last word to me at my departure was that he was assured you would succeed in establishing the empire.
Julian.
Establish the empire! The voice in the light, Maximus!
Maximus.
Sign against sign.
Leontes.
How, noble Caesar?
Julian.
I also have been forewarned of certain things; but this——
Gregory.
Say no, Julian! ’Tis the wings of destruction they would fasten on your shoulders.
Leontes.
Who are you, that defy the Emperor?
Gregory.
My name is Gregory; I am the son of the Bishop of Nazianzus;—do with me what you will.
Julian.
He is my friend and brother; let no one touch him!
[A great crowd has meanwhile filled the outer court.
Basil of Caesarea.
[Making his way through the crowd.] Take not the purple, Julian!
Julian.
You, too, my faithful Basil.
Basil.
Take it not! For the Lord God’s sake——
Julian.
What terrifies you so in this?
Basil.
The horrors that will follow.
Julian.
Through me shall the empire be established.
Basil.
Christ’s empire?
Julian.
The Emperor’s great and beautiful empire.
Basil.
Was that the empire which shone before your eyes when, as a child, you preached the word beside the Cappadocian martyrs’ graves? Was that the empire you set forth from Constantinople to establish on earth? Was that the empire——?
Julian.
Mists, mists;—all that lies behind me like a wild dream.
Basil.
’Twere better you yourself should be at the bottom of the sea, with a mill-stone about your neck, than that that dream should lie behind you.—— See you not the work of the tempter? All the glory of the world is laid at your feet.
Maximus.
Sign against sign, Caesar!
Julian.
One word, Leontes!
[Seizing his hand and drawing him aside.
Whither do you lead me?
Leontes.
To Rome, my lord.
Julian.
That is not what I ask. Whither do you lead me: to fortune and power,—or to the shambles?
Leontes.
Oh, my lord, so odious a suspicion——
Julian.
My brother’s body can scarce have mouldered yet.
Leontes.
I can silence all doubt. [Taking out a paper.] This letter from the Emperor, which I had thought to hand you in private——
Julian.
A letter? What does he write?——
[He opens the paper and reads.
Ah, Helena! Oh, Leontes! Helena,—Helena to me!
Leontes.
The Emperor gives her to you, my lord! He gives you his beloved sister, for whom Gallus Caesar begged in vain.
Julian.
Helena to me! The unattainable attained!—But she, Leontes——?
Leontes.
At my departure he took the Princess by the hand and led her to me. A flush of maiden blood swept over her lovely cheeks, she cast down her eyes, and said: “Greet my dear kinsman, and let him know that he has ever been the man whom——”
Julian.
Go on, Leontes!
Leontes.
These words were all she spoke, the modest and pure woman.
Julian.
The pure woman!—How marvellously is all fulfilled!
[He calls loudly.
Robe me in the purple!
Maximus.
You have chosen?
Julian.
Chosen, Maximus!
Maximus.
Chosen, in spite of sign against sign?
Julian.
Here is no sign against sign. Maximus, Maximus, seer though you be, you have been blind. Robe me in the purple!
[The Quaestor Leontes attires him in the mantle.
Basil.
It is done!
Maximus.
[Murmurs to himself with upstretched hands.] Light and victory be to him who wills!
Leontes.
And now to the Governor’s palace; the people would fain greet Caesar.
Julian.
Caesar, in his exaltation, remains what he was,—the poor lover of wisdom, who owes all to the Emperor’s grace.—To the Governor’s palace, my friends!
Voices among the Quaestor’s Retinue.
Room, room for Julian Caesar!
[All go out through the court, amid the acclamations of the crowd; only Gregory and Basil remain behind.
Basil.
Gregory? Whatever comes of this—let us hold together.
Gregory.
Here is my hand.
- See Ibsen’s Correspondence, Letter 115, to George Brandes. [↩]