ACT FIRST.
SCENE FIRST.
The port of Constantinople. In the foreground to the right, a richly-decorated landing-stage, spread with carpets. On the elevated quay, at a little distance from the landing-stage, is seen a veiled stone, surrounded by a guard. Far out on the Bosphorus lies the imperial fleet, hung with flags of mourning.
A countless multitude, in boats and on the beach. Near the end of the landing-stage stands the Emperor Julian, robed in purple and decked with golden ornaments. He is surrounded by Courtiers and High Officers of State. Among those standing nearest to him are Nevita, the commander of the forces, and the court physician, Caesarius, together with the orators, Themistius and Mamertinus.
Julian.
[Looking out over the water.] What a meeting! The dead Emperor and the living.—Alas that he should have drawn his last breath in such distant regions! Alas that, in spite of all my haste, I should not have had the sweet consolation of embracing my kinsman for the last time! A bitter lot for both of us!—
Where is the ship with the body?
Nevita.
There it comes.
Julian.
That long boat?
Nevita.
Yes, most gracious Emperor.
Julian.
My poor kinsman! So great in life; and now to have to content you with so low a roof! Now you will not strike your forehead against the coffin-lid, you who bowed your head in riding through the Arch of Constantine.
A Citizen among the Spectators.
[To the Goldsmith Potamon.] How young he looks, our new Emperor!
Potamon.
But he has grown more stalwart. When I last saw him he was a lean stripling; that is now nine or ten years ago.
Another Citizen.
Ay, he has done great things in those years.
A Woman.
And all the dangers he has passed through, ever since his childhood!
A Priest.
Marvellously has he been shielded from them all; the hand of heaven is over him.
Potamon.
Rumour says that in Gaul he placed himself in very different hands.
The Priest.
Lies, lies; you may depend upon it.
Julian.
Now he comes. The Sun, whom I invoke, and the great thunder-wielding God, know that I never desired Constantius’s death. That was far indeed from being my wish. I have offered up prayers for his life.—Tell me, Caesarius,—you must know best,—have they shown all due honour, on the journey, to the imperial corpse?
Caesarius.
The funeral procession was like a conqueror’s triumph through the whole of Asia Minor. In every town we traversed, believers thronged the streets; through whole nights the churches echoed with prayers and hymns; thousands of burning tapers transformed the darkness into high noon——
Julian.
Good, good, good!—I am seized with an unspeakable misgiving at the thought of taking the helm of state after so great and virtuous and well-beloved an Emperor. Why was it not my lot to live in peaceful retirement?
Mamertinus.
And who could have sufficed to this high and difficult calling so completely as you, incomparable lord? I call fearlessly to all those others who have aspired to the empire: Come, then, and take the helm of government; but take it as Julian takes it. Be on the alert night and day for the common welfare. Be masters in name, and yet servants to civic freedom. Choose the foremost places in battle, and not at the feasts. Take nothing for yourselves, but lavish gifts upon all. Let your justice be equally remote from laxity and from inhumanity. Live so that no virgin on earth shall wring her hands because of you. Bid defiance—both to impenetrable Gaul, and inhospitable Germany. What would they answer? Appalled by such stern conditions, they would stop their effeminate ears, and cry: “Only a Julian is equal to such a task!”
Julian.
The Omnipotent grant that such high hopes may not be disappointed. But how great are my shortcomings! A shudder comes over me. To affront comparison with Alexander, Marcus Aurelius, and so many other illustrious princes! Has not Plato said that only a god can rule over men? Oh pray with me that I may escape the snares of ambition, and the temptations of power. Athens, Athens! Thither my longings turn! I was as a man taking reasonable exercise for the sake of his health;—and now, they come and say to me, “Go forth into the arena, and conquer in the Olympian games. The eyes of all Greece are upon you!” May I not well be panic-stricken even before the contest begins?
Themistius.
Panic-stricken, oh Emperor? Have you not already the applause of Greece? Are you not come to reinstate all exiled virtues in their ancient rights? Do we not find concentred in you all the victorious genius of Herakles, of Dionysus, of Solon, of——
Julian.
Hush! Only the praise of the dead shall be heard to-day. The boat has reached the wharf. Take my crown and my chains; I will not wear the insignia of empire at such a time as this.
[He hands the ornaments to one of the bystanders. The funeral procession advances along the landing-stage, with great pomp. Priests with lighted candles walk at its head; the coffin is drawn on a low-wheeled carriage; church banners are borne before and after the carriage; choristers swing censers; crowds of Christian citizens follow after.
Julian.
[Laying his hand on the coffin, and sighing audibly.] Ah!
A Spectator.
Did he cross himself?
Another in the Crowd.
No.
The First.
You see; you see!
A Third Spectator.
And he did not bow before the sacred image.
The First.
[To the second.] You see! What did I tell you?
Julian.
Pass onward to thy home, amid pomp and honour, soulless body of my kinsman! I make not this dust answerable for the wrongs thy spirit did me. What do I say? Was it thy spirit that dealt so hardly with my house, that I alone am left? Was it thy spirit that caused my childhood to be darkened with a thousand terrors? Was it thy spirit that bade fall that noble Caesar’s head? Was it thou who didst allot to me, an untried stripling, so difficult a post in inhospitable Gaul, and afterwards, when disaffection and mischance had failed to crush me, didst seek to rob me of the honour of my victories? Oh Constantius, my kinsman,—not from thy great heart did all this spring. Wherefore didst thou writhe in remorse and anguish; why didst thou see gory shades around thee, on thy last bed of pain? Evil councillors embittered thy life and thy death. I know them, these councillors; they were men who took hurt from living in the ceaseless sunshine of thy favour. I know them, these men, who so obsequiously clothed themselves in that garb of faith, which was most in favour at court.
Heathen Citizens.
[Among the spectators.] Long live the Emperor Julian!
Caesarius.
Most gracious lord, the procession waits——
Julian.
[To the priests.] Stay not your pious hymns on my account. Forward, my friends!
[The procession passes slowly out to the left.
Follow whoso will, and remain whoso will. But this you shall all know to-day, that my place is here.
[Uneasiness and movement in the crowd.
What am I? The Emperor. But in saying that, have I said all? Is there not one imperial office, which seems to have been shamefully wiped out of remembrance in these later years? What was that crowned philosopher, Marcus Aurelius? Emperor? Only Emperor? I could almost ask: was he not something more than Emperor? Was he not also the Supreme Pontiff?
Voices in the Crowd.
What says the Emperor? What was that? What did he say?
Themistius.
Oh sire, is it indeed your purpose——?
Julian.
Not even my uncle Constantine the Great dared to renounce this dignity. Even after he had conceded to a certain new doctrine such very extraordinary privileges, he was still called the Chief Priest by all who held fast to the ancient divinities of the Grecian race. I will not here enlarge upon the melancholy disuse into which this office has fallen of late years, but will merely remark that none of my exalted predecessors, not even he to whom, with tear-stained faces, we to-day bid our last farewell, has dared to reject it. Should I presume to take any step which so wise and just emperors did not deem right or expedient? Far be it from me!
Themistius.
Oh great Emperor, mean you by this——?
Julian.
I mean by this, that there shall be perfect freedom for all citizens. Cling to the Christians’ God, you who find it conduce to your souls’ repose. As for me, I dare not build my hopes on a god who has hitherto been my foe in all my undertakings. I know by infallible signs and tokens that the victories I won on the Gallic frontier I owe to those other divinities who favoured Alexander in a somewhat similar way. Under watch and ward of these divinities, I passed unscathed through all dangers; and, in especial, it was they who furthered my journey hither with such marvellous speed and success that, as I gathered from cries in the streets, some people have come to look upon me as a divine being,—which is a great exaggeration, my friends! But certain it is, that I dare not show myself ungrateful for such untiring proofs of favour.
Voices in the Crowd.
[Subdued.] What is he going to do?
Julian.
Therefore, I restore to their pristine rights the venerable Gods of our forefathers. But no injury shall be done to the God of the Galileans, nor to the God of the Jews. The temples, which pious rulers of old erected with such admirable art, shall rise again in rejuvenated splendour, with altars and statues, each for its especial God, so that seemly worship may once more be offered them. But I will by no means tolerate any vengeful assaults upon the churches of the Christians; neither shall their graveyards be molested, nor any other places which a strange delusion leads them to regard as sacred. We will bear with the errors of others; I myself have laboured under illusions;—but over that I cast a veil. What I have thought upon things divine since my one-and-twentieth year, I will not now dwell upon; I will only say that I congratulate those who follow my example,—that I smile at those who will not tread in my footsteps,—that I will doubtless try to persuade, but will not coerce any one.
[He stops a moment expectantly; feeble applause is heard here and there among the crowd. He continues with more warmth.
I had reckoned, not unreasonably, on grateful acclamations, where I find only wondering curiosity. Yet I ought to have known it;—there reigns a deplorable indifference among those who profess to hold fast to our ancient faith. Oppression and mockery have caused us to forget the venerable rites of our forefathers. I have inquired high and low, but scarcely a single person have I found who could speak with authority as to the ceremonies to be observed in sacrificing to Apollo or Fortuna. I must take the lead in this, as in other matters. It has cost me many sleepless nights to search out in the ancient records what tradition prescribes in such cases; but I do not complain when I remember how much we owe to these very divinities; nor am I ashamed to do everything with my own hands—— Whither away, Caesarius?
Caesarius.
To the church, most gracious Emperor; I would pray for the soul of my departed master.
Julian.
Go, go! In these matters every one is free.
[Caesarius, with several of the older courtiers and officers of state, goes out to the left.
But the freedom I concede to the meanest citizen, I claim for myself as well.——Be it known, therefore, to you all, Greeks and Romans, that I return with my whole heart to the beliefs and rites which our forefathers held sacred,—that they may be freely propagated and exercised, no less than all new and foreign opinions;—and as I am a son of this city, and therefore hold it pre-eminently dear, this I proclaim in the name of its guardian deities.
[Julian gives a sign; some of the attendants withdraw the veil from the stone: an altar is seen, and, at its base, a flagon of wine, a cruse of oil, a little heap of wood, and other appurtenances. Strong but speechless emotion in the multitude, as Julian goes up to the altar, and prepares for the offering.
Themistius.
Oh well may I, as a Greek, melt into tears at the sight of so much humility and pious zeal!
A Citizen.
See, he breaks the fuel himself!
Another.
Over his left thigh. Is that how it ought to be broken?
The First Citizen.
Doubtless, doubtless.
Mamertinus.
In the light of the fire you there kindle, oh, great Emperor, shall research and learning shine forth, ay, and rise rejuvenated, like that miraculous bird——
Nevita.
That fire will temper the weapons of Greece. I know little of the Galilean figments; but this I have noted, that all who believe in them are spiritless and unfit for greater things.
Themistius.
In this fire, oh incomparable one, I see wisdom purged of all scandal and reproach. The wine of your libation is like purple, wherewith you deck the truth, and set her on a royal throne. Now, as you lift up your hands——
Mamertinus.
Now, as you lift up your hands, it is as though you glorified the brow of knowledge with a golden wreath; and the tears you shed——
Themistius.
[Pressing nearer.] Yes, yes, the tears I see you shed are like costly pearls, wherewith eloquence shall once more be rewarded in kingly wise. Once again, then, the Greeks are suffered to raise their eyes to heaven, and follow the eternal stars in their courses! How long it is since that was vouchsafed us! Have we not been forced, for fear of spies, to tremble and bow our faces to the earth, like the brutes? Which of us dared so much as to watch the rising or the setting of the sun?
[He turns to the crowd.
Even you husbandmen, who have to-day flocked hither in such numbers, even you did not venture to note the position of the heavenly bodies, although by them you should have regulated your labours——
Mamertinus.
And you seamen,—have either you or your fathers dared to utter the names of the constellations by which you steered? Now you may do so; now all are free to——
Themistius.
Now no Greek need live on land or sea without consulting the immutable laws of the heavens; he need no longer let himself be tossed about like a plaything, by chance and circumstance; he——
Mamertinus.
Oh, how great is this Emperor, to whom we owe such blessings!
Julian.
[Before the altar, with uplifted arms.] Thus have I openly and in all humility made libations of oil and wine to you, ye beneficent deities, who have so long been denied these seemly observances. I have sent up my thanksgiving to thee, oh Apollo, whom some of the sages—especially those of the East—call by the name of the Sun-King, because thou bringest and renewest that light, wherein life has its source and its fountain-head.—To thee, too, I have made offering, oh Dionysus, god of ecstasy, who dost lift up the souls of mortals out of abasement, and exaltest them to an ennobling communion with higher spirits.—And, although I name thee last, I have not been least mindful of thee, oh Fortuna! Without thine aid, should I have stood here? I know indeed that thou dost no longer visibly manifest thyself, as in the golden age, of which the peerless blind singer has told us. But this I know, too,—and herein all other philosophers are at one with me—that it is thou who hast the decisive share in the choice of the guardian spirit, good or evil, that is to accompany every man on his path through life. I have no cause to chide thee, oh Fortuna! Rather have I the strongest reason to yield thee all thanks and praise. This duty, precious to my heart, have I this day fulfilled. I have not shrunk from even the humblest office. Here I stand in open day; the eyes of all Greece are upon me; I expect the voice of all Greece to unite with mine in acclaiming you, oh ye immortal gods!
[During the sacrificial service, most of the Christian onlookers have gradually stolen away; only a little knot remains behind. When Julian ceases speaking, there arise only faint sounds of approval mingled with subdued laughter, and whispers of astonishment
Julian.
[Looking round.] What is this? What has become of them all? Are they slinking away?
Themistius.
Yes, red with shame at the ingratitude of so many years.
Mamertinus.
Nay, ’twas the flush of joy. They have gone to spread the great tidings throughout the city.
Julian.
[Leaving the altar.] The ignorant multitude is ever perplexed by what is unaccustomed. My task will be arduous; but no labour shall daunt me. What better befits a philosopher than to root out error? In this mission I count on your aid, enlightened friends! But our thoughts must turn elsewhere, for a little time. Follow me; I go to other duties.
[He departs hastily, without returning the citizens’ greetings; the courtiers, and his other attendants, follow him.
SCENE SECOND.
A great hall in the Imperial Palace. Doors on both sides, and in the back; in front, to the left, on a daïs by the wall, stands the imperial throne.
The Emperor Julian, surrounded by his court and high officials, among whom is Ursulus, the Treasurer, with the orators Themistius and Mamertinus.
Julian.
So far have the gods aided us. Now the work will roll onwards, like the waves of a spring flood. The sullen ill-will which I can trace in certain quarters where I least expected it, shall not disturb my equanimity. Is it not precisely the distinguishing mark of true wisdom, that it begets patience! We all know that by suitable remedies bodily ills may be allayed;—but can fire and sword annihilate delusions as to things divine? And what avails it though your hands make offerings, if your souls condemn the action of your hands?
Thus will we live in concord with each other. My court shall be open to all men of mark, whatever their opinions. Let us show the world the rare and august spectacle of a court without hypocrisy—assuredly the only one of its kind—a court in which flatterers are counted the most dangerous of enemies. We will censure and expostulate with one another, when it is needful, yet without loving one another the less.
[To Nevita, who enters by the back.
Your face is radiant, Nevita;—what good tidings do you bring?
Nevita.
The best and happiest indeed. A great company of envoys from princes in furthest India have come to bring you gifts, and to entreat your friendship.
Julian.
Ah, tell me,—to what peoples do they belong?
Nevita.
To the Armenians, and other races beyond the Tigris. Indeed, some of the strangers aver they come from the islands of Diu and Serandib.
Julian.
From the uttermost verge of the earth my friends!
Themistius.
Even so far has rumour carried your name and your glory!
Mamertinus.
Even in those unknown regions is your sword a terror to princes and peoples!
Themistius.
Diu and Serandib! Far east in the Indian sea——
Mamertinus.
I do not hesitate to say: beyond the orb of the world——
Julian.
Bid the barber come!
[A courtier goes out to the right.
I will receive the envoys in seemly guise,—yet without display or adornment. So would the august Marcus Aurelius have received them; and him I make my pattern, rather than the Emperor whose death we have lately had to mourn. No more parade of transitory mundane things! Even the barbarians shall see that wisdom—in the person, truly, of her meanest servant—has resumed her place upon the throne.
[The courtier returns with Eunapius, the barber, who is magnificently attired.
Julian.
[Looks at him in astonishment, then goes to meet him, and greets him.] What seek you here, my lord?
Eunapius.
Gracious Emperor, you have commanded my attendance——
Julian.
You mistake, friend; I have not sent for any of my councillors.
Eunapius.
Most gracious Emperor——
Ursulus.
Pardon me, sire; this man is the imperial barber.
Julian.
What do I hear? Can it be? This man—oh, you jest—this man, in silken raiment, with gold-embroidered shoes, is——? Ah, indeed! So you are the barber! [He bows before him] Never shall I presume to let myself be served by such delicate hands.
Eunapius.
Most gracious Emperor,—I pray you, for God and my Saviour’s sake——
Julian.
Ho-ho! A Galilean! Did I not think so! Is this the self-denial you boast of? But I know you well! What temple of what godhead have you plundered, or how many dips have you made into the Emperor’s coffers, to attain such magnificence as this?—You may go; I have no occasion for you.
[Eunapius goes out to the right.
Tell me, Ursulus, what is that man’s wage?
Ursulus.
Gracious Emperor, by your august predecessor’s command, the daily maintenance of twenty men is assigned him——
Julian.
Aha! No more than that?
Ursulus.
Yes, sire; latterly he has had free stabling in the imperial stables, together with a certain yearly allowance of money, and a gold piece for every time he——
Julian.
And all this for a barber! What, then, must the others——? This shall not last a day longer.——Admit the foreign envoys!
[Nevita goes out by the back.
I will receive them with uncut hair. Better so; for although I know well that it is not the unkempt hair, nor the tattered cloak, that makes the true philosopher, yet surely the example given by both Antisthenes and Diogenes may well be respected by one who—even on the throne—desires to follow in such great teachers’ footsteps.
He ascends the daïs on which stands the throne. The court ranges itself below. The Envoys, introduced by Nevita and the Chamberlain Eutherius, enter in magnificent procession, accompanied by slaves, who bear gifts of all sorts.
Nevita.
Most gracious Lord and Emperor! Not being possessed of the noble idiom which so many eloquent men, and you yourself not the least, have perfected beyond all other tongues,—and therewith fearful of letting barbarous sounds offend your ear,—these envoys from the princes of the East have deputed me to be their spokesman.
Julian.
[Sitting on the throne.] I am ready to hear you.
Nevita.
First, the King of Armenia lays at your feet this suit of mail, begging you to wear it in battle against the foes of the empire, although he knows that you, invincible hero, stand under the protecting eye of the gods, who will suffer no weapon of mortal man to wound you.—Here are priceless carpets, tents, and saddle-housings from the princes beyond the Tigris. They thereby acknowledge that, if the gods have granted those lands exceeding riches, it was with the design that these riches should be at the service of their favourite.—The King of Serandib, and likewise the King of Diu, send you these weapons, sword, spear, and shield, with bows and arrows; for, they say, “We esteem it wisest to stand unarmed before the victorious lord who, like a divinity, has shown himself so mighty as to overwhelm all opposition.”—In return, all pray for the supreme favour of your friendship, and especially beg that if, as report says, you propose next spring to annihilate the audacious Persian king, you will spare their territories from hostile invasion.
Julian.
Such an embassy cannot come quite as a surprise to me. The gifts shall be deposited in my treasury, and through you I apprise your masters that it is my will to maintain friendship with all nations who do not—whether by force or guile—thwart my designs.—As to your being led, in your distant lands, to regard me as a divinity on account of my fortunate victories, I will not enter further into the matter. I reverence the gods too highly to arrogate to myself an unmerited place in their midst, although I know that frequently, and chiefly in the days of old, there have lived heroes and rulers who have been so greatly distinguished by the favour and grace of the gods, that it has been difficult to determine whether they should rightly be reckoned among mortals or immortals. Of such things, however, it is rash to judge, even for us Greeks. How much more, then, for you? Therefore, enough of that.—Eutherius conduct the strangers to repose, and see that they lack nothing.
[The Envoys and their train leave the hall, conducted by Eutherius. Julian descends from the daïs; the courtiers and orators surround him with admiring congratulations.
Themistius.
So young,—and already so highly honoured above all other Emperors!
Mamertinus.
I ask: will not Fame lack lungs to proclaim your renown, if the gods, as I confidently hope, grant you a long life?
Themistius.
The yell of fear, uttered by the flying Alemanni on the furthest shores of the Rhine, has swept eastward until it dashed against Taurus and Caucasus——
Mamertinus.
——and now rolls, like the echoes of thunder, over the whole of Asia.
Nevita.
What has so overawed the Indians is the likeness between our Greek Julian and the Macedonian Alexander——
Mamertinus.
Oh where is the likeness? Had King Alexander secret enemies in his own camp? Had he to struggle against an envious and backbiting imperial court?
Nevita.
True, true; and there were no incapable generals to clog Alexander’s progress.
Julian.
Ursulus, it is my will that the coming of these envoys shall be made known both in the city and through all regions of the empire. Everything shall be exactly set forth,—the places whence they came, and the gifts they brought with them. I will withhold from my citizens nothing that concerns my government. You may also allude in passing to the strange belief among the Indians, that Alexander has returned to earth.
Ursulus.
[Hesitatingly.] Pardon me, most gracious Emperor, but——
Julian.
Well?
Ursulus.
You have yourself said that in this court no flattery is to be tolerated——
Julian.
True, my friend!
Ursulus.
Then let me honestly tell you that these envoys came to seek your predecessor, not you.
Julian.
What do you dare to tell me?
Themistius.
Pooh, what preposterous nonsense!
Mamertinus.
What a fable!
Ursulus.
It is the truth. I have long known that these men were on their way,—long before the Emperor Constantius closed his eyes. Oh, my most gracious lord, let not a false vanity find its way into your young mind——
Julian.
Enough, enough! Then you mean to say that——
Ursulus.
Think for yourself. How could your victories in Gaul, glorious as they have been, reach the ears of such distant nations with such rapidity? When the envoys spoke of the Emperor’s heroic deeds, they had in mind the war against the King of Persia——
Nevita.
I did not know that the war against King Sapor had been so conducted as to spread[spread] terror to the ends of the earth.
Ursulus.
True; fortune has been against our arms in those regions. But ’twas the rumour of the great armament which the Emperor Constantius was preparing for the spring that alarmed the Armenians and the other nations.—Oh, reckon out the time, sire, count the days if you will, and say if it can possibly be otherwise. Your march hither from Gaul was marvellously rapid; but the journey of these men from the Indian isles——; it would be tenfold more marvellous if——; ask them, and you will hear——
Julian.
[Pale with anger.] Why do you say all this to me?
Ursulus.
Because it is the truth, and because I cannot bear to see your fresh and fair renown darkened by borrowed trappings.
Themistius.
What audacity!
Mamertinus.
What brazen audacity!
Julian.
You cannot bear, forsooth! You cannot bear! Oh, I know you better. I know all you old courtiers. It is the gods whose glory you would disparage. For is it not to the glory of the gods that through a man they can compass such great things! But you hate them, these gods, whose temples you have thrown down, whose statues you have broken to pieces, and whose treasures you have rifled. You have scarcely even tolerated these our most beneficent deities. You have scarcely suffered the pious to cherish them secretly in their hearts. And now you would also break down the temple of gratitude which I have dedicated to them in my heart; you would rob me of the grateful belief that I am indebted to the immortals for a new and much-to-be-coveted benefaction;—for may not renown be so termed?
Ursulus.
The one God of heaven is my witness that——
Julian.
The one God! There we have it again! So are you always. What intolerance! Contrast yourselves with us. Do we say that our gods are the only ones? Do we not esteem both the gods of the Egyptians and that Jewish Jehovah, who has certainly done great things among his people? But you, on the contrary,—and a man like you, too, Ursulus—! Are you a Roman born of Grecian race? The one God! What barbarous effrontery!
Ursulus.
You have promised to hate no man for his convictions’ sake.
Julian.
That I have promised; but neither will I suffer you to treat us too insolently. These envoys have not come to——? That is to say, in other words, that the great and divine Dionysus, whose especial gift it is to reveal what is hidden,—that he is not as powerful now as in bygone ages. Ought I to suffer this? Is it not overweening audacity? Am I not forced to call you to account?
Ursulus.
Then all Christians will say that it is their faith you are persecuting.
Julian.
No one shall be persecuted by reason of his faith. But have I the right to overlook whatever faults you may commit, simply because you are Christians? Shall your delusions shield your misdeeds? What have not your audacious crew for long been doing, both here at court and elsewhere? Have you not flattered all vices, and bowed before all caprices? Ay, what have not you yourself, Ursulus, connived at? I am thinking of that shameless, bedizened barber, that salve-stinking fool, who just now filled me with loathing. Are not you treasurer? How could you give way to his impudent demands?
Ursulus.
Is it a crime to have done my master’s bidding?
Julian.
I will have nothing to do with such luxurious servants. All those insolent eunuchs shall be hunted out of the palace; and all cooks, and jugglers, and dancers after them. A becoming frugality shall once more be enforced.
[To Themistius and Mamertinus.
You, my friends, shall aid me in this.—And you, Nevita, on whom, as a mark of special distinction, I bestow the title of general-in-chief,—you I depute to investigate how the offices of state have been administered under my predecessor, especially of late years. You may call in the aid of competent men, at your own choice, to decide with you in these affairs.
[To the older courtiers and councillors.
Of you I have no need. When my lamented kinsman, on his death-bed, appointed me his successor, he also bequeathed to me that justice which his long illness had prevented him from administering. Go home; and when you have given an account of yourselves, you may go whither you please.
Ursulus.
The Lord God uphold and shield you, my Emperor!
[He bows, and goes out by the back, together with the older men. Nevita, Themistius, and Mamertinus, with all the younger men, gather round the Emperor.
Nevita.
My august master, how can I sufficiently thank you for the mark of favour which you——
Julian.
No thanks. In these few days I have learnt to value your fidelity and judgment. I also commission you to draw up the despatch concerning the eastern envoys. Word it so that the beneficent gods may find in it no reason for resentment against any of us.
Nevita.
In both matters I will carry out my Emperor’s will.
[He goes out to the right.
Julian.
And now, my faithful friends, now let us praise the immortal powers, who have shown us the right way.
Themistius.
The immortals, and their more than mortal favourite! What joy there will be throughout the empire, when it is known that you have dismissed those violent and rapacious men!
Mamertinus.
With what anxiety and impatient hope will the choice of their successors be awaited!
Themistius.
All the Greeks will exclaim with one voice: “Plato himself has taken the helm of state!”
Mamertinus.
No, no, worthy friend; all the Greeks will exclaim: “Plato’s ideal is realised—‘Only a god can rule over men!’”
Themistius.
I can but trust that the goodwill of the beneficent powers may follow Nevita. He has received a great and difficult charge; I know little of him; but we must all hope that he may prove himself to be the right——
Mamertinus.
Undoubtedly; although there might perhaps be other men who——
Themistius.
Not that I would for a moment imply that your choice, oh peerless Emperor——
Mamertinus.
No, no; far from it!
Themistius.
But if it be an error to burn with zeal to serve a beloved master——
Mamertinus.
——then, in truth, you have more than one erring friend——
Themistius.
——even if you do not honour them, as you have honoured the thrice-fortunate Nevita——
Mamertinus.
——even if they have to be content without any visible token of your favour——
Julian.
We will leave no capable men unemployed or unrewarded. As regards you, Themistius, I appoint you chief magistrate of this city of Constantinople; and you, Mamertinus, prepare to betake yourself to Rome during the coming year, to enter upon one of the vacant consulships.
Themistius.
My Emperor! I am dizzy with so much honour——
Mamertinus.
So high a distinction! Consul! Was ever consul so honoured as I? Was Lucius? Was Brutus? Was Publius Valerius? What were their honours to mine? They were chosen by the people, I by Julian!
A Courtier.
Praise be to the Emperor, who makes justice his guide!
Another Courtier.
Praise be to him, whose very name strikes terror to the barbarians!
Themistius.
Praise be to all the exalted gods, who have united in casting their enamoured eyes on one single man, so that when the day comes—distant may it be!—when he shall for the first time inflict pain on us by departing hence, this one man may be said to have cast Socrates, Marcus Aurelius, and Alexander into the shade!
Julian.
There you touch the kernel of the matter, my Themistius! ’Tis to the gods that we must uplift our hands and hearts. I say this, not as instructing you, but merely to remind you of what has so long been forgotten at this court. By no means would I seek to coerce any one. But can I be blamed because I would fain have others share in the sweet rapture which possesses me when I feel myself uplifted into communion with the immortals? Praise, praise to thee, vine-clad Dionysus! For it is chiefly thou who dost bring about such great and mysterious things. Depart now each to his task. I, for my part, have ordered a festal procession through the streets of the city. It shall be no mere revel for my courtiers, nor a banquet within four walls. The citizens shall be free to join me or to hold aloof; I will discern the pure from the impure, the pious from the misguided.
Oh Sun-King, shed light and beauty over the day! Oh Dionysus, let thy glory descend in floods upon our minds; fill our souls with thy sacred storm-wind; fill them till all trammels are burst asunder, and ecstasy enfranchised draws breath in dance and song!—Life, life, life in beauty!
[He goes out hastily to the right. The courtiers break up into whispering groups, and gradually disperse.