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.