The first act passes in Constantinople, the second in Athens, the third in Ephesus, the fourth in Lutetia in Gaul, and the fifth in Vienna [Vienne] in the same province. The action takes place during the ten years between A.D. 351 and A.D. 361.
Easter night in Constantinople. The scene is an open place, with trees, bushes, and overthrown statues, in the vicinity of the Imperial Palace. In the background, fully illuminated, stands the Imperial Chapel. To the right a marble balustrade, from which a staircase leads down to the water. Between the pines and cypresses appear glimpses of the Bosphorus and the Asiatic coast.
Service in the church. Soldiers of the Imperial Guard stand on the church steps. Great crowds of worshippers stream in. Beggars, cripples, and blind men at the doors. Heathen onlookers, fruit-sellers, and water-carriers fill up the place.
[Carrying a paper lantern, enters from the left, taps one of the soldiers on the shoulder, and asks:] Hist, good friend—when comes the Emperor?
I cannot tell.
[In the crowd, turning his head.] The Emperor? Did not some one ask about the Emperor? The Emperor will come a little before midnight—just before. I had it from Memnon himself.himself.
[Rushes in hastily and pushes a Fruit-seller aside.] Out of the way, heathen!
Softly, sir!
Dog, dog!
Grumbling at a well-dressed Christian—at a man of the Emperor’s own faith!
[Knocks the Fruit-seller down.] Into the gutter with you!
That’s right. Wallow there, along with your gods!
[Beating him with his stick.] Take that—and that—and that!
[Kicking him.] And this—and this! I’ll baste your god-detested skin for you!
[With the evident intention of being heard by the Captain of the Guard.] It is much to be desired that some one should bring this scene to our blessed Emperor’s ears. The Emperor has lately expressed his displeasure at the way in which we Christian citizens consort with the heathen, just as if no gulf divided us——
You refer to that placard in the market-places? I too have read it. And I hold that, as there is both true and false gold in the world——
——we ought not to clip every one with the same shears; that is my way of thinking. There are still zealous souls among us, praise be to God!
We are far from being zealous enough, dear brethren! See how boldly these scoffers hold up their heads. How many of this rabble, think you, bear the sign of the cross or of the fish on their arms?
Not many—and yet they actually swarm in front of the Imperial Chapel——
——on such a thrice-sacred night as this——
——blocking the way for true sons of the Church——
[In the crowd.] Are Donatists true sons of the Church?
What? A Donatist? Are you a Donatist?
What then? Are not you one?
I? I? May the lightning blast your tongue!
[Making the sign of the cross.] May plague and boils——!
A Donatist! You carrion! You rotten tree!
Right, right!
You brand for Satan’s furnace!
Right! Give it him; give it him, dear brother.brother.
[Pushing the Goldsmith away.] Hold your tongue get you behind me. I know you now;—you are Potamon the Manichæan!
A Manichæan? A stinking heretic! Faugh, faugh!
[Holding up his paper lantern.] Heyday! Why, you are Phocion the Dyer, of Antioch! The Cainite!
Woe is me, I have held communion with falsehood!
Woe is me, I have helped a son of Satan!
[Boxing his ear.] Take that for your help!
[Returning the blow.] Oh, you abandoned hound!hound!
Accursed, accursed be ye both!
[A general fight; laughter and derision among the onlookers.
[Calls to the soldiers.] The Emperor comes!
[The combatants are parted and carried with the stream of other worshippers into the church.
The Court enters in stately procession from the left. Priests with censers go before; after them men-at-arms and torch-bearers, courtiers and bodyguards. In their midst the Emperor Constantius, a man of thirty-four, of distinguished appearance, beardless, with brown curly hair; his eyes have a dark, distrustful expression; his gait and whole deportment betray uneasiness and debility. Beside him, on his left, walks the Empress Eusebia, a pale, delicate woman, the same age as the Emperor. Behind the imperial pair follows Prince Julian, a not yet fully developed youth of nineteen. He has black hair and the beginnings of a beard, sparkling brown eyes with a rapid glance; his court-dress sits badly upon him; his manners are notably awkward and abrupt. The Emperor’s sister, the Princess Helena, a voluptuous beauty of twenty-five, follows, accompanied by maidens and older women. Courtiers and men-at-arms close the procession. The Emperor’s body-slave, Memnon, a heavily-built, magnificently-dressed Ethiopian, is among them.
[Stops suddenly, turns round to Prince Julian, and asks sharply.] Where is Gallus?
[Turning pale.] Gallus? What would you with Gallus?
There, I caught you!
Sire——!
[Seizing the Emperor’s hand.] Come; come!
Conscience cried aloud. What are you two plotting?
We?
You and he!
Oh, come; come, Constantius!
So black a deed! What did the oracle answer?
The oracle! By my Holy Redeemer——
If any one maligns you, he shall pay for it at the stake. [Draws the Prince aside.] Oh, let us hold together, Julian! Dear kinsman, let us hold together!
Everything lies in your hands, my beloved lord!
My hands——!
Oh, stretch them in mercy over us!
My hands? What was in your mind as to my hands?
[Grasps his hands and kisses them.] The Emperor’s hands are white and cool.
What else should they be? What was in your mind? There I caught you again!
[Kisses them again.] They are like rose-leaves in this moonlight night.
Well, well, well, Julian!
Forward; it is time.
To go in before the presence of the Lord! I—I! Oh, pray for me Julian! They will offer me the consecrated wine. I see it! It glitters in the golden chalice like serpents’ eyes—— [Shrieks.] Bloody eyes——! Oh, Jesus Christ, pray for me!
The Emperor is ill——!
Where is Caesarius? The physician, the physician—summon him!
[Beckons.] Memnon, good Memnon!
[Softly.] Sire, have pity, and send me far from here.
Where would you go?
To Egypt. I would fain go to Egypt, if you think fit. So many go thither—into the great solitude.
Into the great solitude? Ha! In solitude one broods. I forbid you to brood.
I will not brood, if only you will let me——Here my anguish of soul increases day by day. Evil thoughts flock around me. For nine days I have worn a hair shirt, and it has not protected me; for nine nights I have lashed myself with thongs, but scourging does not banish them.
We must be steadfast, Julian! Satan is very busy in all of us. Speak with Hekebolius——
[To the Emperor.] It is time now——
No, no, I will not——
[Seizing him by the wrist.] Come, gracious lord;—come, I say.
[Draws himself up, and says with dignity.] Forward to the house of the Lord!
[Softly.] The other matter afterwards——
[To Julian.] I must see Gallus.
[Julian folds his hands in supplication to the Empress behind the Emperor’s back.
[Hastily and softly.] Fear nothing!
Remain without. Come not into the church with those thoughts in your mind. When you pray before the altar, it is to call down evil upon me.—Oh, lay not that sin upon your soul, my beloved kinsman!
[The procession moves forward towards the church. On the steps, beggars, cripples, and blind men crowd round the Emperor.
Oh, mightiest ruler on earth, let me touch the hem of thy garment, that I may become whole.
Pray for me, anointed of the Lord, that my sight may be restored!
Be of good cheer, my son!—Memnon, scatter silver among them. In, in!
[The Court moves forward into the church, the doors of which are closed; the crowd gradually disperses, Prince Julian remaining behind in one of the avenues.
[Looking towards the church.] What would he with Gallus? On this sacred night he cannot think to——! Oh, if I did but know—— [He turns and jostles against the blind man, who is departing.] Look where you go, friend!
I am blind, my lord!
Still blind! Can you not yet see so much as yonder glittering star? Fie! man of little faith! Did not God’s anointed promise to pray for your sight?
Who are you, that mock at a blind brother?
A brother in unbelief and blindness.
[Softly, among the bushes behind him.] Julian, Julian!
[With a cry.] Ah!
[Nearer.] Julian!
Stand, stand;—I am armed.armed. Beware!
[Poorly clad, and with a traveller’s staff, appears among the trees.] Hush! It is I——
Stand where you are! Do not come near me, fellow!
Oh, do you not remember Agathon——?
Agathon! What say you? Agathon was a boy——
Six years ago.—I knew you at once.
Agathon;—by the holy cross, but I believe it is!
Look at me; look well——
[Embracing and kissing him.] Friend of my childhood! Playmate! Dearest of them all! And you are here? How wonderful! You have come all the long way over the mountains, and then across the sea,—the whole long way from Cappadocia?
I came two days ago, by ship, from Ephesus. Oh, how I have sought in vain for you these two days. At the palace gates the guards would not let me pass, and——
Did you speak my name to any one? or say that you were in search of me?
No, I dared not, because——
There you did right; never let any one know more than you needs must——.
Come hither, Agathon; out into the full moonlight, that I may see you.—How you have grown, Agathon;—how strong you look.
And you are paler.
I cannot thrive in the air of the palace. I think it is unwholesome here.—’Tis far otherwise at Makellon. Makellon lies high. No other town in Cappadocia lies so high; ah, how the fresh snow-winds from the Taurus sweep over it——! Are you weary, Agathon?
Oh, in no wise.
Let us sit down nevertheless. It is so quiet and lonely here. Close together; so! [Draws him down upon a seat beside the balustrade.]—“Can any good thing come out of Cappadocia,” they say. Yes—friends can come. Can anything be better?
How was it possible that I did not know you at once? Oh, my beloved treasure, is it not just as when we were boys——?
[Sinking down before him.] I at your feet, as of old.
No, no, no——!
Oh, let me kneel thus!
Oh, Agathon, it is a sin and a mockery to kneel to me. If you but knew how sinful I have become. Hekebolius, my beloved teacher, is sorely concerned about me, Agathon. He could tell you——
How thick and moist your hair has grown; and how it curls.—But Mardonius—how goes it with him? His hair must be almost white now?
It is snow-white.
How well Mardonius could interpret Homer! I amHomer! I am sure my old Mardonius has not his like at that.—Heroes embattled against heroes—and the gods above fanning the flames. I saw it all, as with my eyes.
Then your mind was set on being a great and victorious warrior.
They were happy times, those six years in Cappadocia. Were the years longer then than now? It seems so, when I think of all they contained——
Yes, they were happy years. We at our books, and Gallus on his Persian horse. He swept over the plain like the shadow of a cloud.—Oh, but one thing you must tell me. The church——?
The church? Over the Holy Mamas’s grave?
[Smiling faintly.] Which Gallus and I built Gallus finished his aisle; but I——; mine never fully prospered.—How has it gone on since?
Not at all. The builders said it was impossible as you had planned it.
[Thoughtfully.] No doubt, no doubt. I wronged them in thinking them incapable. Now I know why it was not to be. I must tell you, Agathon;—Mamas was a false saint.
The Holy Mamas?
That Mamas was never a martyr. His whole legend was a strange delusion. Hekebolius has, with infinite research, arrived at the real truth, and I myself have lately composed a slight treatise on the subject—a treatise, my Agathon, which certain philosophers are said, strangely enough, to have mentioned with praise in the lecture-rooms——
The Lord keep my heart free from vanity! The evil tempter has countless wiles; one can never know——.
That Gallus should succeed and I fail! Ah, my Agathon, when I think of that church-building, I see Cain’s altar——
Julian!
God will have none of me, Agathon!
Ah, do not speak so! Was not God strong in you when you led me out of the darkness of heathendom, and gave me light over all my days—child though you then were!
All that is like a dream to me.
And yet so blessed a truth.
[Sadly.] If only it were so now!—Where did I find the words of fire? The air seemed full of hymns of praise—a ladder from earth to heaven—[Gazes straight before him.] Did you see it?
What?
The star that fell; there, behind the two cypresses. [Is silent a moment, then suddenly changes his tone.] Have I told you what my mother dreamed the night before I was born?
I do not recall it.
No, no, I remember—I heard of it after we parted.
What did she dream?
My mother dreamed that she gave birth to Achilles.
[Eagerly.] Is your faith in dreams as strong as ever?
Why do you ask?
You shall hear; it concerns what has driven me to cross the sea——
You have a special errand here? I had quite forgotten to ask you——
A strange errand; so strange that I am lost in doubt and disquietude. There is so much I should like to know first—about life in the city—about yourself—and the Emperor——
[Looks hard at him.] Tell me the truth, Agathon—with whom have you spoken before meeting me?
With no one.
When did you arrive?
I have told you—two days ago.