Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (163 page)

JULIAN.
Gregory, what do you presume—’

GREGORY.
The lord of the body was girding himself up to war against the Lord of the soul. I stand here before you in bodily fear and trembling; but I dare not lie. Will you hear the truth, or shall I be silent?

JULIAN.
Say on, Gregory!

GREGORY.
What have not my fellow Christians already suffered during these few months? How many sentences of death have been passed, and executed in the cruellest fashion? Gaudentius, the state secretary; Artemius, the former governor of Egypt; the two tribunes, Roman us and Vincentius —

JULIAN.
You know not what you speak of, I tell you, the Goddess of Justice would have wept had those traitors escaped with their lives.

GREGORY.
That may be, my Emperor; but I tell you that one sentence of death has been passed which the God of Justice can never forgive you. Ursulus! The man who stood your friend in times of need! Ursulus who, at the risk of his own life, supplied you with money in Gaul! Ursulus, whose sole crime was his Christian faith and his sincerity —

JULIAN.
Ah, this you have from your brother, Caesarius!

GREGORY.
Punish me, sire; but spare my brother.

JULIAN.
You well know that you risk nothing, Gregory! Besides,! Mill grant you that Nevita acted too harshly.

GREGORY.
Ay, that barbarian, who tries in vain to hide his origin under a Greek veneer — !

JULIAN.
Nevita is zealous in his duty, and I cannot myself be everywhere. For Ursulus I have mourned sincerely, and I deeply deplore that neither time nor circumstances allowed me to examine into his case myself. I should certainly have spared him, Gregory! I have thought, too, of restoring to his heirs any property he has left behind.

GREGORY.
Great Emperor, you owe me no reckoning for your acts. I only wished to tell you that all these tidings fell like thunderbolts in Caesarea and Nazianzus, and the other Cappadocian cities. How shall I describe their effect! Our internal wranglings were silenced by the common danger. Many rotten branches of the Church fell away; but in many indifferent hearts the light of the Lord was kindled with a fervour before undreamt-of. Meanwhile oppression overtook God’s people. The heathen — I mean, my Emperor, those whom
I
call heathen — began to threaten, to injure, to persecute us —

JULIAN.
Retaliation, — retaliation, Gregory!

GREGORY.
Far be it from me to justify all that my fellow Christians may have done in their excessive zeal for the cause of the Church. But you, who are so enlightened, and have power over all alike, cannot permit the living to suffer for the faults of the dead. Yet so it has been in Cappadocia. The enemies of the Christians, few in number, but thirsting after gain, and burning with eagerness to ingratiate themselves with the new officials, have awakened fear and perturbation among the people both in town and country. I am not thinking chiefly of the insults we have had to suffer, nor of the infringements of our just rights of property, to which we have been constantly exposed of late. What most grieves me and all my earnest brethren, is the peril to souls. Many are not firm-rooted in the faith, and cannot quite shake off the care for earthly goods. The harsh treatment which has now to be endured by all who bear the name of Christian has already led to more than one apostasy. Sire, this is soul robbery from God’s kingdom.

JULIAN.
Oh, my wise Gregory, — how can you talk so? I wonder at you? Should you not rather, as a good Galilean, rejoice that your community is rid of such men?

GREGORY.
Gracious Emperor, I am not of that opinion. I have myself been indifferent in the faith, and I look upon all such as sick men, who are not past cure, so long as they remain in the bosom of the Church. So, too, thought our little congregation at Nazianzus. Brethren and sisters, in deep distress, assembled to take counsel against the perils of the time. They were joined by delegates from Caesarea and other cities. My father is infirm, and — as he owns with sorrow — does not possess the steadfast, immovable will which, in these troublous times, is needful for him who sits in the bishop’s chair. The assembly determined that a younger man should be chosen as his helper, to hold the Lord’s flock together. The choice fell on me.

JULIAN.
Ah!

GREGORY.
I was then away on a journey. But in my absence, and without consulting me, my father ordained me a priest and sent me the priestly habit. These tidings reached me in Tiberina, at my country house, where I was passing some days with my brother and with the friend of my youth, Basil of Caesarea. Sire — had my sentence of death been read to me, it could not have appalled me more than this. I a priest! I wished it, and I wished it not. I felt it must be — and yet my courage failed. I wrestled with God the Lord, as the patriarch wrestled with him in the days of the old covenant. What passed in my soul during the night which followed, I cannot tell. But this I know that, ere the cock crew, I talked face to face with the Crucified One. — Then I was his.

JULIAN.
Folly, folly; I know those dreams.

GREGORY.
On my homeward journey I passed through Caesarea. Oh, what misery met me there! I found the town full of fugitive country people, who had forsaken house and home because the drought had burnt up their crops, and laid all the vineyards and olive-gardens desolate. To escape starvation they had fled to the starving. There they lay — men, women, and children — in heaps along the walls of the houses; fever shook them, famine gnawed their entrails. What had Caesarea to offer them — that impoverished, unhappy town, as yet but half rebuilt after the great earthquake of two years ago? And in the midst of this, amid scorching heat and frequent earthquake-shocks, we had to see ungodly festivals going on day and night. The ruined altars were hastily rebuilt; the blood of sacrifices ran in streams; mummers and harlots paraded the streets with dance and song. Sire — can you wonder that my much-tried brethren thought they saw in the visitation that had come upon them a judgment of heaven because they had so long tolerated heathenism and its scandalous symbols in their midst?

JULIAN.
What symbols do you mean?

GREGORY.
The cry of the terror-stricken and fevered multitude rose ever higher; they demanded that the rulers of the city should give a palpable witness for Christ by ordering the destruction of what still remains of the former glory of heathendom in Caesarea.

JULIAN.
You cannot mean to say that — ?

GREGORY.
The magistrates of the city called a meeting, where I too was present. You know, most gracious Emperor, that all temples are the property of the city; so that the citizens have the right to dispose of them at their own free will.

JULIAN.
Well, well; what if it were so?

GREGORY.
In that terrible earthquake that ravaged Caesarea two years ago, all the temples but one were destroyed.

JULIAN.
Yes, yes; the temple of Fortuna.

GREGORY.
At the meeting whereof I speak, the congregation determined to complete God’s work of judgment, in testimony that they would trust wholly and solely to him, and no longer tolerate the abomination in their midst.

JULIAN.
[Hoarsely.
J Gregory, — once my friend — do you hold your life dear?

GREGORY.
This resolution I did not myself approve, but almost all voices were in favour of it. But as we feared that the matter might be represented to you falsely, and might, perhaps, incense you against the city, it was determined to send a man hither to announce to you what we have resolved, and what will presently happen. Great ruler, — no one else was found willing to undertake the task. It fell perforce to me. Therefore it is, sire, that I stand here before you in all humility, to announce that we Christians in Caesarea have resolved that the temple where the heathen in bygone days worshipped a false deity, under the name of Fortuna, shall be pulled down and levelled with the ground.

JULIAN.
[Springing up.]
And I must listen to this with my own ears! One single man dares to tell me such unheard-of things!

COURTIERS, ORATORS, AND POETS. O pious Emperor, do not suffer it! Punish this audacious man!

HEKEBOLIUS.
He is distraught, sire! Let him go. See, — the frenzy glitters in his eyes.

JULIAN.
Ay, it may well be called madness. But ‘tis more than madness. To dream of pulling down that excellent temple, dedicated to a no less excellent divinity! Is it not to the favour of this very goddess that I ascribe my achievements, the fame of which has reached the remotest nations? Were I to suffer this, how could I ever again hope for victory or prosperity? — Gregory, I command you to return to Caesarea and give the citizens to understand that I forbid this outrage.

GREGORY.
Impossible, sire! The matter has come to such a pass that we have to choose between the fear of man and obedience to God. We cannot draw back.

JULIAN.
Then you shall feel how far the Emperor’s arm can stretch!

GREGORY.
The Emperor’s arm is mighty in earthly things; and I, like others, tremble under it.

JULIAN.
Show it, then, in deeds! Ah, you Galileans, you reckon upon my long-suffering. Do not trust to it; for truly —
A noise at the entrance. The barber
, Eunapius,
followed by several citizens
,
rushes in.

JULIAN.
What is this? Eunapius, what has befallen you?

EUNAPIUS.
Oh that my eyes should see such a sight!

JULIAN.
What sight have you seen?

EUNAPIUS.
Behold, most gracious Emperor, I come bleeding and bruised, yet happy to be the first to call down your wrath —

JULIAN.
Speak, man; — who has beaten you?

EUNAPIUS.
Permit me, sire, to lay my complaint before you. I went forth from the town this morning to visit the little temple of Venus which you have lately restored. When I came thither, the music of flutes and singing greeted my ears. Women were dancing gracefully in the outer court, and within I found the whole space filled with a rapturous crowd, while at the altar priests were offering up the sacrifices you have ordained.

JULIAN.
Yes, yes; and then — ?

EUNAPIUS.
Scarcely had I had time to turn my thoughts in devotion toward that enchanting goddess, whom I especially revere and worship, — when a great crowd of young men forced their way into the temple —

JULIAN.
Not Galileans?

EUNAPIUS.
Yes, sire, — Galileans.

JULIAN.
Ah!

ËUNAPIUS.
What a scene followed! Weeping under the assailants’ insults and blows, the dancing-girls fled from the outer court to us within. The Galileans fell upon us all, belaboured us and affronted us in the most shameful manner.

JULIAN.
[Descending from his throne.]
Wait, wait!

EUNAPIUS.
Alas, would that their violence had fallen on us alone! But the madmen went further. Yes, gracious Emperor — in one word, the altar is overthrown, the statue of the goddess dashed to pieces, the entrails of the sacrifices cast out to the dogs —

JULIAN.
[Pacing up and down
.] Wait, wait, wait!

GREGORY.
Sire, this one man’s word is not enough —

JULIAN.
Be silent!
[To
Eunapius.] Did you know any of the sacrilegious crew?

EUNAPIUS.
Not I, sire; but these citizens knew many of them.

JULIAN.
Take a guard with you. Seize as many of the wretches as you can. Cast them into prison. The prisoners shall give up the names of the rest; and when I have them all in my power —

GREGORY.
What then, sire?

JULIAN.
Ask the executioner. Both you and the citizens of Caesarea shall be taught what you have to expect if, in your Galilean obstinacy, you should abide by your resolve.
[The Emperor goes out in great wrath, to the left;
Eunapius
and his witnesses retire with the watch; the others disperse.

SCENE SECOND
.

A market-place in Antioch. In front, on the right, a street debouches into the market
;
to the left, at the back, there is a view into a narrow and crooked street. A great concourse of people fills the market. Hucksters cry their wares. In several places the townspeople have gathered into clusters, talking eagerly.

A CITIZEN.
Good God of heaven, when did this misfortune happen?

ANOTHER CITIZEN.
This morning, I tell you; quite early this morning.

PHOCION THE DYER.
[Who has entered from the street on the right
.] My good man, do you think it is fitting to call this a misfortune? I call it a crime, and a most audacious crime to boot.

THE SECOND CITIZEN.
Yes, yes; that is quite true; it was a most audacious thing to do.

PHOCION.
Only think — of course it is the outrage on the temple of Venus you are talking of? Only think of their choosing a time when the Emperor was in the city — ! And this day, too, of all others — a day — A Third Citizen. [
Drawing near
.] Tell me, good friend, what is the matter — ?

PHOCION.
This day of all others, I say, when our august ruler is himself to officiate at the feast of Apollo.

THE THIRD CITIZEN.
Yes, I know that; but why are they taking these Christians to prison?

PHOCION.
What? Are they taking them to prison? Have they really caught them?
[Loud shrieks are heard.
Hush; what is that? Yes, by the gods, I believe they have them!
[An
Old Woman,
much agitated, and with dishevelled hair, makes her way through the crowd; she is beset by other women
,
who in vain seek to restrain her.

THE OLD WOMAN.
I will not be held back! He is my only son, the child of my old age! Let me go; let me go! Can no one tell me where I can find the Emperor?

PHOCION.
What would you with the Emperor, old mother?

THE OLD WOMAN.
I would have my son again. Help me! My son! Hilarion! Oh, they have taken him from me! They burst into our house — and then they took him away!

ONE OF THE CITIZENS.
[To
Phocion.] Who is this woman?

Holon. What? Know you not the widow Publia, — the psalm-singer?

CITIZEN.
Ah, yes, yes, yes!

PUBLIA.
Hilarion! my child! What will they do to him? Ah, Phocion, — are you there? God be praised for sending me a Christian brother — !

PHOCION.
Hush, hush, be quiet; do not scream so loud; the Emperor is coming.

PUBLIA.
Oh, this ungodly Emperor! The Lord of Wrath is visiting his sins upon us; famine ravages the land; the earth trembles beneath our feet!
[A detachment of soldiers enters by the street on the right.

THE COMMANDER OF THE DETACHMENT.
Stand aside; make room here!

PUBLIA.
Oh come, good Phocion; — help me, for our friendship’s and our fellowship’s sake —

PHOCION.
Are you mad, woman? I do not know you.

PUBLIA.
What? You do not know me? Are you not Phocion the dyer? Are you not the son of — ?

PHOCION, I am not the son of anybody. Get you gone, woman! You are mad! I do not know you; I have never seen you.
[He hastens in among the crowd.
A Subaltern.
[With soldiers, from the right
.] Clear the way here!
[The soldiers force the multitude back towards the houses. Old
Publia
faints in the arms of the women on the left. All gaze expectantly down the street.

PHOCION.
[In a knot of people behind the guard, to the right.]
Yes, by the Sun-God, there he comes, the blessed Emperor! A Soldier. Do not push so, behind there!

PHOCION.
Can you see him? The man with the white fillet round his brow, that is the Emperor. A Citizen. The man all in white?

PHOCION.
Yes, yes, that is he.

THE CITIZEN.
Why is he dressed in white?

PHOCION.
Doubtless because of the heat; or, — no, stop, — I think it is as the sacrificing priest that he — A Second Citizen. Will the Emperor himself offer the sacrifice?

PHOCION.
Yes, the Emperor Julian does everything himself. A Third Citizen. He does not look so powerful as the Emperor Constantius.

PHOCION.
I think he does. He is not so tall as the late Emperor; but his arms are longer. And then his glance — oh my friends — ! You cannot see it just now; his eyes are modestly lowered as he walks. Yes, modest he is, I can tell you. He has no eye for women. I dare swear that since his wife’s death he has but seldom — ; you see, he writes the whole night. That is why his fingers are often as black as a dyer’s; just like mine; for I am a dyer. I can tell you I know the Emperor better than most people. I was born here in Antioch; but I have lived fifteen years in Constantinople, until very lately —— A Citizen. Is there aught, think you, in the rumour that the Emperor is minded to settle here for good?

PHOCION.
I know the Emperors barber, and he reports it so. Let us trust these shameful disturbances may not incense him too much.

A CITIZEN.
Alas, alas, that were a pity indeed! A Second Citizen. If the Emperor lived here, ‘twould bring something in to all of us.

PHOCION.
‘Twas on that reckoning that I returned here. So now we must do our best, friends; when the Emperor comes past, we must shout lustily both for him and for Apollo. A Citizen.
[To another
.] Who is this Apollo, that people begin to talk so much about?

THE OTHER CITIZEN.
Why, ‘tis the priest of Corinth, — he who watered what the holy Paul had planted.

THE FIRST CITIZEN.
Ay, ay; to be sure; I think I remember now.

PHOCION.
No, no, no, ‘tis not that Apollo; ‘tis another one entirely; — this is the Sun-King — the great lyre-playing Apollo.

THE OTHER CITIZEN.
Ah indeed; that Apollo! Is he better?

PHOCION.
I should think so, indeed. — Look, look, there he comes. Oh, our most blessed Emperor!
The
Emperor Julian,
robed as a high priest, enters, surrounded by priests and servants of the temple. Courtiers and learned men, among whom is
Hekebolius,
have joined the procession; likewise citizens. Before the Emperor go flute players and harpers. Soldiers and men of the city guard, with long staves, clear the way before the procession and on either side.

THE MULTITUDE.
[Clapping their hands.]
Praise to the Emperor! Praise to Julian, hero and benefactor!

PHOCION.
All hail to Julian and to the Sun-King! Long live Apollo!

THE CITIZENS.
[In the foreground, on the right.]
Emperor, Emperor, stay long among us! [Julian
wakes a sign for the procession to stop.

JULIAN.
Citizens of Antioch! It were hard for me to name anything that could more rejoice my heart than these inspiriting acclamations. And my heart stands sorely in need of this refreshment. It was with a downcast spirit that I set forth on this procession, which should be one of joy and exaltation. Nay, more; I will not hide from you that I was this morning on the verge of losing that equanimity which it behoves a lover of wisdom to preserve under all trials. But can any one chide me for it? I would have you all remember what outrages are threatened elsewhere, and have already been committed here.

PUBLIA.
My lord, my lord!

PHOCION.
Oh pious and righteous Emperor, punish these desperate men!

PUBLIA.
My lord, give me back my Hilarion!

PHOCION.
All good citizens implore your favour towards this city.

JULIAN, Seek to win the favour of the gods, and of mine you need have no doubt. And surely it is fitting that Antioch should lead the way. Does it not seem as though the Sun-God’s eye had dwelt with especial complacency on this city? Ask of travellers, and you shall hear to what melancholy extremes fanaticism has elsewhere proceeded in laying waste our holy places. What is left? A remnant here and there; and nothing of the best. But with you, citizens of Antioch! Oh, my eyes filled with tears of joy when first I saw that incomparable sanctuary, the very house of Apollo, which seems scarcely to be the work of human hands. Does not the image of the Glorious One stand within it, in unviolated beauty? Not a corner of his altar has broken or crumbled away, not a crack is to be seen in the stately columns. Oh, when I think of this, — when I feel the fillet round my brow — when I look down upon these garments, dearer to me than the purple robe of empire, then I feel, with a sacred tremor, the presence of the god. See, see, the sunlight quivers around us in its glory! Feel, feel, the air is teeming with the perfume of fresh-woven garlands! Beautiful earth! The home of light and life, the home of joy, the home of happiness and beauty; — what thou wast shalt thou again become! — In the embrace of the Sun-King! Mithra, Mithra! Forward on our victorious way!
[The procession moves on again, amid the plaudits of the crowd; those in front come to a stop at the mouth of the narrow street, through which another procession enters the market-place.

JULIAN.
What hinders us?

HEKEBOLIUS.
Gracious lord, there is something amiss in the other street.

SONG.
[Far off.
Blissful our pangs, be they never so cruel; Blissful our rising, the death-struggle o’er.

PHOCION.
The Galileans, sire! They have them!

PUBLIA.
Hilarion!

PHOCION.
They have them! I hear the fetters —

JULIAN.
Pass them by — !

EUNAPIUS.
[
Hastening through the press
.] We have succeeded marvellously, sire.

JULIAN.
Who are they, these ruffians?

EUNAPIUS.
Some of them belong to this city; but most, it seems, are peasants fleeing from Cappadocia.

JULIAN.
I will not see them. Forward, as I commanded!

THE PRISONERS’ SONG.
[Nearer.
Blissful our crowning with martyrdom’s jewel; Blissful our meeting with saints gone before.

JULIAN.
The madmen. Not so near to me! My guard, my guard!
[The two processions have meanwhile encountered each other in the crush. The procession of Apollo has to stand still while the other, with the prisoners — men in chains, surrounded by soldiers, and accompanied by a great concourse of people — passes on.

PUBLIA.
My child! Hilarion!

HILARION.
[Among the prisoners
.] Rejoice, my mother!

JULIAN.
Poor deluded creatures! When I hear madness thus speaking in you, I almost doubt whether I have the right to punish you.

ANOTHER VOICE.
[Among the prisoners
.] Stand aside; take not from us our crown of thorns.

JULIAN.
Night and horror, — what voice is that?

THE LEADER OF THE GUARD.
‘Twas this one, sire, who spoke.
[He pushes one of the prisoners forward, a young man, who leads a half-grown lad by the hand.

JULIAN.
[With a
cry.] Agathon! [THE PRISONER
looks at him, and is silent.
Agathon, Agathon! Answer me; are you not Agathon?

THE PRISONER.
I am.

JULIAN.
You among these? Speak to me?

AGATHON.
I know you not!

JULIAN.
You do not know me? You know not who I am?

AGATHON.
I know you are the lord of the earth; therefore you are not my lord.

JULIAN.
And the boy — ? Is he your young brother?
[To the leader of the guard.
This man must be innocent.

EUNAPIUS.
My lord, this man is the very ringleader. He has confessed it; he even glories in his deed.

JULIAN.
So strangely can hunger, and sickness, and misfortune disorder a man’s mind. ——
[To the prisoners.
If you will but say, in one word, that you repent, none of you shall suffer.

PUBLIA.
[Shrieks.]
Say it not, Hilarion!