University of Virginia Library

Hall of State.
Julian on his Throne. Maximus, Anatolius, Nevitta, Jovian, Sallust, Hormisdas, and Officers.
(Enter at one side Nohordates and Meranes, Persian Ambassadors, attended. At the other side, Mark, Bishop of Arethusa, with ecclesiastics, in mourning.)
JULIAN.
Pass to the business of the day.

ANATOLIUS.
My Lord,
Sundry petitions straight demand your care:
Some trivial, some of weighty moment: each
As may suit, demanding scrutiny.
Here 's one from Caius Galba, a centurion,
In the Prætorian band, seeking redress
For loss in the popular tumults. Here 's another
From the sixth legion, just arrived from Gaul,
Craving free quarters in the suburbs. This
Records complaint from Spain 'gainst the Proconsul,
And there are many more here; a mixed multitude
That may await more leisure. There are, however,
Two of most pressing import: one, a memorial
And solemn protest of the Christian church,
Assembled here in Synod. They have deputed
As advocate, Mark, Bishop of Arethusa.
Here too are letters from the King of Persia
Demanding audience for Ambassadors.

JULIAN.
Let Caius Galba have some recompense
From our peculiar purse. The legion'ries
Must take free quarters from an enemy:
Pass them across the Hellespont. My Lords,
I well believe that the Proconsul is
A brave man and an honest: this complaint,
Therefore, dismiss. Let the Ambassadors
Of Sapor, King of Persia, speak their purpose.

(Ambassadors approach in a haughty manner.
ANATOLIUS.
These, my imperial liege, are noble Satraps:
Meranes, Nohordates; they are known
In Roman story with advantage.

MAXIMUS.
Sirs,
Your Persian air is sovereign for stiff necks;
At Ctesiphon methinks you bow much lower:
'Tis needful and exacted too.

JULIAN.
Ambassadors,
Speak quickly to your errand: we await,
Being in haste, a speedy exposition.

MERANES.
The King sends greeting to Rome's General.

NEVITTA.
Slave! dost not know the title that earth's lord
Bears on his throne?

JULIAN.
My good Nevitta, nay,
It but awaits a bloody blazonry.
Proceed—

MERANES.
We speak, Sir, but as messengers.
Sapor demands why Julian hath transgressed
The truce signed by the dead Constantius?
Why Roman soldiers, from our swords redeemed
To heal their wounds upon the lap of Peace,
Affront our borders with their ransomed banners?
Our Persian earth is sullied by their tread;
Our Persian air is tainted by their breath.
Lastly, we ask, (if Rumour's voice speak truly,)
Why is the Nazarene disfranchised? Wherefore
His altar and his home proscribed?

JULIAN.
Pause there, Sir:
You have been forward in your questioning;
Our answer shall be made in Ctesiphon.
Yet say thus much: Rome to her chariot-wheel
Hath bound barbarian Kings before. Enough—
Begone.

NOHORDATES.
Sir, ere we do depart, it well becomes us,
Who in true custody do hold the keys
Of war and peace—solemn depositaries—
To lift the veil that blinds you. Sir, I say
It doth well suit strong valour to unfold
Its armoury of strength, ere yet it strikes;
And therefore we would open out the book
Of time, and point the lessons of the past,
And bid you read and profit ere we part.

NEVITTA.
(springing forward.
Ha, Caitiff! say'st thou?

JULIAN.
(interposing.
Nay, discourteous friend,
Commit not thus our honour.

MERANES.
Roman Emperor!
Wilt not vouchsafe reply?

JULIAN.
Ay, my good Lords—

NOHORDATES.
How, Sir?

JULIAN.
In blood and flames at Ctesiphon.

(Shout from the populace.
AMBASSADORS.
We ask safe-conduct.

JULIAN.
'Tis not needed.

AMBASSADORS.
Sir,
We know not that. Our pledge?

JULIAN.
That you still live.
(Populace shout again—the Ambassadors retire.
And now, my friends, our hands are full methinks
Of that we sought not, nor would shun. This enemy
Hath a brave bearing, and is worth our pains.
I love an open foe, in whose stern eye
I read a character my own replies to.
It is a stirring sight to see the sun
Start back from some score thousand burnished helms,
And angry flash from off the bright spear heads;
And therefore I rejoice at this, and see in 't
Glory, and much advantage to the State.
And what, my Lords, advantages a State
Like glory? 'Tis the very breath by which
Society exists: the unseen bond
That holds man to his duties: the bright chain
That links him with a nobler nature. Fame
Is not a faithless echo;—not the cry
Of a vain moment, dying at the birth;
But an enduring record, like the bow
That looks out beautiful from desolate skies—
The sun that aye renews the youthful year,
And gives the promise of a harvest-home.
Ah! these are thoughts to make our pulses play
As Roman pulses should do. But hold, hold!
Where do I lead? Why do I thus enkindle
The generous glow I yet must damp? Oh, grief!
Oh, shame! What shall I say? How teach my tongue
To link our Roman names with treachery?
Oh, foul, foul, foul! sold for barbarian gold,
They give the kiss of peace with lying lips:
They dreg the bowl of revelry with poison:
They walk with daggers 'neath their cloaks, and pledge
Friendship and faith, with hands upon the hilt.
How shall we face the foe, when at our back
Steals like a wolf the crouched domestic traitor?
Thou, Maximus, can'st speak to this.

MAXIMUS.
Alas!
My voice is needless to expose the traitors:
Their own damn'd acts have damning witnesses.
They 'll not impugn the evidence. My Lords,
'Twere fit the Bishop Mark had audience:
He waits:—the fulness of his time hath come.

ANATOLIUS.
Call forth the Bishop of Arethusa.

MAXIMUS.
(Mark enters.
Well, Sir,
Your business, and that quickly: th' Emperor waits.

MARK.
Sir, I have waited long on him ere now,
And as I hope, not all unprofitably.
Young thoughts wear channels in the mind, and leave
Impressions that time finds indelible.

MAXIMUS.
Pray you, good Bishop, we're on business: wear not
Our time in idle declamation.

MARK.
Maximus,
With thee I combat not.

MAXIMUS.
Bishop, be satisfied:
I waste not strength on shadows, nor tread out
The expiring embers of a sinking flame.
We have no subject for dispute: the past
To thee is a closed volume.

MARK.
Wretched man!
Thou sayest true—the past to me is nought,
Yet is it much to thee: an awful book
Which thou shalt read by thy decaying lamp.
But when the flame just brightens ere I die,
My hope shall be the future. Thine—oh, where?

JULIAN.
When you have done with wrangling thus, remember
Whose time you waste: I'm sick of this.

MARK.
Augustus!
My heart was busy with too many sorrows
To bear this vain man's taunting as I ought;
As the humility of our faith teaches.

JULIAN
(not heeding him.
'Tis well remembered, Maximus. The fine
Imposed on Antioch's contumacious prelate,
See that 'tis levied. We have sudden need:
This war begets much haste.

MARK.
Alas, alas!
I come here sorrow-laden; in mine age
Bowed down by more than age inflicts, to be
The advocate of those who needed none,
When I was young, and Julian poor, yet virtuous—
Oh, Sir!

JULIAN
(not heeding him.
Nevitta hearken: it were well
To have a stout arm there—at Antioch.
Direct our Gallic legionaries thither
Under brave Dagalaiphus.

MARK.
(in agitation.
Sir, my Sovereign!
Oh, by a name yet dearer, my loved pupil,
(If grandeur may remember infancy,)
Here I kneel down to thee before I die,
Here I adjure thee, as thou too must die,
Add no new horrors to that hour! Oh, pity
Thy subjects and thyself.

JULIAN.
(not heeding him.
That Persian madman
Will shew his mettle early. Jovian, go thou
And from Sinope move our armaments
Upon Trapezium. That disturbs their flank;
We meet then on th' Euphrates.

MARK.
Nay, proud Monarch!
May not I hold thine ear and altered eye
With better hope than this? If thou art deaf
To a nation's cry and blind to old affection,
And lost to manhood's courtesy, I but
Prophane the habit that I wear, the symbol
Beneath which martyrs die to live, thus tamely
To kneel to a clay idol! I pollute
The fair fame of a Roman citizen
To truck thus to a tyrant. Draw your poniards,
Slaves, worthy of your master! Consummate
Your infamy with cowardice, ye butchers!
I know ye now: ye, who have struck the eagle,
Why shrink ye from a wren?

JULIAN.
(to his Officers.
Put up your swords;
Your passionate zeal outruns your reason. What!
Slay him beneath my eye? Men call that murder,
Enacted thus with violence, which just judgment
Might give a nobler name to. Hoary traitor,
Know'st thou that paper? Read, and be dumb.

MARK.
(reads.
I know not,
Yet is my name in signature. I wrote it not.
Can Maximus suggest? perchance—

MAXIMUS.
Thou liest!
What, shall I stand thus taunted by a traitor?

JULIAN.
A paltry subterfuge! 'Tis but the struggle
Of a condemn'd man. Now, my Lords, farewell—
Make stern enquiries here. I must attend
Subjects of deeper import.

(Exit, attended.
Manent Mark, Maximus, Nevitta, and Soldiers.
MARK.
Julian, my prince!
Abandon not my grey hairs to these blood-hounds.
Oh, stay: desert me not! He 's gone.

MAXIMUS.
Ay, priest,
But fear not—I am merciful: the account
Between us, as thou know'st, is long: thy fate
Shall not be lingering. Methinks, Nevitta,
Augustus hath betrayed a conscience
Tender, as well befits a diadem.
Beneath his eye no criminal must perish.
Oh, no: thus would he seem unto the world
Constructive executioner. 'Tis best thus.

NEVITTA.
Yet he admits the treason.

MAXIMUS.
And the judgment:
He hath recorded judgment. Good Nevitta,
He said but now departing that he left him
To a condemned man's struggle. Said he not?

NEVITTA.
In truth I cannot charge my memory
With the exact words: such they were, or seemed
To that effect.

MAXIMUS.
We do interpret so.
Heaven send us firmness in our duty!

NEVITTA.
Well, well,
My path lies here: I doubt not, Maximus,
Thou wilt acquit thy charge with prudence. Prisoner,
Commend thee to thy gaoler.

(Exit.
MAXIMUS.
(aside.
Now must I do
An act that Julian will not thank me for.
His doubtful words are my sufficient warrant.
This old man is a Christian, shrewd and virtuous,
And holds strong place in his affection; therefore
Must be removed, and quickly. Soldiers seize him.
Old man, move forward.

MARK.
Whither?

MAXIMUS.
To a cell,
Deep, dark, and narrow; yet a quiet one—
A peaceful home.

MARK.
I understand: lead on.

(Exeunt.