The Death of the Gods
Page 33
IX
Above the marble portico of the guest-house of Apollo, built for thepoor, for pilgrims and the disabled, ran these letters in HomericGreek along the pediment:
"_Strangers and beggars are all sent by Zeus, And dear to them is the little we give._"[11]
[11] _Odyssey_, xiv. 57, 58.
The Emperor went into the inner court. A graceful Ionic colonnaderan round it. The hospice had formerly been a palaestra orwrestling-ground. It was a soft and sunny afternoon, before sunset,but a heavy atmosphere came to the portico from the inner rooms.
There, massed together, children and old men were crawling about,Christians and Pagans, the sound and the sick; folk disabled,deformed, enfeebled, dropsical, consumptive; folk bearing on theirfaces the stamp of every vice and every form of suffering.
A half-naked old woman, with a tanned skin like the colour of deadleaves, was rubbing her sore, pockmarked back against the pure marbleof a pillar.
In the middle of the court stood a statue of the Pythian Apollo, bowin hand, quiver on shoulder. At the foot of the statue was seated awrinkled monster who seemed neither young nor old. His arms werehuddled round his knees, his head rested on one side; and swinginghimself from right to left with a stupid air, he kept declaiming in amonotone--
"Jesus Christ, the Son of God, have mercy upon us, the lost, lost,lost!"
At last the principal inspector, Marcus Ausonius, appeared, pale andtrembling--
"Most wise and merciful Caesar, will you not deign to come into myhouse? The atmosphere is hurtful here ... there are contagiousmaladies...."
"No, I am not afraid. Are you the inspector?"
Ausonius, keeping in his breath in order not to breathe the vitiatedair, bowed low.
"Are bread and wine distributed every day?"
"Yes, as you have ordered, divine Augustus...."
"What filth!"
"They are Galileans. To wash, is for them a sin. It's impossible tomake them take baths."
"Bring me the account-books!" ordered Julian.
The inspector fell on his knees, and for long could not utter a word.Finally he faltered--
"Sire ... everything is in due order, ... but unfortunately ... thebooks have been burnt...."
The Emperor's brow clouded.
At that moment, cries arose from the crowd of sick persons--
"A miracle! A miracle!... Look, the paralytic can walk!"
Julian turned round, and saw a tall man, wild with joy, stretching outhis hands towards him with a look full of simple faith.
"I believe! I believe!" cried the paralytic; "I believe thou art noman, but a god descended upon earth. Touch me, heal me, Caesar!"
All the halt and maimed were shouting--
"A miracle! Glory to Apollo! Glory to the Healer!"
"Come to me," called the sick, "say a word, and I shall be cured!"
Julian turned, and looked at the god in the light of sunset, and forthe first time all going on in the hospice seemed to him a sacrilege.The clear eyes of the Olympian should look down no more on thesemonstrosities. Julian felt a wild desire to purify the ancientpalaestra, to rid it of all Pagan and Galilean vermin, to sweep out thewhole human dunghill. Oh, had Apollo lived again, how his eyes wouldhave lightened, his arrows flown and purged the place of the paralyticand infirm!
Julian left the hospice of Apollo in haste. The Emperor had understoodperfectly that his information was correct and that the principalinspector was a peculator. But such fatigue and disgust rose in hisheart that he had no courage to push further his investigation of therascality.
It was late when he returned to the palace. He gave an order that hewould receive no one, and withdrew to the terrace which looked out onthe Bosphorus.
Previous to his visit to the guest-house, the whole day had worn awayin wearisome details of business, legal decisions, and the audit ofaccounts. A great number of instances of peculation had been broughtto light, and allowed the Emperor to see that even his best friendswere deceiving him. All these philosophers, these rhetoricians, poets,panegyrists, were robbing the treasury, and robbing it just as much ashad the eunuchs and Christian bishops in the reign of Constantius.Guest-houses, alms-houses for philosophers, inns of Apollo andAphrodite, were so many pretexts for gain by the cunning, and the moreso that not only to Galileans, but also to Pagans themselves, theseinstitutions seemed a fantastic notion, even a sacrilege, on the partof Caesar.
Julian felt his body aching under ceaseless and profitless fatigue.Extinguishing the lamp, he lay down upon his narrow camp-bed.
"I must reflect in quiet," he said to himself, gazing at the nocturnalsky. But the power of reflection did not come. A great star wasshining in the darkened ether and Julian through half-closed eyelidslooked at it. Coldly, coldly, the star's image sank into his heart.