XX
Three months had elapsed since the shameful treaty of peace signed byJovian with the Persians. At the beginning of October the Roman army,exhausted by famine and forced marches through the deserts ofMesopotamia, had at last reached Antioch. During this melancholyretreat Anatolius, the centurion of Imperial cavalry, had formed aclose friendship with the historian, Ammianus Marcellinus. The twofriends had decided to betake themselves to Italy, to a secluded villaat Baiae, whither Arsinoe had invited them, to rest from the fatiguesof the campaign, and to heal their wounds at the sulphur-baths.
On this journey, they had made a halt of some days at Antioch, wheregreat festivals were in preparation, in honour of Jovian's accessionto the throne and of the return of the army.
The peace concluded with King Sapor was dishonourable for the Empire.Five rich Roman provinces lying along the farther banks of the Tigris,together with fifteen frontier fortresses, including Singara, CastraMaurorum, and the invincible Nizibis, all these passed into the handsof Sapor. Little did the Galileans care for the defeat of Rome. Whenthe news of Julian's death arrived at Antioch, the timorous citizensbelieved at first that it was some new device of Satan, fresh toils inwhich to capture the righteous. But when the news was confirmed theirjoy became delirious.
In the early morning the noise of festival and the cries of thepeople reached the sleeping-chamber of Anatolius. He had decided topass all day indoors, the rejoicing of the populace being repugnant tohim. He attempted to sleep again, and failed. A strange curiosity wokein him. Without a word to Ammianus, he dressed quickly, and went outinto the street. It was a fresh and pleasant autumn morning.
Great round clouds, in sharp contrast with the deep blue of the sky,sailed over the innumerable colonnades and marble porticoes ofAntioch. In the forum and the markets everywhere ran the murmur offountains and streams; and down the long dusty vistas of the brightstreets flowed wide currents, artificially-channelled waters, crossingeach other in a perfect network of rills. Here and there pigeons werecooing and picking grains of barley. The scent of flowers and incenseissued from the open doors of churches. Near the fountain-basins younggirls were sprinkling their baskets of pale October roses with water,or singing joyful psalms, and garlanding the columns of the Christianbasilicas. A noisy crowd was pouring through the streets. Chariots andlitters were forging slowly down the middle of the pavements. At everymoment rose cries of--
"Hail to Jovian Augustus, the great and happy!"
Some added: "The conqueror," but with a certain diffidence, as if theword smacked of irony.
The same urchin who had once caricatured Julian on the walls of thetown was there now clapping his hands, beating his drum, whistling,tumbling in the dust, and shouting (although he had no notion of themeaning of the words)--
"The Wild Boar has perished, the Devastator of the Garden of Eden!"
An old woman, bent double in her rags, came out like a black-beetleinto the sun, rejoicing with the rest. She was brandishing a stick andvociferating in a cracked voice--
"Julian has perished! The evil-doer has perished!"
An infinite sadness filled the heart of Anatolius; but urged bycuriosity he wandered on, and in following the Syngon, approached thecathedral. There he saw an official connected with the quaestorship,Marcus Avinius, coming out of the basilica, accompanied by two slaves,who elbowed a passage for him through the crowd.
"What is this?" wondered Anatolius. "Why should this enemy of theGalileans be here?"
Crosses embroidered in gold adorned the violet chlamys of Avinius, andwere even sewn on his crimson leather shoes.
Julius Mauricus, another friend of Anatolius, accosted Avinius--
"How do you do, my reverend friend?" he asked, after a surprised andmocking scrutiny of the dignitary's new costume.
Julius was a free man, having an independent fortune; and for him thechange of religion was a matter of indifference. He was by no meanssurprised at the transformation of his official friends, but tookpleasure in putting teasing questions whenever he met them, assumingthe air of a moralist who concealed indignation under the mask ofirony.
The people were hurrying to the entrance of the church, and upon thedeserted steps outside the friends were soon able to talk freely.Anatolius, ensconced behind a column, listened to the dialogue--
"Why didn't you stay to the end of the service?" asked Mauricus.
"Palpitations. I was half-stifled. I'm not accustomed..." and Aviniusadded thoughtfully--
"The new preacher has an extraordinary style. His exaggerations acttoo violently on my nerves. A style ... like the scratching of iron onglass!"
"Really, how touching!" laughed Mauricus. "Here's a man who hasabjured conscience!... But _style_...."
"No, no; perhaps I didn't understand him well!" interrupted Avinius."Don't disbelieve it! Mauricus, I am sincere."
From a downy litter the head of the chancery himself, Garguillus, gotout, groaning--
"I think I'm late.... But that's of no great importance; I'll remainon the space outside ... God and the Holy Ghost...."
"Here's another miracle!" laughed Mauricus. "Texts from the Bible, inthe mouth of Garguillus!"
"May Christ forgive you, my son!" quoth that imperturbable quaestor;"what are you always racking your soul about?"
"Oh, but up to now I haven't been able quite to get over it! There areso many conversions, so many transformations! I had always imaginedthat your opinions...."
"Pure stupidity, my dear son! I have only one opinion, which is, thatthe Galilean cooks are no worse than the Hellenist cooks. TheHellenists put me on a lenten diet ... which would make anybodyill.... Come and dine, O philosopher, and I'll bring you over to mybelief. You will lick your fingers after it! And, after all, isn't itthe same thing to eat a good dinner in honour of the god Hermes, andto eat it in honour of St. Mercurius? All these things areprejudices. I don't see anything irritating in trifles like this." Andhe pointed to the little amber cross, which dangled amidst theperfumed folds of an amethystine-purple robe, upon his enormous belly.
"Look, there's Hekobolis, the arch-priest of the goddessAstarte-Dindymene! The hierophant has repented, and is now in blackGalilean vestments again!... Oh, Ovid, singer of _Metamorphoses_, whyart thou not here?" chanted Mauricus, pointing to an old man with ared face seated in a covered litter--
"What's he reading?"
"It surely can't be the laws of the goddess of Pessinus!"
"What divine humility!... Fasting has thinned him!... Look how he'ssighing and throwing up his eyes!"
"Do you know the story of his conversion?" asked Garguillus with acheerful laugh.
"He went to find Jovian, the Emperor, and I suppose, as formerly withJulian, fell at his feet...."
"Oh, no! he invented something entirely new. There was a sudden publicrepentance. He prostrated himself at the door of a church, just asJovian was coming out, and in the middle of the crowd, Hekobolisshouted 'Trample on me! trample on me! I am Dead-Sea fruit!' and, withtears, kissed the feet of the passers-by."
"Ah ... that's new! And was it successful?"
"By Jove! he had a private interview with the Emperor. Oh, people likehim have got nine lives! Everything turns to gold in their fingers.When they slough the old skin, they get young again. Learn, mychildren...."
"And what did he manage to say to the Emperor?"
"How can I tell?" sighed Garguillus, not without a certain secretjealousy. "He may have said perhaps, 'Cling to Christianity till not aPagan be left upon earth! The religion of the just is the basis ofyour throne!' Now his fortune is made; and far more securely than inthe time of Julian. What exquisite sagacity!"
"Oh, my benefactors, protect me! Snatch Cicumbrix, the humblest ofyour slaves, from the claws of the lions!"
"What's happened?" asked Garguillus of the consumptive shoemaker, whowas being dragged off by two of the town police.
"They're going to throw me into prison!"
"Why?"
"For pillagin
g a church..."
"What? You have..."
"No, no! I was in the crowd, and I just cried out once or twice 'Beatthem!' That was under Augustus Julian. Then they said, 'Caesar desiresthat the Christian churches shall be destroyed.' But I didn't go intothe church; I stayed outside. My shop is a wretched little place; butit's on a crowded square, and if anything happens I'm always lugged upas a witness. O defend me! Have pity on me!"
"Are you a Christian or a Pagan?" asked Julius.
"I don't know myself. Before Constantine's time I sacrificed to thegods. Then I was baptised. Then, under Constantius, I became an Arian.Afterwards I had to become a Hellenist. Now I want to be an Arianagain; but it's all mixed up in my head! I obey orders, and I nevercan happen to profess the true religion at the right time. I havefought for Christ, and also for the gods.... But it's always eithertoo soon or too late! One gets no rest.... I have children.... Protectme, benefactors!"
"Fear nothing, my friend; we will get you off. I remember you oncemade me a handsome pair of shoes."
Anatolius, unperceived by his friends, now went into the church,desiring to hear Theodorite, the young and celebrated preacher. Thesun was shining through clouds of incense, and one of the slantingrays fell on the red beard of the speaker in the pulpit. His frailhands were transparent as wax; his exultant eyes feverishly bright,and his thrilling voice thundered in an avenging cry.
"I desire to write, as on a sign-post of infamy for futuregenerations, the history of Julian, the foul renegade. May all agesand peoples read my inscription, and tremble before the justice of theLord!... Come hither, torturer, serpent of wisdom, to-day we willscoff at thee! Together, my brothers, let us rejoice; let us sound ourtimbrels, and chant the chant of Miriam over the destruction of theEgyptians in the Red Sea. O Emperor! where are thy ceremonies, thymysteries? Where now are thy invocations and thy divinations? Whereare thy Persian and Babylonish glories? Where are the gods thataccompanied thee--thy defenders, Julian? All have deceived thee, allhave vanished!"
"Ah, my dear! What a beard he has!" said an ancient rouged patricianlady, standing near Anatolius, to her neighbour. "It's a sort of gold,of brown-gold colour!"
"Yes, but how about his teeth?" answered the other.
"What--teeth? With a beard like that, teeth are nothing!"
"No! ah no, Veronica, don't say that! Can one compare him with brotherTiphanius..."
Theodorite continued--
"Julian bred evil in his soul as wild beasts secrete venom. God waitedtill all his cruelty was manifest, to strike him...."
"Don't miss the circus to-day," murmured another neighbour ofAnatolius into the ear of his companion. "There are going to beshe-bears from Britain."
"You don't say so! Real ones?"
"Yes. One's called Mica Aurea (grain of gold), and the otherInnocentia! They're fed on human flesh. And then, there'll be thegladiators!"
"Lord Jesus!... we mustn't miss that! Let's not wait for the end!Let's run, in order to get a seat in time!"
Meantime Theodorite was praising Julian's predecessor for hisChristian benevolence, pure life, and love for all his family.
Anatolius felt choked by the crowd. He went out of the church, andonce quit of the smell of incense and oil, drew a deep breath of freshair under the blue sky.
Outside the church portico a loud conversation was going onundisturbed. A grave rumour was circulating in the crowd; the twoshe-bears were being led through the streets to the amphitheatre.Those who heard the news precipitately left the church before the endof the sermon, asking each other anxiously--
"Are we still in time? Is Mica Aurea ill?"
"No, it's Innocentia who had a fit of indigestion to-day. But nowshe's going on quite well."
"Thank God ... thank God!"
The church quickly emptied. Anatolius saw panting multitudes runningin the direction of the circus from every street, from every alley,from every basilica. They crushed each other, trampled on women andchildren, hurled abuse, lost their sandals, but halted for nothing inthe race. Every face wore a careworn expression denoting that lifedepended on getting a seat in the amphitheatre. Two names full ofsanguinary promise passed from lip to lip--
"Mica Aurea! Innocentia!"
Anatolius followed the crowd into the amphitheatre.
According to the Roman custom a vast awning, the velarium, sprinkledwith perfume, protected the people against the rays of the sun, andspread a pleasant coolness. Thousands of heads already swarmed roundthe circus.
Before the opening of the games, the highest dignitaries in Antiochcarried the bronze statue of Jovian into the Imperial box, so that thepeople could enjoy a sight of the new sovereign. In his right handAugustus was holding a globe surmounted by a cross. The sun lighted upthe placid bronze countenance of the Emperor. The officials kissed thefeet of the statue, and the populace yelled with joy--
"Hail to the saviour of the country, Augustus Jovian!"
Multitudes of hands waved coloured girdles and linen kerchiefs. Thecrowd acclaimed in Jovian its symbol, its soul, its image regnant overthe world. In its scorn of the dead Emperor the mob next addresseditself to Julian, as if he were there, still alive in theamphitheatre, and could hear them--
"Well, philosopher, the wisdom of Plato and Crisipus wasn't much goodto you! Jupiter and Phoebus didn't protect you! Now you are in theclaws of the devils! Ah, you godless idolater, Christ has conquered!We, the humble of the world, have conquered!"
All were convinced that Julian had been slain by a Christian, andreturned thanks to God for the blow. But the furious enthusiasm of thecrowd reached its highest pitch when they saw the gladiator prostratein the claws of Mica Aurea. Their eyes started out of their heads toglut themselves with the sight of blood; and to the roaring of thewild beast the people responded by a roar wilder still--
"Glory to the most pious Emperor Jovian! Christ has conquered!"
Anatolius felt overcome with disgust at the sweltering breath andodour of the human horde. Closing his eyes, attempting not to drawbreath, he ran out into the street, returned to his lodging, closeddoor and shutters, and flung himself on his bed until night-fall. Butit was impossible to escape the populace.
Hardly had twilight descended, when the whole of Antioch was illuminedby thousands of lights. At the angles of basilicas and Imperialedifices huge torches were aflare, and cressets flaming in everystreet. Through the cracks in the shutters of the sleeping-room ofAnatolius came in the glow of bonfires and the stink of pitch andtallow. Songs of drunken legionaries were bellowed from neighbouringtaverns, amidst the shrill laughter of prostitutes. Dominating all,rose the praises of Jovian, and curses on Julian the renegade.
Anatolius, with a bitter smile, raised his arms skyward, crying--
"In truth, thou hast conquered, Galilean!"
The Death of the Gods Page 44
