THE EMPEROR JULIAN.
. . . Seems it not, Maximus, as though men lived but to die? The spirit of the Galilean is in this. If it be true, as they say, that his father made the world, then the son contemns his father’s work. And it is just for this presumptuous frenzy that he is so highly revered!
How great was Socrates compared with him! Did not Socrates love pleasure, and happiness, and beauty? And yet he renounced them.—Is there not a bottomless abyss between not desiring, on the one hand, and, on the other, desiring, yet renouncing?
Oh, this treasure of lost wisdom I would fain have restored to men. Like Dionysus of old, I went forth to meet them, young and joyous, a garland on my brow, and the fullness of the vine in my arms. But they reject my gifts, and I am scorned, and hated, and derided, by friends and foes alike.
MAXIMUS THE MYSTIC.
Why? I will tell you why.
Hard by a certain town where once I lived, there was a vineyard, renowned far and wide for its grapes; and when the citizens wished to have the finest fruits on their tables, they sent their servants out to bring clusters from this vineyard.
Many years after I came again to that city; but no one now knew aught of the grapes that were once so renowned. Then I sought the owner of the vineyard and said to him, “Tell me, friend, are your vines dead, since no one now knows aught of your grapes?” “No,” he answered, “but let me tell you, young vines yield good grapes but poor wine; old vines, on the contrary, bad grapes but good wine. Therefore, stranger,” he added, “I still gladden the hearts of my fellow citizens with the abundance of my vineyard, only in another form—as wine, not as grapes.”
JULIAN.
[Thoughtfully.] Yes, yes, yes!
MAXIMUS.
You have not given heed to this. The vine of the world has grown old, and yet you think that you can still offer the raw grapes to those who thirst for the new wine.
JULIAN.
Alas, my Maximus, who thirsts? Name me a single man, outside our brotherhood, who is moved by a spiritual craving.—Unhappy I, to be born into this iron age!
MAXIMUS.
Do not reproach the age. Had the age been greater, you would have been less. The world-soul is like a rich man with innumerable sons. If he share his riches equally, all are well to do, but none rich. But if he disinherit all but one, and give everything to him, then that one stands as a rich man amid a circle of paupers.