The Project Gutenberg eBook of Heliogabalus, by R L Mencken and George Jean Nathan.

OF THIS BOOK TWO THOUSAND COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED FROM TYPE AND THE TYPE DISTRIBUTED.

HELIOGABALUS
A BUFFOONERY IN THREE ACTS

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Army Officers, Imperial Guards, Additional Wives of the Emperor, Dancing Girls, Slaves, etc.

ACT I

[Reaching for one of the goblets] Very thought[13]ful of you, Rufinius: I need it. I was up all night with a confinement case.

[Somewhat sniffishly] Yes, my dear Doctor Piso, they are very tiresome. I'm glad I've been able to give them up.

[Waspishly] Give them up? I, Doctor Polorus, I never give them up! I pull them through.

[Put into good humour by the success of his repartee] But I mean neither patients nor cases; I mean husbands.

Drunk? His very tears smelt like toddy. You could scarcely call him a husband in alcohol. He was an alcoholic extract of husband.

It's astounding how much they get down when such things are going on in the house.

Yes, and the tighter they get, the more they want to kiss the baby. And if you let them do it, then you have two cases of delirium tremens on your hands—father and child. And the mother raising hell.

Well, for one thing, he's always so thirsty. Then, his legs are beginning to trouble him. Thirdly—

Nonsense! He was born with that thirst. As for his legs, they are simply overworked. The human leg was designed to carry a man, and nothing more. Add his clothes, his conscience, his artillery, and his jewelry, and then pile on a barrel of wine or so every day, and it begins to lose confidence in itself.

Yes, I know all about the patent medicines he's swallowed and the quacks he's had here. There was that Syrian, for instance. He prescribed water-drinking.

Nothing could be simpler. If this were an ordinary man, say you or that fat poinsettia over there, [indicating RUFINIUS] I'd simply put him to bed, give him a good big dose of castor oil, and then send in[16] my bill. Maybe I'd add a mustard plaster, and a gargle in the morning. The next day, repeat the dose. And so on.

[Horrified] What! Prescribe castor oil for an emperor? The gods forbid! Where are your professional ethics? Besides, I've been in jail, and don't like it. And when I think of lions in the arena gumming this old epidermis—!

[To PISO, gushingly] Oh, doctor, I am so glad to see you! I have been so worried!

[In his best manner] Be calm! This—[indicating POLORUS] is Dr. Polorus, my—[maliciously] assistant. Doctor, you are honoured by the notice of the Empress Paula.

[Buttonholing PISO tragically] I surely hope you[17] gentlemen can do something for the poor Emperor. You can't imagine what I have gone through. I think he's getting worse all the time. And those awful quacks he has had!

One of them put him on water! Like a horse! [It gradually becomes evident that PAULA, who is about 37 and rather chunky, is somewhat alcoholized and inclined to weep] I thought he would die the first night. I was up the whole night. I wouldn't let any of the other ladies touch him. I suffered terribly.

[Promptly motioning to RUFINIUS] And you, too.[18] Pardon me for forgetting. I am all worn out. You doctors have to be up all night, and—

[Reaching for his goblet] People simply will send for one. I seldom get out of my clothes.

Doctor, you'd hardly believe it. He's so changed I hardly know him—always complaining about his stomach-aches, and taking pills and things. You know how lively he used to be—always up to some pleasantry. Why, even when we had a quiet dinner here at home—just him and me and the other girls—he'd have in one of those dancers from Mesopotamia, and make him dance on a red-hot stove. Always something jolly. And how he would laugh and cut up! But now look at him! Even this New Year's Eve banquet is like a funeral. Think of it! He wouldn't let me go to it—and I've been sitting beside him at banquets for—well, ever since I was almost a child. And all the other girls barred out, too—all except Dacia.

I say nothing against Dacia—not a word. She is a very nice girl. I was glad to see him marry her—that is, if he had to marry anybody. I thought he had wives enough. You can imagine what trouble it makes for me. But you don't want to hear my afflictions.

Depressed? You'd think he had on damp underclothes! And he keeps on sending for those quacks—even those crazy dervishes and religious healers from Asia.

Why, yesterday I hear he actually had in one of those awful Jews—Christians, some of them now call themselves—the kind they burn at the circus.

Riff-raff! They actually say they can cure a sick man without medicine. [To POLORUS] Your pardon, Doctor.

No offence at all, I assure you. My family is from[20] Spain—Mendoza was the family name. I loathe these kikes as much as you do.

[Continuing] So I sent for you doctors. I hear you do wonders. But you must be careful. No feeling of pulses or sticking out of tongues. Just say you have heard he is feeling poorly, and have dropped in as a matter of patriotism. Don't tell him I sent for you. He'll be here in a few moments, as soon as the banquet [she sniffs sarcastically] is over. You'll see how sick he is the moment he comes in.

I don't know him. I think he is one of the generals[21] from the colonies. [To one of the slaves] Who is he?

Artificial respiration your grandmother! Slap him on the back: that'll fetch him.

You thought you saw it. The patient probably had cholera. Or maybe a fractured skull.

Too late! He's getting over it. Besides, [indicating the banquet room] what barrels there are, are in there.

[Flattered by his apparent admiration] Oh, let the poor commander alone. He's feeling badly. [She approaches him, with a goblet] There, that will make you better.

I remember you, little peppermint, but I can't place you. Didn't we meet in—Alexandria?

It doesn't worry me. I remember you now. What's become of that little dark girl?

[In alarm] The Commander seems to be flighty. He imagines he's in a—er, a private house.

[Drunkenly] But I haven't paid for the drink! Let me pay for the drink! I insist upon paying for the drink! I—

[To the doctors] Remember. Very careful! Don't ask him to stick out his tongue!

[Irascibly] So there you are! Get up! [They arise] Well, what are you doing in the Night Court?

May it please your Majesty, the thought occurred to us that it would be a favourable moment for—paying our respects.

Indisposed? A sweet word. Then a man who has had his head cut off is suffering from tonsillitis.[27] [Hypochondriacly] I tell you my stomach has all gone to pieces. I can hardly digest the blush on a peach.

Your Majesty describes the symptoms very trenchantly. Half the doctor's work is done for him.

I haven't mentioned a damned symptom, you scurvy old body-snatcher. If I began to tell you all my symptoms I'd talk your ear off.

[He hesitates, but finally thinks well of the suggestion] Well, if you are interested.... For example, what would you say of a sort of peculiar buzzing sensation at the pit of the stomach, an hour after meals? [He makes elaborate circular motions with his fist] And then a sour headache, with peculiar flashes of light before the eyes? Sometimes white; sometimes red; sometimes a sort of greenish purple, or pinkish yellow, or bluish—

[Petulantly] See here, who's sick, you or I? I tell you about stomach-ache, and you begin talking of heart-burn.

And it's lucky for you that you didn't mention it, Majesty! What is your guess?

[In a sepulchral voice, gradually working himself into a rage] And which one do you favour for the death-certificate?

[Now thoroughly enraged, he leaps down from the solium and proceeds toward POLORUS like a lion stalking a deer] Joking? Is a coroner's inquest a joke? Is an autopsy a joke? [He explodes with wrath and bawls for the guard] Out with the jackass! Shove him into tier two and fatten him for the leopards! Out with him!

[Sweetly, as HELIOGABALUS returns to the solium and wearily reseats himself] You excite yourself, dear. [She caresses him as if he were a troubled child, but a bit timorously] You should be calmer. That old quack isn't worth—

Calm? How can I be calm with that dog-fight going on in my tummy? My sweet birdie, you underestimate the effects of matter on mind. I ought to have kissed you an hour ago. It was my duty. Moreover, I inclined to it—the thought presented itself to me. But just then I was seized. I love you—but I am sick.

So am I—theoretically. But this—— [He rubs his front sadly. Then he suddenly pulls himself together. To the assemblage] Let us proceed to business. What is the first case?

Then don't bother to bring him in. Have him thrown into the Tiber at once. Next case.

[Beginning to protest from the moment she enters the door] Your Majesty, I give you my word I never done anything whatsoever at all. I was just walking down the street, going to meet a friend, when that policeman come up and—

Stop lying, my dear. I remember you very well. The last time, you held up a drunken pall-bearer on his way home from a funeral.

Your Majesty, you have got me mixed up with some other lady. I give you my word I never—

Well, now, are we going to be friends, or do you want me to send you up at once?

Then answer my polite question. I asked you "How is trade?" I take it that it's not as good as it used to be. [CORNELIA begins to sniffle] I suppose the night has to be very dark for you to be—insulted. Or the stranger very soused.

Not after forty-five. Or fifty. [To the assemblage in general] Consider, gentlemen, the sad fate of this poor working girl. Think of her days of hope, of happiness. Of success. Think of the men she has charmed! Think of the old, sad romance of her betrayal! I dare say it was some gladiator, or an actor. Ah, the misery of the years! And now contemplate her beauty in its decay: the night must be very dark, or the stranger very soused. Observe that sepulchral wreck of what once was a human face. [CORNELIA sobs] No, my baby, I shall not send you up. Instead I am going to do something for you. Day chases day: you need a comfortable home. I appoint you a Vestal Virgin.

Sheriff, do your duty! [The guard drags her out, protesting raucously] Next case!

I begin to doubt the efficacy of the modern jail system. Let me think. [He meditates] The sheriff is ordered to take the prisoner to the place of execution—— [The prisoner yells, but is silenced by the guard, and HELIOGABALUS goes on]—— and there chop off the index finger of his right hand—with one clean blow of a well-honed sword—no amateurish butchering.

I said the police force. A pickpocket with the index finger of his right hand gone is harmless. And so is a policeman. Call the next case.

[Calling after] Bring me the finger, Sheriff. I admire it. [To the Clerk] What is the next case?

Lucia the Galatian, alias Lucia the Christian; aged 21; blasphemy and inciting to riot. One of the soapbox cases, your Majesty.

[Grasping at the idea] A pity? It's revolting! Darling, it shocks me to expose you to such a spectacle. I really can't permit it. My conscience would never let up on me.

Exactly. Wifely duty, and all that. I understand. You love me. But I can't permit it, really. Moreover, it is getting very late. You must have your rest. [He rises] My arm.

See. It has begun already! Insomnia from late hours. That's the way I began. I promised your father to take care of you, to cherish you, to——

I positively refuse to let you sacrifice yourself. I hadn't noticed the time. Now, my dear. [He offers his arm, and she dutifully takes it, though with obvious reluctance. They step down from the solium and proceed to the door of the peristyle. At the door] You have been getting paler and paler for an hour. I noticed it but didn't say anything. Now right to bed, my little ginger snap. Don't forget that Heliogabalus loves you. [He gives her a peck of a kiss] I'll be with you anon.

So there is only one now? I heard the rumour only last week. But why get excited about it? Why stir up those poor country yokels at the market, and give the policemen trouble?

I came to preach the Word. I came to bring peace. Aye, even peace to you, Cæsar;—with the sin and blood upon your hands.

[To the clerk] Mr. Clerk, the defendant is in the shadow. Can't we move the lamps a bit?

So; an inch or so to the left. That's better. [To LUCIA] And now, my dear, about this blood upon my hands. Surely you have confused me with some one else. I am never violent.

It was by your decree that they died—burned alive, torn to pieces by wild beasts, butchered by gladiators—five hundred souls.

Oh-h, you mean those—what do you call them?—Christians! Well, surely you are not complaining of that. All that is a mere matter of administrative routine. They practise magic; they claim to be able to heal the sick, even to raise the dead. The law is the law.

It is their faith that gives life; it is their faith that heals. And that faith [touching her heart] is here.

[To the clerk] I'll have to trouble you about the lights again. Bring that big lamp nearer to the prisoner. The rest of you stand back.

Thank you; now I can hear her better. [To LUCIA] And you were saying, my dear?

[Striking her heart again] My faith is here. The truth is here. The power of the spirit is here.

Yes, so far, so good. But surely you don't claim to be a magician like those other Christians. A pretty girl like you!

But, my dear! What has the spirit to do with the belly-ache? How can the spirit help a man when he is doubled up? What could it do for me?

[Growing more interested] Do you mean to say that I can be cured by this new magic, this so-called Christianity?

But what I am getting at is: what is the machinery of it? How do you set the Lord to working? Just how do you do it?

[Vastly interested] So! You lay on hands? And do you yourself—that is to say, are you yourself a practitioner of this—this—laying on of hands?

My prayers have been answered. I take no reward. I would ask the Lord's mercies even for you, Cæsar.

Well, all I have to say is that you are a very nice[42] girl. First you accuse me of murdering your friends, and now you say you are willing to pray for me,—and even to lay on hands.

Oh, I say: now you are going too far. Imagine me ill-using you. Sweet piece, you wrong me.

The idea! Burn you! The very thought of it revolts me. You have been misinformed, my dear. I am a very humane man—even a polite man.

Yes, I know what you are going to say. Now and then I am irritable—and maybe order a man or two, or a dozen or so, to the—that is, now and then, I let the law take its course. But when a man is in bad health—and always has the stomach-ache—he sometimes gets out of humour. Who wouldn't? You have no idea how much I have suffered, and what awful medicines I have taken. Not half an hour ago I had to have another of those quacks ducked in this very[43] room. Well, the Christians have this easy cure—this way of curing by laying on hands—and yet they let me suffer. Is it any wonder that I sometimes lose my temper? Now you say that you also know the trick, and I was wondering—

Yes, by all means. But this laying on of hands—I have a notion that it might, er—fit my particular case even better.

So we could. But not here. I have a feeling that a crowd might be—well, unsympathetic. [To the clerk] The court recesses, Mr. Clerk. Clear the room!

[To RUFINIUS] I shall cross-examine the witness in chambers. [To LUCIA, offering her his arm] My dear.

[In bored tones] Better get the musicians ready, Sampinus. They'll probably be wanted presently. Are they all sober?

You say she is a Christian girl—one of those ex-Jewesses who bawl and beat tambourines on the streets? What does she look like?

Enough of that blather! Do you think that I don't know I'm—nearly twenty-eight? [With bitterness] If I were still what I used to be, I'd be in that room myself.

You mean that stuff that tastes like smoke? Wine your grandpa! So he's going to try that on that poor girl! The third degree!

I should say it is. Why, the first time I tried it my head spun around like a ballet girl. Now tell me about this girl. Is it just a—you know—or is it—?

Is what? [Maudlinly] Tell me, Rufinius! You wouldn't desert me! Tell me the truth!

[Hysterically] There! I knew it! He'll marry her, and then I'll have another on my hands. Eleven already—and now one more! I'll go crazy if he keeps this up.

[Reassuringly] Well, maybe I'm wrong, after all. Perhaps he's merely interested in her talk.

[Inconsolable] Yes, that's the worst of it. If it was only her looks I wouldn't care. A man gets his fill of looking in no time. But when he begins to listen he's lost. [Bursting into tears] I think this is too much. I've tried to be a good chief wife to the Emperor. Have you ever heard me complain when he came home with a girl and—sent for the musicians? Never! But I'm getting tired of this marrying. When he marries another one I have her on my hands. Who has to keep order among them? Who protects them when he gets into a bad humour and begins to talk of throwing half a dozen of them to the crocodiles?

[Rushing up, she immediately notes the full goblet] Ha! One still full! [Hysterically] What did I tell you? This one is a wise one: she refuses to drink. Now he's done for!

Bad? I tell you it's all over! I got him that way myself—and so did most of the others. I know! [Rising to martyrdom] Oh, what have I done to deserve this! And a Christian, too—a common street woman, praying and bawling in the gutters! Imagine the palace with her around! Worse, imagine the Emperor! Here, give me the goblet. I feel faint!

[To RUFINIUS] Kick these vermin out [indicating the musicians] They play bawdy music.

Silence! I don't want to hear any lies from you. So you have taken to the jug again—after all your promises? While I am hard at work, engaged in the[51] administration of justice—labouring at affairs of state—you loll out here in the atrium in your cups!

I have ordered you not to lie! If you tell me that it evaporated—in four minutes—to the galleys! If you say you gave it to a blind beggar—to the boa constrictors! If you say thieves broke in and stole it—I'll burn you like a—like a Christian!

[Eager to shield the Empress, he takes the blame. He falls to his knees] Majesty! I ask forgiveness!

Ha! You save your life! [Irritably] But this sort of thing has got to stop! I can't have drinking men about me. [A pause while he meditates] You must be punished. You must have your lesson. [Another pause] How would you like to lose those beautiful pink whiskers?

That's it, exactly. Call in the guard and we'll chop[52] them off at once—and maybe a slice of ear with them.

Yes, laugh while I suffer! You never think of me![53] Here am I, so faint I can hardly walk—and you give banquets, and bring in women off the street, and turn the palace into a—

[Sternly] My dear, you talk pish. This lady is Lucia. Lucia, the Empress. Lucia was arrested—by a grievous error—and brought before me—and we have been discussing certain problems—chiefly sociological.

Yes, I know what your problems are—whether to make love to her and fill her with nonsense, or just grab her.

My dear, I forbid you. Such talk is libellous, and grossly licentious. You will make me believe that the wine has—affected you.

[To LUCIA] Don't you let him come over you with his soft-soap. That man could talk a woman into anything. Haven't I seen him do it, with one girl after another? He'll make you believe you are Venus and then, when you get to be as I am, he'll—

What foolishness, my dear! Imagine this beautiful, this innocent, girl ever getting like you are!

[To LUCIA] Unluckily, my sweet Venus, the Empress is not herself. I have noticed it for some time. About twenty years. [To PAULA] Wouldn't it be better, darling, if you went to bed? Perhaps a good night's rest would help you. Or shall I send for Piso?

And yet you sent for him to monkey with my stomach—my poor, sick stomach! Don't say you didn't. I know all about it. By this time, my dear, you should have more respect for my spy system.

That's the way: You always put it on me! When you have done something, you accuse me of something. Oh, what—

[Humouring her] But why go into that? You are—ill,[55] and ought to be in bed. And besides, I have business. There is, for example, the matter of Rufinius' ear. It had better be attended to at once.

I believe you—but nevertheless, Rufinius lied to me. Can I afford to let it get about that it is safe to lie to the Emperor of Rome? Surely not. Now, go to bed and get a good night's rest and let me attend to Rufinius' ear. He is tired of waiting. The longer we put off the matter of his ear, the longer it will take to heal.

[Going out blubbering] What have I ever done to deserve such awful, such cruel, such—

[To RUFINIUS] Now get the guard, and bring in the tools. It'll be all over in a few minutes.

Silence! I have already pardoned you. This other business is a mere reminder, a souvenir. Go get the guard. I am busy.

It won't take three minutes, I assure you. I'll do it myself—and I have a steady hand. Then we can resume our—studies—

[Clutching his arm] But surely this is not necessary. "Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord." I beg of you, Cæsar—

But no one is asking you to shed any blood, little pigeon. I'll do it myself. Besides, there won't be much.

Well, now, isn't that going rather far? Wouldn't it be fair to call that a rather extreme view?

[Melting, he slips his arm around her] Oh, if you put it on those grounds, why, of course—[He strokes her hair] Do you like me, Lucia, just a little bit?

[Calling to RUFINIUS] Rufinius, you may keep your ear. And your beautiful pink whiskers, too.

Moreover, you look tired! You have long hours. Suppose you take a little nap out in the ostium. I'll call you if I want you. I have a bit more—business—with this young lady.

And before you go out, you might as well dim some of these lights. They seem to me to be a bit glary, so to speak. How about putting out that big one over there? [RUFINIUS extinguishes it] So, that's better. Now run along. If I want you I'll call. But don't sit up for me.

[Approaching LUCIA and eyeing her admiringly] And now, my dear and very delightful Christian maiden, now that we are alone, let us sit down and have a cosy little chat. Oh, not on that stool; it will tire your back. Why not here? [He mounts the[59] solium] See, I'll sit here in my regular place, and you—well, you sit so. [He draws her to his knee] How's that? Comfortable?

And a good joke on them, too. [He laughs elaborately] They'll think you are on your way to the lions—and here you are as safe as a bug in a rug—and converting the Emperor to this Christianity, as you call it. Now, about that Christian kiss you showed me—just how is it done?

[Disappointed, shaking his head] Um, kind o' short. Not like—but maybe—after a while, after a little while ...

Eleven living. My poor, dear Marcia is dead—among others. Paula succeeded her. Dynastic reasons, my juicy plum: the merit system was unheard of in those days. Then there is Annia Faustina, with the red hair. And Cælestis. I married her in Gaul: I was very lonely. And then there is Aquilia Severa. And Falia. And dear little Dacia. That was Dacia who was with me when those scoundrels brought you in. You will like Dacia—that is, you would like her if you knew her. And then there is Gestina. And—

Well, let so much be considered the reading of the minutes. It would only bore you to go on. Besides, why do it? Put them beside you, my new baby—oh, my! You saw one of them—Paula. Imagine a cultivated man, a man of artistic tastes, swapping a real kiss with—

A sensible idea. In fact, a capital idea. If the rest of Christianity is like that, put down my name at once. But it's too late.

[Snuggling close] Oh, come now. Surely it is no sin to marry. I always thought that—

Well, then, how do you make it out that I have sinned? If it's all right to marry one wife, why should it be a sin to marry another wife?

Not at all, I assure you. I am quite serious. Just why should it be a sin, as you call it, to marry more than one?

There are many reasons, Cæsar. The Lord has spoken. A man, in His eyes, can truly love but one woman.

Fiddlesticks, little prune cake. I have eleven wives, and I love no less than four of them.

It did. It wasn't my fault. But figure it for yourself: When I caught her with that gladiator, what could I do? It was a great shock to me.

What was I to do? I went as far as I decently could. I invited the gladiator to dinner. They died in each other's arms. I even buried him at my own expense.

And you? Isn't a Christian an infidel? You, too, are an infidel—but [sentimentally]—a very dear, sweet little infidel. Now, how about another of those Christian kisses—but this time a man's size one?

[Not heeding him] Could you share your love—or what you call your love—for me with any other woman?

Turn your head a bit, so that the light falls on your hair. Ah, the moon! There, that's better. Now, what was it you said?

[Radiant] Ah, Cæsar, you see! Or you begin to see. The star of Bethlehem has begun to shine in Rome!

[His arm about her] I don't see any star, my dear, but the stars that shine in your amethyst eyes. Now, please—[A kiss] And now another.

Don't be afraid of crowding them. I could stand millions of those stingy Christian kisses. A thousand of them would only make one real, honest Roman kiss.

[Desperately in her thrall] In the name of your God, whose light I am beginning to see.

[Observing that the three have at last made him, fast. Folding his arms] Let him speak.

[Refusing to believe it] You fear him. You are afraid to speak! [To HELIOGABALUS] Cæsar, what are you doing to this maiden?

Good enough. I respect you for it. So you are a clergyman? Well, that simplifies matters enormously. Get out your tools. [Bells begin to ring out] The New Year!

The things necessary for your ceremony of holy marriage. I assume that you carry them with you. [The din increases] It's the New Year—and I turn over a new leaf!

Nonsense, my dear. Tomorrow it may be raining, or there may be a parade—[To SIMON] And now, Doctor, you may begin. Do I stand here?

[Wide-eyed] You mean—you mean, Cæsar, that through me, through love for me, you have come to see the light?

[Swung along by the situation] I mean, my fair maiden, that I have seen some kind of light in your beautiful eyes. I don't know just what it is, or exactly what it stands for, but I love you, adore you, want you—and am willing to follow it—blindly.

[Taking the Emperor's hand, as the chimes swell to a great clamour] The great Cæsar sees at last!

ACT II

What stuff! No wonder I've still got the stomach-ache. [Slowly rolling up the scroll as he gives it a final scrutiny] Hm—hm—hm— ...

One of your Christian poets—Commodianus. What you call a hymn writer. It sickens me.

Yes, and you also like the Song of Solomon. I blush for you, little sweetbread. The Song of Solomon is pretty raw stuff. It is astonishing what a few months of marriage will do to an otherwise modest girl.

Oh, did he? But he took good care to fill Paradise with cuties. He had the imagination of a sailor. If Paradise is actually full of that sort of thing—if such didoes go on there—then all I can say is that—

Why not? I am moral: why shouldn't I moralize? Is it a crime for a cow to give milk?

I have been faithful to you, little pullet, for 180 days and, what's more, 180 nights. How's that for morals? I defy you to find me a Christian to match it, at any weight. Think of it! Here am I, still in the prime of life, Emperor of Rome, Pontifex Maximus and all the rest of it, and yet I am as virtuous as a convict in the death-house. Here am I without a glass of schnapps for six months. Here am I with twelve wives, at least five of them charming, and I lock eleven of them out, and—

Well, I have obeyed it. And what do I get for it? I still have my stomach-ache. And the one wife I have left rolls over about half a mile, and leaves me to shiver over bad poetry. [He throws the scroll on the floor] My dear, you must allow something to my training. I am used to society at night. Loneliness[77] always starts up my dyspepsia. How many times have I suddenly wakened and cast my eye over that bed and watched the sweet girls as they slumbered, or whispered to one another, or nudged one another, or giggled in their more or less perfect innocence. There was always at least one awake. And when she saw me sitting up wearily, tortured by some business of state, she would crawl over and pour me out a drink of the real stuff, and then snuggle into bed with me, and stroke my hair, and—

Well, if there was, then I call it damned bad form. Even the gods should have some decency.

I am willing. I have no objection to prayer—in its proper place. As you may recall, I was originally designed for the church: it was only accident that threw me into politics. But your proposal, now—your[78] scheme of praying here every evening—isn't it a bit vulgar?

Still, I can't rid myself of it. It haunts my conscience, so to speak. Just think of it a moment. Imagine praying in a—bedroom! Don't you get a vague flavour of, say, impropriety? Isn't it a trifle—indelicate?

[Reaching for the water-jug and pouring out another goblet] Maybe I am. [He takes a swallow, chokes and spits it out] But isn't that precisely what a man seeks in marriage—a sort of virtuous nonsense? You forget the way I make a living, my cold little rabbit. My days are filled with gloomy duties. If I didn't look solemn as an owl the people would lose confidence in me. Say I go to the circus. There are twenty Jews in the arena, and the guards let out the lions. One Jew tries to climb up another Jew. Imagine the fun!

[Rubbing his stomach, as if feeling a pain][79] Nevertheless, it is actual fun, genuine humour—and I naturally want to squat on my little rearo, throw back my ears and yell. But I am the Emperor, and so I must keep my dignity. Every one else whoops and bawls, but if I go further than a snicker then it begins to be talked of in the barber-shops, and people say that I am drinking too much. [He casts a self-pitying glance at the water-bottle] Even as it is, a good many of them think that I am somewhat—flightier—than I ought to be. For example, consider my interest in you—especially my interest in your faith—this so-called Christianity of yours. Well, to you it may be serious enough, but think how it must appear to the average respectable Roman. He regards it as simply pishposh—and he thinks of me much as he would think of me if he heard that I was interested in some sort of idiotic Egyptian sorcery.

Naturally not, little canary. You are not a Roman. Well, neither am I. I was born in Syria. I am hyphenated. But now to get to my point. First, my business all day is solemn; secondly, these little theological debates of ours in the evening are solemn. So you see what is the matter. I lack recreation. I lack—well, there is nothing to distract and mellow my mind.

[Brightening] I suggest, first of all, little squash-pie, that you come over here and give your little papa a great big kiss.

What! At ten o'clock! That's another thing: this ten o'clock business. Really I—

Yes, it is time for a kiss. Plenty of time—time for a good, long, damp, sticky one. [Wheedling, half rising] Now, come on, Lucia! Be nice!

Shall I? [She rolls the other eye indifferently] Do you dare me? I double-dare you to dare me!

[Now completely out of bed, and standing in the narrow space between the beds] Well, here goes[81] etiquette! Strictly speaking, my gumdrop, you should come to me. Remember, I am Emperor, not to say Pontifex Maximus. But let it go. Do I get the kiss?

Hear, hear! Maybe a kiss! And here I am Emperor, not to say Pontifex Maximus, not to say a husband! [He climbs into the big bed and starts across toward LUCIA on hands and knees. She begins to roll away from him] Hey, there, little cocoanut, where are you going? [He falls flat] Halt! [He gets in motion again] Remember, sweet oyster: love, honour and obey!

[He crawls out of the big bed very clumsily, and into his own bed again] Who is it? [An unintelligible voice is heard outside] Who? [Another blubber] What? [Another] Who? [Another]

Ah, Rufinius! So it's Rufinius? And I told him I was—reading. [He slides out of bed into the space between the two beds and grasps the heavy water-bottle by the neck]

Sh-h-h-h! [The knock is repeated] Sh-h-h-h! [He takes a firm grip on the bottle] Come in!

Might have killed him. I ought to have killed him. I'll attend to it in the morning.

[Somewhat reluctantly] Well, when I gave him a tract one day last week he wouldn't take it.

He said he was a heathen, and proud of it. He said his father was a Gaulish prince and worshipped idols. I warned him of—hell-fire.

[Chuckling] Good for old Rufinius! For that I'll have to let him off. Remind me not to have him killed in the morning.

In a sense, yes. Things are not as they used to be—not as he likes them. Rufinius, you see, is getting old, and old fellows dislike changes.

You surely have. The palace is not quite the—well, not quite what it used to be.

Morally, yes. Spiritually, yes. But—er, socially, so to speak,—[a pause]—hardly. [He climbs wearily into bed] Almost I am persuaded—

[Trying to convince himself of his own earnestness] No, no. Really not, I assure you. I feel like—like a man who has come out of a lion's cage into a—

Of course I do. Wouldn't a man miss—well, whatever he has become accustomed to? Wouldn't he miss his underdrawers?

What have I done now? Mentioned underdrawers! Well, if a man isn't to mention his underdrawers to his wife, who is he to talk about them to? And if he doesn't talk about them in a bedroom, where is he to talk about them?

Why? Simply because they have to be talked about. [With growing irascibility] Don't their buttons come off? Don't they get lost in the wash? Don't they shrink? Don't they split up the back? Don't they tickle?

But they are not off. I was merely arguing. I used an illustration. As we Christians say, I spoke in a parable.

I think you are exciting yourself for nothing. You are tired out. Why don't you go to sleep?

[Wearily] Yes, there seems to be nothing else to do. My trouble used to be that I didn't get sleep enough. But now—! [He composes himself heavily, and for a moment there is silence. He then tosses in bed and fusses with the bed-clothes, muttering under his breath and whining] I've got a stomach-ache.

[Bitterly] Who'd care if I froze to death?... And why do you persist in always calling me Cæsar? It's so darned stiff and unbedroomy. My old wives used to call me pet names—like Helio and Gabby.

[With a sigh] You say it just as you might say, "Will you have another plate of fish-soup?"

[Meditatively] Well, I dare say it might make me forget my stomach-ache—if it was a real kiss. [With elaborate manner] Am I to understand that you have an itch in that direction?

Pardon an old soldier, little moonstone. I should say an inclination, an impulse—a prompting.

[Getting out of bed] Now I'll show you, Cæsar, that I do love you, with a Christian love.

No; so far I merely suspect it. What is needed is corroboration. Now for another, sweet icebox—and let it be a bit more easy and dreamy. Let yourself go a bit. Don't hold your breath. Don't—forgive me, little one—be so gol-darned Christian.

You may well say "Oh!" Many a woman lives and dies without ever getting such a kiss.

[Not without pride] I dare say. [Hospitably] But aren't you chilly out there? Why not come in?

[Suddenly covering her face with her hands] Oh, those other women! Those awful women!

[Patting her shoulder] Forget them! I expunge them from the minutes! I'll get rid of them—all of them!

Purge your mind of all concern, darling. I'll have Paula poisoned in the morning. She has lived too long.

Well, then, I'll marry her off to old Caius Macrinus—and ship them both to Persia.

Yes, either marry her off [weakening] or send her home to her mama. But enough of this. You'll catch your death of cold.

Oh, surely. [He moves over and she climbs in] Let me help you. [He gives her a hand and she crawls under the covers. He then puts his arm around her, and they sit up together] After all, confess that this is better than the farm over there. Now isn't it? When I crawl in there I feel like a lost orphan. Do you remember how I mislaid you the other night? I thought you had fallen out of bed, but there you were all the while, eighteen feet away. And now—

[Puffing out his chest] I thought you'd like it. But it really takes me some time to get into form. Now tell me the truth: this is really nicer than praying, isn't it?

Now there you go with that Christianity again! You are taught, are you? Well, I'll teach you something easier to learn. I am the old professor! Now to proceed with the lesson—

[In a sudden rage] Say, what do they think this is? A farce? If it's that old interrupting wheeze Rufinius again, off go both his legs! And both ears! And maybe a bud or two of nose!

You had better let him in. If it wasn't important, he surely wouldn't risk his life.

[Obviously impressed by the notion] Maybe you are right. But let me take at least one more shot at him as he comes in. I won't kill him. All I want to do is to cripple him. [Gets out of bed, but before he can find a missile, there is yet another knock, this time very urgent, and he gives it up] Come in!

A very important matter. [He glances about him, his eyes alighting on LUCIA] For your Majesty's private ear. Perhaps it would be better—

[Aloud] Make it short. I'm very busy. [RUFINIUS whispers, and HELIOGABALUS suddenly grows interested and somewhat alarmed] What do they want?... I thought they were all sound asleep over in the North Wing.... She isn't? What! A riot—and Paula not in it? Then where is she?... Go find her. I know she's behind it.... And get the rest to bed. Drunk or sober, get them to bed.... Tell them I absolutely order it.

[Over his shoulder, reassuringly] Nothing, my dear. Stay in bed like a nice girl.

Bosh! Stay in bed! [To RUFINIUS] Get them back in the North Wing, and post a guard at—

[Levelling a melodramatic forefinger at HELIOGABALUS] There he is! He was plotting to poison all of us!

Me first, and then the rest of you. I heard it with my own ears. And I heard a lot besides. Such talk! I lay there under the bed blushing.

No more of this Christian monkey-business! Into the street you go, where you came from!

Yes, the street. I saw you myself. I saw you haranguing those loafers, and singing songs, and passing a soup-plate for coppers.

[Leaping from bed] I refuse to allow you to say that. I was preaching the Word. I was seeking souls.

[Moving toward her truculently] Um-hum! I know what you were seeking. You had one eye on the Palace all the while.

And I am here on my own business. I'll give you two minutes to get out of this room—and stay out.

Sanctified nothing. It's my room—our room. You never were legally married to the Emperor. You are nothing but a—

Yes, by one of your Christian street-preachers. I've seen him! He looks like a drum-major. But this is Rome, and—

[Explosively] Well, when it comes to that, what of yourself? Where did you come from? Doesn't[99] everybody know that you were a chamber-maid in Alexandria?

[Sputtering] I was nothing of the sort, you—! My father was a general in the army.

Yes, and he was hanged six weeks after that hussy came here and tempted poor Cæsar.

A thumping lie! I remember every detail of it. It wasn't six weeks at all.... And now you throw on your clothes and get out of here! Out with you!

It's your place to turn all these heathen women out of the palace, and then turn yourself out, and so save the Emperor from such sinful—

[Crawling from the bed quietly and idiotically] Did I hear you call? What's the trouble? Have you dropped something?

[Breaking from the others, her hand on her black eye] It's a dirty lie! She kicked me in the—

[Decisively] It's mine. [Coolly, with judicial poise] And it wouldn't be going too far, ladies, to say that I am scandalized by such proceedings. I really am. In all my experience, embracing many long years and the whole Roman empire, from Britain in the far North to Persia in the extreme—

Really, my dear, you must excuse me. On this point the principles of jurisprudence are quite clear. A judge is plainly forbidden to sit in a case in which he has an interest. If he has an interest in one side it is enough. If he has an interest in both sides, then surely—

Do you mean to say that you are interested in the side of this—this fat old—this—?

Rid your mind of prejudice, my dear. Observe the thing calmly and judicially. Granting all you say—though I am by no means granting it—the fact remains nevertheless that according to Roman—if not Christian—law, I am married to this lady—these ladies—and that that marriage—those marriages—is and are still legally binding. With the fact go certain obligations. I may deplore, as much as you do, their somewhat unwise and emotional appear—

[Bursting into tears] Then you don't love me! Then you told me a falsehood! You aren't a Christian! I—I—I—

Who wouldn't be, the way we have been treated? [Conciliatingly] But I say nothing against you. I know how you are when such a minx gets after you.

[Bitterly] No; what's the use? I have had eighteen years of it—first in the East and now here in Rome. I know you can't help it, poor old dear. One glance at such a doll and you are gone. [To the other wives] And now let us try to forget it. It's getting late.

But, but—this is really quite irregular. Let us wait until we are all a bit less excited, as it were. Now be a good girl. [Wheedlingly] Go back to bed in the North Wing, and let me collect my thoughts a bit.

[Emerging in nothing save a short shift] Do you think we would sleep in a bed with such a creature?

[Drawing his tunic over his head in wild alarm] But the poor girl must sleep somewhere.

[At the door to the extreme left] I accuse you of nothing. [Opening the door] And now—

[Idiotically, in great excitement] Which is the patient? [He looks from one wife to another, and then observes LUCIA on the bed] Ah!

[Continuing with the brandy] I stand on my Hippocratic oath. I insist on the brandy.

I appeal to your decency. Don't kill the patient. [PAULA screams again] Let me feel her pulse.

[Still gasping, and rising to a sitting position on the floor] That Christian tried to put a spell on me. She has the evil eye.

[Shrilly, from the bed] There are devils in her! She is like the Gadarene swine.

[Struggling to her feet, assisted by the doctors, the other wives and HELIOGABALUS] Liar!

Ammonia your grandmother! Where are the sedatives? Who took the poppy-water? Where is the poppy-water?

[Quietly] I think you're right. They need something to calm their nerves. [He finds and seizes the bottle] Ah, here it is! Ammonia would half kill them.

One second, darling. [As POLORUS offers her a goblet of the poppy-water] Now be a nice little girl, and swallow this medicine. It will make you dream beautifully.

Never ask a doctor what anything is. Remember your manners. He mightn't know. It will make you dream that you are seventeen, and in love with a gladiator.

Positive. Down with it. [She swallows the dose] And now little Annia. One, two, three!

[Herding the wives toward the door] And now you girls try to get some rest, and leave the doctors with poor Lucia. I'm afraid it may be a case for immediate operation. They'll have to examine her from head to foot.

[From the bed] I won't have any operation! I won't be examined from head to foot! The power of the spirit is enough.

Now, now, be calm. Look at the other girls. [To PAULA] And now try to get some rest. I'll come out to see you immediately after the operation. [Moving her toward the door, the others following] Take things easily for—

[To POLORUS in a hoarse whisper] Give them all another dose—a double dose. Especially Paula. She has the stomach of a policeman.

[He seats himself on the edge of the big bed, his legs swinging in the open space between the two beds. His manner is that of weariness and resignation] Yes, she's somewhat—explosive. I am afraid she's sometimes unwise in the use of—er, stimulants?

A mocker, yes—but also a consoler. Don't forget that poor old Paula must have time to get used to things. I daresay the new regulations rather oppress her.

You mean she longs for all those old dissipations—those banquets every night, and all that worldly carnality—and this room full of those awful women?

Exactly, though I doubt that she'd describe it in just that way. You see, she was brought up in Alexandria—a rather lively burg. It's all a matter of training. Here she had certain responsibilities, certain interesting duties—

Perhaps. Nevertheless, they occupied her mind. Let us be just to her. She was competent. She knew[121] her business. I never had any trouble with those girls while she was in charge of them.

Now you are exaggerating. They are all quite respectable. My marriage to every one of them is, as I've told you, sound in Roman law.

But not in the eye of God. The Scripture says "A bishop shall have but one wife."

[A bit irritated] Yes, yes; I have read it. The theory is very lovely. It has affected me greatly; I have adopted it as you know. But here I have these girls legally on my hands, and surely you wouldn't ask me to—

Now, now, I must really forbid you. Paula, of course, is open to a certain criticism, at least æsthetically. And Cælestis is probably no stunner. But among the others there are certainly a number who—

What nonsense! I love you to an extreme degree. [He takes up and kisses her hand] My affection for you is really colossal. But let us be just. Surely it's absurd to say that all of them are—well, offensive. There are surely exceptions.

Oh, come now. For example, there is Dacia. I haven't seen her for these long months, but I remember her quite clearly. Surely Dacia has a certain charm. She is young, she has a good complexion, she sings very acceptably, and she—

I see what is the matter. You are homesick for her and her kind. For her and the old infidel life.

Not at all. I merely remember her. That's all. I merely remember. A toothsome girl. But a lady. Her father was a philosopher in Athens ... she wasn't in that crowd. She is naturally affectionate.

And kissing all the time, I suppose. Never a moment for the things of the spirit. Always the flesh.

Oh, by no means. I really wouldn't have permitted it. I quite agree with you there. Such things may be overdone. At my age.

[Looking at her sharply] Yes—on occasion. But there is where I agree with you: that is the precise reason why the thing should be limited. [A bit wistfully] If one kissed too much, one would be too happy. And that, of course, wouldn't do at all.

Well, I hope so. But, you see, my trouble is old Paula's. I was brought up wrong. I suppose it is incurable. I notice, at times, an almost irresistible lasciviousness—what you call worldliness. [Amorously] When I see you there in your nightie I forget all about Christianity and can hardly resist the temptation to throw my arms around you and give you a hug. I know it's wrong, but there it is.

[Somewhat shaken] Well, I shouldn't call it lasciviousness. And it isn't exactly wrong.

Ah? Then let us be glad they approve it, little pot-pie. It is pleasant to be virtuous—that is, more or less.

[He begins slowly to take off his tunic. As he answers, it is over his head] I am perfectly willing. But, I warn you, I'm not going to stand any more Christian kisses. And what's more, if I'm interrupted any more by any low-comedy Palais Royal knocking on that dog-gone door just as I am on the point of—

[Wrathfully] What is it now? [An unintelligible answer from without] Hey? [Another mumble] I can't hear you. Come in.

[Coming down toward RUFINIUS] What! I'm good and damn sick of this "I came in to report, Majesty," just as I'm about to—What's up? More trouble?

The Empress Paula is breathing very heavily, Majesty. The doctors are trying to revive her.

[In a sudden rage] What! Revive her! Seven thousand loud damns. Tell them to give her another dose of the same—give them another dose all 'round. Tell those quacks that—the infernal boobies! Off go their toes if a single patient wakes—and both ears. Now quick, before they revive her!

Oh, not at all. She asked me to inquire how her Majesty is, and if you yourself are feeling quite well.

Ah, very thoughtful of her. Tell her I am quite well. And don't forget to thank her. Remember, Rufinius, give her my thanks.

Tell her not to neglect her music lessons. And—but just say I may want to see her for an instant tomorrow—some business—of state—that I had forgotten.

Nonsense, sweet potato. You are really quite absurd. [Suddenly irritated] Damn it all, a man must be polite.

[Starting to take off his tunic again] Ah, who knows? Love—what is it? A sort of optical delusion, an enchantment—almost alcoholic.

[His leg in mid-air, coaxing in baby-like tone] Please! I don't want to sleep over there—[indicating the big bed]—in Siberia. It's so cold—and when I get cold it always gives me my stomach-ache.

Well, doesn't a Christian wife promise to cherish her husband? [Still coaxing, and shivering] Please!

[With a weary sigh, crawling into the big bed] Lucia, I can't understand you or this Christianity either. What's the idea of trying to make people miserable by forbidding them to do what they want to, and then, when they're unhappy about it, telling them they're awfully happy but don't know it?

Anyway, I don't seem to get used to this going to bed sober. [He props himself up in bed, and rambles on without paying much heed to LUCIA] Now, you were saying that love is of the soul. But see what a conclusion it brings you to: then even old Paula must have a soul, for old Paula used to love me.

The gods forbid! [Humorously] But what of, er—what of, say Dacia, for example?

Nobly spoken. And much better news! [Half dreamily] But what is this so-called soul you speak of? Is it a gas? Has it got length, breadth, thickness? Is the soul in the body, or the body in the soul? When I used to cut a Christian into two halves, which half was the soul in? Was it divided too? Well, then, suppose I had him run through a sausage cutter, and he came out, say, in four million pieces: was the soul in four million pieces, too? You say that the soul re-enters the body on the day of judgment. Well, suppose I take two Jews and cut off their heads, and put the head of A on the body of B, and vice versa. Does the soul of A go into the body of A or into the head of A, which is on the body of B? If it goes into the head, is it responsible for the sins of the body of B? [He reaches over and, slyly watching LUCIA out of the corner of his eye, pours out a goblet of the brandy which the doctors have left there, slowly sipping it with much lip-smacking as he goes on] Do you follow me?

Talk? Talking is my trade, little icicle. Talk is the heart's blood of politics.... And of love. I used to have even greater skill than I have today. He had a smooth and slippery tongue, had Heliogabalus. Years ago, when I was a lieutenant in the army, I used to—[sighs] Well, they were all willing: my conscience is perfectly clear. As the lawyers say, Caveat emptor. When a girl has a taste for epigrams she must be careful: a man of my wit is dangerous. I'll never forget my poor dear first wife—good old Marcia. It was an epigram that made her fall in love with me. I remember the circumstances perfectly. She was complaining that love was beyond her comprehension—that it was ineffable, indescribable, transcendental. "Love," I replied, with droll perspicacity, "Love," I replied, "is the triumph of imagination over intelligence."

You interrupt me, cold darling. What I was about to say is that poor old Marcia laughed so hard she rolled clear out of bed. An old joke—as old as the Babylonians. But fact! You should have heard the[132] bump when she landed on her—[a sidelong glance]—her upholstery. I had to haul her back into bed. [He sips again] Ah, love, indeed! A short preface to a long book! [He pauses and waits for appreciation. No sound comes from LUCIA. He goes on in a slightly louder voice] Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop. [Another inquiring glance at LUCIA] When loves dies there is never any funeral: the corpse remains in the house. [Another] A woman in love is less modest than a man: she has less to be ashamed of. [A longish pause. He takes a deep draught] Love is the delusion that one woman differs from another. [LUCIA is still silent. He lifts himself to his elbow and regards her contemplatively. He calls her softly] Lucia! Sweet Lucia!... Asleep! [A sigh] Christianity is fatal to the—er—epigram. How Marcia used to giggle! And little Dacia! Dacia has a sense of humour. An intelligent girl, Dacia. And how her nose puckers when she is a bit—squiffed. Somehow, I—[He empties the goblet and composes himself. The regular breathing of LUCIA can be heard] This Christianity may be all right in the daytime, but at night—[Suddenly, from somewhere below the window there comes the soft, low sound of a girl's voice, raised in song. It is a song of love and passion, and HELIOGABALUS sits up in bed to listen. Toward the end he glances at LUCIA, scarcely concealing a rising aversion. The song ended, he settles himself, wets his lips, and smiles amorously]

ACT III

A corridor in the palace. It stretches longitudinally across the stage and is rather narrow. In the wall to the back there is a wide and high arch, covered with heavy hangings of imperial purple, showing two large embroidered H's, with wreaths above them, in gold. The solid wall of the corridor, seen to the two sides of the central hangings, is of coloured marble. The hangings conceal the state banquet hall, and the corridor is the emperor's means of getting to the latter from his private apartments. All decorations are simple, but of the utmost richness.

During the whole act, down to the last scene, sounds of revelry come from the banquet hall—laughter, music and the clinking of goblets—now faintly and now loudly.

As the curtain rises PISO and POLORUS enter, followed by a slave pushing their rolling table of medicines and instruments. They are in long white tunics, reaching below the knees, and with short sleeves—the early Roman equivalent of modern operating gowns.

[Reaching to the shelf beneath the table, he brings up a huge blue bottle] Here you are. Do you think we have enough?

It's enough to kill them, but I doubt that it's enough to cure them, once they get started.

Well, if we run out of it, we can give them some cholera mixture. They'll never know the difference.

[Busily arranging the bottles] All this does me good, my boy. It makes me young again.

If it isn't, then why this good old-fashioned banquet? Why all the old crowd? Why all the old girls? I suspect that Paula arranged the whole thing. Have you seen the list of guests?

Well, not a tank is missing. Every zinc-lined stomach and copper-plated kidney in Rome is here. By the way, have we got enough stomach-pumps?

Maybe that will be enough. [He roots among the medicines] I have a feeling that this will finish the Christian wife. She'll never stand for an old-time banquet.

Then let us thank all the gods. If Christianity ever actually got on its legs, the doctoring business would go to pot. All this praying and fasting and going to bed at ten o'clock is fatal to pathology. The aim of medicine is to save a man from the just consequences of his own vices. If he gives up his vices, then—

But he never does. All he ever comes to is the exchange of one vice for another. This praying that you mention is a vice. Fasting is a vice. Going to bed at ten o'clock is a vice.

Maybe so. But I am speaking medically. The medicine that we studied was designed for certain ends. It supposes the existence of certain vices.[140] You and I know, for example, how to treat a man who has eaten too much or who hasn't had sleep enough. But what of the man who has fasted, and at the same time got too much sleep? There you stand medicine on its head. And I am too old to learn it all over again.

[Argumentatively] You make imaginary difficulties, Dr. Piso. Simply give him a dose of salts, say I, and trust to luck. You talk as if a physician had to cure his patient. Nonsense. All he has to do is to try to cure him.

Ain't this the night of the banquet? I thought this was the night of the banquet. If this ain't the night of the banquet, then I—

Ain't this the palace? I thought this was the palace. I saw a lot of girls going in the basement and so I thought it was the palace.

So it is. But this is the Emperor's private corridor. You ought to have gone the other way, through the atrium.

Excuse me, gentleman. I apologize. [He attempts a right-about-face] Which way did you say? I thought I was in the palace. I saw a lot of cuties going into the basement and so I thought it was the palace. [Suddenly pulling himself up] But say, Doctor, I knew I wanted to see you about something. You are Dr. Piso, ain't you?

I remember you that time I had that carbuncle. Where was it? Somewhere in Gaul. My, my! How the years do skip along! Here it's July again—[He pauses uncertainly] Is it? Is it July again?

Doctor, you know what it is—this sea-faring life.[142] I thought my legs would give out first. But it turns out to be my stomach.

[Looking about him cautiously] Shhhh! I'm coming to it! I can eat anything, but—but—

[He nods mournfully] Half a dozen bottles of wine, and I'm not worth a damn. The fact is, I am almost a teetotaler—practically. I hardly drink a thing—scarcely. [He sighs boozily] Think of what's ahead of me tonight. They're all here—the military, the judiciary, the Senate. If I drink with all those gold-fish, then I'll be laid up tomorrow, and maybe die. And if I don't drink, then I disgrace the navy.

That's what I was getting at, Doctor. I remember, out in Asia Minor, how those slick Persians would take a hooch of something or other, and then they were ready for anything. The point is, what was it?

[Bitingly] Yes, ammonia one's uncle! An ounce in a glass of milk, before or after.

Why not? The ammonia will fix him, and the olive oil won't kill him. [Busying himself at the table] Let us mix them.

[Getting affectionate and placing his arm around[144] POLORUS' neck] Oh, Doctor! Give me a big one! Don't tease me with a pony!

This is the regular size for elephants and gladiators. Now—there you are—down with it!

[Elbowing him toward the left] Go out in the atrium, Commander, and stick your head in the pool.

[Coming back] That old soak is on his last legs. Practically a teetotaler! I wonder what he—

[Examining the bottles] Um, it's six of one and half a dozen of the other. But I didn't waste any ammonia. I gave him ninety per cent. alcohol.

What are the odds? I once cured a case of chilblains with a couple of liver pills.

[Irascibly] You? Do you ever cure patients? Oh, my word! It's those infernal powders of yours that counteract the pills. No wonder he gets worse. I can never give him enough of my pills to catch up with your powders. If you—

Not so loud, old schooner. The Emperor is giving this banquet. Remember the Espionage Act.

[Cutting in] Girls? Bah! I abhor the scarlet woman. My prayers are for one pure woman, for—

Even at a banquet. Even amid the flesh-pots.[148] Even among the scarlet women. Let him remember his lawful wife. I hear talk that is terrible.

Even as he has murdered other poor women—trusting hearts—discarded wives. [Suddenly infuriated] But not the wife Lucia! The moment his slaves touch the anointed of the Lord—[He draws a dagger]—that moment I plunge this knife into his heathen heart!

[Nervously] My dear sir, calm yourself. This is awful talk. I positively refuse to listen to any such anarchism.

Suppose you let me have that knife. I am more used to such things. You are a clergyman. It may cut you.

Yes, yes, but not now. Not here. I never miss the Day of Atonement. I promised my old mother. [In full demoralization, to PISO] You tackle him.

[Panic-stricken, to SIMON] Why not go out and take a little walk and come back later?

[Pushing him back frantically] But you're blocking up the passage-way. It is forbidden. Surely you don't want to offend the Emperor.

[Coming back] Just in time! [Suddenly alarmed again] But suppose he jumps out and—

[Suddenly shaking off PAULA and CÆLESTIS, and swinging 'round to face the other wives, his arms folded] The answer is Yes and No!

[Together] Which is which?... Do we come back?... What can he mean?... Which question is number one?... He's going to put her out!

[Authoritatively] Silence! Let me do the talking. [To HELIOGABALUS, bravely but a bit uneasily] What do you mean ... darling?

[In a babble, as before. They don't quite know whether to hail the news, or to protest] Oh, we come back!... But what does that mean?... I don't understand it at all.... Do you mean—?

Carpenters are at work building a plain double-bed. I have ordered that farm taken out and burned. The double-bed will suffice until—

Where you have been sleeping—during the late revolution. Sleep wherever you please. If the palace isn't big enough, I'll have barracks built.

Let me explain. The old system had its advantages. I was used to it and strongly approved it. But the older I get, the more I learn. At ninety or a hundred I should be genuinely wise. One thing I have learned is that the Christian system, too, has—

[Talking them down] The Christian system, too, has its advantages. It is lonesome, but peaceful. I sleep better. The ventilation is better. More air. Fewer breathing.

[Sardonically] Immoral? Hah, because it's pleasant! You, too, have become infected by this Christianity.

But to resume. You take your turns one by one, quietly and in order. First, let us say—well, first one of you. To be selected by me. I have a system worked out. Each stays on until—until I feel like a change. Then the next. And so on.

I see it all. It's a scheme to get that Christian hussy in—and then keep us out!

[Darkly, rolling his eye over the group of wives] The Christian girl will not be the first. She must take her turn.

If you are my lawful wives, then she is my lawful[156] wife. I must be just. As Pontifex Maximus I am the incarnation of justice.

It's theoretically possible, but very improbable. No, my inclination to the Christian system has its limits. The girl must take her turn. I must suffer, say once a year. Where is she, by the way?

Never fear. [Wearily] I have tried it. Her[157] spells are nothing. She couldn't even cure my stomach-ache.... And now, off with you. I have important business. I am entertaining the Supreme Bench.

A fallacy, my dill pickle. Duty may make a man able to stand a thing, but it never makes him enjoy it. Now good-night.

Enough! I order you—as Emperor! [They grow[158] silent and slink away] Disobey, and—[They start out, HELIOGABALUS following them, toward the door] The name of the evening's nominee will reach you in due course.

What! Little Dacia! [She nods shyly] I didn't notice you. I didn't hear a word from you.

Thank you again. If I saw more of you, Dacia, I'd soon be well. [A pause] I heard you singing last night. It was very sweet of you.

[Now thoroughly interested] Like it? I loved it! You gave me pleasant dreams. I dreamed that things were as—as they used to be, and that—

Enormously! At first I wondered just what it was I missed so much, but then I knew. It was my little wifey. [He kisses her gently] Now she's never going to leave me again.

I want you every minute. [With elaborate tenderness][160] I was so worried about you. How did your cold get? Better? You are sure you take care of yourself? I wish you would stop wearing those very thin stockings. [Feeling of her frock] And this dress! It's like a night-gown.

What nonsense. Didn't I notice the pink one—the one you worked yourself—all those forget-me-nots?

[Sentimentally] I'll never forget it. Ah, those days! Those happy, happy days!

That much. [An enormous kiss. Then—HELIOGABALUS straightens up, glances at the banquet-room entrance, and gives a weary sigh] Well, I suppose I must go in. It's really important—a very serious affair—the first in months. You know why there has been none. I made a lamentable error. I hate bloodshed, but I really think I'd be justified in—

I should surely hope so. I nominate you number one. And I'll make Paula number two, so there'll be no temptation to—

How could I be long? [Kissing her briefly again] And don't forget! [He whispers to her, and, as if blushing, she hides her face on his shoulder] You understand?

And now—[Another kiss] Wear that pink one. You know. Now I must—[A sudden idea] But why not simply stay? How idiotic of me not to have thought of it! You can sit right beside me as you used to do. I'll get away all the sooner.

Pish! You'd be welcome at any men's party. Just watch how the judiciary gape at you!

It's perfect! Those old rats never look at the clothes; they look at the girl. [He takes his laurel wreath from his head and puts it on DACIA'S head] There! The last touch!

[Rising unsteadily] Majesty, the dancer took to the woods. I feel I ought to apologize.

[Genially] Maybe something struck her suddenly—conscience, or gallstones, or something.

Oh, no. I've known that little one for years—sound as a gladiator. Maybe—[He winks] I'd better go and—and—

[Rising in his best imperial manner. As he gets to his legs the musicians repeat the massive chord of C major] Gentlemen, my apologies for my tardiness. The fact is, I didn't know until the last minute if my health would permit me to join you. I was brought here on a litter, attended by two physicians. They are out in the ante-chamber at this moment, mixing pills. [With the sudden malignancy of the dyspeptic] I shall take, say, 5,000 more pills. Then we'll[166] see how far a doctor's neck can stretch—a curious scientific experiment—vivisection, so to speak. [Recovering his former manner] But this is no talk for a banquet. If I told you my symptoms you would fall into faints, with screams of horror. [One of the guests struggles to his feet and makes as if to speak] Yes, Senator, I have tried that Armenian lithia water. I don't doubt it cured your ringing in the ears, but it has only made my stomach-ache worse. No more water! I have got down enough water of late to float Caius' whole fleet. To the sewers with water! What have we here? [He lifts up a goblet and sniffs at it] Aha! Good red Terentum! Gentlemen, I pledge you!

Gentlemen, let us all drink to Rome, the one perfect and immortal Empire—the model and despair of other states—the mother of justice—the guardian of civilization! Rome cannot die! Rome forever!

This is a different one, Majesty. I couldn't find the other one. I hunted high and low. [Again he winks elaborately] This one is an Egyptian—her name is Irene. I take a fatherly interest in this one.

Just a little. Ain't used to dancing before ladies. [An elaborate and idiotic bow to DACIA] She has[168] her instructions: no rough stuff. Perhaps her Majesty—

[Very drunk] Profound apologies. My error. No offence, Majesty, I assure you. My eyes—astigmatism—

I should say it is. If you understand it, it brings tears to your eyes. Very affecting, indeed. I'll explain it. You observe that sort of flop-flop of the arms? Well, that signifies—[The music drowns him out. To the musicians, over his shoulder] Not so loud, professor. Where do you think you are?

Her dark complexion, gentlemen, signifies death. Wash them, and they are almost white. People think Egyptians are niggers—all a mistake. I knew a girl in Memphis—her name was Saidee—almost as white as anybody. [The girl begins to shed veils] There it is, plain enough. The man is dying. Casting off this mortal coil. Dying by inches. First his feet, then his arms, then his stomach, then his lungs, then his—and so on. [The girl squats, and wriggles about] Death struggles. Poor fellow doesn't want to go. Thinks he is too young. [She leaps into the air] Last gasp. You can almost hear it. [She begins to whirl] Getting dizzy. Scared. Sends for the priest. [The music slackens a bit] Prayers. [Louder and faster again] Too late. It's all up. [A wild leaping about] Throw out the reverend and send for the embalmers. [She leaps into the fountain] The soul takes flight. [She is now almost naked. The water plays upon her] Nothing left but the body. Hardly a stitch on. Have to strip 'em, of[170] course, to pickle 'em. Very interesting process. They keep for ever. [The girl now launches into her final cavortings] This shows the soul in the Egyptian heaven. Very subtle symbolism. Every wriggle means something. I remember—

[Her arms folded, standing firmly, as if defying the universe to move her] For shame!

[Conciliatingly, coming down the steps] Now, now, my dear. Really, you must—

Oh, I say, darling! [He is patently nonplussed. He turns 'round to his guests] Gentlemen—[A deprecating, apologetic gesture] You will pardon me. My stomach, unluckily—

[Oratorically] For less than this the flames[172] consumed Sodom and Gomorrah! That woman was naked!

This infamy must end! A scarlet woman naked before you—and a scarlet woman in your arms!

[Still resolutely, but somewhat alarmed by his rage] I am your wife. Your one wife.

Are you? Well, that is something to be remedied. That is a curable disease. A "scarlet woman"! Think of it!

Either you put that crazy Christian balderdash away, or I put you away. Once and for all time, I have got enough of it. I am Emperor here, and I must live like an Emperor, not like a slave. This praying shakes my nerves; water has given me a terrible stomach-ache; I have chills at night.

Maybe, but not for me! Damn water! Damn the Christian style of kissing! Damn going to bed at ten o'clock! Damn—

Satan! So Dacia is a scarlet woman, and I am Satan! And I thought I was Emperor of Rome! [Wildly, showing that there was wine in his goblet] For less than this, I have—

[This last defiance determines him] Oh, is he? Then we'll see what he'll do for you when the alligators begin to sniff you. Guards!

[Almost incoherently] Murderer! You would send your lawful wife to the lions! Pagan! Heathen! [Rolling his eyes upward] O Lord, watch over Thy servant! O Lord, send Thy lightnings to blast this heretic!

Bosh! Save all that O Lord business until you need it more. It won't be long. [To RUFINIUS] Take this man to the circus, and have him chained—arm, leg and neck. There will be orders about him tomorrow morning. I'll want the iron stake and a couple of barrels of whale-oil.

[His eyes rolling] O Lord, I thank Thee! To die in Thy name! Lord, I thank Thee for this boon!

[Still happy] O Lord, I thank Thee for this boon—this martyrdom! I thank Thee!

The Faith? What has the Faith to do with it? He is to die for an attempt at assault and battery.

Never in the world! I have heard enough praying to last me for ever. [To LUCIA, still not quite able to comprehend it] So he actually wants to be burned?

[Humorously] Solomon's, I guess! Well, I'm surely not going to accommodate him. [To SIMON] Get up. [To RUFINIUS and the centurions] Let him go. [To SIMON] You are reprieved.

Silence! I say you are reprieved. You are not going to get to paradise if I can help it. [To the centurions] Take him out, give him a good cowhiding, and run him out of town. [To SIMON] If you ever come back, off goes your Adam's apple. And I'll slice your nose flat with your face. Bear that in mind.

[Overjoyed by the news, he is momentarily speechless; then—] Oh, surely not! You don't mean to say that you—

But that's really too much! [Bracing up perceptibly][178] It's really more than I deserve, fair gooseberry!

[Rising to eloquence] I turn my back on Nineveh. Out there in the West—[her arms flung wide toward the audience]—there is my work. There I shall preach the Word. Far from these Roman cities and the sins of men. There lies the future harvest of the Lord.

[Appraising the audience. Somewhat doubtfully] Um—well—I wish you luck. [Eagerly] But could you get ready in time? You see, Simon is leaving at once.

The Lord's work is not done in fine raiment. As I am, so shall I preach the Word.

[In alarm] But surely not here. This is no place for prayer. [Indicating the banquet-room] It's really rather too—er—riotous, isn't it? Pray for me after you get started. Pray for me out there—[pointing in the direction of the audience]—in the West.

Yes, yes—every night—out there—[again pointing]—in the West. And now I must get back to my guests. The centurions will see you off. I surely wish you every sort of luck. Let me hear from you now and then. Let me hear how your enterprise comes on. I'll send word that you are to be protected. A happy journey.

So you said. Well, then, good-bye and good luck![180] If you ever get into difficulties, don't hesitate to write to me. Simply "The Emperor, Rome," will reach me.

[He gives a start and turns quickly] There you are! And I was wondering what had become of you!

[Now grandly brave] Don't let it worry you, tender baby. It's the trade risk. If this stomach-ache of mine fetches me, or those quacks poison me with their pills, I'll be the first Roman Emperor to die in bed for two hundred years. [Amorously] But we don't want to think of such things, do we? It was worth risking my life to get rid of that theologian.

Bah! I work so hard that sometimes my mind wanders. Then there is my stomach-ache. I thought she could cure it with that Christian magic of hers—that praying, and O Lording, and so on. But it didn't work.

Poor dear! And now you have to go back to the awful banquet. [Yells from within]

[Half to himself] Imagine that Christian—[taking her arm] Come on! [They sneak half-way across the stage. His eyes feast upon her. He halts a moment] What wonderful hair!

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VARIUS AVITUS BASSIANUS HELIOGABALUS:	Emperor of Rome.
PAULA:	His senior wife.
ANNIA FAUSTINA:	}
CÆLESTIS:	}
AQUILIA SEVERA:	} Junior wives.
ALINIA:	}
DACIA:	}
LUCIA THE GALATIAN:	A Christian maiden.
SIMON OF CAPPADOCIA:	A Christian clergyman.
CAIUS MACRINUS:	Commander of the Western fleet.
POLORUS:	A physician.
PISO:	A physician.
RUFINIUS:	Major-domo to HELIOGABALUS.
HECATUS:	A Greek.
CORNELIA METELLI:	A public woman.
LUCIUS MACEDONICUS:	A pickpocket.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Heliogabalus: A Buffoonery in Three Acts

HELIOGABALUS
A BUFFOONERY IN THREE ACTS

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT I

ACT I

ACT II

ACT II

ACT III

ACT III

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Heliogabalus: A Buffoonery in Three Acts

HELIOGABALUS A BUFFOONERY IN THREE ACTS

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT I

ACT I

ACT II

ACT II

ACT III

ACT III

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

HELIOGABALUS
A BUFFOONERY IN THREE ACTS