by S. T. Joshi
LUCIA
Oh, my!
HELIOGABALUS
Was it nice?
LUCIA
[Coquettishly] No. You are bad, Cæsar.
HELIOGABALUS
What! Bad!
LUCIA
Bad, bad, Cæsar.
[A great crash in the ostium, with yells. HELIOGABALUS jumps to his feet and reaches for his sword, almost dropping LUCIA. Presently a Christian comes bounding in, with RUFINIUS and two guards hanging to him. RUFINIUS is in his undershirt and barefooted. The Christian is a man of gigantic stature, and the three have difficulty in holding him. But finally they pin his arms behind him]
THE CHRIST IAN
I want to see Cæsar! I must face Cæsar!
HELIOGABALUS
[Observing that the three have at last made him fast. Folding his arms] Let him speak.
THE CHRIST IAN
I accuse you, Cæsar, of debauchery.
HELIOGABALUS
What! You come here in the middle of the night to—
THE CHRIST IAN
I call on you in the name of the Lord—
HELIOGABALUS
[To LUCIA] Do you know this gentleman? Who is he, and what does he want?
THE CHRIST IAN
I want you to liberate that poor, innocent girl—that lamb of the Lord.
LUCIA
He is Simon of Cappadocia.
SIMON
[Still roaring] Let her go! Release her from your loathsome embraces!
HELIOGABALUS
Listen to that! [To LUCIA] Think of that, my dear!
HELIOGABALUS
95
LUCIA
[Quietly] You are wrong, Simon. The great Cæsar has done me no harm.
HELIOGABALUS
There, you see!
SIMON
He has not laid his hands on you?
LUCIA
No. That is—
SIMON
[Refusing to believe it] You fear him. You are afraid to speak! [To HELIOGABALUS] Cæsar, what are you doing to this maiden?
HELIOGABALUS
Doing to her? I am admiring her.
SIMON
What are you going to do to her?
HELIOGABALUS
[Embarrassed] Now, really—[To LUCIA] Who did you say he is?
LUCIA
One of our pastors—Simon. [Apologetically] He is very—
HELIOGABALUS
A pastor? That is, a clergyman? [To SIMON] Are you in holy orders?
SIMON
I am a poor shepherd. I seek this strayed lamb. The wolves—
HELIOGABALUS
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!
SIMON
[In alarm] Tools?
HELIOGABALUS
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!
LUCIA
[In astonishment; protesting] But, Cæsar—
HELIOGABALUS
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?
[The din still increases]
LUCIA
[Swept off her feet] But, Cæsar, your other wives!
HELIOGABALUS
[Himself completely gone] I am done with my other wives!
LUCIA
Done with them?
HELIOGABALUS
Henceforth and for ever! You shall be my one wife! And your faith my faith!
LUCIA
[Wide-eyed] You mean—you mean, Cæsar, that through me, through love for me, you have come to see the light?
HELIOGABALUS
[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.
SIMON
[To LUCIA, in amazement] Can you—do you—believe?
LUCIA
[Taking the Emperor’s hand, as the chimes swell to a great clamour] The great Cæsar sees at last!
HELIOGABALUS
[His eyes feasting upon her] What wonderful hair!
CURT AIN
ACT II
Sometime in the middle of the year 221 A.D.
The scene is the cubicula nocturna, or bedroom, of the Emperor in the Pa lace. Time: 10 P.M.
A rather shallow and crowded apartment, with doors at the left and upper right, and a single window at the right. The Romans, of course, did not have beds of the sort we sleep in today. The thing they used was a sort of chaise-longue—that is, it had no foot-board. HELIOGABALUS’ bed is to the left of the spectator, with its back against the back wall and its foot facing the footlights. Beside it, separated by a space of no more than two feet, is the huge bed of his wives. It is, in design, exactly like his own, but it is at least 20 feet wide. The bed-clothing stretches un-brokenly from side to side of it, but there are separate pillows—twelve of them, each embroidered with a large monogram in purple. The pillow with the “L” [for LUCIA ] is nearest HELIOGABALUS’ bed. In the narrow space between this huge bed and HELIOGABALUS’ there is a small night table, and on it are a lamp and a bottle of water and goblet. This lamp furnishes the only light in the room. Twelve clothes-rack s, piled with finery, are at the extreme right.
As the curtain rises, HELIOGABALUS is propped up in bed, reading a scroll by the light of the lamp. LUCIA is the only occupant of the other bed. She is lying near the middle of it, and is thus about 10 feet from HELIOGABALUS.
HELIOGABALUS, still holding the scroll in one hand, reaches over, pours out a goblet of water, looks at it sourly, makes a face, heaves a sigh, and drinks it.
HELIOGABALUS
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—. . .
LUCIA
[After a pause, sleepily] What have you been doing, Cæsar?
HELIOGABALUS
Drinking that washing-water you make me drink, and reading.
LUCIA
Reading what?
HELIOGABALUS
Poetry.
LUCIA
[Piously] Poetry is corrupting.
HELIOGABALUS
I agree with you. Listen to this: [Reading]
We shall meet beyond the Jordan
In the heavenly fields so fair;
We shall meet our loved and lost ones
There will be no parting there.
LUCIA
[Somewhat uncertainly] Who wrote it?
HELIOGABALUS
One of your Christian poets—Commodianus. What you call a hymn writer. It sickens me.
LUCIA
[Challengingly] I like it.
HELIOGABALUS
Yes, and you also like the Song of Solomon. I blush for you, little sweet-bread. The Song of Solomon is pretty raw stuff. It is astonishing what a few months of marriage will do to an otherwise modest girl.
LUCIA
[Primly] Solomon sang of Paradise.
HELIOGABALUS
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—
LUCIA
Now don’t start moralizing, Cæsar.
HELIOGABALUS
Why not? I am moral: why shouldn’t I moralize? Is it a crime for a cow to give milk?
LUCIA
[An exclamation of disgust] Oh, you always—
HELIOGABALUS
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—
LUCIA
You must obey the Word.
HELIOGABALUS
Well, I have obeyed it. And what do I get for it? I still have my stomachache. 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 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—
LUCIA
There was always an Eye upon you. There was One who saw.
HELIOGABALUS
Well, if there was, then I call it damned bad form. Even the gods should have some decency.
LUCIA
[Horrified] Decency?
HELIOGABALUS
Well, then, say good manners.
LUCIA
Now you blaspheme, Cæsar. You should pray.
HELIOGABALUS
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 scheme of praying here every evening—isn’t it a bit vulgar?
LUCIA
What an idea!
HELIOGABALUS
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—bed room! Don’t you get a vague flavour of, say, impropriety? Isn’t it a trifle—indelicate?
LUCIA
I think you are talking nonsense.
HELIOGABALUS
[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!
LUCIA
How you talk!
HELIOGABALUS
[Rubbing his stomach, as if feeling a pain] 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 pish-posh—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.
LUCIA
[Primly] I see no possible connection.
HELIOGABALUS
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.
LUCIA
[With a touch of sarcasm] Well, what do you suggest?
HELIOGABALUS
[Brightening] I suggest, first of all, little squash-pie, that you come over here and give your little papa a great big kiss.
LUCIA
[Still primly] You had better go to sleep.
HELIOGABALUS
What! At ten o’clock! That’s another thing: this ten o’clock business. Really I—
LUCIA
It is time.
HELIOGABALUS
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!
[She rolls one eye at him, but doesn’t answer. He projects one leg out of bed]
HELIOGABALUS
Shall I? [She rolls the other eye indifferently] Do you dare me? I double-dare you to dare me!
[She remains silent]
HELIOGABALUS
[Now completely out of bed, and standing in the narrow space between the beds] Well, here goes 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?
LUCIA
[With a stiff coquetry] A kiss—perhaps.
HELIOGABALUS
Only perhaps. And only a kiss?
LUCIA
[Slightly unbending] Well, then, maybe—
HELIOGABALUS
Well, then maybe what?
LUCIA
Maybe a kiss.
HELIOGABALUS
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!
[LUCIA eludes him, and he descends to various monkey-shines by way of wheedling her. He grabs a pillow and hurls it at her and she flings it back at him. Finally, to the tune of her screeches, he reaches her. He grabs her arm. [At this instant there is a heavy knocking at the door. HELIOGABALUS leaps back, and listens on hands and knees, ears up, in the attitude of a cocker-spaniel]
HELIOGABALUS
Thirty thousand oh-hells!
LUCIA
[Covering her ears with pillows] Cæsar!
HELIOGABALUS
[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]
LUCIA
It must be Rufinius.
HELIOGABALUS
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]
LUCIA
[In alarm] Don’t hurt him!
HELIOGABALUS
Sh-h-h-h! [The knock is repeated] Sh-h-h-h! [He takes a firm grip on the bottle] Come in!
[As the door opens and RUFINIUS’ head appears, HELIOGABALUS lets fly with the bottle. It misses RUFINIUS by a foot, but he ducks back and slams the door. A moment’s silence]
HELIOGABALUS
I bet it singed him, anyway.
[He climbs back into bed]
LUCIA
You might have killed him.
HELIOGABALUS
Might have killed him. I ought to have killed him. I’ll attend to it in the morning.
LUCIA
He thinks I made you throw that bottle at him. [Pause] He doesn’t like me.
HELIOGABALUS
[Wearily] Nonsense. What makes you think so?
LUCIA
I just simply know it.
HELIOGABALUS
[Testily] Hang this intuition! How do you know it? What’s the evidence?
LUCIA
[Somewhat reluctantly] Well, when I gave him
a tract one day last week he wouldn’t take it.
HELIOGABALUS
Why not?
LUCIA
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.
HELIOGABALUS
And what did he say to that?
LUCIA
He said—well, he said he had made up his mind to go to hell.
HELIOGABALUS
[Chuck ling] Good for old Rufinius! For that I’ll have to let him off. Remind me not to have him killed in the morning.
LUCIA
[Querulously] You seem to sympathize with him.
HELIOGABALUS
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.
LUCIA
Have I changed anything?
HELIOGABALUS
You surely have. The palace is not quite the—well, not quite what it used to be.
LUCIA
[Defiantly] The change is for the better, Cæsar!
HELIOGABALUS
Morally, yes. Spiritually, yes. But—er, socially, so to speak—[a pause]—hardly. [He climbs wearily into bed] Almost I am persuaded—
LUCIA
[Sniffling] You are longing for those awful women. You want them back.
HELIOGABALUS
[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—
LUCIA
Into a what?
HELIOGABALUS
[At a loss] Into a—er—into—
LUCIA
[Banally] Into Paradise?
HELIOGABALUS
[Quick ly] Well, surely not into Solomon’s Paradise! [Bitterly] Har, har!
LUCIA
Still, you miss them.
HELIOGABALUS
Of course I do. Wouldn’t a man miss—well, whatever he has become accustomed to? Wouldn’t he miss his underdrawers?
LUCIA
There you go again!
HELIOGABALUS
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?
LUCIA
[Primly] Why talk about them at all?
HELIOGABALUS
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?
LUCIA
Well, why didn’t you let me know it?