Characters
The Seven Sleepers. Lads, of the time of Decius who reigned over the Roman Empire from A. D. 249 to 251, named Constantine, Dion, Maximus, Ioannes, Martinus, Malchus, and Serapíon.
A Young Slave named Constantine and six Schoolboys, of the time of Theodosius II, who reigned from A. D. 408 to 450, named Dion, Maximus, Ioannes, Martinus, Malchus and Serapíon.
Other persons of the same day, including
The Emperor and his suite,
The Schoolmaster, called by the boys Didaskalos,
A Priest, a Contractor, an Overseer, a Centurion and Soldiers, the Magistrate, the Townclerk, other Officials, Slaves working in the quarry, An Old Slave Woman, grandmother of Constantine,
Holiday-Makers with their attendant Slaves, and
A Friend who belongs to all ages and countries.
FOREWORD
Let us take a flight backward over fifteen centuries to a date somewhere about A. D. 410. The Roman Empire is the centre of the civilised world, with Constantinople for its capital and Theodosius II upon the throne. Let us imagine ourselves in Asia Minor, visiting a city of Lydia which we are accustomed to call in Roman fashion Ephesus, but which we will to-day spell Ephesos to remind us of a fact of which it was too proud ever to forget ... its Greek origin. Indeed Ephesos at all times seems to have held its head high. It prided itself for one thing on its commercial importance, its situation rendering it an admirable starting-place for Roman legions on their eastward march of conquest no less than an admirable port from which the spoils of the orient, brought across the desert routes by caravan, could be shipped to western markets. From this it gained the name of Key, or Gateway, to the eastern Empire. In the earlier days of its history Ephesos had also proudly styled itself the Temple-Keeper City on account of its devotion to the great nature-goddess Artemis in whose honour a magnificent sanctuary had been erected there some thousand years before this day we are to relive in the reign of Theodosius II. Little gold and silver shrines of Artemis were fabricated and sold in Ephesos while Christianity was still under a ban, and, as you will recall, it was the fear of the guild of smith-craftsmen that the new religion would deprive them of this industry that caused an uprising against the Apostle Paul during his missionary labours there. Then when Constantine the Great declared in favour of Christianity, causing it to be the officially established religion of Imperial Rome, we find Ephesos priding itself on the zeal with which it renounces its ancient deities, and either razing the temples of these or converting them into churches with forms of worship adapted to the new creed.
It is a holiday in spring, and holidays here seem much the same as elsewhere. Schoolboys freed from the rule of didaskalos go to the shores of the River Kaÿstros to skip oyster shells, or they play hide-and-seek in the fields of wheat and millet that grow high as a man’s head. Perhaps when the back of the Centurion with his vine-branch rod is turned they will form a group in the pleasant shade of some portico to match coins. “Heads or ships?” we shall hear them say, if by chance a Roman piece has found its way among the locally minted currency. Picnic parties attended by slaves bearing huge baskets of provisions will be seeking the quarried sides of Prion and Kóressos, the beautiful mountains that overlook Ephesos. Stories will be told by the old to the young: legends of the days when the Temple of Artemis ... now but a picturesque ruin ... was sanctuary during a Persian invasion; later fables of the persecutions instituted by the Emperor Decius against the professors of the new religion who were fain to meet by stealth in upper chambers to worship, or be scourged, thrown, perchance, to beasts in the arena. Perhaps some antiquarian will have discovered a papyrus on which he has deciphered a hymn in praise of Artemis, coupled with an ode to the City, to be sung by the Epheboi, the youths of the place, and the girls destined to be Temple priestesses, at the great festival of springtide when nature’s self celebrates the glory of resurrection after its winter sleep, and decks the world with flowers. In those days the month of festival was called Artemision, but now it is known as Easter! Listen to the chants from the churches dedicated to St. Paul, St. John! But even as you hear the “Glory to the Father” the winds that acknowledge no religion, old or new, and the echoes that witness them all, bring back to life the strains of the ancient processional, sung to flute, harp and lyre, in praise of the banished goddess Artemis by boys and girls over whose graves the flowers of nigh two centuries have grown!
HYMN TO ARTEMIS
O Artemis,
Great goddess-mother, born
When from primeval night’s abyss
Primeval rose the morn!
To well-strung lyre
Thy choric praise we sing,
Libations pour, tend sacred fire,
Bear garland-offering.
As Prion’s peak
Strains toward sky-swung star
So conquerors thy favour seek,
O goddess tutelar!
Unbought, unsold,
Abides thine altar-stone,
Nor subjugate by Crœsus’ gold,
Nor pride of Macedon!
Thy columned fane
From quarries hewn of time,
Oft razed, but rears itself again
In grandeur more sublime!
In war or peace
Then grant, as aye before,
Arms’ victory and earth’s increase,
In peace, goddess, or war!
HYMN IN PRAISE OF THE CITY EPHESOS
O City Temple-Keeper, praise be thine
For fruitful olive, corn, and clustered vine,
Sweet-watered plain,
And prospered orchard, flocks on sunny sides
Of hills where silver-tracked Kaÿstros glides
To trackless main!
O wide thy roads that height and desert span
For mustered troop and laden caravan,
An Empire’s key
From morning star to star at eve that dips
Into yon harbour whence our gallied ships
Go down to sea!
O fair thine iris-mead and cypress grove
Where Egypt’s queen and Roman soldier wove
Love’s dream of joy!
Mighty thy pride of old Ionic race,
Altar and hearth no power can abase
Nor time destroy!
The winds fold their wings among the hills and the echoes slip back into the valleys with their memories of boys and girls with their flowering garlands, incense bearers, priests and priestesses of long ago who used to march through the city and climb the hill to the Temple in the month of Artemision; and the cross over the gateway that we see in the distance, and the peal of the Gloria from the churches remind us that this is a modern and Christian Ephesos through which we are wandering at Eastertide in the year 410. From the market-place we have passed to the stadion where the young athletes of the place are practising for the games that will be held later on, and now our steps have brought us beyond city bounds in the direction of Kóressos. Here we find that, although it is a holiday, gangs of slaves directed by an overseer are busily quarrying the grey marble for which this mountain is famed. Mingling with the bystanders we pause to watch them as they tear down a pile of loose, large stones that seem at some time to have been stacked up against what looks like a solid wall of masonry. As the sun is high and we are wearied with our climb we join a group sitting in the shadow of a plane tree, enjoying the view, listening to the distant chimes and the anthems of praise from the churches. Meanwhile our attention is arrested by the talk that goes on about us.
The Overseer.
[As a huge block rolls down.]
Good! Still a few such blocks, and lo! fulfilled
My contract!
A Priest.
[Passing, pauses.]
Working! Through what greed of gain
Profane you thus the holy festival
Of Eastertide?
The Overseer.
A holy work, in truth,
Good presbyter! Aye; albeit delayed
Through curious reluctance of these slaves ...
Dogs, Would you slacken when my back is turned! [He menaces the Slaves who seem to work most unwillingly; then continues] ... to quarry the grey ribs of Kóressos
For marble for the final resting-place
Of an Apostle!
The Priest.
[Enlightened.]
What! To line the tomb
Of blessed Paulos destined, then, these stones?
The Overseer.
The contract so attests!
A Dandy.
[Passing by with an Official pauses.]
Increased the land
In value, neighbouring the tomb, since all
Of ardent faith interred will seek to lie
Near bones canonical and sanctified!
Let us go bargain for it secretly!
The Official.
Forget you, marts are closed and business waits
On Eastertide?
The Dandy.
’Tis true, worse luck to it!
A Young Slave.
This is the last stone that I roll away! [The other Slaves mutter assent.]
The Overseer.
[Angrily.]
Silence! Or taste the lash!
The Priest.
[Apostrophising the mountain.]
O Kóressos,
How many pagan fanes in bygone days
Your sides have yielded! Now your very heart
The mortal part of immortality
Shall shrine! Hallow’d such toil on hallow’d day,
How must ye love it! [To the Slaves.]
The Slaves.
[In contemptuous derision.]
We!
The Young Slave.
[Offering his tools to the Priest.]
An like it you
So greatly, come, then; take my place at it! [This daring act causes a sensation.]
The Priest.
[Unable to credit his ears.]
What, I? A father of the church!
The Young Slave.
Why not,
If hallowed task you deem it fits it not
Your calling?
The Priest.
[Unable to credit his senses.]
Eyes, deceive ye me? O ears,
Be ye discredited! Slave this? Ye gods! [No sooner has he made this slip of the tongue than he becomes uncomfortably conscious of it from the shocked amusement of the bystanders.]
The Young Slave.
[With sardonic mirth.]
Upon the gods he calls! This man of God
On ancient gods, on banished gods and banned
Is fain to call for witness! Hear him, gods! [This daring speech causes a great sensation.]
The Priest.
O blasphemous! For trifling tongue-slip thus
To be construed as utterance profane!
Heaven, avenge Thy servant! Lightning-shaft
And bolted thunder strike this slave! [With arms upraised.]
The Young Slave.
[With a sneer.]
Too clear
The face of morning! Did fulfilment wait
Such miracle though, easier its death
Than the life-haunting frenzy that predooms
Who delve into this mountain’s mystery!
An Old Slave.
Truth speaks he! [The other Slaves murmur assent.]
The Overseer.
[Angrily.]
Truth or falsehood, his next word
Will earn a whipping!... Are the oxen yoked? [He looks toward a point beyond our vision.]
Then load with these the drays! [He indicates the stones already quarried, accordingly the Slaves slip a noosed rope about the largest of these and drag it away.]
The Priest.
[In a temper.]
Lash-threat I deem
Too light a penance for his saucy tongue!
Centurion! [He calls and beckons to someone.] What, ho! Centurion!
This city’s wretchedly policed!
The Centurion.
[Majestically stalks on.]
Who calls,
And wherefore?
The Priest.
Yon’s a slave whose tongue offends.
Centurion.
In course of nature! Slaves should all be born
Untongued, were I consulted!... Slaves, and boys
Of schooling years! [He shakes his rod threateningly at a group of Schoolboys who are imitating his stride, then continues, addressing the Overseer.] The wretch your chattel is.
Why not yourself chastise him?
The Overseer.
[Shaking his head.]
Sinewed brawn
I can’t afford to quarrel with. His lead
The others follow. Mutiny ’twould cause.
The Priest.
[Appealing, angrily.]
Unscathed such blasphemy? Centurion....
The Overseer.
[Appealing, anxiously.]
Undone the work! Centurion....
The Centurion.
The noon
Is sunful, steep the climbing hill, and I
No longer in my sapling years. Where shade
Invites I’ll weigh the matter duly, which
Hath greater claim on Rome’s authority:
A partly holy man, wholly alive, [Indicating the Priest]
Or an Apostle, wholly holy, dead! [He sits under the tree and falls into a doze.]
Ioannes [a Schoolboy].
Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells,
Or sail our galleys!
Maximus.
In the stadion
I’m all for diskos-throwing, sprinting. Come,
A trial race! [To Dion.]
Dion.
[Agreeing.]
I’m with you!
[The two athletes, Dion and Maximus strip off their outer garments, throw these down, under the tree.]
Serapíon.
[A small boy, with a slight limp.]
O Dion, brother! Let me come with you!
Dion.
Too small is Serapíon, and too lame!...
Ready, Maximus?
Maximus.
Ready!
[They stand ready to start. The Others give the signal, “One, Two, Three, Off!” and they run off.]
Serapíon.
Always too little, and too lame! Ah, well:
My Æsop’s fables must I learn by heart!
[He walks apart, trying to recall his lesson.]
“A nightingale did sing ... did sing ... sing ... sing....
When hungry hawk ... when hungry hawk....”
Malchus.
Here, let’s play knucklebones! [The Others assent, crying, “Knucklebones!”] Or, better: flipcoin!
Ioannes.
But that’s forbidden!
Malchus.
What of that? No one
Is looking! Sleeps authority.
[Pointing to the Centurion who is snoring slightly. They laugh, tickle his ear with a spear of grass. He brushes this aside, saying, “Shoo, fly!” The Boys, feeling safe, sit on the ground, and prepare to play flipcoin.]
Maximus.
See, here’s a Roman piece. Who matches me?
Ioannes, you? [Ioannes shakes his head.] What now? Afraid to lose?
Ioannes.
[With some heat.]
You know it is not so, Malchus. My word
I passed I would not!
Malchus.
You’re too good
To live! Martinus, then?
Martinus.
[Shakes head, refusing.]
No money!
Malchus.
Eh?
What’s that? A tetradrachm! [Pointing to a coin Martinus has been clutching, and now tosses up and catches nimbly.]
Martinus.
[Explains.]
’Tis for a loaf
Of bread. My mother bade me careful be
To count the change!... Ah, well; no harm to stake
A little sum against a large one!
Malchus.
Good!
Then.... Heads or ships!
Martinus.
Ships!
Malchus.
Heads it is! You lose!
Martinus.
[Suddenly realising what he has done.]
I’ve lost! Oh, oh!
Malchus.
[With some heat.]
Well, stood you not to lose or win?
Martinus.
True! Oh, fair play was it! ’Twas fairly won!
Not fairly lost, though. Since not mine was it
To play with! [To himself, bitterly.]
Ioannes.
Look! Here come the racers! Mark
How Dion leads!
[All run to watch the two runners as they approach, crying, “Well run! Good Dion! Good old Maximus!” etc.]
Maximus.
Again! Again ’tis Dion’s victory!
Dion.
To-morrow better luck for Maximus!
[They dress themselves assisted by the Others. Voices are heard approaching.]
Ioannes.
Here comes Didaskalos! A stranger-friend
He shows the sights! Now hearken to him prate
As owned he city, mountain, view, and all!
[Enter the Schoolmaster with The Friend. The Boys hide.]
The Schoolmaster.
Here panoramic spreads itself a view
Of Ephesos, our city fair of fame....
The Boys.
[Put their heads forth reciting.]
By Greek-Ionians founded. Subjugate
By Persian satrap, Great Aléxandros
Of Macedon, in turn; and finally
By Romans!
The Schoolmaster.
Eh? Who speaks?
The Boys.
[Showing themselves.]
We echo you,
Didaskalos! [They laugh, and hide again as he threatens them.]
The Schoolmaster.
[Angrily.]
The rascals!
The Friend.
[Smiling.]
Well they know
Their history!
The Schoolmaster.
[Propitiated, continues to point out the sights.]
Mount Prion, yonder, twin
To Kóressos here, limestone famed. Mark well
The valley-sweep between!... The city-gates
Within you see the agora, buildings
Municipal; and at Kaÿstros’ mouth
Our sally-port!... Odeîon! Library!
Theatre which seats about three thousand!
And churches of Saints Peter, Paul and John!
The Friend.
And yon, those ruins of a grandeur passed,
Still splendid, awe-inspiring ... aye, sublime...?
The Schoolmaster.
[Shocked.]
Good friend ... a pagan temple, justly razed....
The Priest.
[Who has been sitting, making notes on his tablets, starts up and joins in the discussion.]
Not razed yet low enough! Not stone on stone
Should still be standing, were the city keen
On matters sacred as on secular! [The Friend looks from one to the other for explanation.]
The Schoolmaster.
Yon ruins mark the one-time templed site
Of Artemis....
The Priest.
[Taking the words from him.]
In days of error, now
Thank Heaven, passed! the city’s tutelar!
The Schoolmaster.
[Trying to continue his lecture.]
No kin to Græco-Roman Artemis,
But Asian, autochthonic, to be classed
With nature-worship idols!
The Boys.
Ahem! Hear, hear!
More information, pray, Didaskalos!
The Schoolmaster.
[Threatening them.]
Rascals! Wait till I get you in the classroom!
The Friend.
How beautiful! There never was a time
When heart of man aloof from worship stood;
No age so dark but best of hand and brain
To temple-rearing has been consecrate!
Receive, O ruined fane, my homage! [He bows toward the Temple.]
The Two Others.
[Shocked.]
What!
Some heretic is this?
The Schoolmaster.
You called yourself,
Methought, a student of divinity!
The Friend.
[Bowing assent.]
Therefore see spark divine wherever burns
An altar-flame in any human breast!
The Priest.
[Returning to his work.]
Such laxity ... I doubt he’s orthodox!
Schoolmaster.
[To the Friend.]
Shall we be going?... Ouch! My toe I stubbed!
[He kicks a small object, lying among the rubble, and suddenly arrested by some peculiarity in its appearance, stoops and picks it up.]
What’s this? Upon my word, a silver shrine ... [He dusts off the object.]
An Artemis ... and dated, A. U. C.... [Reckons, mentally.]
A century and half a century
Would take us back to, let me see ... whose reign?
The Boys.
[Appearing, deride him.]
Ha, ha, Didaskalos! Oh, dunce, forget you thus your tables?
I’ll birch you, when I get you in the classroom! Wait and see!
The Schoolmaster.
Rascals!... The reign of Decius! That’s it!
[He brushes off more dust to examine the shrine.]
Made by Demetrios....
The Priest.
[Who has come to look.]
Not the Demetrios of Paulos’ time!
Not by two centuries!
The Schoolmaster.
Generic name,
In Ephesos, for silversmiths! A find
Indeed! [Holds up the shrine.] My name as antiquarian
’Twill render known!
The Priest.
It should be exorcised
As heathen trash, and cast into the fire!
The Friend.
[Protesting mildly.]
Someone once held it sacred! Still a form
Of beauty is it!
The Boys.
[Capering about.]
“Great is Artemis! Great is Ephesian Artemis! O great is Artemis of the Ephesians!”
The Priest.
What sinful words are these?
The Boys.
’Tis history
We quote! You ask Didaskalos!
The Schoolmaster.
Rascals!
I’ll birch you well to-morrow! Just you see!
The Priest.
My birching will not keep! Till orthodox
And proper Christians do they show themselves
I’ll thrash them black and blue! [He and the Schoolmaster chase the Boys.]
The Centurion.
[Waking.]
How now! How now!
What’s this disturbance! Who is chasing whom
And wherefore? Or is ’t some game you play? [To the Priest and the Schoolmaster, who are highly disgusted at the question.]
The Priest.
Some game, forsooth!
The Schoolmaster.
Instead of swelling out
Your chest to show your medals, why not use
Your vine-rod on those boys!
The Centurion.
Boys! Show me boys
To use my vine-rod on and I will use
My vine-rod on those boys! [They look about for the Boys who, needless to say, have profited by this dispute to vanish.]
The Boys.
[Appear on a height, and shout.]
Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Come, catch us, an you dare! [Again they disappear as the three make a feint of pursuing them.]
The Centurion.
Too tender of them are you!
The Schoolmaster.
[Unable to believe his ears.]
I?
The Priest.
[Equally amazed.]
I?
The Centurion.
Aye!
The Friend.
[With great kindliness.]
Young, growing creatures, full of living’s joy,
O be not hard on them!
The Centurion.
Said Solomon,
The vine-rod spare, the birch-twig spare, and spoil
The schoolboy and the Christian! Mark you, so
Said Solomon! [He stalks off with great majesty.]
[The Overseer and The Slaves now return. The former, by gesture, indicates that the work of quarrying is to be resumed. The Young Slave gives one blow to the side of the rock, then throws down his tools.]
The Young Slave.
So far I work. No farther. Not one stroke!
The Other Slaves.
So I!—I follow his example!—I
Also! The word we stand by! All! Aye, all!
The Overseer.
[Furious.]
Accurséd dogs! But one more stone we need!
But one! [Changing to a placative tone.] One!
The Young Slave.
Quarry it yourself, then!... Here! [Offers the Overseer his pick.]
The Overseer.
An extra dole of corn, measure of wine
Compliance shall reward!
The Young Slave.
Bribes tempt us not,
Nor threats affright! [The Other Slaves assent.]
The Overseer.
[Calls.]
Centurion! What ho!
The Centurion.
[Enters.]
Who calls, and wherefore?... What; these slaves refuse
The pick and axe?... Well, are you wool-weavers,
Or bakers, even, that a guild you form?
Or fishmongers who would run up the cost
Of living? Now, by Hercules ... I mean,
By Heaven, freedmen do you think yourselves
Daring to hold opinions of your own! [With scathing sarcasm.]
The Contractor.
[Hastens on.]
Why this delay? What’s happening? The slaves
Leagued in rebellion!... Cut them into strips!
[Voices are heard of people approaching. A crowd gathers. There is great general excitement.]
Bystanders.
[Cry.]
Soldiers! Here come the townclerk, magistrate! [Enter Soldiers, Townclerk, Magistrate and others.]
The Townclerk.
[Arriving first, and stuttering with excitement.]
Wh-what’s the matter? [He grasps the situation.]
What, a gang of slaves
Their will asserting? Know you not no will
You have, hence how may ye assert it? [To the Slaves.] Eh? Answer me that!
The Magistrate.
[Arriving, pompously.]
Am I to understand...?
The Centurion.
[Interrupting.]
Precisely, Magistrate! You are to understand....
That is to say, if understand you can! My understanding,
I confess, it passes, that dogs who are not citizens
should so defy the might of Rome! [Indicating himself.]
The Magistrate.
Breath’s wasted! Seize them; bind them. Send a score
To take their place! [The Soldiers prepare to obey.]
The Young Slave.
Bind, torture us! In vain!
Aye, crucify us! All in vain! You’ll find
No one in Ephesos our place to take!
[This produces a sensation. The Soldiers shrink from obeying orders to seize the Slaves.]
The Magistrate.
[Hands upraised in consternation.]
With Cæsar here in town ... Great Cæsar’s self ...
Blest Theodosius here the feast to bless!
The Priest.
The resting place to bless of Paulos ... he who came
To preach ... to preach ... [Referring to tablets] ... to preach ...
The Schoolmaster.
My speech his life rehearses. “He who came
To preach ... to preach ... [Referring to tablets] to preach....”
The Magistrate.
[To the Centurion.]
We waste the day! Example make of these!
We’ll test if others will not take their place!
The Priest.
And be accurséd! Let the Church’s curse
Fall on who shame our city, Christian heart
Of Christian-empired Rome.
An Old Slave Woman.
[Wailing.]
Oh, my little one! My daughter’s child ... Son to mine old age ... Oh, take him not away! [She tries to make her way to the Young Slave.] So good a lad and dutiful ... my Constantine! See, now, masters ... named for that great emperor who set the cross above our city gates ... and now you take him from me! Constantine ... would I might suffer in your stead!
The Magistrate.
Remove the woman! [Soldiers force her back.]
The Young Slave.
There, good mother, hush! [Soothingly.]
This deed the mountain’s self will yet avenge! [The other Slaves assent.]
The Friend.
[Steps forward.]
Pardon. A word I’d venture, by your leave! [To the Magistrate.]
The Townclerk.
Your name, young man?
The Centurion.
[Glad of something to do.]
The townclerk asks your name!
The Friend.
Unknown, a stranger, matters not. A friend!
These faithful souls, all trembling, ill with fear—
What bodes it? [The Slaves all turn to him intuitively, with hope and trust.]
The Magistrate.
[Impatiently.]
That, who knows or cares to know!
The Friend.
Ah, pardon me! A Christian land methought
You called this!
All.
[Indignant.]
As it is!
The Priest.
Have you not marked
The cross above each city gate? And hear you not
The chanted Glorias! [The chants are heard in the distance.]
Prepare we not
A tomb for sacred Apostolic bones!
What infidel denies our faith? [This creates a reaction against the Friend.]
The Friend.
In name
Of Christos, too, my country far away
Is signed. Strange customs, though, with us obtain.
A slave, the meaner is his task and hard,
The lowlier his spirit, so his rank
We hold exalted! [This causes amusement to some, but interests all. The Slaves reach their hands toward the Friend who continues.]
By oppression crushed
His heart? With love we seek to heal it, arm
Anew with hope! His wealth who gives away
To feed God’s poor our richest citizen
We count! To dry the tears of sorrow kings
Contend! Our rod of empire is the rule—
The golden rule—Judge none, while loving all! [This produces a great effect on all, and for a moment there is silence, broken by]
The Schoolmaster.
Where lies this country, pray? Geography,
As I have learned it, teach it, knows it not!
The Priest.
[Slightly dazed.]
Strange! As in dreams ... Where have I heard
A land
Where kindness rules and service is but love!
Several.
[With hands to head, seeking to recall.]
I too have heard ... Where is that country, now
Where kindness rules and service is but love?
The Magistrate.
[With irony.]
Since order in your land, it seems, prevails,
Without so much as clash and show of arms,
How bring you sullen dogs like these to time?
With kindness?
The Friend.
Give you leave that I may try? [The Crowd favour this, but the Officials demur, conferring apart. Finally they decide to try the experiment.]
The Magistrate.
[With a wave of the hand.]
’Tis Eastertide. Such pleasantry will feed
The holidaying humour of the crowd! [All watch with deepest interest, some hoping the Friend will fail, others in sympathy with him.]
The Friend.
[To the Slaves.]
Friends, brothers, weary are ye? Sit, then! [This provokes a murmur of incredulity from the Slaves.]
Come,
Your welcome gather from the kindly looks
Of these, the city fathers! Hungry, ye?
Athirst?... Here’s bread ... and fruit, and wine ...
And gentle hands to minister!
[The Slaves sit, and the Friend signs to the Holiday-makers who, obeying, hasten to open their baskets, and bring forth their stores, waiting with kindest solicitude on their wants.]
’Tis well!
Feast not as almoners, but guests who share
The blessedness of hospitality!
The Magistrate.
[Working himself up.]
If Babylonian sorcerer he prove
Alive shall he be flayed, his skin nailed up
On the Cathedral door!
The Contractor.
Oh, stay your hand
Till by his arts the work is finished!
The Magistrate.
[With growing uneasiness.]
But
Who is the man?... ’Twas you who brought him! [To the Schoolmaster.]
The Schoolmaster.
[Disclaiming responsibility.]
Oh,
Not I his bondsman! Student, said he; once
A carpenter’s apprentice, from some spot
Beyond the Lake of Galilee!
[The Magistrate shakes his head doubtfully. The Priest puzzles more than ever, seeking to place the Stranger. Meanwhile, the banquet, which has been progressing in a spirit of true democracy, has come to an end.]
The Young Slave.
[Addressing the Friend.]
With love love to requite, our lives are yours!
Ask what you will! [The other Slaves assent to this.]
The Officials.
[Prompt the Friend.]
Bid them the work complete!
The Young Slave.
Even to that last bitterness his voice,
Tender as heaven’s mercy that you preach [To the Priest]
Shall nerve our flagging courage. Where he leads
Blindly we follow, knowing him our friend! [The other Slaves assent, while all marvel at this change.]
The Friend.
[To the Slaves.]
First voice your trouble. Give it words. Wherefore
Ye fear this grey old mountain? See where wait
In kindness all your friends ... the Magistrate,
And all who love ye, judging not!
The Magistrate.
[Smiles.]
How well
My thought unspoken reads he!
The Others in Authority.
Mine as well!
The Young Slave.
Then let my mother’s mother tell the tale
As she has told it me! [The Old Slave Woman is thrust forward.]
The Magistrate.
[Handing her to a seat.]
Good dame, your years
Entitle you to ease!... So, now; your tale!
The Old Slave Woman.
Long years gone by ... Oh, years agone, when Decius was Cæsar, monster bloodthirsty....
Martinus.
Horns, tail, had he, cleft foot, and spat he flames?
And munched and crunched the bones of little boys?
The Old Slave Woman.
My mother’s mother told me not. She had it from her mother’s mother. She from her mother’s mother. She....
The Magistrate.
[Kindly.]
Pray you, skip antecedent mothers!
The Old Slave Woman.
Hard was the heart of Decius, hard, hard,
Stone-hard!... Who loved the Christos whom we love
He hated, had them beaten, burned alive,
Or thrown to hungry lions! [Enthralled, the Children exclaim.]
Even so,
Children as you are, too!
The Schoolmaster.
In terms precise
The edict reads....
All.
Oh, hush!
The Old Slave Woman.
Seven there were ...
Of names and years like yours! [To the Schoolboys.]
One, Constantine,
A slave-boy, noble though by birth and soul.
Then Dion, splendid, athlete; Maximus
His dearest rival; then a widow’s son
Martinus; next Ioannes, orphan he.
And Malchus with a fowl. Thrice he denied
His Lord, repented of it, though. And last
Wee Serapíon with a halting foot!
All Christians!
Malchus.
[In all good faith.]
Was the fowl a Christian too?
The Old Slave Woman.
[In equally good faith.]
That surely!... Fled these seven boys by night,
Beyond the city gates, sought refuge here,
Right on this spot. Within a cave they hid!
Then came the soldiers and the furied mob,
And walled them in alive with heaped-up stones,
And here alive they bide till Judgment-Day! [This produces a great sensation, though many seem to pooh-pooh the tale.]
And still their chanting voices may you hear,
Give Glory to the Father, to the Son,
And to the Holy Spirit.... Three in One!
[She pauses, impressively, and indeed at this moment may be heard a sweet, faint sound, as of boys’ voices, seeming to issue from the mountain.]
The Priest.
’Tis the Cathedral choir that practises!
The Schoolmaster.
Thus fact of fantasy disposes, mocks
An old wife’s tale!
The Old Slave Woman.
I give you what I heard!
If it displease you, punish me ... but not
My boy, my Constantine!... If proof you lack
Another stone rolled down, rough-hewn will show
A cross to mock their sleeping-place!
The Schoolmaster.
[Seizing a tool.]
Deathblow
To fiction, first am I to strike!
The Priest.
[Also seizing a tool.]
So I
To superstition!
The Magistrate.
[Doing the same.]
I to mutiny!
[Assisted by willing hands the three roll down the stone indicated by the old Slave Woman. As the cloud of dust it raises subsides a cry arises from all, for on the side of the mountain thus exposed is seen rough-hewn a cross. All now hasten to clear away the rubble beneath this, and soon the entrance to a cave is visible. A ray of light, as from a sunbeam, falls athwart this opening, whereupon there is a faint cock-crow within the cave. So great a panic does this cause that most of the people run away, the Magistrate, the Priest, and the Schoolmaster in the lead. Only the Schoolboys remain with the Friend. Then, one by one the people creep back, the Old Slave Woman and her grandson first, and the officials last and most cautiously of all.]
The Seven Sleepers.
[Within the cave call one to another.]
What, ho! ’Tis morning! See the sun hath risen! [One by one yawning and stretching they come from the cave.]
Constantine [the Sleeper].
After night’s tempest, ah, how sweet the morn!
But ... what a change! All hushed the frenzied din
That rent the skies of yesterday! No more
The market-place runs blood, with fire and sword
As man hunts down his fellow-creatures! Calm
The city rests, and rises like a song
The hum of gently avocationed lives
And happy people! And ... surely I dream!
Above the city gate a cross ... the cross
Of Christos ... Him for love of whom we fled,
Were prisoned here last night!
“What, ho! ’tis morning! See, the Sun hath risen.”
The Schoolmaster.
[Explaining.]
That night, how long!
A century and half a century!
[All hush him, though the young Sleeper seems not to have heard him, nor indeed to be aware that others are present.]
Ioannes [the Sleeper].
[Coming forth.]
Let’s to the river and skip oyster-shells,
Or sail our galleys! ’Tis a holiday.
’Tis Artemision!
The Priest.
[Kindly correcting.]
Come, come, my child;
Forbear such terms and call it Easter!
[The other watchers silence him, though still the Sleepers fail to notice them.]
Dion [the Sleeper].
[Coming forth.]
Fine weather for the games! Ho, Maximus!
I’ll race you to the city gate and back!
Maximus [the Sleeper].
[Coming forth.]
Wait, Dion, till I get my breath! [Yawns.] How stiff
My muscles! [Stretching.]
Dion and Maximus [the Schoolboys].
[Advancing with outstretched hands.]
Dion and Maximus,
Even as we, come to the stadion! [But the others fail to see them or to heed the invitation.]
Martinus [the Sleeper].
[Coming forth.]
That loaf of bread my mother sent me for
I was forgetting it! That tetradrachm
She bade me change, where is it?... I forgot!
At flipcoin lost I it to Malchus!
Martinus [the Schoolboy].
Just
As I did!
Malchus [the Sleeper].
[Coming forth, carrying a basket.]
Here, Martinus! Take your coin!
We slept on it, Aléxandros and I!
Your mother’s is it, so not yours to lose,
Nor mine to win!
Martinus [the Sleeper].
[Accepting the coin the other holds out to him.]
I thank you, Malchus!
Malchus [the Schoolboy].
I,
Too, thank you, namesake mine! Martinus, here!
Take back your mother’s tetradrachm!
Martinus [the Schoolboy].
[Accepting the coin his friend holds out to him.]
Malchus,
I say, that’s fine!
Serapíon [the Sleeper].
My Æsop’s fables must I get by heart! “A nightingale
did sing ... did sing ... did sing....”
Serapíon [the Schoolboy].
[Prompting.]
“When hungry hawk espied her!” My name is Serapíon,
too!
Serapíon [the Sleeper].
[Seeing him.]
Oh, what a funny looking little boy!
Serapíon [the Schoolboy].
Funny looking yourself! I knew more of the fable than
you did, anyway!
Serapíon [the Sleeper].
[To his fellows.]
Look! A little boy!... And, oh, crowds and crowds
of people!
The Other Sleepers.
No, dear child! There’s no one but ourselves!
Serapíon [the Sleeper].
But I see them clearly!... Come and play with me! [To the other Serapíon.]
Serapíon [the Schoolboy].
[Timidly advancing.]
I’d like to, but ... somehow ... you seem ... not real.... No, I don’t mean that! But just as if you came out of a dream!
Serapíon [the Sleeper].
Dream yourself! Why, as I look at you you fade and fade away ... and now I don’t see you at all!... Constantine, is it true we shall be put to death for loving Christos?
The Other Sleepers.
[Suddenly recalling their plight.]
Aye; truth is it, or dream?
Constantine [the Sleeper].
Dream of a night
Forever vanished!... Listen to the song
Praising the God of Love! [Clear and sweet rises the sound of the Gloria. The Sleepers, rejoicing, seek to join in it, but their voices fail them.]
Serapíon [the Sleeper].
Home ... then may we go home?
The Other Sleepers.
Home! That’s the word!
May we go home?
[The Friend stands forth, and a radiance comes from him. Constantine the Sleeper sees him, and exclaims, joyfully.]
Constantine [the Sleeper].
Home, home! Here is a friend
Will guide us!
[The Friend passes quietly from the scene, a light streaming from the direction he has taken. The Sleepers stretch their hands toward him, with a joyful cry.]
The Seven Sleepers.
Lead, Master! We follow ... follow ... home!
[Even while speaking they sink down on the ground near the cave, and close their eyes as if in sleep. The Emperor and his suite approach, as if they had been looking on, near by, and fall reverently on their knees, their example being followed by the multitude, while the chant rises ever more clear and sweet. The Seven Schoolboys pluck brightly flowering branches and lay these beside the Sleepers and shower blossoms over them. And so the scene fades from our sight.]