Diversions in Sicily Part 13

For the second performance I was among the audience, and this is what I saw. It may not be in every detail in complete accordance with the received views of historians, but the marionettes take their history wherever they find it. In this case they found it not in Gibbon but in a favourite legend of the people, and, considering that they depend upon the favour of the people, to take it from that source was a judicious proceeding.

The curtain rose on a bedroom in the palace in Rome. Constantine, Emperor of the World, was lying in just such a bed as Pasquino or Onofrio might have, with pillows and sheets and a red flowered counterpane. He was endeavouring to allay the irritation of his skin caused by the painful malady from which he had been suffering for twelve years. A sentinel stood at the foot of the bed.

Amid shouts of "Evviva Costantino," two Christians were brought on in chains. They knelt to the emperor who offered to spare their lives if they would become Saracens or Turks or pagans--that is, if they would adopt his religion. Of course, they indignantly refused and were led off to be burnt, leaving the emperor restlessly soliloquizing to the effect that all Christians must be burnt and all doctors, too, if they could not cure him.

This was the cue for the family doctor to enter with a specialist.

"Come sta vostra Maiesta stamattina?" inquired the family doctor, and the patient declared himself no better--he was much the same.

I expected the doctor to feel his pulse and look at his tongue, but the buffo told me that this is not done in leprosy and that it was wrong of his brother at the afternoon performance to outrage realism by making one of them lay his hand upon the emperor's fevered brow; his father had reproved him for it and the action was not repeated in the evening. One cannot be too careful in dealing with diseases of a contagious nature.

The doctors consulted, and with unexpected unanimity and rapidity recommended the emperor to bathe in the blood of six children. He agreed, and said to the sentinel--

"Let six children be arrested at once and brought to me."

The sentinel showed the doctors out and departed to execute the order, returning with six children already half dead with fright. The emperor addressed him--

"Children," he said, "for twelve years I have suffered from a painful and irritating disease. My learned physicians advise me that a bath of your blood will restore me to health. The remedy is so simple that I have resolved to try it. Of course, the first step will be to put you all to death. This I regret, but--"

Here he was interrupted by the sobs and cries of the children--

"We do not want to die, your Majesty!"

He a.s.sured them of his sympathy, but begged them not to stray from the point, explaining that, as it was a question of saving the life of the Emperor of the World, their personal wishes could not be consulted and they had better prepare to have their blood shed at once. They trembled violently and, choking with tears and anguish, knelt to him for mercy.

"Pieta, Maiesta, pieta!"

It was a view of the situation which had not occurred to him. The children, being too young to understand the nature of his complaint, rashly leapt on the bed and embraced him. The n.o.ble sufferer reconsidered while the children continued to cry--

"Pieta, Maiesta, pieta!"

He was touched with compa.s.sion, he wavered, he could resist no longer.

"It is not just," he declared, "to kill all these children; if that is the only remedy, I am content to die."

So he pardoned them and they danced away, joyfully shouting, "Evviva Costantino!"

The doctors puzzled me. After languishing for twelve years, why should the patient suddenly call in a specialist? I wondered whether perhaps he disbelieved entirely in doctors, and had at last yielded to the reiterated entreaties of his adorata mamma.

"Now do, my dear, be guided by those who must know better than yourself.

It is such a pity you will persist in going on like this. If only you would try to realize how much it distresses me to witness your sufferings! Why not take a second opinion? What I always say is: Make proper inquiries, go to a good man, follow his treatment and you will derive benefit."

Twelve years of this sort of thing would bring round the most obstinate emperor. The buffo, however, a.s.sured me that nothing of the kind had happened; no specialist had been called in, those two doctors had had charge of the case from the beginning, the emperor was an orphan who had never known a mother's loving care and I must have been drawing upon my imagination or my personal reminiscences. Nevertheless, like a true Sicilian, he congratulated me upon the modification and promised to speak to his father about it with a view to introducing it next time the doctors come to see the emperor--that is in about a year and a half.

And then, what became of the doctors? Were they also pardoned?--they stood more in need of pardon than the poor children. Or were they burnt for failing to cure the emperor?--which would not have been fair, seeing that he would not give their proposal a trial. The buffo explained that they knew this was to be their last chance, and that if they did not cure him in two hours they were to be burnt with the Christians. They had proposed their barbarous treatment not expecting it to have any beneficial effect on his health but merely to gain time, and they had escaped.

As soon as the children had danced away, the patient pulled up the bed-clothes, which had become disarranged owing partly to his restlessness and partly to the children's terror, and composed himself to slumber. He slept, woke and told his dream. He slept again, woke and told his dream. He slept again and this time we saw his dream. There was a juggling with the lights and a red gauze was let down. Two quivering clouds descended from heaven; St. Peter, with the keys at his girdle, and St. Paul, with a sword, burst through. They made pa.s.ses at the sleeping emperor and spoke antiphonally, one being a tenor and the other a ba.s.s. They announced that the Padre Eterno was pleased with him for pardoning the six children, and that if he would send for Silvestro, a hermit living on Monte Sirach (_i.e._ Soracte, near Rome, where there is now a church dedicated to S. Silvestro), he would be told what to do.

The saints and the quivering clouds rose and disappeared. The emperor woke for the third time, called Captain Mucioalbano, told him his dream and sent him to fetch Silvestro. It was all carried out with extreme reverence and the applause was enthusiastic.

The second act pa.s.sed before the hermit's grotto on Monte Sirach. Enter Captain Mucioalbano with two comic Saracen soldiers. They have searched all the mountain and this is the only grotto they have found; they hope it will prove to be the right one, for they are tired and hungry.

"Come out, come out, come out," exclaims Captain Mucioalbano.

"You are a pagan," says a voice within.

"Yes, I know," shouts the captain, "but never mind that. Come out, I want to speak to you."

Enter, from the grotto, Silvestro who declares he will have no dealings with Turks.

"That has nothing to do with it," says the captain. "I come from Constantine, Emperor of the World,"--and he tells him about the twelve years' illness, the constant irritation and the mysterious vision.

Silvestro bows his head, crosses himself, and says--

"I understand."

"Then do not keep his Majesty waiting," says the captain. "Come at once and cure him."

Silvestro agrees to come, but not till he has celebrated Ma.s.s, at which he invites them to be present. They laugh at the idea--Saracens at Ma.s.s, indeed!--and when they see that he is serious they laugh more; it is, in fact, such a good joke that in a spirit of What next? they accept his invitation, intending to jeer. First, however, they want something to eat. Silvestro has nothing for them; besides, one does not eat before Ma.s.s.

"But we are hungry," they say. "You don't fast all the year; what do you eat?"

Silvestro, like so many hermits, lives on roots, but he has not yet sown the seed--he will sow it now. The soldiers object, they are not going to wait four months for their dinner. Silvestro did not mean that they should: the seed will grow during Ma.s.s and they shall eat the roots afterwards. They are more amused than ever, but consent to wait.

Silvestro sows his seed in two places and they all go off to Ma.s.s.

An angel descends with ballet-girl feet, performs an elegant dance and blesses the seed, which by a simple stage trick immediately grows up in two flower-pots. The angel dances again and disappears.

Silvestro returns from Ma.s.s with the captain, who is deep in thought, and the two soldiers, who show comic incredulity in every movement. The captain tells Silvestro that during Ma.s.s he had a vision of the Pa.s.sion.

Silvestro is not surprised.

"Ah!" he says musingly, "yes; that, I suppose, would be so."

The captain is so much impressed he is not at all sure he ought not to be baptized. The soldiers, who are too hungry to pay any attention, interrupt--

"What about that food?"

They had been standing with their backs to the full-blown turnips.

Silvestro turns them round and they are stupefied to see that the miracle has been performed. They are all three converted and insist on being baptized instantly. Silvestro performs the ceremony, somewhat perfunctorily, and promises to cure the emperor. They shout, "Evviva Silvestro!" and dance for joy as the curtain falls.

For the third act we returned to the palace in Rome. Costantino was still in bed, his son Fiovo and his nephew Sanguineo were with him attempting to comfort him; he was pointing out that it is little use trying to comfort a man who is, and has been for twelve years, enduring such extreme discomfort. They were interrupted by a messenger who announced the return of the captain with Silvestro.

"Let them be brought in," said the emperor.

Accordingly they came, and the patient repeated to Silvestro all about the twelve years' illness and the constant irritation. Silvestro imitated the emperor's action to show he understood how unpleasant it must be. The patient then recounted his vision and asked--

"Can you propose any remedy?"

"Become a Christian. The water of baptism will wash away your disease."