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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Androcles and the Lion, by George Bernard Shaw
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Androcles and the Lion
+
+Author: George Bernard Shaw
+
+Release Date: October 5, 2001 [eBook #4003]
+[Most recently updated: December 22, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Eve Sobol. HTML version by Al Haines
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDROCLES AND THE LION ***
+
+
+
+
+ANDROCLES AND THE LION
+
+by Bernard Shaw
+
+1912
+
+
+Contents
+
+ PROLOGUE
+ ACT I
+ ACT II
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+Overture; forest sounds, roaring of lions, Christian hymn faintly.
+
+A jungle path. A lion’s roar, a melancholy suffering roar, comes from
+the jungle. It is repeated nearer. The lion limps from the jungle on
+three legs, holding up his right forepaw, in which a huge thorn sticks.
+He sits down and contemplates it. He licks it. He shakes it. He tries
+to extract it by scraping it along the ground, and hurts himself worse.
+He roars piteously. He licks it again. Tears drop from his eyes. He
+limps painfully off the path and lies down under the trees, exhausted
+with pain. Heaving a long sigh, like wind in a trombone, he goes to
+sleep.
+
+Androcles and his wife Megæra come along the path. He is a small, thin,
+ridiculous little man who might be any age from thirty to fifty-five.
+He has sandy hair, watery compassionate blue eyes, sensitive nostrils,
+and a very presentable forehead; but his good points go no further; his
+arms and legs and back, though wiry of their kind, look shrivelled and
+starved. He carries a big bundle, is very poorly clad, and seems tired
+and hungry.
+
+His wife is a rather handsome pampered slattern, well fed and in the
+prime of life. She has nothing to carry, and has a stout stick to help
+her along.
+
+MEGAERA.
+(_suddenly throwing down her stick_) I won’t go another step.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_pleading wearily_) Oh, not again, dear. What’s the good of stopping
+every two miles and saying you won’t go another step? We must get on to
+the next village before night. There are wild beasts in this wood:
+lions, they say.
+
+MEGAERA.
+I don’t believe a word of it. You are always threatening me with wild
+beasts to make me walk the very soul out of my body when I can hardly
+drag one foot before another. We haven’t seen a single lion yet.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Well, dear, do you want to see one?
+
+MEGAERA.
+(_tearing the bundle from his back_) You cruel beast, you don’t care
+how tired I am, or what becomes of me (_she throws the bundle on the
+ground_): always thinking of yourself. Self! self! self! always
+yourself! (_She sits down on the bundle_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_sitting down sadly on the ground with his elbows on his knees and his
+head in his hands_) We all have to think of ourselves occasionally,
+dear.
+
+MEGAERA.
+A man ought to think of his wife sometimes.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+He can’t always help it, dear. You make me think of you a good deal.
+Not that I blame you.
+
+MEGAERA.
+Blame me! I should think not indeed. Is it my fault that I’m married to
+you?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+No, dear: that is my fault.
+
+MEGAERA.
+That’s a nice thing to say to me. Aren’t you happy with me?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I don’t complain, my love.
+
+MEGAERA.
+You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I am, my dear.
+
+MEGAERA.
+You’re not: you glory in it.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+In what, darling?
+
+MEGAERA.
+In everything. In making me a slave, and making yourself a
+laughing-stock. Its not fair. You get me the name of being a shrew with
+your meek ways, always talking as if butter wouldn’t melt in your
+mouth. And just because I look a big strong woman, and because I’m
+good-hearted and a bit hasty, and because you’re always driving me to
+do things I’m sorry for afterwards, people say “Poor man: what a life
+his wife leads him!” Oh, if they only knew! And you think I don’t know.
+But I do, I do, (_screaming_) I do.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Yes, my dear: I know you do.
+
+MEGAERA.
+Then why don’t you treat me properly and be a good husband to me?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+What can I do, my dear?
+
+MEGAERA.
+What can you do! You can return to your duty, and come back to your
+home and your friends, and sacrifice to the gods as all respectable
+people do, instead of having us hunted out of house and home for being
+dirty, disreputable, blaspheming atheists.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I’m not an atheist, dear: I am a Christian.
+
+MEGAERA.
+Well, isn’t that the same thing, only ten times worse? Everybody knows
+that the Christians are the very lowest of the low.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Just like us, dear.
+
+MEGAERA.
+Speak for yourself. Don’t you dare to compare me to common people. My
+father owned his own public-house; and sorrowful was the day for me
+when you first came drinking in our bar.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I confess I was addicted to it, dear. But I gave it up when I became a
+Christian.
+
+MEGAERA.
+You’d much better have remained a drunkard. I can forgive a man being
+addicted to drink: its only natural; and I don’t deny I like a drop
+myself sometimes. What I can’t stand is your being addicted to
+Christianity. And what’s worse again, your being addicted to animals.
+How is any woman to keep her house clean when you bring in every stray
+cat and lost cur and lame duck in the whole countryside? You took the
+bread out of my mouth to feed them: you know you did: don’t attempt to
+deny it.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Only when they were hungry and you were getting too stout, dearie.
+
+MEGAERA.
+Yes, insult me, do. (_Rising_) Oh! I won’t bear it another moment. You
+used to sit and talk to those dumb brute beasts for hours, when you
+hadn’t a word for me.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+They never answered back, darling. (_He rises and again shoulders the
+bundle_).
+
+MEGAERA.
+Well, if you’re fonder of animals than of your own wife, you can live
+with them here in the jungle. I’ve had enough of them and enough of
+you. I’m going back. I’m going home.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_barring the way back_) No, dearie: don’t take on like that. We can’t
+go back. We’ve sold everything: we should starve; and I should be sent
+to Rome and thrown to the lions—
+
+MEGAERA.
+Serve you right! I wish the lions joy of you. (_Screaming_) Are you
+going to get out of my way and let me go home?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+No, dear—
+
+MEGAERA.
+Then I’ll make my way through the forest; and when I’m eaten by the
+wild beasts you’ll know what a wife you’ve lost. (_She dashes into the
+jungle and nearly falls over the sleeping lion_). Oh! Oh! Andy! Andy!
+(_She totters back and collapses into the arms of Androcles, who,
+crushed by her weight, falls on his bundle_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_extracting himself from beneath her and slapping her hands in great
+anxiety_) What is it, my precious, my pet? What’s the matter? (_He
+raises her head. Speechless with terror, she points in the direction of
+the sleeping lion. He steals cautiously towards the spot indicated by
+Megæra. She rises with an effort and totters after him_).
+
+MEGAERA.
+No, Andy: you’ll be killed. Come back.
+
+_The lion utters a long snoring sigh. Androcles sees the lion and
+recoils fainting into the arms of Megæra, who falls back on the bundle.
+They roll apart and lie staring in terror at one another. The lion is
+heard groaning heavily in the jungle._
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_whispering_) Did you see? A lion.
+
+MEGAERA.
+(_despairing_) The gods have sent him to punish us because you’re a
+Christian. Take me away, Andy. Save me.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_rising_) Meggy: there’s one chance for you. It’ll take him pretty
+nigh twenty minutes to eat me (_I’m rather stringy and tough_) and you
+can escape in less time than that.
+
+MEGAERA.
+Oh, don’t talk about eating. (_The lion rises with a great groan and
+limps towards them_). Oh! (_She faints_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_quaking, but keeping between the lion and Megæra_) Don’t you come
+near my wife, do you hear? (_The lion groans. Androcles can hardly
+stand for trembling_). Meggy: run. Run for your life. If I take my eye
+off him, its all up. (_The lion holds up his wounded paw and flaps it
+piteously before Androcles_). Oh, he’s lame, poor old chap! He’s got a
+thorn in his paw. A frightfully big thorn. (_Full of sympathy_) Oh,
+poor old man! Did um get an awful thorn into um’s tootsums wootsums?
+Has it made um too sick to eat a nice little Christian man for um’s
+breakfast? Oh, a nice little Christian man will get um’s thorn out for
+um; and then um shall eat the nice Christian man and the nice Christian
+man’s nice big tender wifey pifey. (_The lion responds by moans of
+self-pity_). Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Now, now (_taking the paw in his
+hand_) um is not to bite and not to scratch, not even if it hurts a
+very, very little. Now make velvet paws. That’s right. (_He pulls
+gingerly at the thorn. The lion, with an angry yell of pain, jerks back
+his paw so abruptly that Androcles is thrown on his back_). Steadeee!
+Oh, did the nasty cruel little Christian man hurt the sore paw? (_The
+lion moans assentingly but apologetically_). Well, one more little pull
+and it will be all over. Just one little, little, leetle pull; and then
+um will live happily ever after. (_He gives the thorn another pull. The
+lion roars and snaps his jaws with a terrifying clash_). Oh, mustn’t
+frighten um’s good kind doctor, um’s affectionate nursey. That didn’t
+hurt at all: not a bit. Just one more. Just to show how the brave big
+lion can bear pain, not like the little crybaby Christian man. Oopsh!
+(_The thorn comes out. The lion yells with pain, and shakes his paw
+wildly_). That’s it! (_Holding up the thorn_). Now it’s out. Now lick
+um’s paw to take away the nasty inflammation. See? (_He licks his own
+hand. The lion nods intelligently and licks his paw industriously_).
+Clever little liony-piony! Understands um’s dear old friend Andy Wandy.
+(_The lion licks his face_). Yes, kissums Andy Wandy. (_The lion,
+wagging his tail violently, rises on his hind legs and embraces
+Androcles, who makes a wry face and cries_) Velvet paws! Velvet paws!
+(_The lion draws in his claws_). That’s right. (_He embraces the lion,
+who finally takes the end of his tail in one paw, places that tight
+around Androcles’ waist, resting it on his hip. Androcles takes the
+other paw in his hand, stretches out his arm, and the two waltz
+rapturously round and round and finally away through the jungle_).
+
+MEGAERA.
+(_who has revived during the waltz_) Oh, you coward, you haven’t danced
+with me for years; and now you go off dancing with a great brute beast
+that you haven’t known for ten minutes and that wants to eat your own
+wife. Coward! Coward! Coward! (_She rushes off after them into the
+jungle_).
+
+
+
+
+ ACT I
+
+
+Evening. The end of three converging roads to Rome. Three triumphal
+arches span them where they debouch on a square at the gate of the
+city. Looking north through the arches one can see the campagna
+threaded by the three long dusty tracks. On the east and west sides of
+the square are long stone benches. An old beggar sits on the east side
+of the square, his bowl at his feet. Through the eastern arch a squad
+of Roman soldiers tramps along escorting a batch of Christian prisoners
+of both sexes and all ages, among them one Lavinia, a goodlooking
+resolute young woman, apparently of higher social standing than her
+fellow-prisoners. A centurion, carrying his vinewood cudgel, trudges
+alongside the squad, on its right, in command of it. All are tired and
+dusty; but the soldiers are dogged and indifferent, the Christians
+light-hearted and determined to treat their hardships as a joke and
+encourage one another.
+
+_A bugle is heard far behind on the road, where the rest of the cohort
+is following._
+
+CENTURION.
+(_stopping_) Halt! Orders from the Captain. (_They halt and wait_). Now
+then, you Christians, none of your larks. The captain’s coming. Mind
+you behave yourselves. No singing. Look respectful. Look serious, if
+you’re capable of it. See that big building over there? That’s the
+Coliseum. That’s where you’ll be thrown to the lions or set to fight
+the gladiators presently. Think of that; and it’ll help you to behave
+properly before the captain. (_The Captain arrives_). Attention!
+Salute! (_The soldiers salute_).
+
+A CHRISTIAN.
+(_cheerfully_) God bless you, Captain.
+
+THE CENTURION.
+(_scandalised_) Silence!
+
+_The Captain, a patrician, handsome, about thirty-five, very cold and
+distinguished, very superior and authoritative, steps up on a stone
+seat at the west side of the square, behind the centurion, so as to
+dominate the others more effectually._
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Centurion.
+
+THE CENTURION.
+(_standing at attention and saluting_) Sir?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_speaking stiffly and officially_) You will remind your men,
+Centurion, that we are now entering Rome. You will instruct them that
+once inside the gates of Rome they are in the presence of the Emperor.
+You will make them understand that the lax discipline of the march
+cannot be permitted here. You will instruct them to shave every day,
+not every week. You will impress on them particularly that there must
+be an end to the profanity and blasphemy of singing Christian hymns on
+the march. I have to reprimand you, Centurion, for not only allowing
+this, but actually doing it yourself.
+
+THE CENTURION.
+The men march better, Captain.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+No doubt. For that reason an exception is made in the case of the march
+called Onward Christian Soldiers. This may be sung, except when
+marching through the forum or within hearing of the Emperor’s palace;
+but the words must be altered to “Throw them to the Lions.”
+
+_The Christians burst into shrieks of uncontrollable laughter, to the
+great scandal of the Centurion._
+
+CENTURION.
+Silence! Silen-n-n-n-nce! Where’s your behavior? Is that the way to
+listen to an officer? (_To the Captain_) That’s what we have to put up
+with from these Christians every day, sir. They’re always laughing and
+joking something scandalous. They’ve no religion: that’s how it is.
+
+LAVINIA.
+But I think the Captain meant us to laugh, Centurion. It was so funny.
+
+CENTURION.
+You’ll find out how funny it is when you’re thrown to the lions
+to-morrow. (_To the Captain, who looks displeased_) Beg pardon, Sir.
+(_To the Christians_) Silennnnce!
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+You are to instruct your men that all intimacy with Christian prisoners
+must now cease. The men have fallen into habits of dependence upon the
+prisoners, especially the female prisoners, for cooking, repairs to
+uniforms, writing letters, and advice in their private affairs. In a
+Roman soldier such dependence is inadmissible. Let me see no more of it
+whilst we are in the city. Further, your orders are that in addressing
+Christian prisoners, the manners and tone of your men must express
+abhorrence and contempt. Any shortcoming in this respect will be
+regarded as a breach of discipline. (_He turns to the prisoners_)
+Prisoners.
+
+CENTURION.
+(_fiercely_) Prisonerrrrrs! Tention! Silence!
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+I call your attention, prisoners, to the fact that you may be called on
+to appear in the Imperial Circus at any time from tomorrow onwards
+according to the requirements of the managers. I may inform you that as
+there is a shortage of Christians just now, you may expect to be called
+on very soon.
+
+LAVINIA.
+What will they do to us, Captain?
+
+CENTURION.
+Silence!
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+The women will be conducted into the arena with the wild beasts of the
+Imperial Menagerie, and will suffer the consequences. The men, if of an
+age to bear arms, will be given weapons to defend themselves, if they
+choose, against the Imperial Gladiators.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Captain: is there no hope that this cruel persecution—
+
+CENTURION.
+(_shocked_) Silence! Hold your tongue, there. Persecution, indeed!
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_unmoved and somewhat sardonic_) Persecution is not a term applicable
+to the acts of the Emperor. The Emperor is the Defender of the Faith.
+In throwing you to the lions he will be upholding the interests of
+religion in Rome. If you were to throw him to the lions, that would no
+doubt be persecution.
+
+_The Christians again laugh heartily._
+
+CENTURION.
+(_horrified_) Silence, I tell you! Keep silence there. Did anyone ever
+hear the like of this?
+
+LAVINIA.
+Captain: there will be nobody to appreciate your jokes when we are
+gone.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_unshaken in his official delivery_) I call the attention of the
+female prisoner Lavinia to the fact that as the Emperor is a divine
+personage, her imputation of cruelty is not only treason, but
+sacrilege. I point out to her further that there is no foundation for
+the charge, as the Emperor does not desire that any prisoner should
+suffer; nor can any Christian be harmed save through his or her own
+obstinacy. All that is necessary is to sacrifice to the gods: a simple
+and convenient ceremony effected by dropping a pinch of incense on the
+altar, after which the prisoner is at once set free. Under such
+circumstances you have only your own perverse folly to blame if you
+suffer. I suggest to you that if you cannot burn a morsel of incense as
+a matter of conviction, you might at least do so as a matter of good
+taste, to avoid shocking the religious convictions of your fellow
+citizens. I am aware that these considerations do not weigh with
+Christians; but it is my duty to call your attention to them in order
+that you may have no ground for complaining of your treatment, or of
+accusing the Emperor of cruelty when he is showing you the most signal
+clemency. Looked at from this point of view, every Christian who has
+perished in the arena has really committed suicide.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Captain: your jokes are too grim. Do not think it is easy for us to
+die. Our faith makes life far stronger and more wonderful in us than
+when we walked in darkness and had nothing to live for. Death is harder
+for us than for you: the martyr’s agony is as bitter as his triumph is
+glorious.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_rather troubled, addressing her personally and gravely_) A martyr,
+Lavinia, is a fool. Your death will prove nothing.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Then why kill me?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+I mean that truth, if there be any truth, needs no martyrs.
+
+LAVINIA.
+No; but my faith, like your sword, needs testing. Can you test your
+sword except by staking your life on it?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_suddenly resuming his official tone_) I call the attention of the
+female prisoner to the fact that Christians are not allowed to draw the
+Emperor’s officers into arguments and put questions to them for which
+the military regulations provide no answer. (_The Christians titter_).
+
+LAVINIA.
+Captain: how CAN you?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+I call the female prisoner’s attention specially to the fact that four
+comfortable homes have been offered her by officers of this regiment,
+of which she can have her choice the moment she chooses to sacrifice as
+all well-bred Roman ladies do. I have no more to say to the prisoners.
+
+CENTURION.
+Dismiss! But stay where you are.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Centurion: you will remain here with your men in charge of the
+prisoners until the arrival of three Christian prisoners in the custody
+of a cohort of the tenth legion. Among these prisoners you will
+particularly identify an armorer named Ferrovius, of dangerous
+character and great personal strength, and a Greek tailor reputed to be
+a sorcerer, by name Androcles. You will add the three to your charge
+here and march them all to the Coliseum, where you will deliver them
+into the custody of the master of the gladiators and take his receipt,
+countersigned by the keeper of the beasts and the acting manager. You
+understand your instructions?
+
+CENTURION.
+Yes, Sir.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Dismiss. (_He throws off his air of parade, and descends down from the
+perch. The Centurion seats on it and prepares for a nap, whilst his men
+stand at ease. The Christians sit down on the west side of the square,
+glad to rest. Lavinia alone remains standing to speak to the Captain_).
+
+LAVINIA.
+Captain: is this man who is to join us the famous Ferrovius, who has
+made such wonderful conversions in the northern cities?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Yes. We are warned that he has the strength of an elephant and the
+temper of a mad bull. Also that he is stark mad. Not a model Christian,
+it would seem.
+
+LAVINIA.
+You need not fear him if he is a Christian, Captain.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_coldly_) I shall not fear him in any case, Lavinia.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_her eyes dancing_) How brave of you, Captain!
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+You are right: it was silly thing to say. (_In a lower tone, humane and
+urgent_) Lavinia: do Christians know how to love?
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_composedly_) Yes, Captain: they love even their enemies.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Is that easy?
+
+LAVINIA.
+Very easy, Captain, when their enemies are as handsome as you.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Lavinia: you are laughing at me.
+
+LAVINIA.
+At you, Captain! Impossible.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Then you are flirting with me, which is worse. Don’t be foolish.
+
+LAVINIA.
+But such a very handsome captain.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Incorrigible! (_Urgently_) Listen to me. The men in that audience
+tomorrow will be the vilest of voluptuaries: men in whom the only
+passion excited by a beautiful woman is a lust to see her tortured and
+torn shrieking limb from limb. It is a crime to dignify that passion.
+It is offering yourself for violation by the whole rabble of the
+streets and the riff-raff of the court at the same time. Why will you
+not choose rather a kindly love and an honorable alliance?
+
+LAVINIA.
+They cannot violate my soul. I alone can do that by sacrificing to
+false gods.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Sacrifice then to the true God. What does his name matter? We call him
+Jupiter. The Greeks call him Zeus. Call him what you will as you drop
+the incense on the altar flame: He will understand.
+
+LAVINIA.
+No. I couldn’t. That is the strange thing, Captain, that a little pinch
+of incense should make all that difference. Religion is such a great
+thing that when I meet really religious people we are friends at once,
+no matter what name we give to the divine will that made us and moves
+us. Oh, do you think that I, a woman, would quarrel with you for
+sacrificing to a woman god like Diana, if Diana meant to you what
+Christ means to me? No: we should kneel side by side before her altar
+like two children. But when men who believe neither in my god nor in
+their own—men who do not know the meaning of the word religion—when
+these men drag me to the foot of an iron statue that has become the
+symbol of the terror and darkness through which they walk, of their
+cruelty and greed, of their hatred of God and their oppression of
+man—when they ask me to pledge my soul before the people that this
+hideous idol is God, and that all this wickedness and falsehood is
+divine truth, I cannot do it, not if they could put a thousand cruel
+deaths on me. I tell you, it is physically impossible. Listen, Captain:
+did you ever try to catch a mouse in your hand? Once there was a dear
+little mouse that used to come out and play on my table as I was
+reading. I wanted to take him in my hand and caress him; and sometimes
+he got among my books so that he could not escape me when I stretched
+out my hand. And I did stretch out my hand; but it always came back in
+spite of me. I was not afraid of him in my heart; but my hand refused:
+it is not in the nature of my hand to touch a mouse. Well, Captain, if
+I took a pinch of incense in my hand and stretched it out over the
+altar fire, my hand would come back. My body would be true to my faith
+even if you could corrupt my mind. And all the time I should believe
+more in Diana than my persecutors have ever believed in anything. Can
+you understand that?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_simply_) Yes: I understand that. But my hand would not come back. The
+hand that holds the sword has been trained not to come back from
+anything but victory.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Not even from death?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Least of all from death.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Then I must not come back either. A woman has to be braver than a
+soldier.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Prouder, you mean.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_startled_) Prouder! You call our courage pride!
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+There is no such thing as courage: there is only pride. You Christians
+are the proudest devils on earth.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_hurt_) Pray God then my pride may never become a false pride. (_She
+turns away as if she did not wish to continue the conversation, but
+softens and says to him with a smile_) Thank you for trying to save me
+from death.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+I knew it was no use; but one tries in spite of one’s knowledge.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Something stirs, even in the iron breast of a Roman soldier!
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+It will soon be iron again. I have seen many women die, and forgotten
+them in a week.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Remember me for a fortnight, handsome Captain. I shall be watching you,
+perhaps.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+From the skies? Do not deceive yourself, Lavinia. There is no future
+for you beyond the grave.
+
+LAVINIA.
+What does that matter? Do you think I am only running away from the
+terrors of life into the comfort of heaven? If there were no future, or
+if the future were one of torment, I should have to go just the same.
+The hand of God is upon me.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Yes: when all is said, we are both patricians, Lavinia, and must die
+for our beliefs. Farewell. (_He offers her his hand. She takes it and
+presses it. He walks away, trim and calm. She looks after him for a
+moment, and cries a little as he disappears through the eastern arch. A
+trumpet-call is heard from the road through the western arch_).
+
+CENTURION.
+(_waking up and rising_) Cohort of the tenth with prisoners. Two file
+out with me to receive them. (_He goes out through the western arch,
+followed by four soldiers in two files_).
+
+_Lentulus and Metellus come into the square from the west side with a
+little retinue of servants. Both are young courtiers, dressed in the
+extremity of fashion. Lentulus is slender, fair-haired, epicene.
+Metellus is manly, compactly built, olive skinned, not a talker._
+
+LENTULUS.
+Christians, by Jove! Let’s chaff them.
+
+METELLUS.
+Awful brutes. If you knew as much about them as I do you wouldn’t want
+to chaff them. Leave them to the lions.
+
+LENTULUS.
+(_indicating Lavinia, who is still looking towards the arches after the
+captain_). That woman’s got a figure. (_He walks past her, staring at
+her invitingly, but she is preoccupied and is not conscious of him_).
+Do you turn the other cheek when they kiss you?
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_starting_) What?
+
+LENTULUS.
+Do you turn the other cheek when they kiss you, fascinating Christian?
+
+LAVINIA.
+Don’t be foolish. (_To Metellus, who has remained on her right, so that
+she is between them_) Please don’t let your friend behave like a cad
+before the soldiers. How are they to respect and obey patricians if
+they see them behaving like street boys? (_Sharply to Lentulus_) Pull
+yourself together, man. Hold your head up. Keep the corners of your
+mouth firm; and treat me respectfully. What do you take me for?
+
+LENTULUS.
+(_irresolutely_) Look here, you know: I—you—I—
+
+LAVINIA.
+Stuff! Go about your business. (_She turns decisively away and sits
+down with her comrades, leaving him disconcerted_).
+
+METELLUS.
+You didn’t get much out of that. I told you they were brutes.
+
+LENTULUS.
+Plucky little filly! I suppose she thinks I care. (_With an air of
+indifference he strolls with Metellus to the east side of the square,
+where they stand watching the return of the Centurion through the
+western arch with his men, escorting three prisoners: Ferrovius,
+Androcles, and Spintho. Ferrovius is a powerful, choleric man in the
+prime of life, with large nostrils, staring eyes, and a thick neck: a
+man whose sensibilities are keen and violent to the verge of madness.
+Spintho is a debauchee, the wreck of a good-looking man gone hopelessly
+to the bad. Androcles is overwhelmed with grief, and is restraining his
+tears with great difficulty_).
+
+THE CENTURION.
+(_to Lavinia_) Here are some pals for you. This little bit is Ferrovius
+that you talk so much about. (_Ferrovius turns on him threateningly.
+The Centurion holds up his left forefinger in admonition_). Now
+remember that you’re a Christian, and that you’ve got to return good
+for evil. (_Ferrovius controls himself convulsively; moves away from
+temptation to the east side near Lentulus; clasps his hands in silent
+prayer; and throws himself on his knees_). That’s the way to manage
+them, eh! This fine fellow (_indicating Androcles, who comes to his
+left, and makes Lavinia a heartbroken salutation_) is a sorcerer. A
+Greek tailor, he is. A real sorcerer, too: no mistake about it. The
+tenth marches with a leopard at the head of the column. He made a pet
+of the leopard; and now he’s crying at being parted from it.
+(_Androcles sniffs lamentably_). Ain’t you, old chap? Well, cheer up,
+we march with a Billy goat (_Androcles brightens up_) that’s killed two
+leopards and ate a turkey-cock. You can have him for a pet if you like.
+(_Androcles, quite consoled, goes past the Centurion to Lavinia, and
+sits down contentedly on the ground on her left_). This dirty dog
+(_collaring Spintho_) is a real Christian. He mobs the temples, he does
+(_at each accusation he gives the neck of Spintho’s tunic a twist_); he
+goes smashing things mad drunk, he does; he steals the gold vessels, he
+does; he assaults the priestesses, he does pah! (_He flings Spintho
+into the middle of the group of prisoners_). You’re the sort that makes
+duty a pleasure, you are.
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_gasping_) That’s it: strangle me. Kick me. Beat me. Revile me. Our
+Lord was beaten and reviled. That’s my way to heaven. Every martyr goes
+to heaven, no matter what he’s done. That is so, isn’t it, brother?
+
+CENTURION.
+Well, if you’re going to heaven, _I_ don’t want to go there. I wouldn’t
+be seen with you.
+
+LENTULUS.
+Haw! Good! (_Indicating the kneeling Ferrovius_). Is this one of the
+turn-the-other-cheek gentlemen, Centurion?
+
+CENTURION.
+Yes, sir. Lucky for you too, sir, if you want to take any liberties
+with him.
+
+LENTULUS.
+(_to Ferrovius_) You turn the other cheek when you’re struck, I’m told.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_slowly turning his great eyes on him_) Yes, by the grace of God, I
+do, now.
+
+LENTULUS.
+Not that you’re a coward, of course; but out of pure piety.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+I fear God more than man; at least I try to.
+
+LENTULUS.
+Let’s see. (_He strikes him on the cheek. Androcles makes a wild
+movement to rise and interfere; but Lavinia holds him down, watching
+Ferrovius intently. Ferrovius, without flinching, turns the other
+cheek. Lentulus, rather out of countenance, titters foolishly, and
+strikes him again feebly_). You know, I should feel ashamed if I let
+myself be struck like that, and took it lying down. But then I’m not a
+Christian: I’m a man. (_Ferrovius rises impressively and towers over
+him. Lentulus becomes white with terror; and a shade of green flickers
+in his cheek for a moment_).
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_with the calm of a steam hammer_) I have not always been faithful.
+The first man who struck me as you have just struck me was a stronger
+man than you: he hit me harder than I expected. I was tempted and fell;
+and it was then that I first tasted bitter shame. I never had a happy
+moment after that until I had knelt and asked his forgiveness by his
+bedside in the hospital. (_Putting his hands on Lentulus’s shoulders
+with paternal weight_). But now I have learnt to resist with a strength
+that is not my own. I am not ashamed now, nor angry.
+
+LENTULUS.
+(_uneasily_) Er—good evening. (_He tries to move away_).
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_gripping his shoulders_) Oh, do not harden your heart, young man.
+Come: try for yourself whether our way is not better than yours. I will
+now strike you on one cheek; and you will turn the other and learn how
+much better you will feel than if you gave way to the promptings of
+anger. (_He holds him with one hand and clenches the other fist_).
+
+LENTULUS.
+Centurion: I call on you to protect me.
+
+CENTURION.
+You asked for it, sir. It’s no business of ours. You’ve had two whacks
+at him. Better pay him a trifle and square it that way.
+
+LENTULUS.
+Yes, of course. (_To Ferrovius_) It was only a bit of fun, I assure
+you: I meant no harm. Here. (_He proffers a gold coin_).
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_taking it and throwing it to the old beggar, who snatches it up
+eagerly, and hobbles off to spend it_) Give all thou hast to the poor.
+Come, friend: courage! I may hurt your body for a moment; but your soul
+will rejoice in the victory of the spirit over the flesh. (_He prepares
+to strike_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Easy, Ferrovius, easy: you broke the last man’s jaw.
+
+_Lentulus, with a moan of terror, attempts to fly; but Ferrovius holds
+him ruthlessly._
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Yes; but I saved his soul. What matters a broken jaw?
+
+LENTULUS.
+Don’t touch me, do you hear? The law—
+
+FERROVIUS.
+The law will throw me to the lions tomorrow: what worse could it do
+were I to slay you? Pray for strength; and it shall be given to you.
+
+LENTULUS.
+Let me go. Your religion forbids you to strike me.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+On the contrary, it commands me to strike you. How can you turn the
+other cheek, if you are not first struck on the one cheek?
+
+LENTULUS.
+(_almost in tears_) But I’m convinced already that what you said is
+quite right. I apologize for striking you.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_greatly pleased_) My son: have I softened your heart? Has the good
+seed fallen in a fruitful place? Are your feet turning towards a better
+path?
+
+LENTULUS.
+(_abjectly_) Yes, yes. There’s a great deal in what you say.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_radiant_) Join us. Come to the lions. Come to suffering and death.
+
+LENTULUS.
+(_falling on his knees and bursting into tears_) Oh, help me. Mother!
+mother!
+
+FERROVIUS.
+These tears will water your soul and make it bring forth good fruit, my
+son. God has greatly blessed my efforts at conversion. Shall I tell you
+a miracle—yes, a miracle—wrought by me in Cappadocia? A young man—just
+such a one as you, with golden hair like yours—scoffed at and struck me
+as you scoffed at and struck me. I sat up all night with that youth
+wrestling for his soul; and in the morning not only was he a Christian,
+but his hair was as white as snow. (_Lentulus falls in a dead faint_).
+There, there: take him away. The spirit has overwrought him, poor lad.
+Carry him gently to his house; and leave the rest to heaven.
+
+CENTURION.
+Take him home. (_The servants, intimidated, hastily carry him out.
+Metellus is about to follow when Ferrovius lays his hand on his
+shoulder_).
+
+FERROVIUS.
+You are his friend, young man. You will see that he is taken safely
+home.
+
+METELLUS.
+(_with awestruck civility_) Certainly, sir. I shall do whatever you
+think best. Most happy to have made your acquaintance, I’m sure. You
+may depend on me. Good evening, sir.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_with unction_) The blessing of heaven upon you and him.
+
+_Metellus follows Lentulus. The Centurion returns to his seat to resume
+his interrupted nap. The deepest awe has settled on the spectators.
+Ferrovius, with a long sigh of happiness, goes to Lavinia, and offers
+her his hand._
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_taking it_) So that is how you convert people, Ferrovius.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Yes: there has been a blessing on my work in spite of my unworthiness
+and my backslidings—all through my wicked, devilish temper. This man—
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_hastily_) Don’t slap me on the back, brother. She knows you mean me.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+How I wish I were weak like our brother here! for then I should perhaps
+be meek and gentle like him. And yet there seems to be a special
+providence that makes my trials less than his. I hear tales of the
+crowd scoffing and casting stones and reviling the brethren; but when I
+come, all this stops: my influence calms the passions of the mob: they
+listen to me in silence; and infidels are often converted by a straight
+heart-to-heart talk with me. Every day I feel happier, more confident.
+Every day lightens the load of the great terror.
+
+LAVINIA.
+The great terror? What is that?
+
+_Ferrovius shakes his head and does not answer. He sits down beside her
+on her left, and buries his face in his hands in gloomy meditation._
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Well, you see, sister, he’s never quite sure of himself. Suppose at the
+last moment in the arena, with the gladiators there to fight him, one
+of them was to say anything to annoy him, he might forget himself and
+lay that gladiator out.
+
+LAVINIA.
+That would be splendid.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_springing up in horror_) What!
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Oh, sister!
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Splendid to betray my master, like Peter! Splendid to act like any
+common blackguard in the day of my proving! Woman: you are no
+Christian. (_He moves away from her to the middle of the square, as if
+her neighborhood contaminated him_).
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_laughing_) You know, Ferrovius, I am not always a Christian. I don’t
+think anybody is. There are moments when I forget all about it, and
+something comes out quite naturally, as it did then.
+
+SPINTHO.
+What does it matter? If you die in the arena, you’ll be a martyr; and
+all martyrs go to heaven, no matter what they have done. That’s so,
+isn’t it, Ferrovius?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Yes: that is so, if we are faithful to the end.
+
+LAVINIA.
+I’m not so sure.
+
+SPINTHO.
+Don’t say that. That’s blasphemy. Don’t say that, I tell you. We shall
+be saved, no matter WHAT we do.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Perhaps you men will all go into heaven bravely and in triumph, with
+your heads erect and golden trumpets sounding for you. But I am sure I
+shall only be allowed to squeeze myself in through a little crack in
+the gate after a great deal of begging. I am not good always: I have
+moments only.
+
+SPINTHO.
+You’re talking nonsense, woman. I tell you, martyrdom pays all scores.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Well, let us hope so, brother, for your sake. You’ve had a gay time,
+haven’t you? with your raids on the temples. I can’t help thinking that
+heaven will be very dull for a man of your temperament. (_Spintho
+snarls_). Don’t be angry: I say it only to console you in case you
+should die in your bed tonight in the natural way. There’s a lot of
+plague about.
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_rising and running about in abject terror_) I never thought of that.
+O Lord, spare me to be martyred. Oh, what a thought to put into the
+mind of a brother! Oh, let me be martyred today, now. I shall die in
+the night and go to hell. You’re a sorcerer: you’ve put death into my
+mind. Oh, curse you, curse you! (_He tries to seize Androcles by the
+throat_).
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_holding him in a grip of iron_) What’s this, brother? Anger!
+Violence! Raising your hand to a brother Christian!
+
+SPINTHO.
+It’s easy for you. You’re strong. Your nerves are all right. But I’m
+full of disease. (_Ferrovius takes his hand from him with instinctive
+disgust_). I’ve drunk all my nerves away. I shall have the horrors all
+night.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_sympathetic_) Oh, don’t take on so, brother. We’re all sinners.
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_snivelling, trying to feel consoled_). Yes: I daresay if the truth
+were known, you’re all as bad as I am.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_contemptuously_) Does that comfort you?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_sternly_) Pray, man, pray.
+
+SPINTHO.
+What’s the good of praying? If we’re martyred we shall go to heaven,
+shan’t we, whether we pray or not?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+What’s that? Not pray! (_Seizing him again_) Pray this instant, you
+dog, you rotten hound, you slimy snake, you beastly goat, or—
+
+SPINTHO.
+Yes: beat me: kick me. I forgive you: mind that.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_spurning him with loathing_) Yah! (_Spintho reels away and falls in
+front of Ferrovius_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_reaching out and catching the skirt of Ferrovius’s tunic_) Dear
+brother: if you wouldn’t mind—just for my sake—
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Well?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Don’t call him by the names of the animals. We’ve no right to. I’ve had
+such friends in dogs. A pet snake is the best of company. I was nursed
+on goat’s milk. Is it fair to them to call the like of him a dog or a
+snake or a goat?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+I only meant that they have no souls.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_anxiously protesting_) Oh, believe me, they have. Just the same as
+you and me. I really don’t think I could consent to go to heaven if I
+thought there were to be no animals there. Think of what they suffer
+here.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+That’s true. Yes: that is just. They will have their share in heaven.
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_who has picked himself up and is sneaking past Ferrovius on his left,
+sneers derisively_)!!
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_turning on him fiercely_) What’s that you say?
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_cornering_). Nothing.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_clenching his fist_) Do animals go to heaven or not?
+
+SPINTHO.
+I never said they didn’t.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_implacable_) Do they or do they not?
+
+SPINTHO.
+They do: they do. (_Scrambling out of Ferrovius’s reach_). Oh, curse
+you for frightening me!
+
+_A bugle call is heard._
+
+CENTURION.
+(_waking up_) Tention! Form as before. Now then, prisoners, up with you
+and trot along spry. (_The soldiers fall in. The Christians rise_).
+
+A man with an ox goad comes running through the central arch.
+
+THE OX DRIVER.
+Here, you soldiers! clear out of the way for the Emperor.
+
+THE CENTURION.
+Emperor! Where’s the Emperor? You ain’t the Emperor, are you?
+
+THE OX DRIVER.
+It’s the menagerie service. My team of oxen is drawing the new lion to
+the Coliseum. You clear the road.
+
+CENTURION.
+What! Go in after you in your dust, with half the town at the heels of
+you and your lion! Not likely. We go first.
+
+THE OX DRIVER.
+The menagerie service is the Emperor’s personal retinue. You clear out,
+I tell you.
+
+CENTURION.
+You tell me, do you? Well, I’ll tell you something. If the lion is
+menagerie service, the lion’s dinner is menagerie service too. This
+(_pointing to the Christians_) is the lion’s dinner. So back with you
+to your bullocks double quick; and learn your place. March. (_The
+soldiers start_). Now then, you Christians, step out there.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_marching_) Come along, the rest of the dinner. I shall be the olives
+and anchovies.
+
+ANOTHER CHRISTIAN.
+(_laughing_) I shall be the soup.
+
+ANOTHER. I shall be the fish.
+
+ANOTHER. Ferrovius shall be the roast boar.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_heavily_) I see the joke. Yes, yes: I shall be the roast boar. Ha!
+ha! (_He laughs conscientiously and marches out with them_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I shall be the mince pie. (_Each announcement is received with a louder
+laugh by all the rest as the joke catches on_).
+
+CENTURION.
+(_scandalised_) Silence! Have some sense of your situation. Is this the
+way for martyrs to behave? (_To Spintho, who is quaking and loitering_)
+I know what you’ll be at that dinner. You’ll be the emetic. (_He shoves
+him rudely along_).
+
+SPINTHO.
+It’s too dreadful: I’m not fit to die.
+
+CENTURION.
+Fitter than you are to live, you swine.
+
+_They pass from the square westward. The oxen, drawing a waggon with a
+great wooden cage and the lion in it, arrive through the central arch._
+
+
+
+
+ ACT II
+
+
+Behind the Emperor’s box at the Coliseum, where the performers assemble
+before entering the arena. In the middle a wide passage leading to the
+arena descends from the floor level under the imperial box. On both
+sides of this passage steps ascend to a landing at the back entrance to
+the box. The landing forms a bridge across the passage. At the entrance
+to the passage are two bronze mirrors, one on each side.
+
+On the west side of this passage, on the right hand of any one coming
+from the box and standing on the bridge, the martyrs are sitting on the
+steps. Lavinia is seated half-way up, thoughtful, trying to look death
+in the face. On her left Androcles consoles himself by nursing a cat.
+Ferrovius stands behind them, his eyes blazing, his figure stiff with
+intense resolution. At the foot of the steps crouches Spintho, with his
+head clutched in his hands, full of horror at the approach of
+martyrdom.
+
+On the east side of the passage the gladiators are standing and sitting
+at ease, waiting, like the Christians, for their turn in the arena. One
+(_Retiarius_) is a nearly naked man with a net and a trident. Another
+(_Secutor_) is in armor with a sword. He carries a helmet with a barred
+visor. The editor of the gladiators sits on a chair a little apart from
+them.
+
+_The Call Boy enters from the passage._
+
+THE CALL BOY.
+Number six. Retiarius versus Secutor.
+
+_The gladiator with the net picks it up. The gladiator with the helmet
+puts it on; and the two go into the arena, the net thrower taking out a
+little brush and arranging his hair as he goes, the other tightening
+his straps and shaking his shoulders loose. Both look at themselves in
+the mirrors before they enter the passage._
+
+LAVINIA.
+Will they really kill one another?
+
+SPINTHO.
+Yes, if the people turn down their thumbs.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+You know nothing about it. The people indeed! Do you suppose we would
+kill a man worth perhaps fifty talents to please the riffraff? I should
+like to catch any of my men at it.
+
+SPINTHO.
+I thought—
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_contemptuously_) You thought! Who cares what you think? You’ll be
+killed all right enough.
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_groans and again hides his face_)!!! Then is nobody ever killed
+except us poor—
+
+LAVINIA.
+Christians?
+
+THE EDITOR.
+If the vestal virgins turn down their thumbs, that’s another matter.
+They’re ladies of rank.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Does the Emperor ever interfere?
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Oh, yes: he turns his thumbs up fast enough if the vestal virgins want
+to have one of his pet fighting men killed.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+But don’t they ever just only pretend to kill one another? Why
+shouldn’t you pretend to die, and get dragged out as if you were dead;
+and then get up and go home, like an actor?
+
+THE EDITOR.
+See here: you want to know too much. There will be no pretending about
+the new lion: let that be enough for you. He’s hungry.
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_groaning with horror_) Oh, Lord! Can’t you stop talking about it?
+Isn’t it bad enough for us without that?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I’m glad he’s hungry. Not that I want him to suffer, poor chap! but
+then he’ll enjoy eating me so much more. There’s a cheerful side to
+everything.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_rising and striding over to Androcles_) Here: don’t you be obstinate.
+Come with me and drop the pinch of incense on the altar. That’s all you
+need do to be let off.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+No: thank you very much indeed; but I really mustn’t.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+What! Not to save your life?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I’d rather not. I couldn’t sacrifice to Diana: she’s a huntress, you
+know, and kills things.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+That don’t matter. You can choose your own altar. Sacrifice to Jupiter:
+he likes animals: he turns himself into an animal when he goes off
+duty.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+No: it’s very kind of you; but I feel I can’t save myself that way.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+But I don’t ask you to do it to save yourself: I ask you to do it to
+oblige me personally.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_scrambling up in the greatest agitation_) Oh, please don’t say that.
+That is dreadful. You mean so kindly by me that it seems quite horrible
+to disoblige you. If you could arrange for me to sacrifice when there’s
+nobody looking, I shouldn’t mind. But I must go into the arena with the
+rest. My honor, you know.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Honor! The honor of a tailor?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_apologetically_) Well, perhaps honor is too strong an expression.
+Still, you know, I couldn’t allow the tailors to get a bad name through
+me.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+How much will you remember of all that when you smell the beast’s
+breath and see his jaws opening to tear out your throat?
+
+SPINTHO.
+(_rising with a yell of terror_) I can’t bear it. Where’s the altar?
+I’ll sacrifice.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Dog of an apostate. Iscariot!
+
+SPINTHO.
+I’ll repent afterwards. I fully mean to die in the arena I’ll die a
+martyr and go to heaven; but not this time, not now, not until my
+nerves are better. Besides, I’m too young: I want to have just one more
+good time. (_The gladiators laugh at him_). Oh, will no one tell me
+where the altar is? (_He dashes into the passage and vanishes_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_to the Editor, pointing after Spintho_) Brother: I can’t do that, not
+even to oblige you. Don’t ask me.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Well, if you’re determined to die, I can’t help you. But I wouldn’t be
+put off by a swine like that.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Peace, peace: tempt him not. Get thee behind him, Satan.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_flushing with rage_) For two pins I’d take a turn in the arena myself
+to-day, and pay you out for daring to talk to me like that.
+
+_Ferrovius springs forward._
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_rising quickly and interposing_) Brother, brother: you forget.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_curbing himself by a mighty effort_) Oh, my temper, my wicked temper!
+(_To the Editor, as Lavinia sits down again, reassured_). Forgive me,
+brother. My heart was full of wrath: I should have been thinking of
+your dear precious soul.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Yah! (_He turns his back on Ferrovius contemptuously, and goes back to
+his seat_).
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_continuing_) And I forgot it all: I thought of nothing but offering
+to fight you with one hand tied behind me.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_turning pugnaciously_) What!
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_on the border line between zeal and ferocity_) Oh, don’t give way to
+pride and wrath, brother. I could do it so easily. I could—
+
+_They are separated by the Menagerie Keeper, who rushes in from the
+passage, furious._
+
+THE KEEPER.
+Here’s a nice business! Who let that Christian out of here down to the
+dens when we were changing the lion into the cage next the arena?
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Nobody let him. He let himself.
+
+THE KEEPER.
+Well, the lion’s ate him.
+
+_Consternation. The Christians rise, greatly agitated. The gladiators
+sit callously, but are highly amused. All speak or cry out or laugh at
+once. Tumult._
+
+LAVINIA. Oh, poor wretch! FERROVIUS. The apostate has perished. Praise
+be to God’s justice! ANDROCLES. The poor beast was starving. It
+couldn’t help itself. THE CHRISTIANS. What! Ate him! How frightful! How
+terrible! Without a moment to repent! God be merciful to him, a sinner!
+Oh, I can’t bear to think of it! In the midst of his sin! Horrible,
+horrible! THE EDITOR. Serve the rotter right! THE GLADIATORS. Just
+walked into it, he did. He’s martyred all right enough. Good old lion!
+Old Jock doesn’t like that: look at his face. Devil a better! The
+Emperor will laugh when he hears of it. I can’t help smiling. Ha ha
+ha!!!!!
+
+THE KEEPER.
+Now his appetite’s taken off, he won’t as much as look at another
+Christian for a week.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Couldn’t you have saved him brother?
+
+THE KEEPER.
+Saved him! Saved him from a lion that I’d just got mad with hunger! a
+wild one that came out of the forest not four weeks ago! He bolted him
+before you could say Balbus.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_sitting down again_) Poor Spintho! And it won’t even count as
+martyrdom!
+
+THE KEEPER.
+Serve him right! What call had he to walk down the throat of one of my
+lions before he was asked?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Perhaps the lion won’t eat me now.
+
+THE KEEPER.
+Yes: that’s just like a Christian: think only of yourself! What am I to
+do? What am I to say to the Emperor when he sees one of my lions coming
+into the arena half asleep?
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Say nothing. Give your old lion some bitters and a morsel of fried fish
+to wake up his appetite. (_Laughter_).
+
+THE KEEPER.
+Yes: it’s easy for you to talk; but—
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_scrambling to his feet_) Sh! Attention there! The Emperor. (_The
+Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The gladiators rise
+smartly and form into line_).
+
+The Emperor enters on the Christians’ side, conversing with Metellus,
+and followed by his suite.
+
+THE GLADIATORS.
+Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.
+
+CAESAR.
+Good morrow, friends.
+
+_Metellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his condescension
+with bluff respect._
+
+LAVINIA.
+Blessing, Caesar, and forgiveness!
+
+CAESAR.
+(_turning in some surprise at the salutation_) There is no forgiveness
+for Christianity.
+
+LAVINIA.
+I did not mean that, Caesar. I mean that we forgive you.
+
+METELLUS.
+An inconceivable liberty! Do you not know, woman, that the Emperor can
+do no wrong and therefore cannot be forgiven?
+
+LAVINIA.
+I expect the Emperor knows better. Anyhow, we forgive him.
+
+THE CHRISTIANS. Amen!
+
+CAESAR.
+Metellus: you see now the disadvantage of too much severity. These
+people have no hope; therefore they have nothing to restrain them from
+saying what they like to me. They are almost as impertinent as the
+gladiators. Which is the Greek sorcerer?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_humbly touching his forelock_) Me, your Worship.
+
+CAESAR.
+My Worship! Good! A new title. Well, what miracles can you perform?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I can cure warts by rubbing them with my tailor’s chalk; and I can live
+with my wife without beating her.
+
+CAESAR.
+Is that all?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+You don’t know her, Caesar, or you wouldn’t say that.
+
+CAESAR.
+Ah, well, my friend, we shall no doubt contrive a happy release for
+you. Which is Ferrovius?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+I am he.
+
+CAESAR.
+They tell me you can fight.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+It is easy to fight. I can die, Caesar.
+
+CAESAR.
+That is still easier, is it not?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Not to me, Caesar. Death comes hard to my flesh; and fighting comes
+very easily to my spirit (_beating his breast and lamenting_) O sinner
+that I am! (_He throws himself down on the steps, deeply discouraged_).
+
+CAESAR.
+Metellus: I should like to have this man in the Pretorian Guard.
+
+METELLUS.
+I should not, Caesar. He looks a spoilsport. There are men in whose
+presence it is impossible to have any fun: men who are a sort of
+walking conscience. He would make us all uncomfortable.
+
+CAESAR.
+For that reason, perhaps, it might be well to have him. An Emperor can
+hardly have too many consciences. (_To Ferrovius_) Listen, Ferrovius.
+(_Ferrovius shakes his head and will not look up_). You and your
+friends shall not be outnumbered to-day in the arena. You shall have
+arms; and there will be no more than one gladiator to each Christian.
+If you come out of the arena alive, I will consider favorably any
+request of yours, and give you a place in the Pretorian Guard. Even if
+the request be that no questions be asked about your faith I shall
+perhaps not refuse it.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the archangels than
+with the Pretorian Guard.
+
+CAESAR.
+I cannot believe that the archangels—whoever they may be—would not
+prefer to be recruited from the Pretorian Guard. However, as you
+please. Come: let us see the show.
+
+_As the Court ascends the steps, Secutor and the Retiarius return from
+the arena through the passage; Secutor covered with dust and very
+angry: Retiarius grinning._
+
+SECUTOR.
+Ha, the Emperor. Now we shall see. Caesar: I ask you whether it is fair
+for the Retiarius, instead of making a fair throw of his net at me, to
+swish it along the ground and throw the dust in my eyes, and then catch
+me when I’m blinded. If the vestals had not turned up their thumbs I
+should have been a dead man.
+
+CAESAR.
+(_halting on the stair_) There is nothing in the rules against it.
+
+SECUTOR.
+(_indignantly_) Caesar: is it a dirty trick or is it not?
+
+CAESAR.
+It is a dusty one, my friend. (_Obsequious laughter_). Be on your guard
+next time.
+
+SECUTOR.
+Let HIM be on his guard. Next time I’ll throw my sword at his heels and
+strangle him with his own net before he can hop off. (_To Retiarius_)
+You see if I don’t. (_He goes out past the gladiators, sulky and
+furious_).
+
+CAESAR.
+(_to the chuckling Retiarius_). These tricks are not wise, my friend.
+The audience likes to see a dead man in all his beauty and splendor. If
+you smudge his face and spoil his armor they will show their
+displeasure by not letting you kill him. And when your turn comes, they
+will remember it against you and turn their thumbs down.
+
+THE RETIARIUS.
+Perhaps that is why I did it, Caesar. He bet me ten sesterces that he
+would vanquish me. If I had had to kill him I should not have had the
+money.
+
+CAESAR.
+(_indulgent, laughing_) You rogues: there is no end to your tricks.
+I’ll dismiss you all and have elephants to fight. They fight fairly.
+(_He goes up to his box, and knocks at it. It is opened from within by
+the Captain, who stands as on parade to let him pass_). The Call Boy
+comes from the passage, followed by three attendants carrying
+respectively a bundle of swords, some helmets, and some breastplates
+and pieces of armor which they throw down in a heap.
+
+THE CALL BOY.
+By your leave, Caesar. Number eleven! Gladiators and Christians!
+
+_Ferrovius springs up, ready for martyrdom. The other Christians take
+the summons as best they can, some joyful and brave, some patient and
+dignified, some tearful and helpless, some embracing one another with
+emotion. The Call Boy goes back into the passage._
+
+CAESAR.
+(_turning at the door of the box_) The hour has come, Ferrovius. I
+shall go into my box and see you killed, since you scorn the Pretorian
+Guard. (_He goes into the box. The Captain shuts the door, remaining
+inside with the Emperor. Metellus and the rest of the suite disperse to
+their seats. The Christians, led by Ferrovius, move towards the
+passage_).
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_to Ferrovius_) Farewell.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Steady there. You Christians have got to fight. Here! arm yourselves.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_picking up a sword_) I’ll die sword in hand to show people that I
+could fight if it were my Master’s will, and that I could kill the man
+who kills me if I chose.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Put on that armor.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+No armor.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_bullying him_) Do what you’re told. Put on that armor.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_gripping the sword and looking dangerous_) I said, No armor.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+And what am I to say when I am accused of sending a naked man in to
+fight my men in armor?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Say your prayers, brother; and have no fear of the princes of this
+world.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Tsha! You obstinate fool! (_He bites his lips irresolutely, not knowing
+exactly what to do_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_to Ferrovius_) Farewell, brother, till we meet in the sweet
+by-and-by.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_to Androcles_) You are going too. Take a sword there; and put on any
+armor you can find to fit you.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+No, really: I can’t fight: I never could. I can’t bring myself to
+dislike anyone enough. I’m to be thrown to the lions with the lady.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Then get out of the way and hold your noise. (_Androcles steps aside
+with cheerful docility_). Now then! Are you all ready there?
+
+_A trumpet is heard from the arena._
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_starting convulsively_) Heaven give me strength!
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Aha! That frightens you, does it?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Man: there is no terror like the terror of that sound to me. When I
+hear a trumpet or a drum or the clash of steel or the hum of the
+catapult as the great stone flies, fire runs through my veins: I feel
+my blood surge up hot behind my eyes: I must charge: I must strike: I
+must conquer: Caesar himself will not be safe in his imperial seat if
+once that spirit gets loose in me. Oh, brothers, pray! exhort me!
+remind me that if I raise my sword my honor falls and my Master is
+crucified afresh.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Just keep thinking how cruelly you might hurt the poor gladiators.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+It does not hurt a man to kill him.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Nothing but faith can save you.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Faith! Which faith? There are two faiths. There is our faith. And there
+is the warrior’s faith, the faith in fighting, the faith that sees God
+in the sword. How if that faith should overwhelm me?
+
+LAVINIA.
+You will find your real faith in the hour of trial.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+That is what I fear. I know that I am a fighter. How can I feel sure
+that I am a Christian?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Throw away the sword, brother.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+I cannot. It cleaves to my hand. I could as easily throw a woman I
+loved from my arms. (_Starting_) Who spoke that blasphemy? Not I.
+
+LAVINIA.
+I can’t help you, friend. I can’t tell you not to save your own life.
+Something wilful in me wants to see you fight your way into heaven.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Ha!
+
+ANDROCLES.
+But if you are going to give up our faith, brother, why not do it
+without hurting anybody? Don’t fight them. Burn the incense.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Burn the incense! Never.
+
+LAVINIA.
+That is only pride, Ferrovius.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+ONLY pride! What is nobler than pride? (_Conscience stricken_) Oh, I’m
+steeped in sin. I’m proud of my pride.
+
+LAVINIA.
+They say we Christians are the proudest devils on earth—that only the
+weak are meek. Oh, I am worse than you. I ought to send you to death;
+and I am tempting you.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Brother, brother: let them rage and kill: let us be brave and suffer.
+You must go as a lamb to the slaughter.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Aye, aye: that is right. Not as a lamb is slain by the butcher; but as
+a butcher might let himself be slain by a (_looking at the Editor_) by
+a silly ram whose head he could fetch off in one twist.
+
+_Before the Editor can retort, the Call Boy rushes up through the
+passage; and the Captain comes from the Emperor’s box and descends the
+steps._
+
+THE CALL BOY.
+In with you: into the arena. The stage is waiting.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+The Emperor is waiting. (_To the Editor_) What are you dreaming of,
+man? Send your men in at once.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Yes, Sir: it’s these Christians hanging back.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_in a voice of thunder_) Liar!
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_not heeding him_) March. (_The gladiators told off to fight with the
+Christians march down the passage_) Follow up there, you.
+
+THE CHRISTIAN MEN AND WOMEN.
+(_as they part_) Be steadfast, brother. Farewell. Hold up the faith,
+brother. Farewell. Go to glory, dearest. Farewell. Remember: we are
+praying for you. Farewell. Be strong, brother. Farewell. Don’t forget
+that the divine love and our love surround you. Farewell. Nothing can
+hurt you: remember that, brother. Farewell. Eternal glory, dearest.
+Farewell.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_out of patience_) Shove them in, there.
+
+_The remaining gladiators and the Call Boy make a movement towards
+them._
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_interposing_) Touch them, dogs; and we die here, and cheat the
+heathen of their spectacle. (_To his fellow Christians_) Brothers: the
+great moment has come. That passage is your hill to Calvary. Mount it
+bravely, but meekly; and remember! not a word of reproach, not a blow
+nor a struggle. Go. (_They go out through the passage. He turns to
+Lavinia_) Farewell.
+
+LAVINIA.
+You forget: I must follow before you are cold.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+It is true. Do not envy me because I pass before you to glory. (_He
+goes through the passage_).
+
+THE EDITOR.
+(_to the Call Boy_) Sickening work, this. Why can’t they all be thrown
+to the lions? It’s not a man’s job. (_He throws himself moodily into
+his chair_).
+
+_The remaining gladiators go back to their former places indifferently.
+The Call Boy shrugs his shoulders and squats down at the entrance to
+the passage, near the Editor._
+
+_Lavinia and the Christian women sit down again, wrung with grief, some
+weeping silently, some praying, some calm and steadfast. Androcles sits
+down at Lavinia’s feet. The Captain stands on the stairs, watching her
+curiously._
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I’m glad I haven’t to fight. That would really be an awful martyrdom. I
+am lucky.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_looking at him with a pang of remorse_). Androcles: burn the incense:
+you’ll be forgiven. Let my death atone for both. I feel as if I were
+killing you.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Don’t think of me, sister. Think of yourself. That will keep your heart
+up.
+
+_The Captain laughs sardonically._
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_startled: she had forgotten his presence_) Are you there, handsome
+Captain? Have you come to see me die?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_coming to her side_) I am on duty with the Emperor, Lavinia.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Is it part of your duty to laugh at us?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+No: that is part of my private pleasure. Your friend here is a
+humorist. I laughed at his telling you to think of yourself to keep up
+your heart. I say, think of yourself and burn the incense.
+
+LAVINIA.
+He is not a humorist: he was right. You ought to know that, Captain:
+you have been face to face with death.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Not with certain death, Lavinia. Only death in battle, which spares
+more men than death in bed. What you are facing is certain death. You
+have nothing left now but your faith in this craze of yours: this
+Christianity. Are your Christian fairy stories any truer than our
+stories about Jupiter and Diana, in which, I may tell you, I believe no
+more than the Emperor does, or any educated man in Rome?
+
+LAVINIA.
+Captain: all that seems nothing to me now. I’ll not say that death is a
+terrible thing; but I will say that it is so real a thing that when it
+comes close, all the imaginary things—all the stories, as you call
+them—fade into mere dreams beside that inexorable reality. I know now
+that I am not dying for stories or dreams. Did you hear of the dreadful
+thing that happened here while we were waiting?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+I heard that one of your fellows bolted, and ran right into the jaws of
+the lion. I laughed. I still laugh.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Then you don’t understand what that meant?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+It meant that the lion had a cur for his breakfast.
+
+LAVINIA.
+It meant more than that, Captain. It meant that a man cannot die for a
+story and a dream. None of us believed the stories and the dreams more
+devoutly than poor Spintho; but he could not face the great reality.
+What he would have called my faith has been oozing away minute by
+minute whilst I’ve been sitting here, with death coming nearer and
+nearer, with reality becoming realler and realler, with stories and
+dreams fading away into nothing.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Are you then going to die for nothing?
+
+LAVINIA.
+Yes: that is the wonderful thing. It is since all the stories and
+dreams have gone that I have now no doubt at all that I must die for
+something greater than dreams or stories.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+But for what?
+
+LAVINIA.
+I don’t know. If it were for anything small enough to know, it would be
+too small to die for. I think I’m going to die for God. Nothing else is
+real enough to die for.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+What is God?
+
+LAVINIA.
+When we know that, Captain, we shall be gods ourselves.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Lavinia; come down to earth. Burn the incense and marry me.
+
+LAVINIA.
+Handsome Captain: would you marry me if I hauled down the flag in the
+day of battle and burnt the incense? Sons take after their mothers, you
+know. Do you want your son to be a coward?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_strongly moved_). By great Diana, I think I would strangle you if you
+gave in now.
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_putting her hand on the head of Androcles_) The hand of God is on us
+three, Captain.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+What nonsense it all is! And what a monstrous thing that you should die
+for such nonsense, and that I should look on helplessly when my whole
+soul cries out against it! Die then if you must; but at least I can cut
+the Emperor’s throat and then my own when I see your blood.
+
+The Emperor throws open the door of his box angrily, and appears in
+wrath on the threshold. The Editor, the Call Boy, and the gladiators
+spring to their feet.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+The Christians will not fight; and your curs cannot get their blood up
+to attack them. It’s all that fellow with the blazing eyes. Send for
+the whip. (_The Call Boy rushes out on the east side for the whip_). If
+that will not move them, bring the hot irons. The man is like a
+mountain. (_He returns angrily into the box and slams the door_).
+
+_The Call Boy returns with a man in a hideous Etruscan mask, carrying a
+whip. They both rush down the passage into the arena._
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_rising_) Oh, that is unworthy. Can they not kill him without
+dishonoring him?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_scrambling to his feet and running into the middle of the space
+between the staircases_) It’s dreadful. Now I want to fight. I can’t
+bear the sight of a whip. The only time I ever hit a man was when he
+lashed an old horse with a whip. It was terrible: I danced on his face
+when he was on the ground. He mustn’t strike Ferrovius: I’ll go into
+the arena and kill him first. (_He makes a wild dash into the passage.
+As he does so a great clamor is heard from the arena, ending in wild
+applause. The gladiators listen and look inquiringly at one another_).
+
+THE EDITOR.
+What’s up now?
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_to the Captain_) What has happened, do you think?
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+What CAN happen? They are killing them, I suppose.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_running in through the passage, screaming with horror and hiding his
+eyes_)!!!
+
+LAVINIA.
+Androcles, Androcles: what’s the matter?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Oh, don’t ask me, don’t ask me. Something too dreadful. Oh! (_He
+crouches by her and hides his face in her robe, sobbing_).
+
+THE CALL BOY. (_rushing through from the passage as before_) Ropes and
+hooks there! Ropes and hooks.
+
+THE EDITOR.
+Well, need you excite yourself about it? (_Another burst of applause_).
+
+_Two slaves in Etruscan masks, with ropes and drag hooks, hurry in._
+
+ONE OF THE SLAVES. How many dead?
+
+THE CALL BOY.
+Six. (_The slave blows a whistle twice; and four more masked slaves
+rush through into the arena with the same apparatus_) And the basket.
+Bring the baskets. (_The slave whistles three times, and runs through
+the passage with his companion_).
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Who are the baskets for?
+
+THE CALL BOY.
+For the whip. He’s in pieces. They’re all in pieces, more or less.
+(_Lavinia hides her face_).
+
+(_Two more masked slaves come in with a basket and follow the others
+into the arena, as the Call Boy turns to the gladiators and exclaims,
+exhausted_)
+
+Boys, he’s killed the lot.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+(_again bursting from his box, this time in an ecstasy of delight_)
+Where is he? Magnificent! He shall have a laurel crown.
+
+_Ferrovius, madly waving his bloodstained sword, rushes through the
+passage in despair, followed by his co-religionists, and by the
+menagerie keeper, who goes to the gladiators. The gladiators draw their
+swords nervously._
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Lost! lost forever! I have betrayed my Master. Cut off this right hand:
+it has offended. Ye have swords, my brethren: strike.
+
+LAVINIA.
+No, no. What have you done, Ferrovius?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+I know not; but there was blood behind my eyes; and there’s blood on my
+sword. What does that mean?
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+(_enthusiastically, on the landing outside his box_) What does it mean?
+It means that you are the greatest man in Rome. It means that you shall
+have a laurel crown of gold. Superb fighter, I could almost yield you
+my throne. It is a record for my reign: I shall live in history. Once,
+in Domitian’s time, a Gaul slew three men in the arena and gained his
+freedom. But when before has one naked man slain six armed men of the
+bravest and best? The persecution shall cease: if Christians can fight
+like this, I shall have none but Christians to fight for me. (_To the
+Gladiators_) You are ordered to become Christians, you there: do you
+hear?
+
+RETIARIUS. It is all one to us, Caesar. Had I been there with my net,
+the story would have been different.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+(_suddenly seizing Lavinia by the wrist and dragging her up the steps
+to the Emperor_) Caesar this woman is the sister of Ferrovius. If she
+is thrown to the lions he will fret. He will lose weight; get out of
+condition.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+The lions? Nonsense! (_To Lavinia_) Madam: I am proud to have the honor
+of making your acquaintance. Your brother is the glory of Rome.
+
+LAVINIA.
+But my friends here. Must they die?
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+Die! Certainly not. There has never been the slightest idea of harming
+them. Ladies and gentlemen: you are all free. Pray go into the front of
+the house and enjoy the spectacle to which your brother has so
+splendidly contributed. Captain: oblige me by conducting them to the
+seats reserved for my personal friends.
+
+THE MENAGERIE KEEPER.
+Caesar: I must have one Christian for the lion. The people have been
+promised it; and they will tear the decorations to bits if they are
+disappointed.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+True, true: we must have somebody for the new lion.
+
+FERROVIUS.
+Throw me to him. Let the apostate perish.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+No, no: you would tear him in pieces, my friend; and we cannot afford
+to throw away lions as if they were mere slaves. But we must have
+somebody. This is really extremely awkward.
+
+THE MENAGERIE KEEPER.
+Why not that little Greek chap? He’s not a Christian: he’s a sorcerer.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+The very thing: he will do very well.
+
+THE CALL BOY. (_issuing from the passage_) Number twelve. The Christian
+for the new lion.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_rising, and pulling himself sadly together_) Well, it was to be,
+after all.
+
+LAVINIA.
+I’ll go in his place, Caesar. Ask the Captain whether they do not like
+best to see a woman torn to pieces. He told me so yesterday.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+There is something in that: there is certainly something in that—if
+only I could feel sure that your brother would not fret.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+No: I should never have another happy hour. No: on the faith of a
+Christian and the honor of a tailor, I accept the lot that has fallen
+on me. If my wife turns up, give her my love and say that my wish was
+that she should be happy with her next, poor fellow! Caesar: go to your
+box and see how a tailor can die. Make way for number twelve there.
+(_He marches out along the passage_).
+
+_The vast audience in the amphitheatre now sees the Emperor re-enter
+his box and take his place as Androcles, desperately frightened, but
+still marching with piteous devotion, emerges from the other end of the
+passage, and finds himself at the focus of thousands of eager eyes. The
+lion’s cage, with a heavy portcullis grating, is on his left. The
+Emperor gives a signal. A gong sounds. Androcles shivers at the sound;
+then falls on his knees and prays._
+
+_The grating rises with a clash. The lion bounds into the arena. He
+rushes round frisking in his freedom. He sees Androcles. He stops;
+rises stiffly by straightening his legs; stretches out his nose forward
+and his tail in a horizontal line behind, like a pointer, and utters an
+appalling roar. Androcles crouches and hides his face in his hands. The
+lion gathers himself for a spring, swishing his tail to and fro through
+the dust in an ecstasy of anticipation. Androcles throws up his hands
+in supplication to heaven. The lion checks at the sight of Androcles’s
+face. He then steals towards him; smells him; arches his back; purrs
+like a motor car; finally rubs himself against Androcles, knocking him
+over. Androcles, supporting himself on his wrist, looks affrightedly at
+the lion. The lion limps on three paws, holding up the other as if it
+was wounded. A flash of recognition lights up the face of Androcles. He
+flaps his hand as if it had a thorn in it, and pretends to pull the
+thorn out and to hurt himself. The lion nods repeatedly. Androcles
+holds out his hands to the lion, who gives him both paws, which he
+shakes with enthusiasm. They embrace rapturously, finally waltz round
+the arena amid a sudden burst of deafening applause, and out through
+the passage, the Emperor watching them in breathless astonishment until
+they disappear, when he rushes from his box and descends the steps in
+frantic excitement._
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+My friends, an incredible! an amazing thing! has happened. I can no
+longer doubt the truth of Christianity. (_The Christians press to him
+joyfully_) This Christian sorcerer—(_with a yell, he breaks off as he
+sees Androcles and the lion emerge from the passage, waltzing. He bolts
+wildly up the steps into his box, and slams the door. All, Christians
+and gladiators’ alike, fly for their lives, the gladiators bolting into
+the arena, the others in all directions. The place is emptied with
+magical suddenness_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_naively_) Now I wonder why they all run away from us like that. (_The
+lion combining a series of yawns, purrs, and roars, achieves something
+very like a laugh_).
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+(_standing on a chair inside his box and looking over the wall_)
+Sorcerer: I command you to put that lion to death instantly. It is
+guilty of high treason. Your conduct is most disgra— (_the lion charges
+at him up the stairs_) help! (_He disappears. The lion rears against
+the box; looks over the partition at him, and roars. The Emperor darts
+out through the door and down to Androcles, pursued by the lion._)
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Don’t run away, sir: he can’t help springing if you run. (_He seizes
+the Emperor and gets between him and the lion, who stops at once_).
+Don’t be afraid of him.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+I am NOT afraid of him. (_The lion crouches, growling. The Emperor
+clutches Androcles_) Keep between us.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Never be afraid of animals, your Worship: that’s the great secret.
+He’ll be as gentle as a lamb when he knows that you are his friend.
+Stand quite still; and smile; and let him smell you all over just to
+reassure him; for, you see, he’s afraid of you; and he must examine you
+thoroughly before he gives you his confidence. (_To the lion_) Come
+now, Tommy; and speak nicely to the Emperor, the great, good Emperor
+who has power to have all our heads cut off if we don’t behave very,
+VERY respectfully to him.
+
+_The lion utters a fearful roar. The Emperor dashes madly up the steps,
+across the landing, and down again on the other side, with the lion in
+hot pursuit. Androcles rushes after the lion; overtakes him as he is
+descending; and throws himself on his back, trying to use his toes as a
+brake. Before he can stop him the lion gets hold of the trailing end of
+the Emperor’s robe._
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Oh bad wicked Tommy, to chase the Emperor like that! Let go the
+Emperor’s robe at once, sir: where’s your manners? (_The lion growls
+and worries the robe_). Don’t pull it away from him, your worship. He’s
+only playing. Now I shall be really angry with you, Tommy, if you don’t
+let go. (_The lion growls again_) I’ll tell you what it is, sir: he
+thinks you and I are not friends.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+(_trying to undo the clasp of his brooch_) Friends! You infernal
+scoundrel (_the lion growls_) don’t let him go. Curse this brooch! I
+can’t get it loose.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+We mustn’t let him lash himself into a rage. You must show him that you
+are my particular friend—if you will have the condescension. (_He
+seizes the Emperor’s hands, and shakes them cordially_), Look, Tommy:
+the nice Emperor is the dearest friend Andy Wandy has in the whole
+world: he loves him like a brother.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+You little brute, you damned filthy little dog of a Greek tailor: I’ll
+have you burnt alive for daring to touch the divine person of the
+Emperor. (_The lion roars_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Oh don’t talk like that, sir. He understands every word you say: all
+animals do: they take it from the tone of your voice. (_The lion growls
+and lashes his tail_). I think he’s going to spring at your worship. If
+you wouldn’t mind saying something affectionate. (_The lion roars_).
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+(_shaking Androcles’ hands frantically_) My dearest Mr. Androcles, my
+sweetest friend, my long lost brother, come to my arms. (_He embraces
+Androcles_). Oh, what an abominable smell of garlic!
+
+_The lion lets go the robe and rolls over on his back, clasping his
+forepaws over one another coquettishly above his nose._
+
+ANDROCLES.
+There! You see, your worship, a child might play with him now. See!
+(_He tickles the lion’s belly. The lion wriggles ecstatically_). Come
+and pet him.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+I must conquer these unkingly terrors. Mind you don’t go away from him,
+though. (_He pats the lion’s chest_).
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Oh, sir, how few men would have the courage to do that—
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+Yes: it takes a bit of nerve. Let us invite the Court in and frighten
+them. Is he safe, do you think?
+
+ANDROCLES.
+Quite safe now, sir.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+(_majestically_) What ho, there! All who are within hearing, return
+without fear. Caesar has tamed the lion. (_All the fugitives steal
+cautiously in. The menagerie keeper comes from the passage with other
+keepers armed with iron bars and tridents_). Take those things away. I
+have subdued the beast. (_He places his foot on it_).
+
+FERROVIUS.
+(_timidly approaching the Emperor and looking down with awe on the
+lion_) It is strange that I, who fear no man, should fear a lion.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+Every man fears something, Ferrovius.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+How about the Pretorian Guard now?
+
+FERROVIUS.
+In my youth I worshipped Mars, the God of War. I turned from him to
+serve the Christian god; but today the Christian god forsook me; and
+Mars overcame me and took back his own. The Christian god is not yet.
+He will come when Mars and I are dust; but meanwhile I must serve the
+gods that are, not the God that will be. Until then I accept service in
+the Guard, Caesar.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+Very wisely said. All really sensible men agree that the prudent course
+is to be neither bigoted in our attachment to the old nor rash and
+unpractical in keeping an open mind for the new, but to make the best
+of both dispensations.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+What do you say, Lavinia? Will you too be prudent?
+
+LAVINIA.
+(_on the stair_) No: I’ll strive for the coming of the God who is not
+yet.
+
+THE CAPTAIN.
+May I come and argue with you occasionally?
+
+LAVINIA.
+Yes, handsome Captain: you may. (_He kisses her hands_).
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+And now, my friends, though I do not, as you see, fear this lion, yet
+the strain of his presence is considerable; for none of us can feel
+quite sure what he will do next.
+
+THE MENAGERIE KEEPER.
+Caesar: give us this Greek sorcerer to be a slave in the menagerie. He
+has a way with the beasts.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+(_distressed_). Not if they are in cages. They should not be kept in
+cages. They must all be let out.
+
+THE EMPEROR.
+I give this sorcerer to be a slave to the first man who lays hands on
+him. (_The menagerie keepers and the gladiators rush for Androcles. The
+lion starts up and faces them. They surge back_). You see how
+magnanimous we Romans are, Androcles. We suffer you to go in peace.
+
+ANDROCLES.
+I thank your worship. I thank you all, ladies and gentlemen. Come,
+Tommy. Whilst we stand together, no cage for you: no slavery for me.
+(_He goes out with the lion, everybody crowding away to give him as
+wide a berth as possible_).
+
+
+In this play I have represented one of the Roman persecutions of the
+early Christians, not as the conflict of a false theology with a true,
+but as what all such persecutions essentially are: an attempt to
+suppress a propaganda that seemed to threaten the interests involved in
+the established law and order, organized and maintained in the name of
+religion and justice by politicians who are pure opportunist
+Have-and-Holders. People who are shown by their inner light the
+possibility of a better world based on the demand of the spirit for a
+nobler and more abundant life, not for themselves at the expense of
+others, but for everybody, are naturally dreaded and therefore hated by
+the Have-and-Holders, who keep always in reserve two sure weapons
+against them. The first is a persecution effected by the provocation,
+organization, and arming of that herd instinct which makes men abhor
+all departures from custom, and, by the most cruel punishments and the
+wildest calumnies, force eccentric people to behave and profess exactly
+as other people do. The second is by leading the herd to war, which
+immediately and infallibly makes them forget everything, even their
+most cherished and hardwon public liberties and private interests, in
+the irresistible surge of their pugnacity and the tense pre-occupation
+of their terror.
+
+There is no reason to believe that there was anything more in the Roman
+persecutions than this. The attitude of the Roman Emperor and the
+officers of his staff towards the opinions at issue were much the same
+as those of a modern British Home Secretary towards members of the
+lower middle classes when some pious policeman charges them with Bad
+Taste, technically called blasphemy: Bad Taste being a violation of
+Good Taste, which in such matters practically means Hypocrisy. The Home
+Secretary and the judges who try the case are usually far more
+sceptical and blasphemous than the poor men whom they persecute; and
+their professions of horror at the blunt utterance of their own
+opinions are revolting to those behind the scenes who have any genuine
+religious sensibility; but the thing is done because the governing
+classes, provided only the law against blasphemy is not applied to
+themselves, strongly approve of such persecution because it enables
+them to represent their own privileges as part of the religion of the
+country.
+
+Therefore my martyrs are the martyrs of all time, and my persecutors
+the persecutors of all time. My Emperor, who has no sense of the value
+of common people’s lives, and amuses himself with killing as carelessly
+as with sparing, is the sort of monster you can make of any
+silly-clever gentleman by idolizing him. We are still so easily imposed
+on by such idols that one of the leading pastors of the Free Churches
+in London denounced my play on the ground that my persecuting Emperor
+is a very fine fellow, and the persecuted Christians ridiculous. From
+which I conclude that a popular pulpit may be as perilous to a man’s
+soul as an imperial throne.
+
+All my articulate Christians, the reader will notice, have different
+enthusiasms, which they accept as the same religion only because it
+involves them in a common opposition to the official religion and
+consequently in a common doom. Androcles is a humanitarian naturalist,
+whose views surprise everybody. Lavinia, a clever and fearless
+freethinker, shocks the Pauline Ferrovius, who is comparatively stupid
+and conscience ridden. Spintho, the blackguardly debauchee, is
+presented as one of the typical Christians of that period on the
+authority of St. Augustine, who seems to have come to the conclusion at
+one period of his development that most Christians were what we call
+wrong uns. No doubt he was to some extent right: I have had occasion
+often to point out that revolutionary movements attract those who are
+not good enough for established institutions as well as those who are
+too good for them.
+
+But the most striking aspect of the play at this moment is the terrible
+topicality given it by the war. We were at peace when I pointed out, by
+the mouth of Ferrovius, the path of an honest man who finds out, when
+the trumpet sounds, that he cannot follow Jesus. Many years earlier, in
+The Devil’s Disciple, I touched the same theme even more definitely,
+and showed the minister throwing off his black coat for ever when he
+discovered, amid the thunder of the captains and the shouting, that he
+was a born fighter. Great numbers of our clergy have found themselves
+of late in the position of Ferrovius and Anthony Anderson. They have
+discovered that they hate not only their enemies but everyone who does
+not share their hatred, and that they want to fight and to force other
+people to fight. They have turned their churches into recruiting
+stations and their vestries into munition workshops. But it has never
+occurred to them to take off their black coats and say quite simply, “I
+find in the hour of trial that the Sermon on the Mount is tosh, and
+that I am not a Christian. I apologize for all the unpatriotic nonsense
+I have been preaching all these years. Have the goodness to give me a
+revolver and a commission in a regiment which has for its chaplain a
+priest of the god Mars: my God.” Not a bit of it. They have stuck to
+their livings and served Mars in the name of Christ, to the scandal of
+all religious mankind. When the Archbishop of York behaved like a
+gentleman and the Head Master of Eton preached a Christian sermon, and
+were reviled by the rabble, the Martian parsons encouraged the rabble.
+For this they made no apologies or excuses, good or bad. They simple
+indulged their passions, just as they had always indulged their class
+prejudices and commercial interests, without troubling themselves for a
+moment as to whether they were Christians or not. They did not protest
+even when a body calling itself the Anti-German League (_not having
+noticed, apparently, that it had been anticipated by the British
+Empire, the French Republic, and the Kingdoms of Italy, Japan, and
+Serbia_) actually succeeded in closing a church at Forest Hill in which
+God was worshipped in the German language. One would have supposed that
+this grotesque outrage on the commonest decencies of religion would
+have provoked a remonstrance from even the worldliest bench of bishops.
+But no: apparently it seemed to the bishops as natural that the House
+of God should be looted when He allowed German to be spoken in it as
+that a baker’s shop with a German name over the door should be
+pillaged. Their verdict was, in effect, “Serve God right, for creating
+the Germans!” The incident would have been impossible in a country
+where the Church was as powerful as the Church of England, had it had
+at the same time a spark of catholic as distinguished from tribal
+religion in it. As it is, the thing occurred; and as far as I have
+observed, the only people who gasped were the Freethinkers. Thus we see
+that even among men who make a profession of religion the great
+majority are as Martian as the majority of their congregations. The
+average clergyman is an official who makes his living by christening
+babies, marrying adults, conducting a ritual, and making the best he
+can (_when he has any conscience about it_) of a certain routine of
+school superintendence, district visiting, and organization of
+almsgiving, which does not necessarily touch Christianity at any point
+except the point of the tongue. The exceptional or religious clergyman
+may be an ardent Pauline salvationist, in which case his more
+cultivated parishioners dislike him, and say that he ought to have
+joined the Methodists. Or he may be an artist expressing religious
+emotion without intellectual definition by means of poetry, music,
+vestments and architecture, also producing religious ecstacy by
+physical expedients, such as fasts and vigils, in which case he is
+denounced as a Ritualist. Or he may be either a Unitarian Deist like
+Voltaire or Tom Paine, or the more modern sort of Anglican Theosophist
+to whom the Holy Ghost is the Elan Vital of Bergson, and the Father and
+Son are an expression of the fact that our functions and aspects are
+manifold, and that we are all sons and all either potential or actual
+parents, in which case he is strongly suspected by the straiter
+Salvationists of being little better than an Atheist. All these
+varieties, you see, excite remark. They may be very popular with their
+congregations; but they are regarded by the average man as the freaks
+of the Church. The Church, like the society of which it is an organ, is
+balanced and steadied by the great central Philistine mass above whom
+theology looms as a highly spoken of and doubtless most important
+thing, like Greek Tragedy, or classical music, or the higher
+mathematics, but who are very glad when church is over and they can go
+home to lunch or dinner, having in fact, for all practical purposes, no
+reasoned convictions at all, and being equally ready to persecute a
+poor Freethinker for saying that St. James was not infallible, and to
+send one of the Peculiar People to prison for being so very peculiar as
+to take St. James seriously.
+
+In short, a Christian martyr was thrown to the lions not because he was
+a Christian, but because he was a crank: that is, an unusual sort of
+person. And multitudes of people, quite as civilized and amiable as we,
+crowded to see the lions eat him just as they now crowd the lion-house
+in the Zoo at feeding-time, not because they really cared two-pence
+about Diana or Christ, or could have given you any intelligent or
+correct account of the things Diana and Christ stood against one
+another for, but simply because they wanted to see a curious and
+exciting spectacle. You, dear reader, have probably run to see a fire;
+and if somebody came in now and told you that a lion was chasing a man
+down the street you would rush to the window. And if anyone were to say
+that you were as cruel as the people who let the lion loose on the man,
+you would be justly indignant. Now that we may no longer see a man
+hanged, we assemble outside the jail to see the black flag run up. That
+is our duller method of enjoying ourselves in the old Roman spirit. And
+if the Government decided to throw persons of unpopular or eccentric
+views to the lions in the Albert Hall or the Earl’s Court stadium
+tomorrow, can you doubt that all the seats would be crammed, mostly by
+people who could not give you the most superficial account of the views
+in question. Much less unlikely things have happened. It is true that
+if such a revival does take place soon, the martyrs will not be members
+of heretical religious sects: they will be Peculiars,
+Anti-Vivisectionists, Flat-Earth men, scoffers at the laboratories, or
+infidels who refuse to kneel down when a procession of doctors goes by.
+But the lions will hurt them just as much, and the spectators will
+enjoy themselves just as much, as the Roman lions and spectators used
+to do.
+
+It was currently reported in the Berlin newspapers that when Androcles
+was first performed in Berlin, the Crown Prince rose and left the
+house, unable to endure the (_I hope_) very clear and fair exposition
+of autocratic Imperialism given by the Roman captain to his Christian
+prisoners. No English Imperialist was intelligent and earnest enough to
+do the same in London. If the report is correct, I confirm the logic of
+the Crown Prince, and am glad to find myself so well understood. But I
+can assure him that the Empire which served for my model when I wrote
+Androcles was, as he is now finding to his cost, much nearer my home
+than the German one.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANDROCLES AND THE LION ***
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