NOTHIING is permanent but change. Power passes from country to country, as from man to man. We move in a zigzag course, and where proud Carthage once stood, now the jackals prowl, and solitary travelers pitch their tents.

Civilization had its rise in Africa, a continent recently mapped by I an American. The oldest country discovered by the newest! The world's capital moved on from ancient Carthage to Troy; Babylon, Athens, Rome, Constantinople, Venice, Madrid, Amsterdam, London, New York, were each and all division points where civilization stopped for a space and was inspected and overhauled. And now Chicago is reaching out itching hands after the financial scepter, with Denver, Spokane and Seattle putting in earnest claims for the right of succession.

The events in this strange but true story here told, took place in Constantinople, when that city was financial mistress of the world&emdash;the artistic and literary capital of Christendom.

When Anastasius was Emperor, about the year 475, at the head [11]

of the Imperial Guards was a man called Justin, a soldier of giant size and stubborn strength. He was born a peasant, and had quit his business of sheep-herding to see the sights of Constantinople. His towering height impressed some recruiting sergeant, and he was mustered in, against his will they say, his pay being facetiously fixed by the pound.

By and by he grew to like his work&emdash;or lack of it&emdash;and he had special boots made with high heels and wore a towering helmet, so he certainly looked like a giant indeed.

Big men should not bluster, for even though they be stupid, by remaining silent they often win the reputation of wisdom.

Justin knew that he could never talk as wisely as he could look. When you do not know what to do, do nothing, is a good motto. Justin rose in favor, and successively became the Head of the Guard, Tribune, Count, Senator&emdash;Emperor. It took him fifty years to make the evolution, but he did it, the last step being brought about by the wise and careful maneuvering of Justin's nephew, Justinian.

There was one thing Justin was never able to do&emdash;and that was to learn the alphabet&emdash;that curious invention of Cadmus whereby twenty or so little black marks are used to represent vocal sounds, and when rightly juggled, express thoughts! This was too much for the intellectual processes of Justin.

But his nephew, who was his secretary, not only knew the alphabet, but learned to manipulate it. He could divide eleven by two-and-a-half,&emdash;a thing that was a miracle to the Emperor. Justinian read, wrote, thought and delighted in what others had [ 12 ]

thought and written. But Justin became Emperor, even if he had balked at the alphabet and shied at fractions.

There is a difference between large men and great men; Justin and Justinian were quite different.

Justinian was a barbarian, born in Bulgaria in the year 483. When he was eighteen years old he left behind him the mountains and plains, and made his way on foot and alone to Constantinople, the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire.

Possibly the success of his uncle attracted him&emdash;we cannot say. He was rather a slight youth&emdash;active, restless, energetic. He thirsted to know, to do, to become. He lived for a time at the Monastery of St. Sophia, a kind of college where young men were educated for the priesthood.

Our knowledge of the early life of Justinian comes to us through the Abbot Theophilus. Theophilus calls himself "Justinianus Preceptorius," or the teacher of Justinian, and with pardonable pride gently intimates that it was his tutorship that paved the way for imperial greatness.

Teacher and book are dust. As this was before the days of printing, it is probable that only one copy of the book by Theophilus existed. It was at one time in the library of a monastery at Constantinople, but it has disappeared, and we know of the work only through extracts and quotations, which fortunately are numerous.

Success is a matter of temperament, not of cerebral size. The youth who does his work with a whole heart always gets on&emdash; he has so little competition! [13]

Theophilus says with a charming insouciance, "Justin was not great by nature, but whatsoever he undertook was entered upon with such zest and enthusiasm that all difficulties vanished, and everybody found it more easy and pleasant to lend assistance than oppose him." Also this, "His best work was in the selection of men who did his bidding. He was also most fortunate in having a wife who gave her liege complete loyalty, making good whatsoever he lacked.''

This is only another way of saying that God, man and things always help the man who is trying to help himself. Theophilus makes one statement that has puzzled the purists. It is literally to the effect that Justinian, when a youth, never wore the face off the sun dial.

The happy, exuberant, hopeful, active man who is intent on his task, not the clock or pay envelope, gravitates straight to the goal. Theophilus calls this disposition "the best substitute for greatness," but we think it is nearly the genuine thing.

THEODORA was one of three sisters&emdash; Comita, Anastasia and Theodora&emdash;daugh ters of Acacius, a native of Cyprus, who had charge of the wild beasts at the amphitheatre. The official title of Acacius was " Master of the Bears. "

When Acacius died through an accident due to his perilous profession, which the insurance companies would call extra hazardous, his three daughters assumed his duties. This gave the [ 14 ]

girls, scarcely more than children at the time, a reputation that sent a thrill through the entire city. These sisters were born in the theatre, and none could remember a time when they did not take part in plays. The names we know them by were stage names, but they stuck and now answer our purposes quite as well as if we knew the names their mother gave them. In fact, Justinian named them, at least he got the credit of it. "Theodora" was in honor of King Theodoric, "Anastasia" was in honor of Anastasius, and Comita meant comely or beautiful.

The theatre was the chief source of amusement of the people, and was made good use of by Justin as a political and diplomatic measure. Justinian, the Prime Minister, made it his especial business to see that public pleasures did not languish. The church, army and theatre were used to supply exhibitions and ward off ennui, very much as they now are.

Theodora neither danced, sang nor recited&emdash;her sisters did all three with grace and skill. Theodora had talent in another direction&emdash;she had an art of her own. She would walk out on the stage with a stool balanced on her head and without speaking a word, imitate this great man or that, in a way that made the audience applaud with delight. Her imagination, her sense of the ludicrous, all touched with a dash of scorn, won her the admiration of the multitude. So great was the favoritism for her that often during other performances, her name would be called, and the cry would be taken up until she would have to appear and go through one of her wonderful impersonations. She was the original Pierrot, and seemed to have the subtle skill of the [ 15 ]

divine Sara, the intellect of a Rachel, the tragic qualities of Duse, the wistfulness of Maude Adams, the wit of May Irwin. When Theodora played, Justinian would be in the royal box and lead the applause. Occasionally he would go behind the scenes, and finally when Justinian and Theodora rode through the public streets in a carriage, seated side by side, the scandal reached its height. It has always been held by a certain class of people that a woman who was a mental companion to a strong man was certainly "bad," a proposition not at all complimentary to the man. Women who appeared upon the stage were regarded as immoral. And the fact of their being on the stage was deemed proof, and so persistent was this impression that the tradition still prevails. In Justinian's time there was good ground for the belief, since most of the women attached to the theatres were slaves. But even then the immorality of a slave should be charged against her owner, not the woman.

The statement made by the encyclopedias that Theodora was of bad repute rests upon the fact that she had brains enough to be the companion of a strong man and was an actress. There is no mention of her name being coupled with that of any lover, save Justinian alone. The law against any one of noble blood marrying an actress tended to place the actor's profession in social disrespect.

In England there is still on the statute books laws that are supposed to look sharply after "strolling players." In the State of Massachusetts there is a blue law, still operative if any one can be found to resurrect and enforce it, that pays its respects to [ 16]

"mountebanks, play actors, vagroms and other lewd persons."

Those who ministered to the innocent mirth of the populace, Justinian thought, were not necessarily beneath the auditors in morals and intellect, in fact, they might be vastly superior to them. He appealed to his uncle to have the obnoxious law concerning actresses repealed. Then there was another scene. And Justinian was told to choose between his position as successor to the throne and the actress, Theodora, daughter of the Master of the Bears.

Justinian did neither.

The uncle had been a man of loose habits&emdash;in fact had trafficked in Circassian slaves in his early life. And very naturally, as the years began to bow his form, he became a strict and severe moral critic, and that the conduct of his beloved nephew, Justinian, grieved him sore there is no doubt. Few people are able to imagine a friendship between a man and woman formed on a mental mating; and to Justin, the very intensity of the passion was proof of its debasing quality.

Referring to the private life of Theodora, Gibbon says in his history, "After her friendship with Justinian began, it is noticeable that not even her bitterest enemies attribute to her a departure from probity."

Theodora still continued to appear on the stage at intervals, as if to show that she had not renounced it. She became the manager of the theatre; and in various ways rid it of objectionable features. She stopped the gladiatorial contests where men had before fought to the death. Where men were pitted against [ 17 ]

wild beasts, they were now volunteers, not captives forced into the ring. In various ways she sought to elevate the stage, a thing that has been tried before and since. And in degree she was successful in introducing into its atmosphere the almost forgotten old Greek spirit of beauty.

The theatre proved more popular than ever; the very fact that the names of Justinian and Theodora were coupled on the tongue of rumor was an added attraction. Justinian had won the approval of the multitude by his democratic policy. He set apart a day to listen to public grievances; gave work to thousands in repairing roads, building aqueducts, making bridges; and then he set apart "holy days," when there were games, and admittance to the theatre was free, and wages went on exactly the same. Justinian displayed the astuteness and acumen of a modern politician in his regard for the wishes of the inhabitants who formed the majority--that is the poorer classes. Justinian's motto must surely have been, "Give the people what they want." The historian Procopious asserts that after Justinian succeeded to the throne the wildest extravagances were indulged in; costly palaces were erected, expensive roads were built, and the Ways and Means Committee worked overtime devising new methods of taxation. The ancient, honorable and expensive office of consul was abolished and the funds thus saved were used for municipal improvements. Any citizen possessed of wealth who gave offense to Theodora was subjected to as large a fine as the officers could seize. In times of great financial depression, when the cash was low, Theodora was very sensitive. But as [18]

Procopious was avowedly hostile and biased we need not accept his statements as the entire and absolute truth.

In the year 518, Justinian was chosen to go to Rome on an important diplomatic errand. On the way he was captured by the troops of Theodoric the Great, and carried to Ravenna, where he was held a hostage.

So philosophically did he take his capture, that on being brought before the king, he convinced His Majesty that the Court of Ravenna needed a secretary, and it was better to set a prisoner to work than to lock him up. Justinian remained with Theodoric several years, just how many we do not know, but when he got back to Constantinople there were not wanting humorists who said that it took him quite a while to go to Rome and deliver his dispatches.

But the time had not been lost&emdash;this man never lost time&emdash;he used it. He had made himself so valuable to Theodoric that he was importuned to remain, and become Minister of State.

THE time when this play opens is 521 A. D. Place: Constantinople the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire.

Scene: The grand Court Room of the Emperor Justin. The apartment seemingly designed and fitted out by William Morris and Alma-Tadema. A great and splendid room, almost barren in its sparsity of furnishings. The walls are bronze and gold, dark, subdued, like the interior of St. Mark's. The win [ 19]

dows gorgeous, and the light streams in as through dim cathedral panes. The throne, on a low platform, is in the center of the room, back against the wall; tiger and leopard skins are on the floor.

There the Emperor Justin sits, mantled in a dark russet robe that blends with the color of the room. Justin is a man of giant stature, hard, severe, stern, smooth-shaven, close-cropped, proud and stupid. Age has softened his tissues and put lime in his bones. He is growing a bit querulous, losing somewhat of that silent poise which was the secret of his power. He sits forward in his big chair, his hands grasping the arms, upright, as if impatient. He is expecting some one to enter, that is sure! The court has assembled to meet this "some one." At the feet of Justin sits his wife, Euphemia, well upholstered, vain, clad in Greek robe and sandals, her hair held in place by purple ribbons, according to royal edict. Time has followed her fast and wooed her ardently, but she is making a brave, though losing fight to ward him off. Seated on a marble bench just a little to the left of the throne is a woman somewhat past middle age, clothed in widow's weeds. Her name is Biglienza. She is thin, angular, sharp of feature. She rocks back and forth, seemingly filled with some great sorrow that gnaws at her heart. Standing or seated near are priests, courtiers, senators; while at the door and also near the throne stand giant guards in armor, with spears at "present arms." A brazier filled with coal sends out a blue, fitful flame.

The atmosphere is strained and expectant with a silence that [20 ]

can be heard. Biglienza rocks to and fro and half moans. Euphemia sits indifferently hugging her knees, eyeing a well fed priest, who looks at her knowingly without moving a muscle. With an extra good opera-glass people in the parquette can see that this priest has a blue chin and also has hair growing on his nose and in his ears. The Emperor's eyes look straight out in front, and he would seem a statue of bronze did we not see that he is breathing hard and deep, his big hands still clutching the arms of his throne. Suddenly the door to the right opens, all eyes turn that way. Maizekel, a courtier, enters in a spangled robe, trips on a tiger skin, recovers himself, walks rapidly to the front o£ the throne, and drops on one knee. Almost before he has knelt, and before he has spoken, the Emperor speaks:

Justin. What! you back here again ? This is twice you've come, and you have kept us an hour. Where is the Ambassador?

[EUPHEMIA, still gazing at the priest with half-closed eyes, smiles the ghost of a smile, and the priest smiles back, adjusting his crucifix.]

Maizekel. Your Majesty&emdash;

Justin. Oh, excuses, of course&emdash;why don't you speak&emdash;do you not see that we and our whole court are waiting? Where is the Ambassador from Ravenna ? [21 ]