CONCERNING THE EMPEROR'S ILLNESS

127. Such was the beauty with which the emperor was endowed when he ascended the throne, but a year had not gone by before Nature, in her efforts to glorify him, seemed to falter before such wonder and delight: it was as if she gave up the task in exhaustion, and then destroyed his strength and ruined his manhood. At all events, there can be no doubt that a radical change took place in the disposition of the primary substances in his body (that is, the basic humours) and they accumulated, in proportions that made harmony impossible, in his feet and the cavities of his joints, then in his hands. Later they descended in great waves on the muscles themselves, and the bones in his back, shaking him through and through, like seacurrents converging on a ship of burthen which had started its voyage in calm water.

128. The symptoms of disease were not all immediately apparent. The humours first flowed into his feet, and at once he was compelled to take to his bed. If he had to walk at all, he did so with the help of other people. The illness was recurrent, and it was evident that the flux continued for a certain number of days, followed by an equal period of rest. Later on, the intervals between these attacks [166] diminished and his relief became short-lived. As this condition developed, the flux gradually approached his hands, then with a kind of upward flow, the humours attacked his shoulders, and finally occupied the whole of his body. The result was that every one of his members, swamped by this terrible flux, lost the ability to perform its natural functions. His muscles and ligaments were out of place, his limbs ceased to work in harmony, with consequent lack of general equilibrium and a development of nervous exhaustion. I myself saw his fingers, once so beautifully formed, completely altered from their natural shape, warped and twisted with hollows here and projections there, so that they were incapable of grasping anything at all. His feet were bent and his knees, crooked like the point of a man's elbow, were swollen, making it impossible for him to walk steadily, or to stand upright for any length of time. Mostly he lay on his bed, and whenever he wished to give audience, others had to prop him up and make him comfortable.

129. For the sake of the city populace he considered it his unavoidable duty to attend the imperial processions, and it was on these occasions that he most bitterly complained. However, through the skill of his equerry he was arranged and settled in the saddle, and since he found breathing difficult once he was mounted, and as the bridle hung useless, attendants, tall strong men, used to prop him up on either side as he rode. So, holding him steady on right and left, like some heavy load, they would convey him to his intended destination. Yet even under these terrible conditions, he never entirely forgot his normal habits. He would assume an expression of great benevolence, and even moved and changed his position (the only time he ever did so unaided), so that the spectators were not really sure that he was in pain, or that his body was suffering from paralysis. Such were the arrangements made for him at the precessions. Even the stones of the pavements were covered with carpets, to prevent his horse slipping on the smooth surface. Of course it was different in his palace, for there he was carried on a litter, and he used to pass from one apartment to another and be conveyed wherever he wished. But if the flux came on — what awful agonies he suffered!

130. Even while I write this history I am still absolutely amazed to think how the man was able to bear the excruciating pain of those attacks during that period. Paralysis followed paralysis in rapid [167] succession, impairing the parts still untouched by the disease and dislocating what was still coherent. He did not know how to lie on his bed so as to enjoy a proper rest: every position proved uncomfortable. His valets would hold up and support his poor body on either side until after much experiment they discovered the posture which afforded some relief to him. Then they would arrange him and make him comfortable, with cushions so placed that he might be kept firm in that position. But change of posture was not the only thing that caused him pain: even his tongue hurt him when he was speaking, and the slightest movement of the eyes set the humours in motion. Consequently he remained absolutely still, never turning in either direction.

131. While on the subject of this illness, I solemnly declare, and I call on God to witness the truth of my words, that Constantine, despite the dreadful troubles that exhausted and overwhelmed him, despite the altogether pitiable condition in which he found himself, never once allowed a word of blasphemy against God to escape his lips. In fact, if he saw anyone else distressed at his own sufferings, he dismissed him from his presence with more than usual severity. The misfortune, he said, was laid upon him as a punishment. More often he referred to it as a 'curb on his nature'. Indeed, he was afraid of his instincts, and he used to say, 'When they refuse to give way to reason, they yield to bodily pain. My body is afflicted, but at least the unruly desires of my heart are now repressed.' So he argued about his suffering like a philosopher, and if one set aside all else that he did, and considered him in this matter alone, surely one would say that here was a godly man.

132. He had another good quality, one that I myself do not wholly approve of, but he held it in high esteem. However, I will leave my readers to judge for themselves. He completely neglected to take precautions for his own safety. When he was sleeping the doors were left open and no guard kept watch outside his bedchamber. Indeed, the chamberlains often left him completely and it was possible for anyone to walk past his door, and pass it again on the way back, without the slightest interference from others. If one took the liberty of rebuking him for this laxity, Constantine was not vexed about it, but he dismissed the reproach as unnecessary. It was due, he said, to wrong ideas about God. What he meant by this, was that he occupied the throne by the grace of God and by Him alone he was [168] protected. Being defended by the Perfect Guard, he saw no need of human sentinels who fell short of perfection.

133. On several occasions I tried myself to convince him of the danger. I quoted the case of builders and helmsmen, and finally of captains and generals. 'Not one of these men,' I argued, 'undertakes his particular task without placing his trust in God. Yet the one levels off his building with a rule, the other guides his ship with a rudder, and everyone who goes to war carries a shield and sword. The soldier's head is protected by a helmet, while a breastplate covers the rest of his body.' Having got so far, I developed the argument by pointing out that these safeguards were even more appropriate in the case of an emperor, but for all my efforts I failed to persuade him. It does credit to the man's noble character, but his obstinacy made things easy for would-be assassins.