Books: Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

H >> Henryk Sienkiewicz >> Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

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"If I promised to do so, they themselves would feel that the
promise was an empty sound of words. Paul told me so openly.
Thou knowest how I love Lygis, and knowcst that there is nothing
that I would not do for her. Still, even at her wish, I cannot raise
Soraete or Vesuvius on my shoulders, or place Thrasymenc Lake
on the palm of my hand, or from black make my eyes blue, like
those of the Lygians. If she so desited, I could have the wish, but
the change does not lie in my power. I am not a philosopher, but
also I ant not So dull as I have seemed, perhaps, more than once to
thee, 1 will state now the following: I know not how the Christians
order their own lives, but I know that where their religion begins,
Roman rule ends, Rome itself ends, our mode of life ends, the
distinction between conquered and -- conqueror, between rich and
poor, lord and slave, ends, government ends, Caesar ends, law and
all the order of the world ends; and in place of those appear Christ,
with a certain mercy not existent hitherto, and kindness, opposed
to human and our Roman instincts. It is true that Lygia is more to
me than all Rome and its lordship; and I would let society vanish
could 1 have her in my house. But that is another thing. Agreement
in words does nor satisfy the Christians; a man must feel that their
teaching is truth, and not have aught else in his soul. But that, the
gods are my witnesses, is beyond me. Dost understand what that
means? There is something in my nature which shudders at this
religion; and! were my lips to glorify it, were I to conform to its
preceprts, my soul and my reason would say that I do so through
love for Lygia, and that apart from her there is to me nothing on
earth more repulsive. And, a strange thing, Paul of Tarsus
understands this, and so does that old theurgus Peter, who in spite
of all his simplicity and low origin is the highest among them, and
was the disciple of Christ. And dost thou know what they are
doing? They are praying for me, and calling down something
which they call grace; hut nothing descends on me, save disquiet,
and a greater yearning for Lygia.

"I have written thee that she went away secretly; but when going
she left me a cross which she put together from twigs of boxwood.
When I woke up, 1 found ft near my bed. I have it now in the
lararium, and I approach it yet, I cannot tell why, as if there were
something divine in it, that is, with awe and reverence. I love it
because her hand bound it, and I hate it be-cause it divides us. At
times it seems to me that there are enchantments of some kind in
all this affair, and that the theurgus, Peter, though he declares
himself to be a simple shepherd, is greater than Apollonius, and all
who preceded him, and that he has involved us all -- Lygia,
Pomponia, and me -- with them.

"Thou hast written that in my previous letter disquiet and sadness
are visible. Sadness there must be, for I have lost her again, and
there is disquiet because something has changed in me. I tell thee
sincerely, that nothing is mote repugnant to my nature than that
religion, and still I cannot recognize myself since I met Lygia. Is it
enchantment, or love? Circe changed people's bodies by touching
them, but my soul has been changed. No one but Lygia could have
done that, or rather Lygia through that wonderful religion which
she professes. When I returned to my house from the Christians, no
one was waiting for me. The slaves thought that I was in
Beneventum, and would not return soon; hence there was disorder
in the house. I found the slaves drunk, and a feast, which they were
giving themselves, in my triclinium. They had more thought of
seeing death than me, and would have been less terrified by it.
Thou knowest with what a firm hand I hold my house; all to the
last one dropped on their knees, and some fainted from terror. But
dost thou know how I acted? At the first moment I wished to call
for rods and hot iron, but immediately a kind of shame seized me,
and, wilt thou lend belief? A species of pity for those wretched
people. Among them are old slaves whom my grandfather, Marcus
Vinicius, brought from the Rhine in the time of Augustus. 1 shut
myself up alone in the library, and there came stranger thoughts
still to my head; namely, that after what I had heard and seen
among the Christians, it did not become me to act with slaves as 1
had acted hitherto -- that they too were people. For a number of
days they moved about in mortal terror, in the belief that I was
delaying so as to invent punishment the more cruel, but I did not
punish, and did not punish because I was not able. Summoning
them on the third day, I said, 'I forgive you; strive then with earnest
service to correct your fault!' They fell on their knees, covering
their faces with tears, stretching forth their hands with groans, and
called me lord and father; but I -- with shame do I write this -- was
equally moved. It seemed to me that at that moment I was looking
at the sweet face of Lygia, and her eyes filled with tears, thanking
me for that act. And, prob pudor! I felt that my lips too were moist.
Dost know what I will confess to thee? This, -- that I cannot do
without her, that it is ill for me alone, that I am simply unhappy,
and that my sadness is greater than thou wilt admit. But, as to my
slaves, one thing arrested my attention. The forgiveness which they
received not only did not make them insolent, not only did not
weaken discipline, but never had fear roused them to such ready
service as has gratitude. Not only do they serve, but they seem to
vie with one another to divine my wishes. I mention this to thee
because, when, the day before I left the Christians, I told Paul that
society would fall apart because of his religion, as a cask without
hoops, he answered, 'Love is a stronger hoop than fear.' And now I
see that in certain cases his opinion may be right. I have verified it
also with references to clients, who, learning of my return, hurried
to salute me. Thou knowest that I have never been penurious with
them; but my father acted haughtily with clients on principle, and
taught me to treat them in like manner. But when I saw their worn
mantles and hungry faces, I had a feeling something like
compassion. I gave command to bring them food, and conversed
besides with them, -- called some by name, some I asked about
their wives and children, -- and again in the eyes before me I saw
tears; again it seemed to me that Lygia saw what I was doing, that
she praised and was delighted. Is my mind beginning to wander, or
is love confusing my feelings? I cannot tell. But this I do know; I
have a continual feeling that she is looking at me from a distance,
and I am afraid to do aught that might trouble or offend her.

"So it is, Caius! but they have changed my soul, and sometimes I
feel well for that reason. At times again I am tormented with the
thought, for I fear that my manhood and energy are taken from me;
that, perhaps, I am useless, not only for counsel, for judgment, for
feasts, but for war even. These are undoubted enchantments! And
to such a degree am I changed that I tell thee this, too, which came
to my head when I lay wounded: that if Lygia were like Nigidia,
Poppae, Crispinilla, and our divorced women, if she were as vile,
as pitiless, and as cheap as they, I should not love her as I do at
present. But since I love her for that which divides us, thou wilt
divine what a chaos is rising in my soul, in what darkness I live,
how it is that I cannot see certain roads before me, and how far I
am from knowing what to begin. If life may be compared to a
spring, in my spring disquiet flows instead of water. I live through
the hope that I shall see her, perhaps, and sometimes it seems to
me that I shall see her surely. But what will happen to me in a year
or two years, I know not, and cannot divine. I shall not leave
Rome. I could not endure the society of the Augustians; and
besides, the one solace in my sadness and disquiet is the thought
that I am near Lygia, that through Glaucus the physician, who
promised to visit me, or through Paul of Tarsus, I can learn
something of her at times. No; I would not leave Rome, even were
ye to offer me the government of Egypt. Know also, that I have
ordered the sculptor to make a stone monument for Gulo, whom I
slew in anger. Too late did it come to my mind that he had carried
me in his arms, and was the first to teach me how to put an arrow
on a bow. I know not why it was that a recollection of him rose in
me which was sorrow and reproach. If what I write astonish thee, I
reply that it astonishes me no less, but I write pure truth. --
Farewell."

Chapter XXIX

VINICUS received no answer to this letter. Petronius did not write,
thinking evidently that Caesar might command a return to Rome
any day. In fact, news of it was spread in the city, and roused great
delight in the hearts of the rabble, eager for games with gifts of
grain and olives, great supplies of which had been accumulated in
Ostia. Helius, Nero's freedman, announced at last the return in the
Senate. But Nero, having embarked with his court on ships at
Misenum, returned slowly, disembarking at coast towns for rest, or
exhibitions in theatres. He remained between ten and twenty days
in Minturna, and even thought to return to Naples and wait there
for spring, which was earlier than usual, and warm. During all this
time Vinicius lived shut up in his house, thinking of Lygia, and all
those new things which occupied his soul, and brought to it ideas
and feelings foreign to it thus far. He saw, from time to time, only
Glaucus the physician, every one of whose visits delightcd him, for
he could converse with the man about Lygia. Glaucus knew not, it
is true, where she had found refuge, but he gave assurance that the
elders were protecting her with watchful care. Once too, when
moved by the sadness of Vinicius, he told him that Peter had
blamed Crispus for reproaching Lygia with her love. The young
patrician, hearing this, grew pale from emotion. He had thought
more than once that Lygia was not indifferent to him, but he fell
into frequent doubt and uncertainty. Now for the first time he
heard the confirmation of his desires and hopes from strange lips,
and, besides, those of a Christian. At the first moment of gratitude
he wished to run to Peter. When he learned, however, that he was
not in the city, but teaching in the neighborhood, he implored
Glaucus to accompany him thither, promising to make liberal gifts
to the poor community. It seemed to him, too, that if Lygia loved
him, all obstacles were thereby set aside, as he was ready at any
moment to honor Christ. Glaucus, though he urged him
persistently to receive baptism, would not venture to assure him
that he would gain Lygia at once, and said that it was necessary to
desire the religion for its own sake, through love of Christ, not for
other objects. "One must have a Christian soul, too," said he. And
Vinicius, though every obstacle angered him, had begun to
understand that Glaucus, as a Christian, said what he ought to say.
He had not become clearly conscious that one of the deepest
changes in his nature was this, -- that formerly he had measured
people and things only by his own selfialmess, but now he was
accustoming himself gradually to the thought that other eyes might
see differently, other hearts feel differently, and that justice did not
mean always the same as personal profit.

He wished often to see Paul of Tarsus, whose discourse made him
curious and disturbed him. He arranged in his mind arguments to
overthrow his teaching, he resisted him in thought; still he wished
to see him and to hear him. Paul, however, had gone to Aricium,
and, since the visits of Glaucus had become rarer, Vinicius was in
perfect solitude. He began again to run through back streets
adjoining the Subura, and narrow lanes of the Trans-Tiber, in the
hope that even from a distance he might see Lygia. When even that
hope failed him, weariness and impatience began to rise in his
heart. At last the time came when his former nature was felt again
mightily, like that onrush of a wave to the shore from which it had
receded. It seemed to him that he had been a fool to no purpose,
that he had stuffed his head with things which brought sadness,
that he ought to accept from life what it gives. He resolved to
forget Lygia, or at least to seek pleasure and the use of things aside
from her. He felt that this trial, however, was the last, and he threw
himself into it with all the blind energy of impulse peculiar to him.
Life itself seemed to urge him to this course.

The city, torpid and depopulated by winter, began to revive with
hope of the near coming of Caesar. A solemn reception was in
waiting for him. Meanwhile spring was there; the snow on the
Alban Hills had vanished under the breath of winds from Africa.
Grass-plots in the gardens were covered with violets. The Forums
and the Campus Martius were filled with people warmed by a sun
of growing heat. Along the Appian Way, the usual place for drives
outside the city, a movement of richly ornamented chariots had
begun. Excursions were made to the Alban Hills. Youthful women,
under pretext of worshipping Juno in Lanuvium, or Diana in
Aricia, left home to seek adventures, society, meetings, and
pleasure beyond the city. Here Vinicius saw one day among lordly
chariots the splendid car of Chrysothemis, preceded by two
Molossian dogs; it was surrounded by a crowd of young men and
by old senators, whose position detained them in the city.
Chrysothemis, driving four Corsican ponies herself, scattered
smiles round about, and light strokes of a golden whip; but when
she saw Vinicius she reined in her horses, took him into her car,
and then to a feast at her house, which lasted all night. At that feast
Vinicius drank so much that he did not remember when they took
him home; he recollected, however, that when Chrysothemis
mentioned Lygia he was offended, and, being drunk, emptied a
goblet of Falernian on her head. When he thought of this in
soberness, he was angrier still. But a day later Chrysothemis,
forgetting evidently the injury, visited him at his house, and took
him to the Appian Way a second time. Then she supped at his
house, and confessed that not only Petronius, but his lute-player,
had grown tedious to her long since, and that her heart was free
now. They appeared together for a week, but the relation did not
promise permanence. After the Falernian incident, however,
Lygia's name was never mentioned, but Vinicius could not free
himself from thoughts of her. He had the feeling always that her
eyes were looking at his face, and that feeling filled him, as it
were, with fear. He suffered, and could not escape the thought that
he was saddening Lygia, or the regret which that thought roused in
him. After the first scene of jealousy which Chrysothemis made
because of two Syrian damsels whom he purchased, he let her go
in rude fashion. He did not cease at once from pleasure and
license, it is true, but he followed them out of spite, as it were,
toward Lygia. At last he saw that the thought of her did not leave
him for an instant; that she was the one cause of his evil activity as
well as his good; and that really nothing in the world occupied him
except her. Disgust, and then weariness, mastered him. Pleasure
had grown loathsome, and left mere reproaches. It seemed to him
that he was wretched, and this last feeling filled him with
measureless astonishment, for formerly he recognized as good
everything which pleased him. Finally, he lost freedom,
self-confidence, and fell into perfect torpidity, from which even
the news of Caesar's coming could not rouse him. Nothing touched
him, and he did not visit Petronius till the latter sent an invitation
and his litter.

On seeing his uncle, though greeted with gladness, he replied to
his questions unwillingly; but his feelings and thoughts, repressed
for a long time, burst forth at last, and flowed from his mouth in a
torrent of words. Once more he told in detail the history of his
search for Lygia, his life among the Christians, everything which
he had heard and seen there, everything which had passed through
his head and heart; and finally he complained that he had fallen
into a chaos, in which were lost composure and the gift of
distinguishing and judging. Nothing, he said, attracted him,
nothing was pleasing; he did not know what to hold to, nor how to
act. He was ready both to honor and persecute Christ; he
understood the loftiness of His teaching, but he felt also an
irresistible repugnance to it. He understood that, even should he
possess Lygia, he would not possess her completely, for he would
have to share her with Christ. Finally, he was living as if not living,
-- without hope, without a morrow, without belief in happiness;
around him was darkness in which he was groping for an exit, and
could not find it.

Petronius, during this narrative, looked at his changed face, at his
hands, which while speaking he stretched forth in a strange
manner, as if actually seeking a road in the darkness, and he fell to
thinking. All at once he rose, and, approaching Vinicius, caught
with his fingers the hair above his ear.

"Dost know," asked he, "that thou hast gray hairs on thy temple?"

"Perhaps I have," answered Vinicius; "I should not be astonished
were all my hair to grow white soon."

Silence followed. Petronius was a man of sense, and more than
once he meditated on the soul of man and on life. In general, life,
in the society in which they both lived, might be happy or unhappy
externally, but internally it was at rest. Just as a thunderbolt or an
earthquake might overturn a temple, so might misfortune crush a
life. In itself, however, it was composed of simple and harmonious
lines, free of complication. But there was something else in the
words of Vinicius, and Petronius stood for the first time before a
series of spiritual snarls which no one had straightened out
hitherto. Hc was sufficiently a man of reason to feel their
importance, but with all his quickness he could not answer the
questions put to him. After a long silence, he said at last, --

"These must be enchantments."

"I too have thought so," answered Vinicius; "more than once it
seemed to me that we were enchanted, both of us."

"And if thou," said Petronius, "were to go, for example, to the
priests of Serapis? Among them, as among priests in general, there
are many deceivers, no doubt; but there are others who have
reached wonderful secrets."

He said this, however, without conviction and with an uncertain
voice, for he himself felt how empty and even ridiculous that
counsel must seem on his lips.

Vinicius rubbed his forehead, and said: "Enchantments! I have
seen sorcerers who employed unknown and subterranean powers
to their personal profit; I have seen those who used them to the
harm of their enemies. But these Christians live in poverty, forgive
their enemies, preach submission, virtue, and mercy; what profit
could they get from enchantments, and why should they use
them?"

Petronius was angry that his acuteness could find no reply; not
wishing, however, to acknowledge this, he said, so as to offer an
answer of some kind, -- "That is a new sect." After a while he
added: "By the divine dweller in Paphian groves, how all that
injures life! Thou wilt admire the goodness and virtue of those
people; but I tell thee that they are bad, for they are enemies of
life, as are diseases, and death itself. As things are, we have
enough of these enemies; we do not need the Christians in
addition. Just count them: diseases, Caesar, Tigellinus, Grsar's
poetry, cobblers who govern the descendants of ancient Quirites,
freedmen who sit in the Senate. By Castor! there is enough of this.
That is a destructive and disgusting sect. Hast thou tried to shake
thyself out of this sadness, and make some little use of life?"

"I have tried," answered Vinicins.

"Ah, traitor!" said Petronius, laughing; "news spreads quickly
through slaves; thou hast seduced from me Chrysothemis!"

Vinicius waved his hand in disgust.

"In every case I thank thee," said Petronius. "I will send her a pair
of slippers embroidered with pearls. In my language of a lover that
means, 'Walk away.' I owe thee a double gratitude, -- first, thou
didst not accept Eunice; second, thou hast freed me from
Cbrysothemis. Listen to me! Thou seest before thee a man who has
risen early, bathed, feasted, possessed Chrysothemis, written
satires, and even at times interwoven prose with verses, but who
has been as wearied as Caesar, and often unable to unferter
himself from gloomy thoughts. And dost thou know why that was
so? It was because I sought at a distance that which was near. A
beautiful woman is worth her weight always in gold; but if she
loves in addition, she has simply no price. Such a one thou wilt not
buy with the riches of Verres. I say now to myself as follows: I will
fill my life with happiness, as a goblet with the foremost wine
which the earth has produced, and I will drink till my hand
becomes powerless and my lips grow pale. What will come, I care
not; and this is my latest philosophy."

"Thou hast proclaimed it always; there is nothing new in it."

"There is substance, which was lacking."

When he had said this, he called Eunice, who entered dressed in
white drapery, -- the former slave no longer, but as it were a
goddess of love and happiness.

Petronius opened his arms to her, and said, -- "Come."

At this she ran up to him, and, sitting on his knee, surrounded his
neck with her arms, and placed her head on his breast. Vinicius
saw how a reflection of purple began to cover her cheeks, how her
eyes melted gradually in mist. They formed a wonderful group of
love and happiness. Petronius stretched his hand to a flat vase
standing at one side on a table, and, taking a whole handful of
violets, covered with them the head, bosom, and robe of Eunice;
then he pushed the tunic from her arms, and said, -- "Happy he
who, like me, has found love enclosed in such a form! At times it
seems to me that we are a pair of gods. Look thyself! Has
Praxiteles, or Miron, or Skopas, or Lysias even, created more
wonderful lines? Or does there exist in Paros or in Pentelicus such
marble as this, -- warm, rosy, and full of love? There are people
who kiss off the edges of vases, but I prefer to look for pleasure
where it may be found really."

He began to pass his lips along her shoulders and neck. She was
penetrated with a quivering; her eyes now closed, now opened,
with an expression of unspeakable delight. Petronius after a while
raised her exquisite head, and said, turning to Vinicius, -- "But
think now, what are thy gloomy Christians in comparison with
this?

And if thou understand not the difference, go thy way to them. But
this sight will cure thee."

Vinicius distended his nostrils, through which entered the odor of
violets, which filled the whole chamber, and he grew pale; for he
thought that if he could have passed his lips along Lygia's
shoulders in that way, it would have been a kind of sacrilegious
delight so great that let the world vanish afterward! But
accustomed now to a quick perception of that which took place in
him, he noticed that at that moment he was thinking of Lygia, and
of her only.

"Eunice," said Petronius, "give command, thou divine one, to
prepare garlands for our heads and a meal."

When she had gone out he turned to Vinicius.

"I offered to make her free, hut knowest thou what she answered~
-- 'I would rather be thy slave than Caesar's wife!' And she would
not consent. 1 freed her then without her knowledge. The pretor
favored me by not requiring her presence. But she does not know
that she is free, as also she does not know that this house and all
my jewels, excepting the gems, will belong to her in case of my
death." He rose and walked through the room, and said:

"Love changes some more, others less, but it has changed even me.
Once I loved the odor of verbenas; but as Eunice prefers violets, I
like them now beyond all other flowers, and since spring came we
breathe only violets."

Here he stopped before Vinicius and inquired, -- "But as to thee,
dost thou keep always to nard?" "Give me peace!" answered the
young man.

"I wished thee to see Eunice, and I mentioned her to thee, because
thou, perhaps, art seeking also at a distance that which is near.
Maybe for thee too is beating, somewhere in the chambers of thy
slaves, a true and simple heart. Apply such a balsam to thy
wounds. Thou sayest that Lygia loves thee? Perhaps she does. But
what kind of love is that which abdicates? Is not the meaning this,
-- that there is another force stronger than her love? No, my dear,
Lygia is not Eunice."

"All is one torment merely," answered Vinicius. "I saw thee
kissing Eunice's shoulders, and I thought then that if Lygia would
lay hers bare to me I should not care if the ground opened under us
next moment. But at the very thought of such an act a certain dread
seized me, as if I had attacked some vestal or wished to defile a
divinity. Lygia is not Eunice, but I understand the difference not in
thy way. Love has changed thy nostrils, and thou preferrest violets
to verbenas; but it has changed my soul: hence, in spite of my
misery and desire, I prefer Lygia to be what she is rather than to be
like others."