Books: Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

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"Thus discussed Paul, and then Petronius said, 'That is not for me.'
Feigning drowsiness, he went out, and when going added: 'I prefer
my Eunice, O little Jew, but I should not wish to struggle with thee
on the platform.' I listened to Paul's words with my whole soul, and
when he spoke of our women, I magnified with all my heart that
religion from which thou hast sprung as a lily from a rich field in
springtime. And I thought then: There is Poppaea, who cast aside
two husbands for Nero, there is Calvia Crispinilla, there is Nigidia,
there are almost all whom I know, save only Pomponia; they
trafficked with faith and with oaths, but she and my own one will
not desert, will not deceive, and will not quench the fire, even
though all in whom I place trust should desert and deceive me.
Hence I said to thee in my soul, How can I show gratitude to thee,
if not with love and honor? Didst thou feel that in Antium I spoke
and conversed with thee all the time as if thou hadst been at my
side? I love thee a hundred times more for having escaped me
from Caesar's house. Neither do I care for Caesar's house any
longer; I wish not its luxury and music, I wish only thee. Say a
word, we will leave Rome to settle somewhere at a distance."

Without removing her head from his shouldcr, Lygia, as if
meditating, raised her eyes to the silver tops of the cypresses, and
answered, -- "Very well, Marcus. Thou hart written to me of Sicily,
where Aulus wishes to settle in old age." And Vinieius interrupted
her with delight.

"True, my dear! Our lands are adjacent. That is a wonderful coast,
where the climate is sweeter and the nights still brighter than in
Rome, odoriferous and transparent. There life and happiness are
almost one and the same."

And he began then to dream of the future.

"There we may forget anxieties. In groves, among olive-trees, we
shall walk and rest in the shade. O Lygia! what a life to love and
cherish each other, to look at the sea together, to look at the sky
together, to honor together a kind God, to do in peace what is just
and true."

Both were silent, looking into the future; only he drew her more
firmly toward him, and the knight's ring on his finger glittered
meanwhile in the rays of the moon. In the pan occupied by the
poor toiling people, all were sleeping; no murmur broke the
silence.

"Wilt thou permit me to see Pomponia?" asked Lygia.

"Yes, dear one. We will invite them to our house, or go to them
ourselves. If thou wish, we can take Peter the Apostle. Tie is
bowed down with age and work. Paul will visit us also, -- he will
convert Aulus Plautius; and as soldiers found colonies in distant
lands, so we will found a colony of Christians."

Lygia raised her hand and, taking his palm, wished to press it to
her lips; but he whispered, as if fearing to frighten happiness, --
"No, Lygia, no! It is I who honor thee and exalt thee; give me thy
hands." "I love thee."

He had pressed his lips to her hands, white as jessamine, and for a
time they heard only the beating of their own hearts. There was not
the slightest movement in the air; the cypresses stood as
motionless as if they too were holding breath in their breasts.

All at once the silence was broken by an unexpected thunder, deep,
and as if coming from under the earth. A shiver ran through Lygia's
body. Vinicius stood up, and said, -- "Lions are roaring in the
vivarium."

Both began to listen. Now the first thunder was answered by a
second, a third, a tenth, from all sides and divisions of the city. In
Rome several thousand lions were quartered at times in various
arenas, and frequently in the night~tirne they approached the
grating, and, leaning their gigantic heads against it, gave utterance
to their yearning for freedom and the desert. Thus they began on
this occasion, and, answering one another in the stillness of night,
they filled the whole city with roaring. There was something so
indescribably gloomy and terrible in those roars that Lygia, whose
bright and calm visions of the future were scattered, listened with
a straitened heart and with wonderful fear and sadness.

But Vinicius encircled her with his arm, and said, -- "Fear not, dear
one. The games are at hand, and all the vivaria are crowded."

Then both entered the house of Linus, accompanied by the thunder
of lions, growing louder and louder.

Chapter XL

IN Antium, meanwhile, Petronius gained new victories almost
daily over courtiers vying with him for the favor of Caesar. The
influence of Tigellinus had fallen completely. In Rome, when
there was occasion to set aside men who seemed dangerous, to
plunder their property or to settle political cases, to give spectacles
astounding by their luxury and bad taste, or finally to satisty the
monstrous whims ot Caesar, Tigellinus, as adroit, as he was ready
for anything, became indispensable. But in Antium,
among palaces reflected in the azure of the sea, Caesar led a
Hellenic existence. From morning till evening Nero and his
attendants read verses, discoursed on their structure and finish,
were delighted with happy turns of expression, were occupied with
music, the theatre, -- in a word, exclusively with that which
Grecian genius had invented, and with which it had beautified life.
Under these conditions Petronius, incomparably more rehaed than
Tigellinus and the other courtiers, -- witty, eloquent, full of subtile
feelings and tastes, obtained pre-eminence of necessity. Caesar
sought his society, took his opinion, asked for advice when he
composed, and showed a more lively friendship than at any other
time whatever. It seemed to courtiers that his influence had won a
supreme triumph at last, that friendship between him and Caesar
had entered on a period of certainty which would last for years.
Even those who had shown dislike previously to the exquisite
Epicurean, began now to crowd around him and vie for his favor.
More than one was even sincerely glad in his soul that
preponderance had come to a man who knew really what to think
of a given person, who received with a sceptical smile the flattery
of his enemies of yesterday, but who, either through indolence or
culture, was not vengeful, and did not use his power to the
detriment or destruction of others. There were moments when he
might have destroyed even Tigellinus, but he preferred to ridicule
him, and expose his vulgarity and want of refinement. In Rome the
Senate drew breath, for no death sentence had been issued for a
month and a half. It is true that in Antium and the city people told
wonders of the refinement which the profligacy of Caesar and his
favorite had reached, but every one preferred a refined Caesar to
one brutalized in the hands of Tigellinus. Tigellinus himself lost
his head, and hesitated whether or not to yield as conquered, for
Caesar had said repeatedly that in all Rome and in his court there
were only two spirits capable of understanding each other, two real
Hellenes, -- he and Petronius.

The amazing dexterity of Petronius confinned people in the
conviction that his influence would outlive every other. They dId
not see how Caesar could dispense with him, -- with whom could
he converse touching poetry, music, and comparative excellence;
in whose eyes could he look to learn whether his creation was
indeed perfect? Petronius, with his habitual indifference, seemed
to attach no importance to his position. As usual, he was remiss,
slothful, sceptical, and witty. He produced on people frequently
the impression of a man who made light of them, of himself, of
Caesar, of the whole world. At moments he ventured to criticise
Caesar to his face, and when others judged that he was going too
far, or simply preparing his own ruin, he was able to turn the
criticism suddenly in such a way that it came out to his profit; he
roused amazement in those present, and the conviction that there
was no position from which he could not issue in triumph.

About a week after the return of Vinicius from Rome, Caesar read
in a small circle an extract from his Troyad; when he had finished
and the shouts of rapture had ended, Petronius, interrogated by a
glance from Caesar, replied, --

"Common verses, fit for the fire."

The hearts of those present stopped beating from terror. Since the
years of his childhood Nero had never heard such a sentence from
any man. The face of Tigellinus was radiant with delight. But
Vinicius grew pale, thinking that Petronius, who thus far had never
been drunk, was drunk this time.

Nero, however, inquired in a honeyed voice, in which more or less
deeply wounded vanity was quivering, --

"What defect dost thou find in them?"

"Do not believe thcm," said Petronius, attacking him, and pointing
to those present; "they understand nothing. Thou hast asked what
defect there is in thy verses. If thou desire truth, I will tell rhee~
Thy verses would be worthy of Virgil, of Ovid, even of Homer, but
they are not worthy of thee. Thou art not free to write such. The
conflagration described by thee does not blaze enough; thy fire is
not hot enough. Listen not to Lucan's flatteries. Had he written
those verses, I should acknowledge him a genius, but thy case is
different. And knowest thou why? Thou art greater than they. From
him who is gifted of the gods as thou art, more is demanded. But
thou art slothful, -- thou wouldst rather sleep after dinner than sit
to wrinkles. Thou canst create a work such as the world has not
heard of to this day; hence I tell thee to thy eyes, write better!"

And he said this carelessly, as if bantering and also chiding; but
Caesar's eyes were mist-covered from delight.

"The gods have given me a little talent," said he, "hut they have
given me something greater, a true judge and friend, the only man
able to speak the truth to my eyes."

Then he stretched his fat hand, grown over with reddish hair, to a
golden candelabrum plundered from Delphi, to burn the verses.
But Petronius seized them before the flame touched the paper.

"No, no!" said he; "even thus they belong to mankind. Leave them
to me."

"In such case let me send them to thee in a cylinder of my own
invention," answered Nero, embracing Petroriius.

"True; thou art right," said he, after a while. "My conflagration of
Troy does not blaze enough; my fire is not hot enough. But I
thought it sufficient to equal Homer. A certain timidity and low
estimate of my power have fettered inc always. Thou hast opened
my eyes. But knowest why it is, as thou sayest? When a sculptor
makes the statue of a god, he seeks a model; but never have I had a
model. I never have seen a burning city; hence there is a lack of
truth in my description."

"Then I will say that only a great artist understands this." Nero
grew thoughtful, and after a while he said, -- "Answer one
question, Petronius. Dost thou regret the burning of Troy?"

"Do I regret? By the lame consort of Venus, not in the least! And I
will tell thee the reason. Troy would not have been consumed if
Prometheus had not given fire to man, and the Greeks made war
on Priam. Aeschylus would not have written his Prometheus had
there been no fire, just as Homer would not have written the Iliad
had there been no Trojan war. I think it better to have Prometheus
and the Iliad than a small and shabby city, which was unclean, I
think, and wretched, and in which at best there would be now
some procurator annoying thee through quarrels with the local
areopagus."

"That is what we call speaking with sound reason," said Nero. "For
art and poetry it is permitted, and it is right, to sacrifice everything.
Happy were the Achanns who furnished Homer with the substance
of the Iliad, and happy Priam who beheld the ruin of his birthplace.
As to me, I have never seen a burning city."

A time of silence followed, which was broken at last by
Tigellinus-- "But I have said to thee, Camar, already, command
and I will burn Antium; or dost thou know what? If thou art sorry
for these villas and palaces, give command to burn the ships in
Ostia; or I will build a wooden city on the Alban Hills, into which
thou shalt hurl the fire thyself. Dost thou wish?"

"Am I to gaze on the burning of wooden sheds?" asked Nero,
casting a look of contempt on him. "Thy mind has grown utterly
barren, Tigellinus. And I see, besides, that thou dost set no great
value on my talent or my Troyad, since thou judgest that any
sacrifice would be too great for it."

Tigellinus was confused; but Nero, as if wishing to change the
conversation, added after a while, --

"Summer is passing. Oh, what a stench there must be in that Rome
now! And stil1 we must return for the summer games."

"When thou dismissest the Augustians, O Caesar, permit me to
remain with thee a moment," said Tigellinus.

An hour later Vinicius, returning with Petronius from Ctsar's villa,
said, -- "I was a trifle alarmed for thee. I judged that while drunk
thou hadst ruined thyself beyond redemption. Remember that thou
art playing with death."

"That is my arena," answered Petronius, carelessly; "and the
feeling that I am the best gladiator in it amuses me. See how it
ended. My influence has increased this evening. He will send me
his verses in a cylinder which -- dost wish to lay a wager? -- will
be immensely rich and in immensely bad taste. I shall command
my physician to keep physic in it. I did this for another reason, --
because Tigellinus, seeing how such things succeed, will wish
surely to imitate me, and I imagine what will happen. The moment
he starts a witticism, it will be as if a bear of the Pyrenees were
rope-walking. I shall laugh like Democritus. If I wished I could
destroy Tigellinus perhaps, and become pretorian prefect in his
place, and have Ahenobarbus himself in my hands. But I am
indolent; I prefer my present life and even Caesar's verses to
trouble."

"What dexterity to be able to turn even blame into flattery! But are
those verses really so bad? I am no judge in those matters."

"The verses are not worse than others. Lucan has more talent in
one finger, but in Bronzebeard too there is something. He has,
above all, an imtnense love for poetry and music. In two days we
are to be with him to hear the music of his hymn to Aphrodite,
which he will finish to-day or to-morrow. We shall be in a small
circle, -- only I, thou, Tullius Senecio, and young Nerva. But as to
what I said touching Nero's verses, that I use them after feasting as
Vitelius does flamingo feathers, is not true. At times they are
eloquent. 1-lecuba's words are touching. She complains of the
pangs of birth, and Nero was able to find happy expressions, for
this reason, perhaps, that he gives birth to every verse in torment.
At times I am sorry for him. By Pollux, what a marvellous
mixture! The fifth stave was lacking in Caligula, but still he never
did such strange things."

"Who can foresee to what the madness of Ahenobarbus will go?"
asked Vinicius.

"No man whatever. Such things may happen yet that the hair will
stand on men's heads for whole centuries at thought of them. But it
is that precisely which interests me; and though I am bored more
than once, like Jupiter Ammon in the desert, I believe that under
another Caesar I should be bored a hundred times more. Paul, thy
little Jew, is eloquent, -- that I accord to him; and if people like
him proclaim that religion, our gods must defend themselves
seriously, lest in time they be led away captive. It is true that if
Caesar, for example, were a Christian, all would feel safer. But thy
prophet of Tarsus, in applying proofs to me, did not think, seest
thou, that for mc this uncertainty becomes the charm of life.
Whoso does not play at dice will not lose property, but still people
play at dice. There is in that a certain delight and destruction of the
present. I have known sons of knights and senators to become
gladiators of their own will. I play with life, thou sayest, and that is
true, but I play because it pleases me; while Christian virtues
would bore me in a day, as do the discourses of Seneca. Because
of this, Paul's eloquence is exerted in vain. He should understand
that people like me will never accept his religion. With thy
disposition thou mightst either hate the name Christian, or become
a Christian immediately. I recognize, while yawning, the truth of
what they say. We are mad. We are hastening to the precipice,
something unknown is coming toward us out of the future,
something is breaking beneath us, something is dying around us, --
agreed! But we shall succeed in dying; meanwhile we have no
wish to burden life, and serve death before it takes us. Life exists
for itself alone, not for death."

"But I pity thee, Perronius."

"Do not pity me more than I pity myself. Formerly thou wert glad
among us; while campaigning in Armenia, thou wert longing for
Rome."

"And now I am longing for Rome."

"True; for thou art in love with a Christian vestal, who sits in the
Trans.Tiber. I neither wonder at this, nor do I blame thee. I wonder
more, that in spite of a religion described by thee as a sea of
happiness, and in spite of a love which is soon to he crowned,
sadness has not left thy face. Pomponia Graecina is eternally
pensive; from the time of thy becoming a Christian thou hast
ceased to laugh. Do not try to persuade me that this religion is
cheerfuL Thou hast returned from Rome sadder than ever. If
Christians love in this way, by the bright curls of Bacchus! I shall
not imitate them!"

"That is another thing," answered Vinicius. "I swear to thee, not by
the curls of Bacehus, but by the soul of my father, that never in
times past have I experienced even a foretaste of such happiness as
I breathe to-day. But I yearn greatly; and what is stranger, when I
am far from Lygia, I think that danger is threatening her. I know
not what danger, nor whence it may come; but I feel it, as one feels
a coming tempest."

"In two days I will try to obtain for thee permission to leave
Antium, for as long a time as may please thee. Poppaea is
somewhat more quiet; and, as far as I know, no danger from her
threatens thee or Lygia."

"This very day she asked me what I was doing in Rome, though my
departure was secret."

"Perhaps she gave command to set spies on thee. Now, however,
even she must count with me."

"Paul told me," said Vinicius, "that God forewarns sometimes, but
does not permit us to believe in omens; hence I guard myself
against this belief, but I cannot ward it off. I will tell thee what
happened, so as to cast the weight from my heart. Lygia and I were
sitting side by side on a night as calm as this, and planning our
future. I cannot tell thee how happy and calm we were. All at once
lions began to roar. That is common in Rome, but since then I
have no rest. It seems to me that in that roaring there was a threat,
an announcement as it were of misfortune. Thou knowest that I am
not frightened easily; that night, however, something happened
which filled all the darkness with terror. It came so strangely and
unexpectedly that I have those sounds in my ears yet, and
unbroken fear in my heart, as if Lygia were asking my protection
from something dreadful, --even from those same lions. I am in
torture. Obtain for me permission to leave Antium, or I shall go
without it. I cannot remain. I repeat to thee, I cannot!"

"Sons of consuls or their wives are not given to lions yet in the
arenas," said Petronius, laughing. "Any other death may meet thee
but that. Who knows, besides, that they were lions? German bisons
roar with no less gentleness than lions. As to me, I ridicule omens
and fates. Last night was warm and I saw stars falling like rain.
Many a man has an evil foreboding at such a sight; but I thought,
'If among these is my star too, I shall not lack society at least!'"
Then he was silent, but added after a moment's thought, -- "If your
Christ has risen from the dead, He may perhaps protect you both
from death."

"He may," answered Vinicius, looking at the heavens filled with
stars.

Chapter XLI

NERO played and sang, in honor of the "Lady of Cyprus," ~ hymn
the verses and music of which were composed by himself. That
day he was in voice, and felt that his music really captivated those
present. That feeling added such power to the sounds produced
and roused his own soul so much that he seemed inspired. At last
he grew pale from genuine emotion. This was surely the first time
that he had no desire to hear praises from others. He sat for a time
with his hands on the cithara and with bowed head; then, rising
suddenly, he said, --

"I am tired and need air, Meanwhile ye will tune the citharae."

He covered his throat then with a silk kerchief.

"Ye will go with me," said he, turning to Petronius and Vinicius,
who were sitting in a corner of the hall. "Give me thy ann,
Vinicius, for strength fails me; Petronius will talk to me of music."

They went out on the terrace, which was paved with alabaster and
sprinkled with saffron.

"Here one can breathe more freely," said Nero. "My soul is moved
and sad, though I see that with what I have sung to thee on trial
just now I may appear in public, and my triumph will be such as
no Roman has ever achieved."

"Thou mayst appear here, in Rome, in Aehaea. I admire thee with
my whole heart and mind, divinity," answered Petronius.

"I know. Thou art too slothful to force thyself to flattery, and thou
art as sincere as Tullius Senecio, but thou hast more knowledge
than he. Tell me, what is thy judgment on music?"

"When I listen to poetry, when I look at a quadriga directed by thee
in the Circus, when I look at a beautiful statue, temple, or picture, I
feel that I comprehend perfectly what I see, that my enthusiasm
takes in all that these can give. But when I listen to music,
especially thy music, new delights and beauties open before me
every instant. I pursue them, I try to seize them; but before I can
take them to myself, new and newer ones flow in, just like waves
of the sea, which roll on from infinity. Hence I tell thee that music
is like the sea. We stand on one shore and gaze at remoteness, but
we cannot see the other shore."

"Ah, what deep knowledge thou hast!" said Nero; and they walked
on for a moment, only the slight sound of the saffron leaves under
their feet being heard.

"Thou hast expressed my idea," said Nero at last; "hence I say
now, as ever, in all Rome thou art the only man able to understand
me. Thus it is, my judgment of music is the same as thine. When I
play and sing, I see things which I did not know as existing in my
dominions or in the world. I am Caesar, and the world is mine. I
can do everything. But music opens new kingdoms to me, new
mountains, new seas, new delights unknown before. Most
frequently I cannot name them or grasp them; I only feel them. I
feel the gods, I see Olympus. Some kind of breeze from beyond the
earth blows in on me; I behold, as in a mist, certain immeasurable
greatnesses, but calm and bright as sunshine. The whole Spheres
plays around me; and I declare to thee" (here Nero's voice quivered
with genuine wonder) "that I, Caesar and god, feel at such times as
diminutive as dust. Wilt thou believe this?"

"I will. Only great artists have power to feel small in the presence
of art."

"This is a night of sincerity; hence I open my soul to thee as to a
friend, and I will say more: dost thou consider that I am blind or
deprived of reason? Dost thou think that I am ignorant of this, that
people in Rome write insults on the walls against me, call me a
matricide, a wife-murderer, hold me a monster and a tyrant,
because Tigellinus obtained a few sentences of death against my
enemies? Yes, my dear, they hold me a monster, and I know it.
They have talked cruelty on me to that degree that at times I put
the question to myself, 'Am I not cruel?' But they do not
understand this, that a man's deeds may be cruel at times while he
himself is not cruel. Ah, no one will believe, and perhaps even
thou, my dear, wilt not believe, that at moments when music
caresses my soul I feel as kind as a child in the cradle. I swear by
those stars which shine above us, that I speak the pure truth to
thee. People do not know how much goodness lies in this heart,
and what treasures I see in it when music opens the door to them."

Petronius, who had not the least doubt that Nero was speaking
sincerely at that moment, and that music might bring out various
more noble inclinations of his soul, which were overwhelmed by
mountains of egotism, profli-. gacy, and crime, said, -- "Men
should know thee as nearly as I do; Rome has never been able to
appreciate thee."

Caesar leaned more heavily on Vinicius's arm, as if he were
bending under the weight of injustice, and answered,

"Tigellinus has told me that in the Senate they whisper into one
another's ears that Diodorus and Terpnos play on the cithara better
than I. They refuse me even that! But tell me, thou who art truthful
always, do they play better, or as well?"

"By no means. Thy touch is finer, and has greater power. In thee
the artist is evident, in them the expert. The man who hears their
music first understands better what thou art."