Books: Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

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Plautius did not answer that question, -- a carefulness which
touched even Petronius somewhat, for, with all his inability to feel
the difference between good and evil, he had never been an
informer; and it was possible to talk with him in perfect safety. He
changed the conversation again, therefore, and began to praise
Plautius's dwelling and the good taste which reigned in the house.

"It is an ancient seat," said Plautius, "in which nothing has been
changed since I inherited it."

After the curtain was pushed aside which divided the atrium from
the tablinum, the house was open from end to end, so that through
the tabhinum and the following peristyle and the hail lying beyond
it which was called the aecus, the glance extended to the garden,
which seemed from a distance like a bright image set in a dark
frame. Joyous, childlike laughter came from it tmm the atrium.

"Oh, general!" said Petronius, "permit us to listen from near by to
that glad laughter which is of a kind heard so rarely in these days."

"Willingly," answered Plautius, rising; "that is my little Aulus and
Lygia, playing ball. But as to laughter, I think, Petronius, that our
whole life is spent in it."

"Life deserves laughter, hence people laugh at it," answered
Petronius, "but laughter here has another sound."

"Petronius does not laugh for days in succession," said Vinicius;
"but then he laughs entire nights."

Thus conversing, they passed through the length of the house and
reached the garden, where Lygia and little Aulus were playing with
balls, which slaves, appointed to that game exclusively and called
spherist~, picked up and placed in their hands. Petronius cast a
quick passing glance at Lygia; little Aulus, seeing Vinicius, ran to
greet him; but the young tribune, going forward, bent his head
before the beautiful maiden, who stood with a bali in her hand, her
hair blown apart a little. She was somewhat out of breath, and
flushed.

In the garden trichinium, shaded by ivy, grapes, and woodbine, sat
Pornponia Graecina; hence they went to salute her. She was
known to Petronius, though he did not visit Plautius, for he had
seen her at the house of Antistia, the daughter of Rubehius Plautus,
and besides at the house of Seneca and Polion. He could not resist
a certain admiration with which he was filled by her face, pensive
but mild, by the dignity of her bearing, by her movements, by her
words. Pomponia disturbed his understanding of women to such a
degree that that man, corrupted to the marrow of his bones, and
self-confident as no one in Rome, not only felt for her a kind of
esteem, but even lost his previous self-confidence. And now,
thanking her for her care of Vinicius, he thrust in, as it were
involuntarily, "domina," which never occurred to him when
speaking, for example, to Calvia Crispinilla, Scribonia, Veleria,
Solina, and other women of high society. After he had greeted her
and returned thanks, he began to complain that he saw her so
rarely, that it was not possible to meet her either in the Circus or
the Amphitheatre; to which she answered calmly, laying her hand
on the hand of her husband:

"We are growing old, and love our domestic quiet more and more,
both of us."

Petronius wished to oppose; but Aulus Plautius added in his
hissing voice, -- "And we feel stranger and stranger among people
who give Greek names to our Roman divinities."

"The gods have become for some time mere figures of rhetoric,"
replied Petronius, carelessly. "But since Greek rhetoricians taught
us, it is easier for me even to say Hera than Juno."

He turned his eyes then to Pomponia, as if to signify that in
presence of her no other divinity could come to his mind: and then
he began to contradict what she had said touching old age.

"People grow old quickly, it is true; but there are some who live
another life entirely, and there are faces moreover which Saturn
seems to forget."

Pctronius said this with a certain sincerity even, for Pomponia
Graecina, though descending from the midday of life, had
preserved an uncommon freshness of face; and since she had a
small head and delicate features, she produced at times, despite
her dark robes, despite her solemnity and sadness, the impression
of a woman quite young.

Meanwhile little Aulus, who had become uncommonly friendly
with Vinicius during his former stay in the house, approached the
young man and entreated him to play ball. Lygia herself entered
the triclinium after the little boy. Under the climbing ivy, with the
light quivering on her face, she seemed to Petronius more beautiful
than at the first glance, and really like some nymph. As he had not
spoken to her thus far, he rose, inclined his head, and, instead of
the usual expressions of greeting, quoted the words with which
Ulysses greeted Nausikaa, -- "I supplicate thee, O queen, whether
thou art some goddess or a mortal! If thou art one of the daughters
of men who dwell on earth, thrice blessed are thy father and thy
lady mother, and thrice blessed thy brethren."

The exquisite politeness of this man of the world pleased even
Pomponia. As to Lygia, she listened, confused and flushed,
without boldness to raise her eyes. But a wayward smile began to
quiver at the corners of her lips, and on her face a struggle was
evident between the timidity of a maiden and the wish to answer;
but clearly the wish was victorious, for, looking quickly at
Petronius, she answered him all at once with the words of that
same Nausikaa, quoting them at one breath, and a little like a
lesson learned, --

"Stranger, thou seemest no evil man nor foolish."

Then she turned and ran out as a frightened bird runs.

This time the turn for astonishment came to Petronius, for he had
not expected to hear verses of I lomer from the lips of a maiden of
whose barbarian extraction he had heard previously from Vinicius.
Hence he looked with an inquiring glance at Pomponia; but she
could not give him an answer, for she was looking at that moment,
with a smile, at the pride reflected on the face of her husband.

He was not able to conceal that pride. First, he had become
attached to Lygia as to his own daughter; and second, in spite of
his old Roman prejudices, which commanded him to thunder
against Greek and the spread of the language, he considered it as
the summit of social polish. He himself had never been able to
learn it well; over this he suffered in secret. He was glad,
therefore, that an answer was given in the language and poetry of
Homer to this exquisite man both of fashion and letters, who was
ready to consider Plautius's house as barbarian.

"We have in the house a pedagogue, a Greek," said he, turning to
Petronius, "who teaches our boy, and the maiden overhears the
lessons. She is a wagrail yet, but a dear one, to which we have both
grown attached."

Petronius looked through the branches of woodbine into the
garden, and at the three persons who were playing there. Vinicius
had thrown aside his toga, and, wearing only his tunic, was striking
the ball, which Lygia, standing opposite, with raised arms was
trying to catch. The maiden did not make a great impression on
Petronius at the first glance; she secirmed to hhrm too slender. But
from the moment when he saw her more nearly in the triclinium he
thought to himself that Aurora might look like her; and as a judge
he understood that in her there was something uncommon. He
considered everything and estimated everything; hence her face,
rosy and clear, her fresh lips, as if set for a kiss, her eyes blue as
the azure of the sea, the alabaster whiteness of her forehead, the
wealth of her dark hair, with the reflection of amber or Corinthian
bronze gleaming in its folds, her slender neck, the divine slope of
her shoulders, the whole posture, flexible, slender, young with the
youth of May and of freshly opened flowers. The artist was roused
in him, and the worshipper of beauty, who felt that beneath a
statue of that maiden one might write "Spring." All at once he
remembered Chrysothemis, and pure laughter seized him.
Chrysothemis seemed to him, with golden powder on her hair and
darkened brows, to be fabulously faded, -- something in the nature
of a yellowed rose-tree shedding its leaves. But still Rome envied
him that Chrysothemis. Then he recalled Poppza; and that most
famous Poppae also seemed to him soulless, a waxen mask. In that
maiden with Tanagrian outlines there was not only spring, but a
radiant soul, which shone through her rosy body as a flame through
a lamp.

"Vinicius is right," thought he, "and my Chrysothemis is old, old!
-- as Troy!"

Then he turned to Pomponia Graecina, and, pointing to the garden,
said, -- "I understand now, domina, why thou and thy husband
prefer this house to the Circus and to feasts on the Palatine."

"Yes," answered she, turning her eyes in the direction of little
Aulus and Lygia.

But the old general began to relate the history of the maiden, and
what he had heard years before from Atelius Hister about the
Lygian people who lived in the gloom of the North.

The three outside had finished playing ball, and for some time had
been walking along the sand of the garden, appearing against the
dark background of myrtles and cypresses like three white statues.
Lygia held little Aulus by the hand. After they had walked a while
they sat on a bench near the fishpond, which occupied the middle
of the garden. After a time Aulus sprang up to frighten the fish in
the transparent water, but Vinicius continued the conversation
begun during the walk.

"Yes," said he, in a low, quivering voice, scarcely audible; "barely
had I cast aside the pretexta, when I was sent to the legions in
Asia. I had not become acquainted with the city, nor with life, nor
with love. I know a small bit of Anacreon by heart, and Horace;
but I cannot like Petronius quote verses, when reason is dumb
from admiration and unable to find its own words. While a youth I
went to school to Musonius, who told me that happiness consists
in wishing what the gods wish, and therefore depends on our will. I
think, however, that it is something else, -- something greater and
more precious, which depends not on the will, for love only can
give it. The gods themselves seek that happiness; hence I too, O
Lygia, who have not known love thus far, follow in their footsteps.
I also seek her who would give me happiness --"

He was silent -- and for a time there was nothing to be heard save
the light plash of the water into which little Aulus was throwing
pebbles to frighten the fish; but after a while Vinicius began again
in a voice still softer amid lower, -- "But thou knowest of
Vespasian's son Titus? They say that he had scarcely ceased to be a
youth when he so loved Berenice that grief almost drew the life
out of him. So could I too love, O Lygia! Riches, glory, power are
mere smoke, vanity! The rich man will find a richer than himself;
the greater glory of another will eclipse a man who is famous; a
strong man will be conquered by a stronger. But can Caesar
himself, can any god even, experience greater delight or be happier
than a simple mortal at the moment when at his breast there is
breathing another dear breast, or when he kisses beloved lips?
Hence love makes us equal to the gods, O Lygia."

And she listened with alarm, with astonishment, and at the same
time as if she were listening to the sound of a Grecian flute or a
cithara. It seemed to her at moments that Vinicius was singing a
kind of wonderful song, which was instilling itself into her ears,
moving the blood in her, and penetrating her heart with a faintness,
a fear, and a kind of uncomprehended delight. It seemed to her
also that he was telling something which was in her before, but of
which she could not give account to herself. She felt that he was
rousing in her something which had been sleeping hitherto, and
that in that moment a hazy dream was changing into a form more
and more definite, more pleasing, more beautiful.

Meanwhile the sun had passed the Tiber long since, and had sunk
low over the Janiculum. On the motionless cypresses ruddy light
was falling, and the whole atmosphere was filled with it. Lygia
raised on Vinicius her blue eyes as if roused from sleep; and he,
bending over her with a prayer quivering in his eyes, seemed on a
sudden, in the reflections of evening, more beautiful than all men,
than all Greek and Roman gods whose statues she had seen on the
fa‡ades of temples. And with his fingers he clasped her arm lightly
just above the wrist and asked, -- "Dost thou not divine what I say
to thee, Lygia?"

"No," whispered she as answer, in a voice so low that Virsicius
barely heard it.

But he did not believe her, and, drawing her hand toward him
more vigorously, he would have drawn it to his heart, which, under
the influence of desire roused by the marvellous maiden, was
beating like a hammer, and would have addressed burning words
to her directly had not old Aulus appeared on a path set in a frame
of myrtles, who said, while approaching them, -- "The sun is
setting; so beware of the evening coolness, and do not trifle

with Libitina."

"No," answered Vinicius; "I have not put on my toga yet, and I do
not feel the cold."

"But see, barely half the sun's shield is looking from behind the
hill. That is a sweet climate of Sicily, where people gather on the
square before sunset and take farewell of disappearing Phothus
with a choral song."

And, forgetting that a moment earlier he had warned them against
Libitina, he began to tell about Sicily, where he had estates and
large cultivated fields which he loved. He stated also that it had
come to his mind more than once to remove to Sicily, and live out
his life there in quietness. "He whose head winters have whitened
has bad enough of hoar frost. Leaves are not falling from the trees
yet, and the sky smiles on the city lovingly; but when the
grapevines grow yellow-leaved, when snow falls on the Alban
hills, and the gods visit the Campania with piercing wind, who
knows but I may remove with my entire household to my quiet
country-seat?"

"Wouldst thou leave Rome?" inquired Vinicius, with sudden
alarm. "I have wished to do so this long time, for it is quieter in
Sicily and safer." And again he fell to praising his gardens, his
herds, his house hidden in green, and the hills grown over with
thyme and savory, among which were swarms of buzzing bees. But
Vinicius paid no heed to that bucolic note; and from thinking only
of this, that he might lose Lygia, he looked toward Petronius as if
expecting salvation from him alone.

Meanwhile Petronius, sitting near Pomponia, was admiring the
view of the setting sun, the garden, and the people standing near
the fish-pond. Their white garments on the dark background of the
myrtles gleamed like gold from the evening rays. On the sky the
evening light had begun to assume purple and violet hues, and to
change like an opal. A strip of the sky became lily-colored. The
dark silhouettes of the cypresses grew still more pronounced than
during bright daylight. In the people, in the trees, in the whole
garden there reigned an evening calm.

That calm struck Petronius, and it struck him especially in the
people. In the faces of Pomponia, old Aulus, their son, and Lygia
there was something such as he did not see in the faces which
surrounded him every day, or rather every night. There was a
certain light, a certain repose, a certain serenity, flowing directly
from the life which all lived there. And with a species of
astonishment he thought that a beauty and sweetness might exist
which he, who chased after beauty and sweetness continually, had
not known. He could not hide the thought in himself, and said,
turning to Pomponia, -- "I am considering in my soul how different
this world of yours is from the world which our Nero rules."

She raised her delicate face toward the evening light, and said with
simplicity, -- "Not Nero, but God, rules the world."

A moment of silence followed. Near the triclinium were heard in
the alley, the steps of the old general, Vinicius, Lygia, and little
Aulus; but before they arrived, Petronius had put another question,
-- "But believest thou in the gods, then, Pomponia?"

"I believe in God, who is one, just, and all-powerful," answered the
wife of Aulus Plautius.

Chapter III

"SHE believes in God who is one, all-powerful, and just," said
Petronius, when he found himself again in the litter with Vinicius.
"If her God is all-powerful, He controls life and death; and if He is
just, He sends death justly. Why, then, does Pomponia wear
mourning for Julius? In mourning for Julius she blames her God. I
must repeat this reasoning to our Bronzebeard, the monkey, since I
consider that in dialectics I am the equal of Socrates. As to
women, I agree that each has three or four souls, but none of them
a reasoning one. Let Pomponia meditate with Seneca or Cornurus
over the question of what their great Logos is. Let them summon at
once the shades of Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, and Plato, who
are as much wearied there in Cimmerian regions as a finch in a
cage. I wished to talk with her and with Plautius about something
else. By the holy stomach of the Egyptian Isis! If I had told them
right out directly why we came, I suppose that their virtue would
have made as much noise as a bronze shield under the blow of a
club. And I did not dare to tell! Wilt thou believe, Vinicius, I did
not dare! Peacocks are beautiful birds, but they have too shrill a
cry. I feared an outburst.

But I must praise thy choice. A real 'rosy-fingered Aurora.' And
knowest thou what she reminded me of too? -- Spring! not our
spring in Italy, where an apple-tree merely puts forth a blossom
here and there, and olive groves grow gray, just as they were gray
before, but the spring which I saw once in Helvetia, -- young,
fresh, bright green. By that pale moon, I do not wonder at thee,
Marcus; but know that thou art loving Diana, because Auhis and
Pomponia are ready to tear thee to pieces, as the dogs once tore
Actaeon."

Vinicius was silent a time without raising his head; then he began
to speak with a voice broken by passion, -- "I desired her before,
but now I desire her still more. When I caught her arm, flame
embraced me. I must have her. Were I Zeus, I would surround her
with a cloud, as he surrounded lo, or I would f all on her in rain, as
he fell on Dana‰; I would kiss her lips till it pained! I would hear
her scream in my arms. I would kill Aulus and Pomponia, and bear
her home in my arms. I will not sleep to-night. I will give
command to flog one of my slaves, and listen to his groans --"

"Calm thyself," said Petronius. "Thou hast the longing of a
carpenter from the Subura."

"All one to me what thou sayst. I must have her. I have turned to
thee for aid; but if thou wilt not find it, I shall find it myself. Aulus
considers Lygia as a daughter; why should I look on her as a slave?
And since there is no other way, let her ornament the door of my
house, let her anoint it with wolf's fat, and let her sit at my hearth
as wife."

"Calm thyself, mad descendant of consuls. We do not lead in
barbarians bound behind our cars, to make wives of their
daughters. Beware of extremes. Exhaust simple, honorable
methods, and give thyself and me time for meditation.
Chrysothemis seemed to me too a daughter of Jove, and still I did
not marry her, just as Nero did not marry Acte, though they called
her a daughter of King Attalus. Calm thyself! Think that if she
wishes to leave Aulus for thee, he will have no right to detain her.
Know also that thou art not burning alone, for Eros has roused in
her the flame too. I saw that, and it is well to believe me. Have
patience. There is a way to do everything, but to-day I have
thought too much already, and it tires me. But I promise that
to-morrow I will think of thy love, and unless Petronius is not
Petronius, he will discover some method."

They were both silent again.

"I thank thee," said Vinicius at last. "May Fortune be bountiful to
thee."

"Be patient."

"Whither hast thou given command to bear us?"

"To Chrysothemis."

"Thou art happy in possessing her whom thou lovest."

"I? Dost thou know what amuses me yet in Chrysothemis? This,
that she is false to me with my freedman Theokles, and thinks that
I do not notice it. Once I loved her, but now she amuses me with
her lying and stupidity. Come with me to her. Should she begin to
flirt with thee, and write letters on the table with her fingers
steeped in wine, know that I shall not be jealous."

And he gave command to bear them both to Chrysothemis.

But in the entrance Petronius put his hand on Vinicius's shoulder,
and said,-- "Wait; it seems to me that I have discovered a plan."
"May all the gods reward thee!" "I have it! I judge that this plan is
infallible. Knowest what, Marcus?" "I listen to thee, my wisdom."
"Well, in a few days the divine Lygia will partake of Demeter's
grain in thy house."

"Thou art greater than Caesar!" exclaimed Vinicius with
enthusiasm.

CHAPTER IV

IN fact, Petronius kept his promise. He slept all the day following
his visit to Chrysothemis, it is true; but in the evening he gave
command to bear him to the Palatine, where he had a confidential
conversation with Nero; in consequence of this, on the third day a
centurion, at the head of some tens of pretorian soldiers, appeared
before the house of Plautius.

The period was uncertain and terrible. Messengers of this kind
were more frequently heralds of death. So when the centurion
struck the hammer at Aulus's door, and when the guard of the
atrium announced that there were soldiers in the anteroom, terror
rose through the whole house. The family surrounded the old
general at once, for no one doubted that danger hung over him
above all. Pomponia, embracing his neck with her arms, clung to
him with all her strength, and her blue lips moved quickly while
uttering some whispered phrase. Lygia, with a face pale as linen,
kissed his hand; little Aulus clung to his toga. From the corridor,
from chambers in the lower story intended for servant-women and
attendants, from the bath, from the arches of lower dwellings, from
the whole house, crowds of slaves began to hurry out, and the cries
of "Heu! heu, me miserum!" were heard. The women broke into
great weeping; some scratched their cheeks, or covered their heads
with kerchiefs.

Only the old general himself, accustomed for years to look death
straight in the eye, remained calm, and his short eagle face became
as rigid as if chiselled from stone. After a while, when he had
silenced the uproar, and commanded the attendants to disappear,
he said, -- "Let me go, Pomponia. If my end has come, we shall
have time to take leave."

And he pushed her aside gently; but she said, -- "God grant thy fate
and mine to be one, O Aulus!"

Then, failing on her knees, she began to pray with that force which
fear for some dear one alone can give.

Aulus passed out to the atrium, where the centurion was waiting
for him. It was old Caius Hasta, his former subordinate and
companion in British wars.

"I greet thee, general," said he. "I bring a command, and the
greeting of Caesar; here are the tablets and the signet to show that
I come in his name."

"I am thankful to Caesar for the greeting, and I shall obey the
command," answered Aulus. "Be welcome, Hasta, and say what
command thou hast brought."

"Aulus Plautius," began Hasta, "Caesar has learned that in thy
house is dwelling the daughter of the king of the Lygians, whom
that king during the life of the divine Claudius gave into the hands
of the Romans as a pledge that the boundaries of the empire would
never be violated by the Lygians. The divine Nero is grateful to
thee, O general, because thou hast given her hospitality in thy
house for so many years; but, not wishing to burden thee longer,
and considering also that the maiden as a hostage should be under
the guardianship of Cirsar and the senate, he commands thee to
give her into my hands."

Aulus was too much a soldier and too much a veteran to permit
himself regret in view of an order, or vain words, or complaint. A
slight wrinkle of sudden anger and pain, however, appeared on his
forehead. Before that frown legions in Britain had trembled on a
time, and even at that moment fear was evident on the face of
Hasta. But in view of the order, Aulus Plautius felt defenceless. He
looked for some time at the tablets and the signet; then raising his
eyes to the old centurion, he said calmly, -- "Wait, Hasta, in the
atrium till the hostage is delivered to thee."

After these words he passed to the other end of the house, to the
hall called cecus, where Pomponia Graecina, Lygia, and little
Aulus
were waiting for him in fear and alarm.

"Death threatens no one, nor banishment to distant islands," said
he; "still Caesar's messenger is a herald of misfortune. It is a
question of thee, Lygia."

"Of Lygia?" exclaimed Pomponia, with astonishment.

"Yes," answered Aulus.