Books: Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

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

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46

In fact, after the dinner was finished and after the usual walk, he
gave himself into the hands of hairdressers and of slaves who
arranged his robes, and an hour later, beautiful as a god, he gave
command to take him to the Palatine.

It was late, the evening was warm and calm; the moon shone so
brightly that the lampadarii going before the litter put out their
torches. On the streets and among the ruins crowds of people were
pushing along, drunk with wine, in garlands of ivy and
honeysuckle, bearing in their hands branches of myrtle and laurel
taken from Caesar's gardens. Abundance of grain and hopes of
great games filled the hearts of all with gladness. Here and there
songs were sung magnifying the "divine night" and love; here and
there they were dancing by the light of the moon, and the slaves
were forced repeatedly to demand space for the litter "of the noble
Petronius," and then the crowd pushed apart, shouting in honor of
their favorite.

He was thinking of Vinicius, and wondering why he had no news
from him. He was an Epicurean and an egotist, but passing time,
now with Paul of Tarsus, now with Vinicius, hearing daily of the
Christians, he had changed somewhat without his own knowledge.
A certain breeze from them had blown on him; this cast new seeds
into his soul. Besides his own person others began to occupy him;
moreover, he had been always attached to Vinicius, for in
childhood he had loved greatly his sister, the mother of Vinicius;
at present, therefore, when he had taken part in his affairs, he
looked on them with that interest with which he would have
looked on some tragedy.

Petronius did not lose hope that Vinicius had anticipated the
pretorians and fled with Lygia, or, in the worse case, had rescued
her. But he would have preferred to be certain, since he foresaw
that he might have to answer various questions for which he would
better be prepared.

Stopping before the house of Tiberius, he alighted from the litter,
and after a while entered the atrium, filled already with
Augustians. Yesterday's friends, though astonished that he was
invited, still pushed back; but he moved on among them, beautiful,
free, unconcerned, as self-confident as if he himself had the power
to distribute favors. Some, seeing him thus, were alarmed in spirit
lest they had shown him indifference too early.

Caesar, however, feigned not to see him, and did not return his
obeisance, pretending to be occupied in conversation. But
Tigellinus approached and said,--

"Good evening, Arbiter Elegantiarum. Dost thou assert still that it
was not the Christians who burnt Rome?"

Petronius shrugged his shoulders, and, clapping Tigellinus on the
back as he would a freedman, answered, --

"Thou knowest as well as I what to think of that."

"I do not dare to rival thee in wisdom."

"And thou art right, for when Caesar reads to us a new book from
the Troyad, thou, instead of crying out like a jackdaw, wouldst
have to give an opinion that was not pointless."

Tigellinus bit his lips. He was not over-rejoiced that Caesar had
decided to read a new book, for that opened a field in which he
could not rival Petronius. In fact, during the reading, Nero, from
habit, turned his eyes involuntarily toward Petronius, looking
carefully to see what he could read in his face. The latter listened,
raised his brows, agreed at times, in places increased his attention
as if to be sure that he heard correctly. Then he praised or
criticised, demanded corrections or the smoothing of certain
verses. Nero himself felt that for others in their exaggerated
praises it was simply a question of themselves, that Petronius
alone was occupied with poetry for its own sake; that he alone
understood it, and that if he praised one could be sure that the
verses deserved praise. Gradually therefore he began to discuss
with him, to dispute; and when at last Petronius brought the fitness
of a certain expression into doubt, he said, --

"Thou wilt see in the last book why I used it."

"Ah," thought Petronius, "then we shall wait for the last book."

More than one hearing this said in spirit: "Woe to me! Petronius
with time before him may return to favor and overturn even
Tigellinus." And they began again to approach him. But the end of
the evening was less fortunate; for Caesar, at the moment when
Petronius was taking leave, inquired suddenly, with blinking eyes
and a face at once glad and malicious, --

"But why did not Vinicius come?"

Had Petronius been sure that Vinicius and Lygia were beyond the
gates of the city, he would have answered, "With thy permission he
has married and gone." But seeing Nero's strange smile, he
answered, --

"Thy invitation, divinity, did not find him at home."

"Say to Vinicius that I shall be glad to see him," answered Nero,
"and tell him from me not to neglect the games in which Christians
will appear."

These words alarmed Petronius. It seemed to him that they related
to Lygia directly. Sitting in his litter, he gave command to bear
him home still more quickly than in the morning. That, however,
was not easy. Before the house of Tiberius stood a crowd dense
and noisy, drunk as before, though not singing and dancing, but, as
it were, excited. From afar came certain shouts which Petronius
could not understand at once, but which rose and grew till at last
they were one savage roar, --

"To the lions with Christians!"

Rich litters of courtiers pushed through the howling rabble. From
the depth of burnt streets new crowds rushed forth continually;
these, hearing the cry, repeated it. News passed from mouth to
mouth that the pursuit had continued from the forenoon, that a
multitude of incendiaries were seized; and immediately along the
newly cleared and the old streets, through alleys lying among ruins
around the Palatine, over all the hills and gardens were heard
through the length and breadth of Rome shouts of swelling rage, --

"To the lions with Christians!"

"Herd!" repeated Pctronius, with contempt; "a people worthy of
Cesar!" And he began to think that a society resting on superior
force, on cruelty of which even barbarians had no conception, on
crimes and mad profligacy, could not endure. Rome ruled the
world, but was also its ulcer. The odor of a corpse was rising from
it. Over its decaying life the shadow of death was descending.
More than once this had been mentioned even among the
Augustians, but never before had Petronius had a clearer view of
this truth that the laurelled chariot on which Rome stood in the
form of a triumphator, and which dragged behind a chained herd
of nations, was going to the precipice. The life of that world-ruling
city seemed to him a kind of mad dance, an orgy, which must end.
He saw then that the Christians alone had a new basis of life; but
he judged that soon there would not remain a trace of the
Christians. And what then?

The mad dance would continue under Ne:o; and if Nero
disappeared, another would be found of the same kind or worse,
for with such a people and such patricians there was no reason to
find a better leader. There would be a new orgy, and moreover a
fouler and a viler one.

But the orgy could not last forever, and there would be need of
sleep when it was over, even because of simple exhaustion.

While thinking of this, Petronius felt immensely wearied. Was it
worth while to live, and live in uncertainty, with no purpose but to
look at such a society? The genius of death was not less beautiful
than the genius of sleep, and he also had wings at his shoulders.

The litter stopped before the arbiter's door, which was opened that
instant by the watchful keeper.

"Has the noble Vinicius returned?" inquired Petronius.

"Yes, lord, a moment ago," replied the slave.

"He has not rescued her," thought Petronius. And casting aside his
toga, he ran into the atrium. Vinicius was sitting on a stool; his
head bent almost to his knees with his hands on his head; but at the
sound of steps he raised his stony face, in which the eyes alone had
a feverish brightness.

"Thou wert late?" asked Petronius.

"Yes; they seized her before midday."

A moment of silence followed.

"Hast thou seen her?"

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

"In the Mamertine prison."

Petronius trembled and looked at Vinicius with an inquiring
glance. The latter understood.

"No," said he. "She was not thrust down to the Tullianum 1 nor
even to the middle prison. I paid the guard to give her his own
room. Ursus took his place at the threshold and is guarding her."

"Why did Ursus not defend her?"

"They sent fifty pretorians, and Linus forbade him."

"But Linus?"

"Linus is dying; therefore they did not seize him."

"What is thy intention?"

"To save her or die with her. I too believe in Christ."

Viicius spoke with apparent calmness; but there was such despair
in his voice that the heart of Petronius quivered from pure pity.

"I understand thee," said he; "but how dost thou think to save her?"

"I paid the guards highly, first to shield her from indignity, and
second not to hinder her flight."

"When can that happen?"

"They answered that they could give her to me at once, as they
feared responsibility. When the prison will be filled with a
multitude of people, and when the tally of prisoners is confused,
they will deliver her. But that is a desperate thing! Do thou save
her, and me first! Thou art a friend of Caesar. He himself gave her
to me. Go to him and save me!"

Petronius, instead of answering, called a slave, and, commanding
him to bring two dark mantles and two swords, turned to
Vinicius,--

"On the way I will tell thee," said he. "Meanwhile take the
mantle and weapon, and we will go to the prison. There give the
guards a hundred thousand sestertia; give them twice and five
times more, if they will free Lygia at once. Otherwise it will be too
late."

"Let us go," said Vinicius.

After a while both were on the street.

"Now listen to me," said Petronius. "I did not wish to lose time. I
am in disfavor, beginning with to-day. My own life is hanging on a
hair; hence I can do nothing with Caesar. Worse than that, I am
sure that he would act in opposition to my request. If that were not
the case, would I advise thee to flee with Lygia or to rescue her?
Besides, if thou escape, Caesar's wrath will turn on me. To-day he
would rather do something at thy request than at mine. Do not
count on that, however. Get her out of the prison, and flee!
Nothing else is left. If that does not succeed, there will be time for
other methods. Meanwhile know that Lygia is in prison, not alone f
or belief in Christ; Poppaea's anger is pursuing her and thee. Thou
hast offended the Augusta by rejecting her, dost remember? She
knows that she was rejected for Lygia, whom she hated from the
first cast of the eye. Nay, she tried to destroy Lygia before by
ascribing the death of her own infant to her witchcraft. The hand
of Poppaea is in this. How explain that Lygia was the first to be
imprisoned? Who could point out the house of Linus? But I tell
thee that she has been followed this long time. I know that I wring
thy soul, and take the remnant of thy hope from thee, but I tell thee
this purposely, for the reason that if thou free her not before they
come at the idea that thou wilt try, ye are both lost."

"Yes; I understand!" muttered Vinicius.

The streets were empty because of the late hour. Their further
conversation was interrupted, however, by a drunken gladiator
who came toward them. He reeled against Petronius, put one hand
on his shoulder, covering his face with a breath filled with wine,
and shouted in a hoarse voice, --

"To the lions with Christians!"

"Mirmillon," answered Petronius, quietly, "listen to good counsel;
go thy way."

With his other hand the drunken man seized him by the arm, --

"Shout with me, or I'll break thy neck: Christians to the lions!" But
the arbiter's nerves had had enough of those shouts. From the time
that he had left the Palatine they had been stifling him like a
nightmare, and rending his ears. So when he saw the fist of the
giant above him, the measure of his patience was exceeded.

"Friend," said he, "thou hint the smell of wine, and art stopping my
way." Thus speaking, he drove into the man's breast to the hilt the
short sword which he had brought from home; then, taking the arm
of Vinicius, he continued as if nothing had happened, -- "Caesar
said to-day, 'Tell Vinicius from me to be at the games in which
Christians will appear.' Dost understand what that means? They
wish to make a spectacle of thy pain. That is a settled affair.
Perhaps that is why thou and I are not imprisoned yet. If thou art
not able to get her at once -- I do not know -- Acte might take thy
part; but can she effect anything? Thy Sicilian lands, too, might
tempt Tigellinus. Make the trial."

"I will give him all that I have," answered Vinicius.

From the Carinae to the Forum was not very far; hence they
arrived soon. The night had begun to pale, and the walls of the
castle came out definitely from the shadow.

Suddenly, as they turned toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius
stopped, and said,--

"Pretorians! Too late!"

In fact the prison was surrounded by a double rank of soldiers. The
morning dawn was silvering their helmets and the points of their
javelins.

Vinicius grew as pale as marble. "Let us go on," said he.

After a while they halted before the line. Gifted with an
uncommon memory, Petronius knew not only the officers, but
nearly all the pretorian soldiers. Soon he saw an acquaintance, a
leader of a cohort, and nodded to him.

"But what is this, Niger?" asked he; "are ye commanded to watch
the prison?"

"Yes, noble Petronius. The prefect feared lest they might try to
rescue the incendiaries."

"Have ye the order to admit no one?" inquired Vinicius.

"We have not; acquaintances will visit the prisoners, and in that
way we shall seize more Christians."

"Then let me in," said Vinicius; and pressing Petronius's hand, he
said,

"See Acte, I will come to learn her answer."

"Come," responded Petronius.

At that moment under the ground and beyond the thick walls was
heard singing. The hymn, at first low and muffled, rose more and
more. The voices of men, women, and children were mingled in
one harmonious chorus. The whole prison began to sound, in the
calmness of dawn, like a harp. But those were not voices of sorrow
or despair; on the contrary, gladness and triumph were heard in
them.

The soldiers looked at one another with amazement. The first
golden and rosy gleams of the morning appeared in the sky.

1 The lowest part of the prison, lying entirely underground, with a
single opening in the ceiling. Jugurtha died there of hunger.

Chapter LI

THE cry, "Christians to the lions!" was heard increasingly in every
part of the city. At first not only did no one doubt that they were
the real authors of the catastrophe, but no one wished to doubt,
since their punishment was to be a splendid amusement for the
populace. Still the opinion spread that the catastrophe would not
have assumed such dreadful proportions but for the anger of the
gods; for this reason "piacuia," or purifying sacrifices, were
commanded in the temples. By advice of the Sibylline books, the
Senate ordained solemnities and public prayer to Vulcan, Ceres,
and Proserpina. Matrons made offerings to Juno; a whole
procession of them went to the seashore to take water and sprinkle
with it the statue of the goddess. Married women prepared feasts
to the gods and night watches. All Rome purified itself from sin,
made offerings, and placated the Immortals. Meanwhile new broad
streets were opened among the ruins. In one place and another
foundations were laid for magnificent houses, palaces, and
temples. But first of all they built with unheard-of haste an
enormous wooden amphitheatre in which Christians were to die.
Immediately after that consultation in the house of Tiberius, orders
went to consuls to furnish wild beasts. Tigellinus emptied the
vivaria of all Italian cities, not excepting the smaller ones. In
Africa, at his command, gigantic hunts were organized, in which
the entire local population was forced to take part. Elephants and
tigers were brought in from Asia, crocodiles and hippopotamuses
from the Nile, lions from the Atlas, wolves and bears from the
Pyrenees, savage hounds from Hibernia, Molossian dogs from
Epirus, bisons and the gigantic wild aurochs from Germany.
Because of the number of prisoners, the games were to surpass in
greatness anything seen up to that time. Caesar wished to drown
all memory of the fire in blood, and make Rome drunk with it;
hence never had there been a greater promise of bloodshed.

The willing people helped guards and pretorians in hunting
Christians. That was no difficult labor for whole groups of them
camped with the other population in the midst of the gardens, and
confessed their faith openly. When surrounded, they knelt, and
while singing hymns let themselves be borne away without
resistance. But their patience only increased the anger of the
populace, who, not understanding its origin, considered it as rage
and persistence in crime. A madness seized the persecutors. It
happened that the mob wrested Christians from pretorians, and
tore them to pieces; women were dragged to prison by the hair;
children's heads were dashed against stones. Thousands of people
rushed, howling, night and day through the streets. Victims were
sought in ruins, in chimneys, in cellars. Before the prison
bacchanalian feasts and dances were celebrated at fires, around
casks of wine.

In the evening was heard with delight bellowing which was like
thunder, and which sounded throughout the city. The prisons were
overflowing with thousands of people; every day the mob and
pretorians drove in new victims. Pity had died out. It seemed that
people had forgotten to speak, and in their wild frenzy
remembered one shout alone: "To the lions with Christians!"
Wonderfully hot days came, and nights more stifling than ever
before; the very air seemed filled with blood, crime, and madness.

And that surpassing measure of cruelty was answered by an equal
measure of desire for martyrdom, -- the confessors of Christ went
to death willingly, or even sought death till they were restrained by
the stern commands of superiors. By the injunction of these
superiors they began to assemble only outside the city, in
excavations near the Appian Way, and in vineyards belonging to
patrician Christians, of whom none had been imprisoned so far. It
was known perfectly on the Palatine that to the confessors of
Christ belonged Flavius, Domitilla, Pomponia Graecina, Cornelius
Pudens, and Vinicius. Caesar himself, however, feared that the
mob would not believe that such people had burned Rome, and
since it was important beyond everything to convince the mob,
punishment and vengeance were deferred till later days. Others
were of the opinion, but erroneously, that those patricians were
saved by the influence of Acte. Petronius, after parting with
Vinicius, turned to Acte, it is true, to gain assistance for Lygia; but
she could offer him only tears, for she lived in oblivion and
suffering, and was endured only in so far as she hid herself from
Poppaea and Casar.

But she had visited Lygia in prison, she had carried her clothing
and food, and above all had saved her from injury on the part of
the prison-guards, who, moreover, were bribed already.

Petronius, unable to forget that had it not been for him and his plan
of taking Lygia from the house of Aulus, probably she would not
be in prison at that moment, and, besides, wishing to win the game
against Tigellinus, spared neither time nor efforts. In the course of
a few days he saw Seneca, Domitius Afer, Crispinilla, and
Diodorus, through whom he wished to reach Poppaea; he saw
Terpnos, and the beautiful Pythagoras, and finally Aliturus and
Paris, to whom Caesar usually refused nothing. With the help of
Chrysothemis, then mistress of Vatinius, he tried to gain even his
aid, not sparing in this case and in others promises and money.

But all these efforts were fruitless. Seneca, uncertain of the
morrow, fell to explaining to him that the Christians, even if
they had not burned Rome, should be exterminated, for the good of
the city, -- in a word, he justified the coming slaughter for political
reasons. Terpnos and Diodorus took the money, and did nothing in
return for it. Vatinius reported to Caesar that they had been trying
to bribe him. A.liturus alone, who at first was hostile to the
Christians, took pity on them then, and made bold to mention to
Caesar the Imprisoned maiden, and to implore in her behalf. He
obtained nothing, however, but the answer, --

"Dost thou think that I have a soul inferior to that of Brutus, who
spared not his own sons for the good of Rome?"

When this answer was repeated to Petronius, he said, --

"Since Nero has compared himself to Brutus, there is no
salvation."

But he was sorry for Vinicius, and dread seized him lest he might
attempt his own life. "Now," thought the arbiter, "he is upheld by
the efforts which he makes to save her, by the sight of her, and by
his own suffering; but when all means fail and the last ray of hope
is quenched, by Castor! he will not survive, he will throw himself
on his sword." Petronius understood better how to die thus than to
love and suffer like Vinicius.

Meanwhile Vinicius did all that he could think of to save Lygia.
He visited Augustians; and he, once so proud, now begged their
assistance. Through Vitelius he offered Tigellinus all his Sicilian
estates, and whatever else the man might ask; but Tigellinus, not
wishing apparently to offend the Augusta, refused. To go to Caesar
himself, embrace his knees and implore, would lead to nothing.
Vinicius wished, it is true, to do this; but Petronius, hearing of his
purpose, inquired, --

"But should he refuse thee, or answer with a jest or a shameless
threat, what wouldst thou do?"

At this the young tribune's features contracted with pain and rage,
and from his fixed jaws a gritting sound was heard.

"Yes," said Petronius, "I advise thee against this, because thou
wouldst close all paths of rescue."

Vinicius restrained himself, and passing his palm over his
forehead, which was covered with cold sweat, replied, --

"No, no! I am a Christian."

"But thou will forget this, as thou didst a moment ago. Thou hast
the right to ruin thyself, but not her. Remember what the daughter
of Sejanus passed through before death"

Speaking thus he was not altogether sincere, since he was
concerned more for Vinicius than for Lygia. Still he knew that in
no way could he restrain him from a dangerous step as well as by
telling him that he would bring inexorable destruction on Lygia.
Moreover he was right; for on the Palatine they had counted on the
visit of the young tribune, and had taken needful precautions.

But the suffering of Vinicius surpassed human endurance. From
the moment that Lygia was imprisoned and the glory of coming
martyrdom had fallen on her, not only did he love her a hundred
times more, but he began simply to give her in his soul almost
religious honor, as he would a superhuman being. And now, at the
thought that he must lose this being both loved and holy, that
besides death torments might be inflicted on her more terrible than
death itself, the blood stiffened in his veins. His soul was turned
into one groan, his thoughts were confused. At times it seemed to
him that his skull was filled with living fire, which would either
burn or burst it. He ceased to understand what was happening; he
ceased to understand why Christ, the Merciful, the Divine, did not
come with aid to His adherents; why the dingy walls of the
Palatine did not sink through the earth, and with them Nero, the
Augustians, the pretorian camp, and all that city of crime. He
thought that it could not and should not be otherwise; and all that
his eyes saw, and because of which his heart was breaking, was a
dream. But time roaring of wild beasts informed him that it was
reality; the sound of the axes beneath which rose the arena told
him that it was reality; the howling of the people and the overfilled
prisons confirmed this. Then his faith in Christ was alarmed; and
that alarm was a new torture, the most dreadful of all, perhaps.

"Remember what the daughter of Sejanus endured before death,"
said Petronius to him, meanwhile.

Chapter LII

AND everything had failed. Vinicius lowered himself to the degree
that he sought support from freedmen and slaves, both those of
Caesar and Poppaea; he overpaid their empty promises, he won
their good will with rich gifts. He found the first husband of
Poppaea, Rufus Crispinus, and obtained from him a letter. He gave
a villa in Antium to Rufius, her son by the first marriage; but
thereby he merely angered Caesar, who hated his step-son. By a
special courier he sent a letter to Poppaea's second husband, Otho,
in Spain. He sacrificed his property and himself, until he saw at
last that he was simply the plaything of people; that if he had
pretended that the imprisonment of Lygia concerned him little, he
would have freed her sooner.