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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And turning to the maiden, he began: "Lygia, thou wert reared in
our house as our own child; I and Pomponia love thee as our
daughter. But know this, that thou art not our daughter. Thou art a
hostage, given by thy people to Rome, and guardianship over thee
belongs to Caesar. Now Caesar takes thee from our house."

The general spoke calmly, but with a certain strange, unusual
voice. Lygia listened to his words, blinking, as if not understanding
what the question was. Pomponia's cheeks became pallid. In the
doors leading from the corridor to the cecus, terrified faces of
slaves began to show themselves a second time.

"The will of Caesar must be accomplished," said Aulus.

"Aulus!" exclaimed Pomponia, embracing the maiden with her
arms, as if wishing to defend her, "it would be better for her to
die."

Lygia, nestling up to her breast, repeated, "Mother, mother!"
unable in her sobbing to find other words.

On Aulus's face anger and pain were reflected again. "If I were
alone in the world," said he, gloomily, "I would not surrender her
alive, and my relatives might give offerings this day to 'Jupiter
Liberator.' But I have not the right to kill thee and our child, who
may live to happier times. I will go to Caesar this day, and implore
him to change his command. Whether he will hear me, I know not.
Meanwhile, farewell, Lygia, and know that I and Pornponia ever
bless the day in which thou didst take thy seat at our hearth."

Thus speaking, he placed his hand on her head; but though he
strove to preserve his calmness, when Lygia turned to him eyes
filled with tears, and seizing his hand pressed it to her lips, his
voice was filled with deep fatherly sorrow.

"Farewell, our joy, and the light of our eyes," said he.

And he went to the atrium quickly, so as not to let himself be
conquered by emotion unworthy of a Roman and a general.

Meanwhile Pomponia, when she had conducted Lygia to the
cubiculum, began to comfort, console, and encourage her, uttering
words meanwhile which sounded strangely in that house, where
near them in an adjoining chamber the lararium remained yet, and
where the hearth was on which Aulus Plautius, faithful to ancient
usage, made offerings to the household divinities. Now the hour of
trial had come. On a time Virginius had pierced the bosom of his
own daughter to save her from the hands of Appius; still earlier
Lucretia had redeemed her shame with her life. The house of
Caesar is a den of infamy, of evil, of crime. But we, Lygia, know
why we have not the right to raise hands on ourselves! Yes! The
law under which we both live is another, a greater, a holier, but it
gives permission to defend oneself from evil and shame even
should it happen to pay for that defence with life and torment.
Whoso goes forth pure from the dwelling of corruption has the
greater merit thereby. The earth is that dwelling; but fortunately
life is one twinkle of the eye, and resurrection is only from the
grave; beyond that not Nero, but Mercy bears rule, and there
instead of pain is delight, there instead of tears is rejoicing.

Next she began to speak of herself. Yes! she was calm; but in her
breast there was no lack of painful wounds. For example, Aulus
was a cataract on her eye; the fountain of light had not flowed to
him yet. Neither was it permitted her to rear her son in Truth.
When she thought, therefore, that it might be thus to the end of her
life, and that for them a moment of separation might come which
would be a hundred times more grievous and terrible than that
temporary one over which they were both suffering then, she could
not so much as understand how she might be happy even in heaven
without them. And she had wept many nights through already, she
had passed many nights in prayer, imploring grace and mercy. But
she offered her suffering to God, and waited and trusted. And now,
when a new blow struck her, when the tyrant's command took from
her a dear one, -- the one whom Aulus had called the light of their
eyes, -- she trusted yet, believing that there was a power greater
than Nero's and a mercy mightier than his anger.

And she pressed the maiden's head to her bosom still more firmly.
Lygia dropped to her knees after a while, and, covering her eyes in
the folds of Pomponia's peplus, she remained thus a long time in
silence; but when she stood up again, some calmness was evident
on her face.

"I grieve for thee, mother, and for father and for my brother; but I
know that resistance is useless, and would destroy all of us. I
promise thee that in the house of Caesar I will never forget thy
words."

Once more she threw her arms around Pomponia's neck; then both
went out to the cecus, and she took farewell of little Aulus, of the
old Greek their teacher, of the dressing-maid who had been her
nurse, and of all the slaves. One of these, a tall and
broad-shouldered Lygian, called Ursus in the house, who with
other servants had in his time gone with Lygia's mother and her to
the camp of the Romans, fell now at her feet, and then bent down
to the knees of Pomponia, saying, -- "O domina! permit me to go
with my lady, to serve her and watch over her in the house of
Caesar."

"Thou art not our servant, but Lygia's," answered Pomponia; "but if
they admit thee through Caesar's doors, in what way wilt thou be
able to watch over her?"

"I know not, domina; I know only that iron breaks in my hands just
as wood does."

When Aulus, who came up at that moment, had heard what the
question was, not only did he not oppose the wishes of Ursus, but
he declared that he had not even the right to detain him. They were
sending away Lygia as a hostage whom Ciesar had claimed, and
they were obliged in the same way to send her retinue, which
passed with her to the control of Caesar. Here he whispered to
Pomponia that under the form of an escort she could add as many
slaves as she thought proper, for the centurion could not refuse to
receive them.

There was a certain comfort for Lygia in this. Pomponia also was
glad that she could surround her with servants of her own choice.
Therefore, besides Ursus, she appointed to her the old tire-woman,
two maidens from Cyprus well skilled in hair-dressing, and two
German maidens for the bath. Her choice fell exclusively on
adherents of the new faith; Ursus, too, had professed it for a
number of years. Pomponia could count on the faithfulness of
those servants, and at the same time consoled herself with the
thought that soon grains of truth would be in Caesar's house.

She wrote a few words also, committing care over Lygia to Nero's
freedwoman, Acte. Pomponia had not seen her, it is true, at
meetings of confessors of the new faith; but she had heard from
them that Acte had never refused them a service, and that she read
the letters of Paul of Tarsus eagerly. It was known to her also that
the young freedwoman lived in melancholy, that she was a person
different from all other women of Nero's house, and that in general
she was the good spirit of the palace.

Hasta engaged to deliver the letter himself to Acte. Considering it
natural that the daughter of a king should have a retinue of her
own servants, he did not raise the least difficulty in taking them to
the palace, but wondered rather that there should be so few. He
begged haste, however, fearing lest he might be suspected of want
of zeal in carrying out orders.

The moment of parting came. The eyes of Pomponia and Lygia
were filled with fresh tears; Aulus placed his hand on her head
again, and after a while the soldiers, followed by the cry of little
Aulus, who in defence of his sister threatened the centurion with
his small fists, conducted Lygia to Caesar's house.

The old general gave command to prepare his litter at once;
meanwhile, shutting himself up with Pomponia in the pinacotheca
adjoining the cecus, he said to her, -- "Listen to me, Pomponia. I
will go to Caesar, though I judge that my visit will be useless; and
though Seneca's word means nothing with Nero now, I will go also
to Seneca. To-day Sophonius, Tigellinus, Petronius, or Vatinius
has more influence. As to Caesar, perhaps he has never even heard
of the Lygian people; and if he has demanded the delivery of
Lygia, the hostage, he has done so because some one persuaded
him to it, -- it is easy to guess who could do that."

She raised her eyes to him quickly.

"Is it Petronius?"

"It is."

A moment of silence followed; then the general continued, -- "See
what it is to admit over the threshold any of those people without
conscience or honor. Cursed be the moment in which Vinicius
entered our house, for he brought Petronius. Woe to Lygia, since
those men are not seeking a hostage, but a concubine."

And his speech became more hissing than usual, because of
helpless rage and of sorrow for his adopted daughter. He struggled
with himself some time, and only his clenched fists showed how
severe was the struggle within him.

"I have revered the gods so far," said he; "but at this moment I
think that not they are over the world, but one mad, malicious
monster named Nero."

"Aulus," said Pomponia. "Nero is only a handful of rotten dust
before God."

But Aulus began to walk with long steps over the mosaic of the
pinacotheca. In his life there had been great deeds, but no great
misfortunes; hence he was unused to them. The old soldier had
grown more attached to Lygia than he himself had been aware of,
and now he could not be reconciled to the thought that he had lost
her. Besides, he felt humiliated. A hand was weighing on him
which he despised, and at the same time he felt that before its
power his power was as nothing.

But when at last he stifled in himself the anger which disturbed his
thoughts, he said,-- "I judge that Petronius has not taken her from
us for Caesar, since he would not offend Poppan. Therefore he
took
her either for himself or Vinicius. Today I will discover this."

And after a while the litter bore him in the direction of the
Palatine. Pornponia, when left alone, went to little Aulus, who did
not cease crying for his sister, or threatening Caesar.

Chapter V

AULUS had judged rightly that he would not be admitted to
Nero's presence. They told him that Caesar was occupied in
singing with the lute-player, Terpnos, and that in general he did
not receive those whom he himself had not summoned. In other
words, that Aulus must not attempt in future to see him.

Seneca, though ill with a fever, received the old general with due
honor; but when he had heard what the question was, he laughed
bitterly, and said, -- "I can render thee only one service, noble
Plautius, not to show Caesar at any time that my heart feels thy
pain, or that I should like to aid thee; for should Caesar have the
least suspicion on this head, know that he would not give thee
back Lygia, though for no other reason than to spite me."

He did not advise him, either, to go to Tigellinus or Vatinius or
Vitelius. It might be possible to do something with them through
money; perhaps, also, they would like to do evil to Petronius,
whose influence they were trying to undermine, but most likely
they would disclose before Nero how dear Lygia was to Plautius,
and then Nero would all the more resolve not to yield her to him.
Here the old sage began to speak with a biting irony, which he
turned against himself: "Thou hast been silent, Plautius, thou hast
been silent for whole years, and Caesar does not like those who are
silent. How couldst thou help being carried away by his beauty, his
virtue, his singing, his declamation, his chariot-driving, and his
verses? Why didst thou not glorify the death of Britannicus, and
repeat panegyrics in honor of the mother-slayer, and not offer
congratulations after the stifling of Octavia? Thou art lacking in
foresight, Aulus, which we who live happily at the court possess in
proper measure.

Thus speaking, he raised a goblet which he carried at his belt, took
water from a fountain at the impluvium, freshened his burning
lips, and continued, -- "Ah, Nero has a grateful heart. He loves thee
because thou hast served Rome and glorified its name at the ends
of the earth; he loves me because I was his master in youth.
Therefore, seest thou, I know that this water is not poisoned, and I
drink it in peace. Wine in my own house would be less reliable. If
thou art thirsty, drink boldly of this water. The aqueducts bring it
from beyond the Alban hills, and any one wishing to poison it
would have to poison every fountain in Rome. As thou seest, it is
possible yet to be safe in this world and to have a quiet old age. I
am sick, it is true, but rather in soul than in body."

This was true. Seneca lacked the strength of soul which Cornutus
possessed, for example, or Thrasea; hence his life was a series of
concessions to crime. He felt this himself; he understood that an
adherent of the principles of Zeno, of Citium, should go by another
road, and he suffered more from that cause than from the fear of
death itself.

But the general interrupted these reflections full of grief.

"Noble Annaeus," said he, "I know how Caesar rewarded thee for
the care with which thou didst surround his years of youth. But the
author of the removal of Lygia is Petronius. Indicate to me a
method against him, indicate the influences to which he yields,
and use besides with him all the eloquence with which friendship
for me of long standing can inspire thee."

"Petronius and I," answered Seneca, "are men of two opposite
camps; I know of no method against him, he yields to no man's
influence. Perhaps with all his corruption he is worthier than those
scoundrels with whom Nero surrounds himself at present. But to
show him that he has done an evil deed is to lose time simply.
Petronius has lost long since that faculty which distinguishes good
from evil. Show him that his act is ugly, he will be ashamed of it.
When I see him, I will say, 'Thy act is worthy of a freedman.' If
that will not help thee, nothing can."

"Thanks for that, even," answered the general.

Then he gave command to carry him to the house of Vinicius,
whom he found at sword practice with his domestic trainer. Aulus
was borne away by terrible anger at sight of the young man
occupied calmly with fencing during the attack on Lygia; and
barely had the curtain dropped behind the trainer when this anger
burst forth in a torrent of bitter reproaches and injuries. But
Vinicius, when he learned that Lygia had been carried away, grew
so terribly pale that Aulus could not for even an instant suspect
him of sharing in the deed. The young man's forehead was covered
with sweat; the blood, which had rushed to his heart for a moment,
returned to his face in a burning wave; his eyes began to shoot
sparks, his mouth to hurl disconnected questions. Jealousy and
rage tossed him in turn, like a tempest. It seemed to him that
Lygia, once she had crossed the threshold of Caesar's house, was
lost to him absolutely. When Aulus pronounced the name of
Petronius, suspicion flew like a lightning flash through the young
soldier's mind, that Petronius had made sport of him, and either
wanted to win new favor from Nero by the gift of Lygia, or keep
her for himself. That any one who had seen Lygia would not desire
her at once, did not find a place in his head. Impetuousness,
inherited in his family, carried him away like a wild horse, and
took from him presence of mind.

"General," said he, with a broken voice, "return home and wait for
me. Know that if Petronius were my own father, I would avenge on
him the wrong done to Lygia. Return home and wait for me.
Neither Petronius nor Caesar will have her."

Then he went with clinched fists to the waxed masks standing
clothed in the atrium, and burst out, -- "By those mortal masks! I
would rather kill her and myself." When he had said this, he sent
another "Wait for me" after Aulus, then ran forth like a madman
from the atrium, and flew to Petronius's house, thrusting
pedestrians aside on the way.

Aulus returned home with a certain encouragement. He judged that
if Petronius had persuaded Caesar to take Lygia to give her to
Vinicius, Vinicius would bring her to their house. Finally, the
thought was no little consolation to him, that should Lygia not be
rescued she would be avenged and protected by death from
disgrace. He believed that Vinicius would do everything that he
had promised. He had seen his rage, and he knew the excitability
innate in the whole family. He himself, though he loved Lygia as
her own father, would rather kill her than give her to Caesar; and
had he not regarded his son, the last descendant of his stock, he
would doubtless have done so. Aulus was a soldier; he had hardly
heard of the Stoics, but in character he was not far from their
ideas, -- death was more acceptable to his pride than disgrace.

When he returned home, he pacified Pomponia, gave her the
consolation that he had, and both began to await news from
Vinicius. At moments when the steps of some of the slaves were
heard in the atrium, they thought that perhaps Vinicius was
bringing their beloved child to them, and they were ready in the
depth of their souls to bless both. Time passed, however, and no
news came. Only in the evening was the hammer heard on the
gate.

After a while a slave entered and handed Aulus a letter. The old
general, though he liked to show command over himself, took it
with a somewhat trembling hand, and began to read as hastily as if
it were a question of his whole house.

All at once his face darkened, as if a shadow from a passing cloud
had fallen on it.

"Read," said he, turning to Pomponia.

Pomponia took the letter and read as follows: --

"Marcus Vinicius to Aulus Plautius greeting. What has happened,
has happened by the will of Caesar, before which incline your
heads, as I and Petronius incline ours."

Chapter VI

PETRONIUS was at home. The doorkeeper did not dare to stop
Vinicius, who burst into the atrium like a storm, and, learning that
the master of the house was in the library, he rushed into the
library with the same impetus. Finding Petronius writing, he
snatched the reed from his hand, broke it, trampled the reed on the
floor, then fixed his fingers into his shoulder, and, approaching his
face to that of his uncle, asked, with a hoarse voice, -- "What hast
thou done with her? Where is she?"

Suddenly an amazing thing happened. That slender and effeminate
Petronius seized the hand of the youthful athlete, which was
grasping his shoulder, then seized the other, and, holding them
both in his one hand with the grip of an iron vice, he said, -- "I am
incapable only in the morning; in the evening I regain my former
strength. Try to escape. A weaver must have taught thee
gymnastics, and a blacksmith thy manners."

On his face not even anger was evident, but in his eyes there was a
certain pale reflection of energy and daring. After a while he let
the hands of Vinicius drop. Vinicius stood before him shamefaced
and enraged.

"Thou hast a steel hand," said he; "but if thou hast betrayed me, I
swear, by all the infernal gods, that I will thrust a knife into thy
body, though thou be in the chambers of Caesar."

"Let us talk calmly," said Petronius. "Steel is stronger, as thou
seest, than iron; hence, though out of one of thy arms two as large
as mine might be made, I have no need to fear thee. On the
contrary, I grieve over thy rudeness, and if the ingratitude of men
could astonish me yet, I should be astonished at thy ingratitude."

"Where is Lygia?"

"In a brothel, -- that is, in the house of Caesar."

"Petronius!"

"Calm thyself, and be seated. I asked Cirsar for two things, which
he promised me, -- first, to take Lygia from the house of Aulus,
and second to give her to thee. Hast thou not a knife there under
the folds of thy toga? Perhaps thou wilt stab me! But I advise thee
to wait a couple of days, for thou wouldst be taken to prison, and
meanwhile Lygia would be wearied in thy house."

Silence followed. Vinicius looked for some time with astonished
eyes on Petronius; then he said, -- "Pardon me; I love her, and love
is disturbing my faculties." "Look at me, Marcus. The day before
yesterday I spoke to Caesar as follows: 'My sister's son, Vinicius,
has so fallen in love with a lean little girl who is being reared with
the Auluses that his house is turned into a stealnbath from sighs.
Neither thou, O Caesar, nor I -- we who know, each of us, what
true beauty is -- would give a thousand's sterces for her; but that
lad has ever been as dull as a tripod, and now he has lost all the wit
that was in him.'"

"Petronius!"

"If thou understand not that I said this to insure Lygia's safety, I am
ready to believe that I told the truth. I persuaded Bronzebeard that
a man of his aesthetic nature could not consider such a girl
beautiful; and Nero, who so far has not dared to look otherwise
than through my eyes, will not find in her beauty, and, not finding
it, will not desire her. it was necessary to insure ourselves against
the monkey and take him on a rope. Not he, but Poppaea, will
value Lygia now; and Poppaea will strive, of course, to send the
girl out of the palace at the earliest. I said further to Bronzebeard,
in passing: 'Take Lygia and give her to Vinicius! Thou hast the
right to do so, for she is a hostage; and if thou take her, thou wilt
inflict pain on Aulus.' He agreed; he had not the least reason not to
agree, all the more since I gave him a chance to annoy decent
people. They will make thee official guardian of the hostage, and
give into thy hands that Lygian treasure; thou, as a friend of the
valiant Lygians, and also a faithful servant of CTsar, wilt not waste
any of the treasure, but wilt strive to increase it. Caesar, to
preserve appearances, will keep her a few days in his house, and
then send her to thy insula. Lucky man!"

"Is this true? Does nothing threaten her there in Caesar's house?"

"If she had to live there permanently, Poppaea would talk about
her to Locusta, but for a few days there is no danger. Ten thousand
people live in it. Nero will not see her, perhaps, all the more since
he left everything to me, to the degree that just now the centurion
was here with information that he had conducted the maiden to the
palace and committed her to Acte. She is a good soul, that Acte;
hence I gave command to deliver Lygia to her. Clearly Pomponia
Gnecina is of that opinion too, for she wrote to Acte. To-morrow
there is a feast at Nero's. I have requested a place for thee at the
side of Lygia."

"Pardon me, Caius, my hastiness. I judged that thou hadst given
command to take her for thyself or for Caesar."

"I can forgive thy hastiness; but it is more difficult to forgive rude
gestures, vulgar shouts, and a voice reminding one of players at
mora. I do not like that style, Marcus, and do thou guard against it.
Know that Tigellinus is Caesar's pander; but know also that if I
wanted the girl for myself now, looking thee straight in the eyes,
I would say, 'Vinicius! I take Lygia from thee. and I will keep her
till I am tired of her."

Thus speaking, he began to look with his hazel eyes straight into
the eyes of Vinicius with a cold and insolent stare. The young man
lost himself completely.

"The fault is mine," said he. "Thou art kind and worthy. I thank
thee from my whole soul. Permit me only to put one more
question: Why didst thou not have Lvgia sent directly to my
house?"

"Because Caesar wishes to preserve appearances. People in Rome
will talk about this, -- that we removed Lygia as a hostage. While
they are talking, she will remain in Caesar's palace. Afterward she
will be removed quietly to thy house, and that will be the end.
Bronzebeard is a cowardly cur. He knows that his power is
unlimited, and still he tries to give specious appearances to every
act. Hast thou recovered to the degree of being able to
philosophize a little? More than once have I thought, Why does
crime, even when as powerful as Caesar, and assured of being
beyond punishment, strive always for the appearances of truth,
justice, and virtue? Why does it take the trouble? I consider that to
murder a brother, a mother, a wife, is a thing worthy of some petty
Asiatic king, not a Roman Caesar; but if that position were mine, I
should not write justifying letters to the Senate. But Nero writes.
Nero is looking for appearances, for Nero is a coward. But
Tiberius was not a coward; still he justified every step he took.
Why is this? What a marvellous, involuntary homage paid to virtue
by evil! And knowest thou what strikes me? This, that it is done
because transgression is ugly and virtue is beautiful. Therefore a
man of genuine aesthetic feeling is also a virtuous man. Hence I
am virtuous. To-day I must pour out a little wine to the shades of
Protagoras, Prodicus, and Gorgias. It seems that sophists too can
be of service. Listen, for I am speaking yet. I took Lygia from
Aulus to give her to thee. Well. But Lysippus would have made
wonderful groups of her and thee. Ye are both beautiful; therefore
my act is beautiful, and being beautiful it cannot be bad. Marcus,
here sitting before thee is virtue incarnate in Caius Petronius! If
Aristides were living, it would be his duty to come to me and offer
a hundred minae for a short treatise on virtue."