Books: Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

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In that forest of crosses the weakest began also the sleep of
eternity.

Chapter LVIII

"Loan," said Chio, "the sea is like olive oil, the waves seem to
sleep. Let us go to Achaa. There the glory of Apollo is awaiting
thee, crowns and triumph are awaiting thee, the people will deify
thee, the gods will receive thee as a guest, their own equal; but
here, O lord --"

And he stopped, for his lower lip began to quiver so violently that
his words passed into meaningless sounds.

"We will go when the games are over," replied Nero. "I know that
even now some call the Christians innoxia corpora. ff1 were to go,
all would repeat this. What dost thou fear?"

Then he frowned, but looked with inquiring glance at Chilo, as if
expecting an answer, for he only feigned cool blood. At the last
exhibition he himself feared the words of Crispus; and when he
had returned to the Palatine, he could not sleep from rage and
shame, but also from fear.

Then Vestinius, who heard their conversation in silence, looked
around, and said in a mysterious voice, --

"Listen, lord, to this old man. There is something strange in those
Christians. Their deity gives them an easy death, but he may be
vengeful."

"It was not I who arranged the games, but Tigellinus," replied
Nero, quickly.

"True! it was I," added Tigellinus, who heard Caesar's answer,
"and I jeer at all Christian gods. Vestinius is a bladder full of
prejudices, and this valiant Greek is ready to die of terror at sight
of a hen with feathers up in defence of her chickens."

"True!" said Nero; "but henceforth give command to cut the
tongues out of Christians and stop their mouths."

"Fire will stop them, O divinity."

"Woe is me!" groaned Chilo.

But Caesar, to whom the insolent confidence of Tigellinus gave
courage, began to laugh, and said, pointing to the old Greek,

"See how the descendant of Achilles looks!"

Indeed Chilo looked terribly. The remnant of hair on his head had
grown white; on his face was fixed an expression of some
immense dread, alarm, and oppression. He seemed at times, too, as
if stunned and only half conscious. Often he gave no answer to
questions; then again he fell into anger, and became so insolent
that the Augustians preferred not to attack him. Such a moment
had come to him then.

"Do what ye like with me, but I will not go to the games!" cried he,
in desperation.

Nero looked at him for a while, and, turning to Tigellinus, said, --

"Have a care that this Stoic is near me in the gardens. I want to see
what impression our torches will make on him."

Chilo was afraid of the threat which qaeiivercd in Caesar's voice.

"O lord," said he, "I shall see nothing, for I cannot see in the
night-time."

"The night will be as bright as day," replied Caesar, with a
threatening laugh.

Turning then to the Augustians, Nero talked about races which he
intended to have when the games were over.

Petronius approached Chio, and asked, pushing him on the
shoulder, --

"Have I not said that thou wouldst not hold out?"

"I wish to drink," said Chilo, stretching his trembling hand toward
a goblet of wine; but he was unable to raise it to his lips. Seeing
this, Vestinius took the vessel; but later he drew near, and inquired
with curious and frightened face, --

"Are the Furies pursuing thee?"

The old man looked at him a certain time with open lips, as if not
understanding what he said. But Vestinius repeated,--

"Are the Furies pursuing thee?"

"No," answered Chio; "but night is before me."

"How, night? May the gods have mercy on thee. How night?"

"Night, ghastly and impenetrable, in which something is moving,
something coming toward me; but I know not what it is, and I am
terrified."

"1 have always been sure that there are witches. Dost thou not
dream of something?"

"No, for I do not sleep. I did not think that they would be punished
thus."

"Art thou sorry for them?"

"Why do ye shed so much blood? Hast heard what that one said
from the cross? Woe to us!"

"I heard," answered Vestinius, in a low voice. "But they are
incendiaries."

"Not true!"

"And enemies of the human race."

"Not true!"

"And poisoners of water."

"Not true!"

"And murderers of children."

"Not true!"

"How?" inquired Vestinius, with astonishment. "Thou hast said so
thyself, and given them into the hands of Tigellinus."

"Therefore night has surrounded me, and death is coming toward
me. At times it seems to me that I am dead already, and ye also.

"No! it is they who are dying; we are alive. But tell me, what do
they see when they are dying?"

"Christ."

"That is their god. Is he a mighty god?"

But Chilo answered with a question, --

"What kind of torches are to burn in the gardens? Hast
thou heard what Caesar said?"

"I heard, and I know. Those torches are called Sarmentitii and
Semaxii. They are made by arraying men in painful tunics, steeped
in pitch, and binding them to pillars, to which fire is set afterward.
May their god not send misfortune on the city. Semaxii! that is a
dreadful punishment!"

"I would rather see it, for there will not be blood," answered Chilo.
"Command a slave to hold the goblet to my mouth. I wish to drink,
but I spill the wine; my hand trembles from age."

Others also were speaking of the Christians. Old Domitius Afer
reviled them.

"There is such a multitude of them," said he, "that they might raise
a civil war; and, reiiiemnber, there were fears lest they might arm.
But they die like sheep."

"Let them try to die otherwise!" said Tigellinus.

To this Petronius answered, "Ye deceive yourselves. They are
arming."

"With what?"

"With patience."

"That is a new kind of weapon."

"True. But can ye say that they die like common criminals? No!
They die as if the criminals were those who condemned them to
death, -- that is, we and the whole Roman people."

"What raving!" said Tigellinus.

"Hic Abdera!" 1 answered Petronius.

But others, struck by the justice of his remark, began to look at one
another with astonishment, and repeat, --

"True! there is something peculiar and strange in their death."

"I tell you that they see their divinity!" cried Vestinius, from one
side. Thereupon a number of Augustians turned to Chilo, --

"Hal, old man, thou knowest them well; tell us what they see." The
Greek spat out wine on his tunic, and answered, --

"The resurrection." And he began to tremble so that the guests
sitting nearer burst into loud laughter.

1 Proverbial expression meaning "The dullest of the full" Note by
the Author.

Chapter LIX

FOR some rime Vinicius had spent his nights away from home. It
occurred to Petronius that perhaps he had formed a new plan, and
was working to liberate Lygia from the Esquiline dungeon; he did
not wish, however, to inquire about anything, lest he might bring
misfortune to the work. This sceptical exquisite had become in a
certain sense superstitious. He had failed to snatch Lygia from the
Mamertine prison, hence had ceased to believe in his own star.

Besides, he did not count this time on a favorable outcome for the
efforts of Vinicius. The Esquiline prison, formed in a hurry from
the cellars of houses thrown down to stop the fire, was not, it is
true, so terrible as the old Tullianum near the Capitol, but it was a
hundred times better guarded. Petronius understood perfectly that
Lygia had been taken there only to escape death and not escape the
amphitheatre. He could understand at once that for this very reason
they were guarding her as a man guards the eye in his head.

"Evidently," said he to himself, "Caesar and Tigellinus have
reserved her for some special spectacle, more dreadful than all
others, and Vinicius is more likely to perish than rescue her."

Vinicius, too, had lost hope of being able to free Lygia. Christ
alone could do that. The young tribune now thought only of seeing
her in prison.

For some time the knowledge that Nazarius had penetrated the
Mamertine prison as a corpse-bearer had given him no peace;
hence he resolved to try that method also.

The overseer of the "Putrid Pits," who had been bribed f or an
immense sum of money, admitted him at last among servants
whom he sent nightly to prisons for corpses. The danger that
Vinicius might be recognized was really small. He was preserved
from it by night, the dress of a slave, and the defective illumination
of the prison. Besides, into whose head could it enter that a
patrician, the grandson of one consul, the son of another, could be
found among servants, corpse-bearers, exposed to the miasma of
prisons and the "Putrid Pits"? And he began work to which men
were forced only by slavery or the direst need.

When the desired evening came, he girded his loins gladly,
covered his head with a cloth steeped in turpentine, and with
throbbing heart betook himself, with a crowd of others, to the
Esquiine.

The pretorian guards made no trouble, for all had brought proper
tesserae, which the centurion examined by the light of a lantern.
After a while the great iron doors opened before them, and they
entered.

Vinicius saw an extensive vaulted cellar, from which they passed
to a series of others. Dim tapers illuminated the interior of each,
which was filled with people. Some of these were lying at the
walls sunk in sleep, or dead, perhaps. Others surrounded large
vessels of water, standing in the middle, out of which they drank as
people tormented with fever; others were sitting on the grounds,
their elbows on their knees, their heads on their palms; here and
there children were sleeping, nestled up to their mothers. Groans,
loud hurried breathing of the sick, weeping, whispered prayers,
hymns in an undertone, the curses of overseers were heard round
about it. In this dungeon was the odor of crowds and corpses. In its
gloomy depth dark figures were swarming; nearer, close to
flickering lights, were visible faces, pale, terrified, hungry, and
cadaverous, with eyes dim, or else flaming with fever, with lips
blue, with streams of sweat on their foreheads, and with clammy
hair. In corners the sick were moaning loudly; some begged for
water; others, to be led to death. And still that prison was less
terrible than the old Tullianum. The legs bent under Vinicius when
he saw all this, and breath was failing in his breast. At the thought
that Lygia was in the midst of this misery and misfortune, the hair
rose on his head, and he stifled a cry of despair. The amphitheatre,
the teeth of wild beasts, the cross, -- anything was better than those
dreadful dungeons filled with the odor of corpses, places in which
imploring voices called from every corner, --

"Lead us to death!"

Vinicius pressed his nails into his palms, for he felt that he was
growing weak, and that presence of mind was deserting him. All
that he had felt till then, all his love and pain, changed in him to
one desire for death.

Just then near his side was heard the overseer of the "Putrid Pits,"--

"How many corpses have ye to-day?"

"About a dozen," answered the guardian of the prison, "but there
will be more before morning; some are in agony at the walls."

And he fell to complaining of women who concealed dead
children so as to keep them near and not yield them to the "Putrid
Pits." "We must discover corpses first by the odor; through this the
air, so terrible already, is spoiled still more. I would rather be a
slave in some rural prison than guard these dogs rotting here while
alive --"

The overseer of the pits comforted him, saying that his own
service was no easier. By this time the sense of reality had returned
to Vinicius. He began to search the dungeon; but sought in vain for
Lygia, fearing meanwhile that he would never see her alive. A
number of cellars were connected by newly made passages; the
corpse-bearers entered only those from which corpses were to be
carried. Fear seized Vinicius lest that privilege which had cost so
much trouble might serve no purpose. Luckily his patron aided
him.

"Infection spreads most through corpses," said he. "Ye must carry
out the bodies at once, or die yourselves, together with the
prisoners."

"There are only ten of us for all the cellars," said the guardian,
"and we must sleep."

"I will leave four men of mine, who will go through the cellars at
night to see if these are dead."

"We will drink to-morrow if thou do that. Everybody must be
taken to the test; for an order has come to pierce the neck of each
corpse, and then to the 'Putrid Pits' at once with it."

"Very well, but we will drink," said the overseer.

Four men were selected, and among them Vinicius; the others he
took to put the corpses on the biers.

Vinicius was at rest; he was certain now at least of finding Lygia.
The young tribune began by examining the first dungeon carefully;
he looked into all the dark corners hardly reached by the light of
his torch; he examined figures sleeping at the walls under coarse
cloths; he saw that the most grievously ill were drawn into a corner
apart. But Lygia he found in no place. In a second and third
dungeon his search was equally fruitless.

Meanwhile the hour had grown late; all corpses had been carried
out. The guards, disposing themselves in the corridors between
cellars, were asleep; the children, wearied with crying, were silent;
nothing was heard save the breathing of troubled breasts, and here
and there the murmur of prayer.

Vinicius went with his torch to the fourth dungeon, which was
considerably smaller. Raising the light, he began to examine it,
and trembled all at once, for it seemed to him that he saw, near a
latticed opening in the wall, the gigantic form of Ursus. Then,
blowing out the light, he approached him, and asked,--

"Ursus, art thou here?"

"Who art thou?" asked the giant, turning his head. "Dost not know
me?"

"Thou hast quenched the torch; how could I know thee?"

But at that moment Vinicius saw Lygia lying on a cloak near the
wall; so, without speaking further, he knelt near her. Ursus
recognized him, and said, --

"Praise be to Christ! but do not wake her, lord."

Vinicius, kneeling down, gazed at her through his tears. In splte of
the darkness he could distinguish her face, which seemed to him as
pale as ala-. baster, and her emaciated arms. At that sight he was
seized by a love which was like a rending pain, a love which shook
his soul to its uttermost depth, and which at the same time was so
full of pity, respect, and homage that he fell on his face, and
pressed to his lips the hem of the cloak on which rested that head
dearer to him than all else on earth.

Ursus looked at Vinieius for a long time in silence, but at last he
pulled his tunic.

"Lord," asked he, "how didst thou come, and hast thou come here
to save her?"

Vinicius rose, and struggled for a time wth his emotion. "Show me
the means," replied he.

"I thought that thou wouldst find them, lord. Only one method
came to my head --"

Here he turned toward the grating in the wall, as if in answer to
himself, and said, --

"In that way -- but there are soldiers outside --"

"A hundred pretorians."

"Then we cannot pass?"

"No!"

The Lygian rubbed his forehead, and asked again, --

"How didst thou enter?"

"I have a tessera from the overseer of the 'Putrid Pits.'" Then
Vinicius stopped suddenly, as if some idea had flashed through his
head.

"By the Passion of the Redeemer," said he, in a hurried voice, "I
will stay here. Let her take my tessera; she can wrap her head in a
cloth, cover her shoulders with a mantle, and pass out. Among the
slaves who carry out corpses there are several youths not full
grown; hence the pretorians will not notice her, and once at the
house of Petronius she is safe."

But the Lygian dropped his head on his breast, and said, -- "She
would not consent, for she loves thee; besides, she is sick, and
unable to stand alone. If thou and the noble Petronius cannot save
her from prison, who can?" said he, after a while.

"Christ alone."

Then both were silent.

"Christ could save all Christians," thought the Lygian, in his
simple heart; "but since He does not save them, it is clear that the
hour of torture and death has come."

He accepted it for himself, but was grieved to the depth of his soul
for that child who had grown up in his arms, and whom he loved
beyond life.

Vinicius knelt again near Lygia. Through the grating in the wall
moonbeams came in, and gave better light than the one candle
burning yet over the entrance. Lygia opened her eyes now, and
said, placing her feverish hand on the arm of Vinicius,--

"I see thee; I knew that thou wouldst come."

He seized her hands, pressed them to his forehead and his heart,
raised her somewhat, and held her to his breast.

"I have come, dearest. May Christ guard and free thee, beloved
Lygia!" He could say no more, for the heart began to whine in his
breast from pain and love, and he would not show pain in her
presence.

"I am sick, Marcus," said Lygia, "and I must die either on the arena
or here in prison -- I have prayed to see thee before death; thou
hast come, -- Christ has heard me." -

Unable to utter a word yet, he pressed her to his bosom, and she
continucd, --

"I saw thee through the window in the Tullianum. I saw that thou
hadst the wish to come to me. Now the Redeemer has given me a
moment of consciousness, so that we may take farewell of each
other. I am going to Him, Marcus, but I love thee, and shall love
always."

Vinicius conquered himself; he stifled his pain and began to speak
in a voice which he tried to make calm, --

"No, dear Lygia, thou wilt not die. The Apostle commanded me to
believe, and he promised to pray for thee; he knew Christ, -- Christ
loved him and will not refuse him. Hadst thou to die, Peter would
not have commanded me to be confident; but he said, 'Have
confidence!' --No, Lygia! Christ will have mercy. He does not wish
thy death. He will not permit it. I Swear to thee by the name of the
Redeemer that Peter is praying for thee."

Silence followed. The one candle hanging above the entrance went
out, but moonlight entered through the whole opening. In the
opposite corner of the cellar a child whined and was silent. From
outside came the voices of pretorians, who, after watching their
turn out, were playing under the wall at scripte duodecim.

"O Marcus," said Lygia, "Christ Himself called to the Father,
'Remove this bitter cup from Me'; still He drank it. Christ Himself
died on the cross, and thousands are perishing for His sake. Why,
then, should He spare me alone? Who am I, Marcus? I have heard
Peter say that he too would die in torture. Who am I, compared
with Peter? When the pretorians came to ae I dreaded death and
torture, but I dread them no longer. See what a terrible prison this
is, but I am going to heaven. Think of it: Caesar is here, but there
the Redeemer, kind and merciful. And there is no death there.
Thou lovest me; think, then, how happy I shall be. Oh, dear
Marcus, think that thou wilt come to me there."

Here she stopped to get breath in her sick breast, and then raised
his hand to her lips, --

"Marcus?"

"What, dear one?"

"Do not weep for me, and remember this, -- thou wilt come to me.
I have lived a short time, but God gave thy soul to me; hence I
shall tell Christ that though I died, and thou wert looking at my
death, though thou wert left in grief, thou didst not blaspheme
against His will, and that thou lovest Him always. Thou wilt love
Him, and endure my death patiently? For then He will unite us. I
love thee and I wish to be with thee."

Breath failed her then, and in a barely audible voice she finished,--

"Promise me this, Marcus!"

Vinicius embraced her with trembling arms, and said,--

"By thy sacred head! I promise."

Her pale face became radiant in the sad light of the moon, and
once more she raised his hand to her lips, and whispered, --

"I am thy wife!"

Beyond the wall the pretorians playing scriptaee duodecim raised a
louder dispute; but Vinicius and Lygia forgot the prison, the
guards, the world, and, feeling within them the souls of angels,
they began to pray.

Chapter LX

FOR three days, or rather three nights, nothing disturbed their
peace. When the usual prison work was finished, which consisted
in separating the dead from the living and the grievously sick from
those in better health, when the wearied guards had lain down to
sleep in the corridors, Vinicius entered Lygia's dungeon and
remained there till daylight. She put her head on his breast, and
they talked in low voices of love and of death. In thought and
speech, in desires and hopes even, both were removed
unconsciously more and more from life, and they lost the sense of
it. Both were like people who, having sailed from land in a ship,
saw the shore no more, and were sinking gradually into infinity.
Both changed by degrees into sad souls in love with each other and
with Christ, and ready to fly away. Only at times did pain start up
in the heart of Vinicius like a whirlwind, at times there flashed in
him like lightning, hope, born of love and faith in the crucified
God; but he tore himself away more and more each day from the
earth, and yielded to death. In the morning, when he went from the
prison, he looked on the world, on the city, on acquaintances, on
vital interests, as through a dream. Everything seemed to him
strange, distant, vain, fleeting. Even torture ceased to terrify, since
one might pass through it while sunk in thought and with eyes
fixed on another thing. It seemed to both that eternity had begun to
receive them. They conversed of how they would love and live
together, but beyond the grave; and if their thoughts returned to the
earth at intervals, these were thoughts of people who, setting out
on a long journey, speak of preparations for the road. Moreover
they were surrounded by such silence as in some desert surrounds
two columns far away and forgotten. Their only care was that
Christ should not separate them; and as each moment strengthened
their conviction that He would not, they loved Him as a link
uniting them in endless happiness and peace. While still on earth,
the dust of earth fell from them. The soul of each was as pure as a
tear. Under terror of death, amid misery and suffering, in that
prison den, heaven had begun, for she had taken him by the hand,
and, as if saved and a saint, had led him to the source of endless
life.

Petronius was astonished at seeing in the face of Vinicius
increasing peace and a certain wonderful serenity which he had not
noted before. At times even he supposed that Vinicius had found
some mode of rescue, and he was piqued because his nephew had
not confided his hopes to him. At last, unable to restrain himself,
he said, --

"Now thou hast another look; do not keep from me secrets, for I
wish and am able to aid thee. Hast thou arranged anything?"

"I have," said Vinicius; "but thou canst not help me. After her
death I will confess that I am a Christian and follow her."

"Then thou hast no hope?"

"On the contrary, I have. Christ will give her to me, and I shall
never be separated from her."

Petronius began to walk in the atrium; disillusion and impatience
were evident on his face.

"Thy Christ is not needed for this, -- our Thanatos 1 can render the
same service."

Vinicius smiled sadly, and said, -- "No, my dear, thou art unwilling
to understand."

"I am unwilling and unable. It is not the time for discussion, but
remember what I said when we failed to free her from the
Tullianum. I lost all hope, and on the way home thou didst say,
'But I believe that Christ can restore her to me.' Let Him restore
her. If I throw a costly goblet into the sea, no god of ours can give
it back to me; if yours is no better, I know not why I should honor
Him beyond the old ones."

"But He will restore her to me."

Pettonius shrugged his shoulders. "Dost know," inquired he, "that
Christians are to illuminate Caesar's gardens to-morrow?"

"To-morrow?" repeated Vinicius.

And in view of the near and dreadful reality his heart trembled
with pain and fear. "This is the last night, perhaps, which I can
pass with Lygia," thought he. So bidding farewell to Petronius, he
went hurriedly to the overseer of the "Putrid Pits" for his tessera.
But disappointment was in waiting, -- the overseer would not give
the tessera.

"Pardon me," said he, "I have done what I could for thee, but I
cannot risk my life. To-night they are to conduct the Christians to
Caesar's gardens. The prisons will be full of soldiers and officials.
Shouldst thou be recognized, I and my children would be lost."

Vinicius understood that it would be vain to insist. The hope
gleamed in him, however, that the soldiers who had seen him
before would admit him even without a tessera; so, with the
coming of night, he disguised himself as usual in the tunic of a
corpse-bearer, and, winding a cloth around his head, betook
himself to the prison.

But that day the tesserae were verified with greater care than
usual; and what was more, the centurion Scevinus, a strict soldier,
devoted soul and body to Caesar, recognized Vinicius. But
evidently in his iron-clad breast there glimmered yet some spark of
pity for misfortunes. Instead of striking his spear in token of alarm,
he led Vinicius aside and said, --