Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
our gods are true or not; they are beautiful, their rule is pleasant for
us, and we live without care.’ ‘Thou art willing to reject the religion
of love, justice, and mercy through dread of the cares of life,’ replied
Paul; ‘but think, Petronius, is thy life really free from anxieties?
Behold, neither thou nor any man among the richest and most powerful
knows when he falls asleep at night that he may not wake to a death
sentence. But tell me, if Cæsar professed this religion, which enjoins
love and justice, would not thy happiness be more assured? Thou art
alarmed about thy delight, but would not life be more joyous then? As to
life’s beauty and ornaments, if ye have reared so many beautiful temples
and statues to evil, revengeful, adulterous, and faithless divinities,
what would ye not do in honor of one God of truth and mercy? Thou art
ready to praise thy lot, because thou art wealthy and living in luxury;
but it was possible even in thy case to be poor and deserted, though
coming of a great house, and then in truth it would have been better for
thee if people confessed Christ. In Rome even wealthy parents, unwilling
to toil at rearing children, cast them out of the house frequently;
those children are called alumni. And chance might have made thee
an alumnus, like one of those. But if parents live according to our
religion, this cannot happen. And hadst thou, at manhood’s years,
married a woman of thy love, thy wish would be to see her faithful till
death. Meanwhile look around, what happens among you, what vileness,
what shame, what bartering in the faith of wives! Nay, ye yourselves are
astonished when a woman appears whom ye call “univira” (of one husband).
But I tell thee that those women who carry Christ in their hearts will
not break faith with their husbands, just as Christian husbands will
keep faith with their wives. But ye are neither sure of rulers nor
fathers nor wives nor children nor servants. The whole world is
trembling before you, and ye are trembling before your own slaves, for
ye know that any hour may raise an awful war against your oppression,
such a war as has been raised more than once. Though rich, thou art
not sure that the command may not come to thee to-morrow to leave thy
wealth; thou art young, but to-morrow it may be necessary for thee to
die. Thou lovest, but treason is in wait for thee; thou art enamoured of
villas and statues, but to-morrow power may thrust thee forth into the
empty places of the Pandataria; thou hast thousands of servants, but
to-morrow these servants may let thy blood flow. And if that be the
case, how canst thou be calm and happy, how canst thou live in delight?
But I proclaim love, and I proclaim a religion which commands rulers to
love their subjects, masters their slaves, slaves to serve with love, to
do justice and be merciful; and at last it promises happiness boundless
as a sea without end. How, then, Petronius, canst thou say that that
religion spoils life, since it corrects, and since thou thyself wouldst
be a hundred times happier and more secure were it to embrace the world
as Rome’s dominion has embraced it?’
“Thus discussed Paul, and then Petronius said, ‘That is not for me.’
Feigning drowsiness, he went out, and when going added: ‘I prefer my
Eunice, O little Jew, but I should not wish to struggle with thee on the
platform.’ I listened to Paul’s words with my whole soul, and when he
spoke of our women, I magnified with all my heart that religion from
which thou hast sprung as a lily from a rich field in springtime. And
I thought then: There is Poppæa, who cast aside two husbands for Nero,
there is Calvia Crispinilla, there is Nigidia, there are almost all whom
I know, save only Pomponia; they trafficked with faith and with oaths,
but she and my own one will not desert, will not deceive, and will not
quench the fire, even though all in whom I place trust should desert and
deceive me. Hence I said to thee in my soul, How can I show gratitude to
thee, if not with love and honor? Didst thou feel that in Antium I spoke
and conversed with thee all the time as if thou hadst been at my side? I
love thee a hundred times more for having escaped me from Cæsar’s house.
Neither do I care for Cæsar’s house any longer; I wish not its luxury
and music, I wish only thee. Say a word, we will leave Rome to settle
somewhere at a distance.”
Without removing her head from his shoulder, Lygia, as if
meditating, raised her eyes to the silver tops of the cypresses, and
answered,--“Very well, Marcus. Thou hast written to me of Sicily, where
Aulus wishes to settle in old age.” And Vinieius interrupted her with
delight.
“True, my dear! Our lands are adjacent. That is a wonderful coast,
where the climate is sweeter and the nights still brighter than in Rome,
odoriferous and transparent. There life and happiness are almost one and
the same.”
And he began then to dream of the future.
“There we may forget anxieties. In groves, among olive-trees, we shall
walk and rest in the shade. O Lygia! what a life to love and cherish
each other, to look at the sea together, to look at the sky together, to
honor together a kind God, to do in peace what is just and true.”
Both were silent, looking into the future; only he drew her more firmly
toward him, and the knight’s ring on his finger glittered meanwhile in
the rays of the moon. In the part occupied by the poor toiling people,
all were sleeping; no murmur broke the silence.
“Wilt thou permit me to see Pomponia?” asked Lygia.
“Yes, dear one. We will invite them to our house, or go to them
ourselves. If thou wish, we can take Peter the Apostle. He is bowed
down with age and work. Paul will visit us also,--he will convert Aulus
Plautius; and as soldiers found colonies in distant lands, so we will
found a colony of Christians.”
Lygia raised her hand and, taking his palm, wished to press it to her
lips; but he whispered, as if fearing to frighten happiness,--“No,
Lygia, no! It is I who honor thee and exalt thee; give me thy hands.”
“I love thee.”
He had pressed his lips to her hands, white as jessamine, and for a
time they heard only the beating of their own hearts. There was not the
slightest movement in the air; the cypresses stood as motionless as if
they too were holding breath in their breasts.
All at once the silence was broken by an unexpected thunder, deep, and
as if coming from under the earth. A shiver ran through Lygia’s body.
Vinicius stood up, and said,--“Lions are roaring in the vivarium.”
Both began to listen. Now the first thunder was answered by a second,
a third, a tenth, from all sides and divisions of the city. In Rome
several thousand lions were quartered at times in various arenas, and
frequently in the night-time they approached the grating, and, leaning
their gigantic heads against it, gave utterance to their yearning for
freedom and the desert. Thus they began on this occasion, and, answering
one another in the stillness of night, they filled the whole city with
roaring. There was something so indescribably gloomy and terrible in
those roars that Lygia, whose bright and calm visions of the future were
scattered, listened with a straitened heart and with wonderful fear and
sadness.
But Vinicius encircled her with his arm, and said,--“Fear not, dear one.
The games are at hand, and all the vivaria are crowded.”
Then both entered the house of Linus, accompanied by the thunder of
lions, growing louder and louder.
Chapter XL
IN Antium, meanwhile, Petronius gained new victories almost daily
over courtiers vying with him for the favor of Cæsar. The influence of
Tigellinus had fallen completely. In Rome, when there was occasion to
set aside men who seemed dangerous, to plunder their property or to
settle political cases, to give spectacles astounding by their luxury
and bad taste, or finally to satisfy the monstrous whims of
Cæsar, Tigellinus, as adroit, as he was ready for anything, became
indispensable. But in Antium, among palaces reflected in the azure of
the sea, Cæsar led a Hellenic existence. From morning till evening
Nero and his attendants read verses, discoursed on their structure and
finish, were delighted with happy turns of expression, were occupied
with music, the theatre,--in a word, exclusively with that which Grecian
genius had invented, and with which it had beautified life. Under these
conditions Petronius, incomparably more refined than Tigellinus and
the other courtiers,--witty, eloquent, full of subtile feelings and
tastes,--obtained pre-eminence of necessity. Cæsar sought his society,
took his opinion, asked for advice when he composed, and showed a
more lively friendship than at any other time whatever. It seemed to
courtiers that his influence had won a supreme triumph at last, that
friendship between him and Cæsar had entered on a period of certainty
which would last for years. Even those who had shown dislike previously
to the exquisite Epicurean, began now to crowd around him and vie
for his favor. More than one was even sincerely glad in his soul that
preponderance had come to a man who knew really what to think of a given
person, who received with a sceptical smile the flattery of his enemies
of yesterday, but who, either through indolence or culture, was not
vengeful, and did not use his power to the detriment or destruction of
others. There were moments when he might have destroyed even Tigellinus,
but he preferred to ridicule him, and expose his vulgarity and want of
refinement. In Rome the Senate drew breath, for no death sentence had
been issued for a month and a half. It is true that in Antium and the
city people told wonders of the refinement which the profligacy of Cæsar
and his favorite had reached, but every one preferred a refined Cæsar to
one brutalized in the hands of Tigellinus. Tigellinus himself lost his
head, and hesitated whether or not to yield as conquered, for Cæsar had
said repeatedly that in all Rome and in his court there were only two
spirits capable of understanding each other, two real Hellenes,--he and
Petronius.
The amazing dexterity of Petronius confirmed people in the conviction
that his influence would outlive every other. They did not see how Cæsar
could dispense with him,--with whom could he converse touching poetry,
music, and comparative excellence; in whose eyes could he look to learn
whether his creation was indeed perfect? Petronius, with his habitual
indifference, seemed to attach no importance to his position. As usual,
he was remiss, slothful, sceptical, and witty. He produced on people
frequently the impression of a man who made light of them, of himself,
of Cæsar, of the whole world. At moments he ventured to criticise Cæsar
to his face, and when others judged that he was going too far, or simply
preparing his own ruin, he was able to turn the criticism suddenly in
such a way that it came out to his profit; he roused amazement in those
present, and the conviction that there was no position from which he
could not issue in triumph.
About a week after the return of Vinicius from Rome, Cæsar read in a
small circle an extract from his Troyad; when he had finished and the
shouts of rapture had ended, Petronius, interrogated by a glance from
Cæsar, replied,--
“Common verses, fit for the fire.”
The hearts of those present stopped beating from terror. Since the years
of his childhood Nero had never heard such a sentence from any man. The
face of Tigellinus was radiant with delight. But Vinicius grew pale,
thinking that Petronius, who thus far had never been drunk, was drunk
this time.
Nero, however, inquired in a honeyed voice, in which more or less deeply
wounded vanity was quivering,--
“What defect dost thou find in them?”