Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
was certain. He thought also that one of those bloody orgies would begin
which his eyes, those of an æsthetic man, could not suffer. But above
all he thought: “I must save Vinicius, who will go mad if that maiden
perishes”; and this consideration outweighed every other, for Petronius
understood well that he was beginning a game far more perilous than any
in his life. He began, however, to speak freely and carelessly, as
his wont was when criticising or ridiculing plans of Cæsar and the
Augustians that were not sufficiently æsthetic,--
“Ye have found victims! That is true. Ye may send them to the arena, or
array them in ‘painful tunics.’ That is true also. But hear me! Ye have
authority, ye have pretorians, ye have power; then be sincere, at
least, when no one is listening! Deceive the people, but deceive not
one another. Give the Christians to the populace, condemn them to any
torture ye like; but have courage to say to yourselves that it was not
they who burnt Rome. Phy! Ye call me ‘arbiter elegantiarum’; hence I
declare to you that I cannot endure wretched comedies! Phy! how all this
reminds me of the theatrical booths near the Porta Asinaria, in which
actors play the parts of gods and kings to amuse the suburban rabble,
and when the play is over wash down onions with sour wine, or get blows
of clubs! Be gods and kings in reality; for I say that ye can permit
yourselves the position! As to thee, O Cæsar, thou hast threatened
us with the sentence of coming ages; but think, those ages will utter
judgment concerning thee also. By the divine Clio! Nero, ruler of the
world, Nero, a god, burnt Rome, because he was as powerful on earth as
Zeus on Olympus,--Nero the poet loved poetry so much that he sacrificed
to it his country! From the beginning of the world no one did the
like, no one ventured on the like. I beseech thee in the name of the
double-crowned Libethrides, renounce not such glory, for songs of thee
will sound to the end of ages! What will Priam be when compared with
thee; what Agamenmon; what Achilles; what the gods themselves? We need
not say that the burning of Rome was good, but it was colossal and
uncommon. I tell thee, besides, that the people will raise no hand
against thee! It is not true that they will. Have courage; guard thyself
against acts unworthy of thee,--for this alone threatens thee, that
future ages may say, ‘Nero burned Rome; but as a timid Cæsar and a timid
poet he denied the great deed out of fear, and cast the blame of it on
the innocent!’”
The arbiter’s words produced the usual deep impression on Nero; but
Petronius was not deceived as to this, that what he had said was a
desperate means which in a fortunate event might save the Christians,
it is true, but might still more easily destroy himself. He had not
hesitated, however, for it was a question at once of Vinicius whom
he loved, and of hazard with which he amused himself. “The dice are
thrown,” said he to himself, “and we shall see how far fear for his own
life outweighs in the monkey his love of glory.”
And in his soul he had no doubt that fear would outweigh.
Meanwhile silence fell after his words. Poppæa and all present were
looking at Nero’s eyes as at a rainbow. He began to raise his lips,
drawing them to his very nostrils, as was his custom when he knew not
what to do; at last disgust and trouble were evident on his features.
“Lord,” cried Tigellinus, on noting this, “permit me to go; for when
people wish to expose thy person to destruction, and call thee, besides,
a cowardly Cæsar, a cowardly poet, an incendiary, and a comedian, my
ears cannot suffer such expressions!”
“I have lost,” thought Petronius. But turning to Tigellinus, he measured
him with a glance in which was that contempt for a ruffian which is felt
by a great lord who is an exquisite.
“Tigellinus,” said he, “it was thou whom I called a comedian; for thou
art one at this very moment.”
“Is it because I will not listen to thy insults?”
“It is because thou art feigning boundless love for Cæsar,--thou who
a short while since wert threatening him with pretorians, which we all
understood as did he!”
Tigellinus, who had not thought Petronius sufficiently daring to throw
dice such as those on the table, turned pale, lost his head, and was
speechless. This was, however, the last victory of the arbiter over his
rival, for that moment Poppæa said,--
“Lord, how permit that such a thought should even pass through the head
of any one, and all the more that any one should venture to express it
aloud in thy presence!”
“Punish the insolent!” exclaimed Vitelius.
Nero raised his lips again to his nostrils, and, turning his
near-sighted, glassy eyes on Petronius, said,--
“Is this the way thou payest me for the friendship which I had for
thee?”
“If I am mistaken, show me my error,” said Petronius; “but know that I
speak that which love for thee dictates.”
“Punish the insolent!” repeated Vitelius.
“Punish!” called a number of voices.
In the atrium there was a murmur and a movement, for people began to
withdraw from Petronius. Even Tullius Senecio, his constant companion at
the court, pushed away, as did young Nerva, who had shown him hitherto
the greatest friendship. After a while Petronius was alone on the left
side of the atrium, with a smile on his lips; and gathering with his
hands the folds of his toga, he waited yet for what Cæsar would say or
do.
“Ye wish me to punish him” said Cæsar; “but he is my friend and comrade.
Though he has wounded my heart, let him know that for friends this heart
has naught but forgiveness.”
“I have lost, and am ruined,” thought Petronius.
Meanwhile Cæsar rose, and the consultation was ended.
Chapter XLIX
PETRONIUS went home. Nero and Tigellinus went to Poppæa’s atrium, where
they were expected by people with whom the prefect had spoken already.
There were two Trans-Tiber rabbis in long solemn robes and mitred, a
young copyist, their assistant, together with Chilo. At sight of Cæsar
the priests grew pale from emotion, and, raising their hands an arm’s
length, bent their heads to his hands.
“Be greeted, O ruler of the earth, guardian of the chosen people, and
Cæsar, lion among men, whose reign is like sunlight, like the cedar of
Lebanon, like a spring, like a palm, like the balsam of Jericho.”
“Do ye refuse to call me god?” inquired Nero.
The priests grew still paler. The chief one spoke again,--
“Thy words, O lord, are as sweet as a cluster of grapes, as a ripe
fig,--for Jehovah filled thy heart with goodness! Thy father’s
predecessor, Cæsar Caius, was stern; still our envoys did not call him
god, preferring death itself to violation of the law.”
“And did not Caligula give command to throw them to the lions?”
“No, lord; Cæsar Caius feared Jehovah’s anger.”
And they raised their heads, for the name of the powerful Jehovah gave
them courage; confident in his might, they looked into Nero’s eyes with
more boldness.
“Do ye accuse the Christians of burning Rome?” inquired Cæsar. “We,
lord, accuse them of this alone,--that they are enemies of the law,
of the human race, of Rome, and of thee; that long since they have
threatened the city and the world with fire! The rest will be told thee
by this man, whose lips are unstained by a lie, for in his mother’s
veins flowed the blood of the chosen people.”
Nero turned to Chilo: “Who art thou?”
“One who honors thee, O Cyrus; and, besides, a poor Stoic-”
“I hate the Stoics,” said Nero. “I hate Thrasea; I hate Musonius and
Cornutus. Their speech is repulsive to me; their contempt for art, their
voluntary squalor and filth.”
“O lord, thy master Seneca has one thousand tables of citrus wood. At
thy wish I will have twice as many. I am a Stoic from necessity. Dress
my stoicism, O Radiant One, in a garland of roses, put a pitcher of
wine before it; it will sing Anacreon in such strains as to deafen every
Epicurean.”
Nero, who was pleased by the title “Radiant,” smiled and said,-“Thou
dost please me.”
“This man is worth his weight in gold!” cried Tigellinus.
“Put thy liberality with my weight,” answered Chilo, “or the wind will
blow my reward away.”
“He would not outweigh Vitelius,” put in Cæsar.
“Eheu! Silver-bowed, my wit is not of lead.”
“I see that thy faith does not hinder thee from calling me a god.”
“O Immortal! My faith is in thee; the Christians blaspheme against that
faith, and I hate them.”
“What dost thou know of the Christians?”
“Wilt thou permit me to weep, O divinity?”
“No,” answered Nero; “weeping annoys me.”
“Thou art triply right, for eyes that have seen thee should be free of
tears forever. O lord, defend me against my enemies.”
“Speak of the Christians,” said Poppæa, with a shade of impatience.
“It will be at thy command, O Isis,” answered Chilo. “From youth I
devoted myself to philosophy, and sought truth. I sought it among the
ancient divine sages, in the Academy at Athens, and in the Serapeum at
Alexandria. When I heard of the Christians, I judged that they formed
some new school in which I could find certain kernels of truth; and to
my misfortune I made their acquaintance. The first Christian whom evil
fate brought near me was one Glaucus, a physician of Naples. From him
I learned in time that they worship a certain Chrestos, who promised
to exterminate all people and destroy every city on earth, but to spare
them if they helped him to exterminate the children of Deucalion. For
this reason, O lady, they hate men, and poison fountains; for this
reason in their assemblies they shower curses on Rome, and on all
temples in which our gods are honored. Chrestos was crucified; but he
promised that when Rome was destroyed by fire, he would come again and
give Christians dominion over the world.”
“People will understand now why Rome was destroyed,” interrupted
Tigellinus.
“Many understand that already, O lord, for I go about in the gardens,
I go to the Campus Martius, and teach. But if ye listen to the end, ye
will know my reasons for vengeance. Glaucus the physician did not reveal
to me at first that their religion taught hatred. On the contrary,
he told me that Chrestos was a good divinity, that the basis of their
religion was love. My sensitive heart could not resist such a truth;
hence I took to loving Glaucus, I trusted him, I shared every morsel
of bread with him, every copper coin, and dost thou know, lady, how he
repaid me? On the road from Naples to Rome he thrust a knife into my
body, and my wife, the beautiful and youthful Berenice, he sold to a
slave-merchant. If Sophocles knew my history--but what do I say? One
better than Sophocles is listening.”
“Poor man!” said Poppæa.
“Whoso has seen the face of Aphrodite is not poor, lady; and I see it at
this moment. But then I sought consolation in philosophy. When I came
to Rome, I tried to meet Christian elders to obtain justice against
Glaucus. I thought that they would force him to yield up my wife. I
became acquainted with their chief priest; I became acquainted with
another, named Paul, who was in prison in this city, but was liberated
afterward; I became acquainted with the son of Zebedee, with Linus and
Clitus and many others. I know where they lived before the fire, I know
where they meet. I can point out one excavation in the Vatican Hill
and a cemetery beyond the Nomentan Gate, where they celebrate their
shameless ceremonies. I saw the Apostle Peter. I saw how Glaucus killed
children, so that the Apostle might have something to sprinkle on the
heads of those present; and I saw Lygia, the foster-child of Pomponia
Græcina, who boasted that though unable to bring the blood of an
infant, she brought the death of an infant, for she bewitched the little
Augusta, thy daughter, O Cyrus, and thine, O Isis!”