Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
“Dost hear, Cæsar?” asked Poppæa.
“Can that be!” exclaimed Nero.
“I could forgive wrongs done myself,” continued Chilo, “but when I heard
of yours, I wanted to stab her. Unfortunately I was stopped by the noble
Vinicius, who loves her.”
“Vinicius? But did she not flee from him?”
“She fled, but he made search for her; he could not exist without her.
For wretched pay I helped him in the search, and it was I who pointed
out to him the house in which she lived among the Christians in the
Trans-Tiber. We went there together, and with us thy wrestler Croton,
whom the noble Vinicius hired to protect him. But Ursus, Lygia’s slave,
crushed Croton. That is a man of dreadful strength, O Lord, who can
break a bull’s neck as easily as another might a poppy stalk. Aulus and
Pomponia loved him because of that.”
“By Hercules,” said Nero, “the mortal who crushed Croton deserves a
statue in the Forum. But, old man, thou art mistaken or art inventing,
for Vinicius killed Croton with a knife.”
“That is how people calumniate the gods. O lord, I myself saw Croton’s
ribs breaking in the arms of Ursus, who rushed then on Vinicius and
would have killed him but for Lygia. Vinicius was ill for a long time
after that but they nursed him in the hope that through love he would
become a Christian. In fact, he did become a Christian.”
“Vinicius?”
“Yes.”
“And, perhaps, Petronius too?” inquired Tigellinus, hurriedly.
Chilo squirmed, rubbed his hands, and said,--
“I admire thy penetration, O lord. He may have become one! He may very
well have become one.”
“Now I understand why he defended the Christians.”
Nero laughed: “Petronius a Christian! Petronius an enemy of life and
luxury! Be not foolish; do not ask me to believe that, since I am ready
not to believe anything.”
“But the noble Vinicius became a Christian, lord. I swear by that
radiance which comes from thee that I speak the truth, and that nothing
pierces me with such disgust as lying. Pomponia Græcina is a Christian,
little Aulus is a Christian, Lygia is a Christian, and so is Vinicius.
I served him faithfully, and in return, at the desire of Glaucus the
physician, he gave command to flog me, though I am old and was sick and
hungry. And I have sworn by Hades that I will not forget that for him.
O lord, avenge my wrongs on them, and I will deliver to thee Peter the
Apostle and Linus and Clitus and Glaucus and Crispus, the highest
ones, and Lygia and Ursus. I will point out hundreds of them to you,
thousands; I will indicate their houses of prayer, the cemeteries, all
thy prisons will not hold them! Without me ye could not find them. In
misfortunes I have sought consolation; hitherto in philosophy alone, now
I will find it in favors that will descend on me. I am old, and have not
known life; let me begin.”
“It is thy wish to be a Stoic before a full plate,” said Nero.
“Whoso renders service to thee will fill it by that same.”
“Thou art not mistaken, O philosopher.”
But Poppæa did not forget her enemies. Her fancy for Vinicius was,
indeed, rather a momentary whim, which had risen under the influence
of jealousy, anger, and wounded vanity. Still the coolness of the young
patrician touched her deeply, and filled her heart with a stubborn
feeling of offence. This alone, that he had dared to prefer another,
seemed to her a crime calling for vengeance. As to Lygia, she hated her
from the first moment, when the beauty of that northern lily alarmed
her. Petronius, who spoke of the too narrow hips of the girl, might talk
what he pleased into Cæsar, but not into the Augusta. Poppæa the critic
understood at one cast of the eye that in all Rome Lygia alone could
rival and even surpass her. Thenceforth she vowed her ruin.
“Lord,” said she, “avenge our child.”
“Hasten!” cried Chilo, “hasten! Otherwise Vinicius will hide her. I will
point out the house to which she returned after the fire.”
“I will give thee ten men, and go this moment,” said Tigellinus.
“O lord! thou hast not seen Croton in the arms of Ursus; if thou wilt
give fifty men, I will only show the house from a distance. But if ye
will not imprison Vinicius, I am lost.”
Tigellinus looked at Nero. “Would it not be well, O divinity, to finish
at once with the uncle and nephew?”
Nero thought a moment and answered,--
“No, not now. People would not believe us if we tried to persuade them
that Petronius, Vinicius, or Pomponia Græcina had fired Rome. Their
houses were too beautiful. Their turn will come later; to-day other
victims are needed.”
“Then, O lord, give me soldiers as a guard,” said Chilo.
“See to this, Tigellinus.”
“Thou wilt lodge meanwhile with me,” said the prefect to Chilo.
Delight beamed from the face of the Greek.
“I will give up all! only hasten!--hasten!” cried he, with a hoarse
voice.
Chapter L
ON leaving Cæsar, Petronius had himself borne to his house on the
Carinæ, which, being surrounded on three sides by a garden, and having
in front the small Cecilian Forum, escaped the fire luckily. For this
cause other Augustians, who had lost their houses and in them vast
wealth and many works of art, called Petronius fortunate. For years it
had been repeated that he was the first-born of Fortune, and Cæsar’s
growing friendship in recent times seemed to confirm the correctness of
this statement.
But that first-born of Fortune might meditate now on the fickleness of
his mother, or rather on her likeness to Chronos, who devoured his own
children.
“Were my house burnt,” said he to himself, “and with it my gems,
Etruscan vases, Alexandrian glass, and Corinthian bronze, Nero might
indeed have forgotten the offence. By Pollux! And to think that it
depended on me alone to be pretorian prefect at this moment. I should
proclaim Tigellinus the incendiary, which he is really; I should array
him in the ‘painful tunic,’ and deliver him to the populace, protect
the Christians, rebuild Rome. Who knows even if a better epoch would not
begin thus for honest people? I ought to have taken the office, simply
out of regard for Vinicius. In case of overwork I could have surrendered
command to him, and Nero would not have even tried to resist. Then let
Vinicius baptize all the pretorians, nay, Cæsar himself; what harm could
that be to me? Nero pious, Nero virtuous and merciful,--this would be
even an amusing spectacle.”
And his carelessness was so great that he began to laugh. But after a
time his thoughts turned in another direction. It seemed to him that
he was in Antium; that Paul of Tarsus was saying to him, “Ye call us
enemies of life, but answer me, Petronius: If Cæsar were a Christian,
and acted according to our religion, would not life be safer and more
certain?”
And remembering these words, he continued: “By Castor! No matter how
many Christians they murder here, Paul will find as many new ones; for
he is right, unless the world can rest on scoundrelism. But who knows
that this will not be the case soon? I myself, who have learned not a
little, did not learn how to be a great enough scoundrel; hence I shall
have to open my veins. But in every case it must have ended thus, and if
not thus, in some other way. I am sorry for Eunice and my Myrrhene vase;
but Eunice is free, and the vase will go with me. Ahenobarbus will not
get it, in any event! I am sorry also for Vinicius. But, though I was
bored less of late than before, I am ready. In the world things are
beautiful; but people are so vile for the greater part that life is not
worth a regret. He who knew how to live should know how to die. Though
I belong to the Augustians, I was freer than they supposed.” Here he
shrugged his shoulders. “They may think that my knees are trembling
at this moment, and that terror has raised the hair on my head; but
on reaching home, I will take a bath in violet water, my golden-haired
herself will anoint me; then after refreshment we will have sung to us
that hymn to Apollo composed by Anthemios. I said once to myself that
it was not worth while to think of death, for death thinks of us without
our assistance. It would be a wonder if there are really Elysian fields,
and in them shades of people. Eunice would come in time to me, and
we should wander together over asphodel meadows. I should find, too,
society better than this. What buffoons, tricksters, a vile herd without
taste or polish! Tens of Arbiters Elegantiarum could not transform those
Trimalchilons into decent people. By Persephone! I have had enough!”
And he noted with astonishment that something separated him from those
people already. He had known them well earlier, and had known what to
think of them; still they seemed to him now as farther away and more
deserving of contempt than usual. Indeed, he had had enough of them!
But afterward he began to think over his position. Thanks to his
acuteness, he knew that destruction was not threatening him directly.
Nero had seized an appropriate occasion to utter a few select, lofty
phrases about friendship and forgiveness, thus binding himself for the
moment. “He will have to seek pretexts, and before he finds them
much time may pass. First of all, he will celebrate the games with
Christians,” said Petronius to himself; “only then will he think of me,
and if that be true, it is not worth while to take trouble or change my
course of life. Nearer danger threatens Vinicius!”
And thenceforth he thought only of Vinicius, whom he resolved to rescue.
Four sturdy Bithynians bore his litter quickly through ruins, ash-heaps,
and stones with which the Carinæ was filled yet; but he commanded
them to run swiftly so as to be home at the earliest. Vinicius,
whose “insula” had been burned, was living with him, and was at home,
fortunately.
“Hast seen Lygia to-day?” were the first words of Petronius.
“I have just come from her.”
“Hear what I tell thee, and lose no time in questions. It has been
decided this morning at Cæsar’s to lay the blame of burning Rome on the
Christians. Persecutions and tortures threaten them. Pursuit may begin
any instant. Take Lygia and flee at once beyond the Alps even, or to
Africa. And hasten, for the Palatine is nearer the Trans-Tiber than is
this place.”
Vinicius was, indeed, too much of a soldier to lose time in useless
queries. He listened with frowning brows, and a face intent and
terrible, but fearless. Evidently the first feeling of his nature in
presence of peril was a wish to defend and give battle.
“I go,” said he.
“One word more. Take a purse of gold, take weapons, and a handful of thy
Christians. In case of need, rescue her!”
Vinicius was in the door of the atrium already.
“Send me news by a slave!” cried Petronius.
When left alone, he began to walk by the columns which adorned the
atrium, thinking of what had happened. He knew that Lygia and Linus had
returned after the fire to the former house, which, like the greater
part of the Trans-Tiber, had been saved; and that was an unfavorable
circumstance, for otherwise it would have been difficult to find them
among throngs of people. Petronius hoped, however, that as things were,
no one in the Palatine knew where they lived, and therefore in every
case Vinicius would anticipate the pretorians. It occurred to him also
that Tigellinus, wishing to seize at one attempt as many Christians as
possible, would extend his net over all Rome. “If they send no more than
ten people after her,” thought he, “that giant Lygian will break their
bones and what will it be if Vinicius comes with assistance?” Thinking
of this he was consoled. True, armed resistance to the pretorians was
almost the same as war with Cæsar. Petronius knew also that if Vinicius
hid from the vengeance of Nero, that vengeance might fall on himself;