Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
the pursuit had continued from the forenoon, that a multitude of
incendiaries were seized; and immediately along the newly cleared and
the old streets, through alleys lying among ruins around the Palatine,
over all the hills and gardens were heard through the length and breadth
of Rome shouts of swelling rage,--
“To the lions with Christians!”
“Herd!” repeated Petronius, with contempt; “a people worthy of Cæsar!”
And he began to think that a society resting on superior force, on
cruelty of which even barbarians had no conception, on crimes and mad
profligacy, could not endure. Rome ruled the world, but was also its
ulcer. The odor of a corpse was rising from it. Over its decaying
life the shadow of death was descending. More than once this had been
mentioned even among the Augustians, but never before had Petronius had
a clearer view of this truth that the laurelled chariot on which Rome
stood in the form of a triumphator, and which dragged behind a
chained herd of nations, was going to the precipice. The life of that
world-ruling city seemed to him a kind of mad dance, an orgy, which must
end. He saw then that the Christians alone had a new basis of life; but
he judged that soon there would not remain a trace of the Christians.
And what then?
The mad dance would continue under Nero; and if Nero disappeared,
another would be found of the same kind or worse, for with such a people
and such patricians there was no reason to find a better leader. There
would be a new orgy, and moreover a fouler and a viler one.
But the orgy could not last forever, and there would be need of sleep
when it was over, even because of simple exhaustion.
While thinking of this, Petronius felt immensely wearied. Was it worth
while to live, and live in uncertainty, with no purpose but to look
at such a society? The genius of death was not less beautiful than the
genius of sleep, and he also had wings at his shoulders.
The litter stopped before the arbiter’s door, which was opened that
instant by the watchful keeper.
“Has the noble Vinicius returned?” inquired Petronius.
“Yes, lord, a moment ago,” replied the slave.
“He has not rescued her,” thought Petronius. And casting aside his toga,
he ran into the atrium. Vinicius was sitting on a stool; his head bent
almost to his knees with his hands on his head; but at the sound of
steps he raised his stony face, in which the eyes alone had a feverish
brightness.
“Thou wert late?” asked Petronius.
“Yes; they seized her before midday.”
A moment of silence followed.
“Hast thou seen her?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“In the Mamertine prison.”
Petronius trembled and looked at Vinicius with an inquiring glance. The
latter understood.
“No,” said he. “She was not thrust down to the Tullianum [The lowest
part of the prison, lying entirely underground, with a single opening
in the ceiling. Jugurtha died there of hunger.] nor even to the middle
prison. I paid the guard to give her his own room. Ursus took his place
at the threshold and is guarding her.”
“Why did Ursus not defend her?”
“They sent fifty pretorians, and Linus forbade him.”
“But Linus?”
“Linus is dying; therefore they did not seize him.”
“What is thy intention?”
“To save her or die with her. I too believe in Christ.”
Vinicius spoke with apparent calmness; but there was such despair in his
voice that the heart of Petronius quivered from pure pity.
“I understand thee,” said he; “but how dost thou think to save her?”
“I paid the guards highly, first to shield her from indignity, and
second not to hinder her flight.”
“When can that happen?”
“They answered that they could not give her to me at once, as they
feared responsibility. When the prison will be filled with a multitude
of people, and when the tally of prisoners is confused, they will
deliver her. But that is a desperate thing! Do thou save her, and me
first! Thou art a friend of Cæsar. He himself gave her to me. Go to him
and save me!”
Petronius, instead of answering, called a slave, and, commanding him to
bring two dark mantles and two swords, turned to Vinicius,
“On the way I will tell thee,” said he. “Meanwhile take the mantle and
weapon, and we will go to the prison. There give the guards a hundred
thousand sestertia; give them twice and five times more, if they will
free Lygia at once. Otherwise it will be too late.”
“Let us go,” said Vinicius.
After a while both were on the street.
“Now listen to me,” said Petronius. “I did not wish to lose time. I am
in disfavor, beginning with to-day. My own life is hanging on a hair;
hence I can do nothing with Cæsar. Worse than that, I am sure that he
would act in opposition to my request. If that were not the case, would
I advise thee to flee with Lygia or to rescue her? Besides, if thou
escape, Cæsar’s wrath will turn on me. To-day he would rather do
something at thy request than at mine. Do not count on that, however.
Get her out of the prison, and flee! Nothing else is left. If that does
not succeed, there will be time for other methods. Meanwhile know that
Lygia is in prison, not alone for belief in Christ; Poppæa’s anger is
pursuing her and thee. Thou hast offended the Augusta by rejecting her,
dost remember? She knows that she was rejected for Lygia, whom she hated
from the first cast of the eye. Nay, she tried to destroy Lygia before
by ascribing the death of her own infant to her witchcraft. The hand
of Poppæa is in this. How explain that Lygia was the first to be
imprisoned? Who could point out the house of Linus? But I tell thee that
she has been followed this long time. I know that I wring thy soul, and
take the remnant of thy hope from thee, but I tell thee this purposely,
for the reason that if thou free her not before they come at the idea
that thou wilt try, ye are both lost.”
“Yes; I understand!” muttered Vinicius.
The streets were empty because of the late hour. Their further
conversation was interrupted, however, by a drunken gladiator who came
toward them. He reeled against Petronius, put one hand on his shoulder,
covering his face with a breath filled with wine, and shouted in a
hoarse voice,--
“To the lions with Christians!”
“Mirmillon,” answered Petronius, quietly, “listen to good counsel; go
thy way.”
With his other hand the drunken man seized him by the arm,--
“Shout with me, or I’ll break thy neck: Christians to the lions!” But
the arbiter’s nerves had had enough of those shouts. From the time that
he had left the Palatine they had been stifling him like a nightmare,
and rending his ears. So when he saw the fist of the giant above him,
the measure of his patience was exceeded.
“Friend,” said he, “thou hint the smell of wine, and art stopping my
way.”
Thus speaking, he drove into the man’s breast to the hilt the short
sword which he had brought from home; then, taking the arm of Vinicius,
he continued as if nothing had happened,--
“Cæsar said to-day, ‘Tell Vinicius from me to be at the games in which
Christians will appear.’ Dost understand what that means? They wish to
make a spectacle of thy pain. That is a settled affair. Perhaps that is
why thou and I are not imprisoned yet. If thou art not able to get her
at once--I do not know--Acte might take thy part; but can she effect
anything? Thy Sicilian lands, too, might tempt Tigellinus. Make the
trial.”
“I will give him all that I have,” answered Vinicius.
From the Carinæ to the Forum was not very far; hence they arrived
soon. The night had begun to pale, and the walls of the castle came out
definitely from the shadow.
Suddenly, as they turned toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius stopped,
and said,
“Pretorians! Too late!”
In fact the prison was surrounded by a double rank of soldiers. The
morning dawn was silvering their helmets and the points of their
javelins.
Vinicius grew as pale as marble. “Let us go on,” said he.
After a while they halted before the line. Gifted with an uncommon
memory, Petronius knew not only the officers, but nearly all the
pretorian soldiers. Soon he saw an acquaintance, a leader of a cohort,
and nodded to him.
“But what is this, Niger?” asked he; “are ye commanded to watch the
prison?”
“Yes, noble Petronius. The prefect feared lest they might try to rescue
the incendiaries.”
“Have ye the order to admit no one?” inquired Vinicius.
“We have not; acquaintances will visit the prisoners, and in that way we
shall seize more Christians.”
“Then let me in,” said Vinicius; and pressing Petronius’s hand, he said,
“See Acte, I will come to learn her answer.”
“Come,” responded Petronius.
At that moment under the ground and beyond the thick walls was heard
singing. The hymn, at first low and muffled, rose more and more. The
voices of men, women, and children were mingled in one harmonious
chorus. The whole prison began to sound, in the calmness of dawn, like
a harp. But those were not voices of sorrow or despair; on the contrary,
gladness and triumph were heard in them.
The soldiers looked at one another with amazement. The first golden and
rosy gleams of the morning appeared in the sky.
Chapter LI
THE cry, “Christians to the lions!” was heard increasingly in every part
of the city. At first not only did no one doubt that they were the real
authors of the catastrophe, but no one wished to doubt, since their
punishment was to be a splendid amusement for the populace. Still the
opinion spread that the catastrophe would not have assumed such dreadful
proportions but for the anger of the gods; for this reason “piacula,”
or purifying sacrifices, were commanded in the temples. By advice of the
Sibylline books, the Senate ordained solemnities and public prayer to
Vulcan, Ceres, and Proserpina. Matrons made offerings to Juno; a whole
procession of them went to the seashore to take water and sprinkle with
it the statue of the goddess. Married women prepared feasts to the gods
and night watches. All Rome purified itself from sin, made offerings,
and placated the Immortals. Meanwhile new broad streets were opened
among the ruins. In one place and another foundations were laid for
magnificent houses, palaces, and temples. But first of all they
built with unheard-of haste an enormous wooden amphitheatre in which
Christians were to die. Immediately after that consultation in the house
of Tiberius, orders went to consuls to furnish wild beasts. Tigellinus
emptied the vivaria of all Italian cities, not excepting the smaller
ones. In Africa, at his command, gigantic hunts were organized, in
which the entire local population was forced to take part. Elephants and
tigers were brought in from Asia, crocodiles and hippopotamuses from the
Nile, lions from the Atlas, wolves and bears from the Pyrenees, savage
hounds from Hibernia, Molossian dogs from Epirus, bisons and the
gigantic wild aurochs from Germany. Because of the number of prisoners,
the games were to surpass in greatness anything seen up to that time.
Cæsar wished to drown all memory of the fire in blood, and make
Rome drunk with it; hence never had there been a greater promise of
bloodshed.
The willing people helped guards and pretorians in hunting Christians.
That was no difficult labor for whole groups of them camped with the
other population in the midst of the gardens, and confessed their
faith openly. When surrounded, they knelt, and while singing hymns let
themselves be borne away without resistance. But their patience only
increased the anger of the populace, who, not understanding its origin,
considered it as rage and persistence in crime. A madness seized
the persecutors. It happened that the mob wrested Christians from
pretorians, and tore them to pieces; women were dragged to prison by the