Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
hair; children’s heads were dashed against stones. Thousands of people
rushed, howling, night and day through the streets. Victims were sought
in ruins, in chimneys, in cellars. Before the prison bacchanalian feasts
and dances were celebrated at fires, around casks of wine.
In the evening was heard with delight bellowing which was like thunder,
and which sounded throughout the city. The prisons were overflowing
with thousands of people; every day the mob and pretorians drove in
new victims. Pity had died out. It seemed that people had forgotten
to speak, and in their wild frenzy remembered one shout alone: “To
the lions with Christians!” Wonderfully hot days came, and nights more
stifling than ever before; the very air seemed filled with blood, crime,
and madness.
And that surpassing measure of cruelty was answered by an equal measure
of desire for martyrdom,--the confessors of Christ went to death
willingly, or even sought death till they were restrained by the stern
commands of superiors. By the injunction of these superiors they began
to assemble only outside the city, in excavations near the Appian Way,
and in vineyards belonging to patrician Christians, of whom none had
been imprisoned so far. It was known perfectly on the Palatine that to
the confessors of Christ belonged Flavius, Domitilla, Pomponia Græcina,
Cornelius Pudens, and Vinicius. Cæsar himself, however, feared that the
mob would not believe that such people had burned Rome, and since it
was important beyond everything to convince the mob, punishment and
vengeance were deferred till later days. Others were of the opinion, but
erroneously, that those patricians were saved by the influence of Acte.
Petronius, after parting with Vinicius, turned to Acte, it is true, to
gain assistance for Lygia; but she could offer him only tears, for she
lived in oblivion and suffering, and was endured only in so far as she
hid herself from Poppæa and Cæsar.
But she had visited Lygia in prison, she had carried her clothing
and food, and above all had saved her from injury on the part of the
prison-guards, who, moreover, were bribed already.
Petronius, unable to forget that had it not been for him and his plan
of taking Lygia from the house of Aulus, probably she would not be in
prison at that moment, and, besides, wishing to win the game against
Tigellinus, spared neither time nor efforts. In the course of a few days
he saw Seneca, Domitius Afer, Crispinilla, and Diodorus, through whom
he wished to reach Poppæa; he saw Terpnos, and the beautiful Pythagoras,
and finally Aliturus and Paris, to whom Cæsar usually refused nothing.
With the help of Chrysothemis, then mistress of Vatinius, he tried to
gain even his aid, not sparing in this case and in others promises and
money.
But all these efforts were fruitless. Seneca, uncertain of the morrow,
fell to explaining to him that the Christians, even if they had not
burned Rome, should be exterminated, for the good of the city,--in a
word, he justified the coming slaughter for political reasons. Terpnos
and Diodorus took the money, and did nothing in return for it. Vatinius
reported to Cæsar that they had been trying to bribe him. Aliturus
alone, who at first was hostile to the Christians, took pity on them
then, and made bold to mention to Cæsar the imprisoned maiden, and to
implore in her behalf. He obtained nothing, however, but the answer,--
“Dost thou think that I have a soul inferior to that of Brutus, who
spared not his own sons for the good of Rome?”
When this answer was repeated to Petronius, he said,--
“Since Nero has compared himself to Brutus, there is no salvation.”
But he was sorry for Vinicius, and dread seized him lest he might
attempt his own life. “Now,” thought the arbiter, “he is upheld by the
efforts which he makes to save her, by the sight of her, and by his own
suffering; but when all means fail and the last ray of hope is quenched,
by Castor! he will not survive, he will throw himself on his sword.”
Petronius understood better how to die thus than to love and suffer like
Vinicius.
Meanwhile Vinicius did all that he could think of to save Lygia. He
visited Augustians; and he, once so proud, now begged their assistance.
Through Vitelius he offered Tigellinus all his Sicilian estates, and
whatever else the man might ask; but Tigellinus, not wishing apparently
to offend the Augusta, refused. To go to Cæsar himself, embrace his
knees and implore, would lead to nothing. Vinicius wished, it is true,
to do this; but Petronius, hearing of his purpose, inquired,--
“But should he refuse thee, or answer with a jest or a shameless threat,
what wouldst thou do?”
At this the young tribune’s features contracted with pain and rage, and
from his fixed jaws a gritting sound was heard.
“Yes,” said Petronius, “I advise thee against this, because thou wouldst
close all paths of rescue.”
Vinicius restrained himself, and passing his palm over his forehead,
which was covered with cold sweat, replied,--
“No, no! I am a Christian.”
“But thou will forget this, as thou didst a moment ago. Thou hast
the right to ruin thyself, but not her. Remember what the daughter of
Sejanus passed through before death.”
Speaking thus he was not altogether sincere, since he was concerned
more for Vinicius than for Lygia. Still he knew that in no way could
he restrain him from a dangerous step as well as by telling him that he
would bring inexorable destruction on Lygia. Moreover he was right; for
on the Palatine they had counted on the visit of the young tribune, and
had taken needful precautions.
But the suffering of Vinicius surpassed human endurance. From the moment
that Lygia was imprisoned and the glory of coming martyrdom had fallen
on her, not only did he love her a hundred times more, but he began
simply to give her in his soul almost religious honor, as he would a
superhuman being. And now, at the thought that he must lose this being
both loved and holy, that besides death torments might be inflicted on
her more terrible than death itself, the blood stiffened in his veins.
His soul was turned into one groan, his thoughts were confused. At times
it seemed to him that his skull was filled with living fire, which would
either burn or burst it. He ceased to understand what was happening; he
ceased to understand why Christ, the Merciful, the Divine, did not come
with aid to His adherents; why the dingy walls of the Palatine did
not sink through the earth, and with them Nero, the Augustians, the
pretorian camp, and all that city of crime. He thought that it could not
and should not be otherwise; and all that his eyes saw, and because
of which his heart was breaking, was a dream. But the roaring of wild
beasts informed him that it was reality; the sound of the axes beneath
which rose the arena told him that it was reality; the howling of the
people and the overfilled prisons confirmed this. Then his faith in
Christ was alarmed; and that alarm was a new torture, the most dreadful
of all, perhaps.
“Remember what the daughter of Sejanus endured before death,” said
Petronius to him, meanwhile.
Chapter LII
AND everything had failed. Vinicius lowered himself to the degree that
he sought support from freedmen and slaves, both those of Cæsar and
Poppæa; he overpaid their empty promises, he won their good will with
rich gifts. He found the first husband of Poppæa, Rufus Crispinus, and
obtained from him a letter. He gave a villa in Antium to Rufius, her son
by the first marriage; but thereby he merely angered Cæsar, who hated
his step-son. By a special courier he sent a letter to Poppæa’s second
husband, Otho, in Spain. He sacrificed his property and himself, until
he saw at last that he was simply the plaything of people; that if he
had pretended that the imprisonment of Lygia concerned him little, he
would have freed her sooner.
Petronius saw this, too. Meanwhile day followed day. The amphitheatre
was finished. The “tesseræ” were distributed,--that is, tickets of
entrance, to the ludus matutinus (morning games). But this time the
morning games, because of the unheard-of number of victims, were to
continue for days, weeks, and months. It was not known where to put the
Christians. The prisons were crammed, and fever was raging in them. The
puticuli--common pits in which slaves were kept--began to be overfilled.
There was fear that diseases might spread over the whole city hence,
haste.
All these reports struck the ears of Vinicius, extinguishing in him the
last hope. While there was yet time, he might delude himself with
the belief that he could do something, but now there was no time. The
spectacles must begin. Lygia might find herself any day in a cuniculum
of the circus, whence the only exit was to the arena. Vinicius, not
knowing whither fate and the cruelty of superior force might throw her,
visited all the circuses, bribed guards and beast-keepers, laying before
them plans which they could not execute. In time he saw that he was
working for this only,--to make death less terrible to her; and just
then he felt that instead of brains he had glowing coals in his head.
For the rest he had no thought of surviving her, and determined to
perish at the same time. But he feared lest pain might burn his life out
before the dreadful hour came. His friends and Petronius thought also
that any day might open the kingdom of shadows before him. His face was
black, and resembled those waxen masks kept in lararia. In his features
astonishment had grown frigid, as if he hid no understanding of what had
happened and what might happen. When any one spoke to him, he raised his
hands to his face mechanically, and, pressing his temples, looked at the
speaker with an inquiring and astonished gaze. He passed whole nights
with Ursus at Lygia’s door in the prison; if she commanded him to go
away and rest, he returned to Petronius, and walked in the atrium till
morning. The slaves found him frequently kneeling with upraised hands
or lying with his face to the earth. He prayed to Christ, for Christ
was his last hope. Everything had failed him. Only a miracle could save
Lygia; hence he beat the stone flags with his forehead and prayed for
the miracle.
But he knew enough yet to understand that Peter’s prayers were more
important than his own. Peter had promised him Lygia, Peter had baptized
him, Peter had performed miracles, let him give aid and rescue.
And a certain night he went to seek the Apostle. The Christians, of
whom not many remained, had concealed him now carefully even from other
brethren, lest any of the weaker in spirit might betray him wittingly or
unwittingly. Vinicius, amid the general confusion and disaster, occupied
also in efforts to get Lygia out of prison, had lost sight of Peter,
he had barely seen him once from the time of his own baptism till the
beginning of the persecution. But betaking himself to that quarryman
in whose hut he was baptized, he learned that there would be a meeting
outside the Porta Salaria in a vineyard which belonged to Cornelius
Pudens. The quarryman offered to guide him, and declared that he would
find Peter there. They started about dusk, and, passing beyond the wall,
through hollows overgrown with reeds, reached the vineyard in a wild
and lonely place. The meeting was held in a wine-shed. As Vinicius drew
near, the murmur of prayer reached his ears. On entering he saw by
dim lamplight a few tens of kneeling figures sunk in prayer. They were
saying a kind of litany; a chorus of voices, male and female, repeated
every moment, “Christ have mercy on us.” In those voices, deep, piercing
sadness and sorrow were heard.
Peter was present. He was kneeling in front of the others, before a
wooden cross nailed to the wall of the shed, and was praying. From a