Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero
stench which at the edge of the “Putrid Pits” was simply unendurable;
then they raised the biers with coffins and moved on. Only one coffin
stopped before the temple. Vinicius sprang toward it, and after him
Petronius, Niger, and two British slaves with the litter.
But before they had reached it in the darkness, the voice of Nazarius
was heard, full of pain,--
“Lord, they took her with Ursus to the Esquiline prison. We are carrying
another body! They removed her before midnight.”
Petronius, when he had returned home, was gloomy as a storm, and did not
even try to console Vinicius. He understood that to free Lygia from the
Esquiline dungeons was not to be dreamed of. He divined that very likely
she had been taken from the Tullianum so as not to die of fever and
escape the amphitheatre assigned to her. But for this very reason she
was watched and guarded more carefully than others. From the bottom of
his soul Petronius was sorry for her and Vinicius, but he was wounded
also by the thought that for the first time in life he had not
succeeded, and for the first time was beaten in a struggle.
“Fortune seems to desert me,” said he to himself, “but the gods are
mistaken if they think that I will accept such a life as his, for
example.”
Here he turned toward Vinicius, who looked at him with staring eyes.
“What is the matter? Thou hast a fever,” said Petronius.
But Vinicius answered with a certain strange, broken, halting voice,
like that of a sick child,--“But I believe that He--can restore her to
me.”
Above the city the last thunders of the storm had ceased.
Chapter LVII
THREE days’ rain, an exceptional phenomenon in Rome during summer, and
hail falling in opposition to the natural order, not only in the day,
but even at night, interrupted the spectacles. People were growing
alarmed. A failure of grapes was predicted, and when on a certain
afternoon a thunderbolt melted the bronze statue of Ceres on the
Capitol, sacrifices were ordered in the temple of Jupiter Salvator. The
priests of Ceres spread a report that the anger of the gods was turned
on the city because of the too hasty punishment of Christians; hence
crowds began to insist that the spectacles be given without reference to
weather. Delight seized all Rome when the announcement was made at last
that the ludus would begin again after three days’ interval.
Meanwhile beautiful weather returned. The amphitheatre was filled at
daybreak with thousands of people. Cæsar came early with the vestals
and the court. The spectacle was to begin with a battle among the
Christians, who to this end were arrayed as gladiators and furnished
with all kinds of weapons which served gladiators by profession in
offensive and defensive struggles. But here came disappointment.
The Christians threw nets, darts, tridents, and swords on the arena,
embraced and encouraged one another to endurance in view of torture and
death. At this deep indignation and resentment seized the hearts of
the multitude. Some reproached the Christians with cowardice and
pusillanimity; others asserted that they refused to fight through hatred
of the people, so as to deprive them of that pleasure which the sight of
bravery produces. Finally, at command of Cæsar, real gladiators were let
out, who despatched in one twinkle the kneeling and defenceless victims.
When these bodies were removed, the spectacle was a series of mythologic
pictures,--Cæsar’s own idea. The audience saw Hercules blazing in living
fire on Mount Oeta. Vinicius had trembled at the thought that the role
of Hercules might be intended for Ursus; but evidently the turn of
Lygia’s faithful servant had not come, for on the pile some other
Christian was burning,--a man quite unknown to Vinicius. In the
next picture Chilo, whom Cæsar would not excuse from attendance, saw
acquaintances. The death of Dædalus was represented, and also that of
Icarus. In the rôle of Dædalus appeared Euricius, that old man who had
given Chilo the sign of the fish; the role of Icarus was taken by his
son, Quartus. Both were raised aloft with cunning machinery, and then
hurled suddenly from an immense height to the arena. Young Quartus
fell so near Cæsar’s podium that he spattered with blood not only the
external ornaments but the purple covering spread over the front of the
podium. Chilo did not see the fall, for he closed his eyes; but he heard
the dull thump of the body, and when after a time he saw blood there
close to him, he came near fainting a second time.
The pictures changed quickly. The shameful torments of maidens violated
before death by gladiators dressed as wild beasts, delighted the hearts
of the rabble. They saw priestesses of Cybele and Ceres, they saw the
Danaides, they saw Dirce and Pasiphaë; finally they saw young girls,
not mature yet, torn asunder by wild horses. Every moment the crowd
applauded new ideas of Nero, who, proud of them, and made happy by
plaudits, did not take the emerald from his eye for one instant while
looking at white bodies torn with iron, and the convulsive quivering of
victims.
Pictures were given also from the history of the city. After the maidens
they saw Mucius Scævola, whose hand fastened over a fire to a tripod
filled the amphitheatre with the odor of burnt flesh; but this man,
like the real Scævola, remained without a groan, his eyes raised and
the murmur of prayer on his blackening lips. When he had expired and his
body was dragged to the spoliarium, the usual midday interlude followed.
Cæsar with the vestals and the Augustians left the amphitheatre, and
withdrew to an immense scarlet tent erected purposely; in this was
prepared for him and the guests a magnificent prandium. The spectators
for the greater part followed his example, and, streaming out, disposed
themselves in picturesque groups around the tent, to rest their limbs
wearied from long sitting, and enjoy the food which, through Cæsar’s
favor, was served by slaves to them. Only the most curious descended to
the arena itself, and, touching with their fingers lumps of sand held
together by blood, conversed, as specialists and amateurs, of that which
had happened and of that which was to follow. Soon even these went away,
lest they might be late for the feast; only those few were left who
stayed not through curiosity, but sympathy for the coming victims. Those
concealed themselves behind seats or in the lower places.
Meanwhile the arena was levelled, and slaves began to dig holes one near
the other in rows throughout the whole circuit from side to side, so
that the last row was but a few paces distant from Cæsar’s podium. From
outside came the murmur of people, shouts and plaudits, while within
they were preparing in hot haste for new tortures. The cunicula were
opened simultaneously, and in all passages leading to the arena were
urged forward crowds of Christians naked and carrying crosses on their
shoulders. The whole arena was filled with them. Old men, bending under
the weight of wooden beams, ran forward; at the side of these went men
in the prime of life, women with loosened hair behind which they strove
to hide their nakedness, small boys, and little children. The crosses,
for the greater part, as well as the victims, were wreathed with
flowers. The servants of the amphitheatre beat the unfortunates with
clubs, forcing them to lay down their crosses near the holes prepared,
and stand themselves there in rows. Thus were to perish those whom
executioners had had no chance to drive out as food for dogs and wild
beasts the first day of the games. Black slaves seized the victims, laid
them face upward on the wood, and fell to nailing their hands hurriedly
and quickly to the arms of the crosses, so that people returning
after the interlude might find all the crosses standing. The whole
amphitheatre resounded with the noise of hammers which echoed through
all the rows, went out to the space surrounding the amphitheatre, and
into the tent where Cæsar was entertaining his suite and the vestals.
There he drank wine, bantered with Chilo, and whispered strange words
in the ears of the priestesses of Vesta; but on the arena the work was
seething,--nails were going into the hands and feet of the Christians;
shovels moved quickly, filling the holes in which the crosses had been
planted.
Among the new victims whose turn was to come soon was Crispus. The lions
had not had time to rend him; hence he was appointed to the cross. He,
ready at all times for death, was delighted with the thought that his
hour was approaching. He seemed another man, for his emaciated body was
wholly naked,--only a girdle of ivy encircled his hips, on his head was
a garland of roses. But in his eyes gleamed always that same exhaustless
energy; that same fanatical stern face gazed from beneath the crown of
roses. Neither had his heart changed; for, as once in the cuniculum he
had threatened with the wrath of God his brethren sewed up in the skins
of wild beasts, so to-day he thundered in place of consoling them.
“Thank the Redeemer,” said Crispus, “that He permits you to die the same
death that He Himself died. Maybe a part of your sins will be remitted
for this cause; but tremble, since justice must be satisfied, and there
cannot be one reward for the just and the wicked.”
His words were accompanied by the sound of the hammers nailing the hands
and feet of victims. Every moment more crosses were raised on the
arena; but he, turning to the crowd standing each man by his own cross,
continued,--
“I see heaven open, but I see also the yawning abyss. I know not what
account of my life to give the Lord, though I have believed, and hated
evil. I fear, not death, but resurrection; I fear, not torture, but
judgment, for the day of wrath is at hand.”
At that moment was heard from between the nearest rows some voice, calm
and solemn,--
“Not the day of wrath, but of mercy, the day of salvation and happiness;
for I say that Christ will gather you in, will comfort you and seat you
at His right hand. Be confident, for heaven is opening before you.”
At these words all eyes were turned to the benches; even those who were
hanging on the crosses raised their pale, tortured faces, and looked
toward the man who was speaking.
But he went to the barrier surrounding the arena, and blessed them with
the sign of the cross.
Crispus stretched out his arm as if to thunder at him; but when he saw
the man’s face, he dropped his arm, the knees bent under him, and his
lips whispered, “Paul the Apostle!”
To the great astonishment of the servants of the Circus, all of those
who were not nailed to the crosses yet knelt down. Paul turned to
Crispus and said,
“Threaten them not, Crispus, for this day they will be with thee in
paradise. It is thy thought that they may be condemned. But who will
condemn?
“Will God, who gave His Son for them? Will Christ, who died for their
salvation, condemn when they die for His name? And how is it possible
that He who loves can condemn? Who will accuse the chosen of God? Who
will say of this blood, ‘It is cursed’?”
“I have hated evil,” said the old priest.
“Christ’s command to love men was higher than that to hate evil, for His
religion is not hatred, but love.”
“I have sinned in the hour of death,” answered Crispus, beating his
breast. The manager of the seats approached the Apostle, and inquired,
“Who art thou, speaking to the condemned?”
“A Roman citizen,” answered Paul, calmly. Then, turning to Crispus,
he said: “Be confident, for to-day is a day of grace; die in peace, O
servant of God.”
The black men approached Crispus at that moment to place him on the
cross; but he looked around once again, and cried,--
“My brethren, pray for me!”
His face had lost its usual sternness; his stony features had taken an