Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero

Meanwhile from under his feet was heard a cry which resembled a groan,-- “O Christ! O Christ! forgive me!” Paul approached the fountain then, and, taking water in his hand, turned to the kneeling wretch,-- “Chilo!--I baptize thee in the name of the Father, Son, and Spirit. Amen!” Chilo raised his head, opened his arms, and remained in that posture. The moon shone with full light on his white hair and on his equally white face, which was as motionless as if dead or cut out of stone. The moments passed one after another. From the great aviaries in the gardens of Domitian came the crowing of cocks; but Chilo remained kneeling, like a statue on a monument. At last he recovered, spoke to the Apostle, and asked,-- “What am I to do before death?” Paul was roused also from meditation on the measureless power which even such spirits as that of this Greek could not resist, and answered,-- “Have faith, and bear witness to the truth.” They went out together. At the gate the Apostle blessed the old man again, and they parted. Chilo himself insisted on this, for after what had happened he knew that Cæsar and Tigellinus would give command to pursue him. Indeed he was not mistaken. When he returned home, he found the house surrounded by pretorians, who led him away, and took him under direction of Scevinus to the Palatine. Cæsar had gone to rest, but Tigellinus was waiting. When he saw the unfortunate Greek, he greeted him with a calm but ominous face. “Thou hast committed the crime of treason,” said he, “and punishment will not pass thee; but if to-morrow thou testify in the amphitheatre that thou wert drunk and mad, and that the authors of the conflagration are Christians, thy punishment will be limited to stripes and exile.” “I cannot do that,” answered Chilo, calmly. Tigellinus approached him with slow step, and with a voice also low but terrible,-- “How is that?” asked he. “Thou canst not, Greek dog? Wert thou not drunk, and dost thou not understand what is waiting for thee? Look there!” and he pointed to a corner of the atrium in which, near a long wooden bench, stood four Thracian slaves in the shade with ropes, and with pincers in their hands. But Chilo answered,-- “I cannot!” Rage seized Tigellinus, but he restrained himself yet. “Hast thou seen,” inquired he, “how Christians die? Dost wish to die in that way?” The old man raised his pale face; for a time his lips moved in silence, and he answered,-- “I too believe in Christ.” Tigellinus looked at him with amazement. “Dog, thou hast gone mad in fact!” And suddenly the rage in his breast broke its bounds. Springing at Chilo, he caught him by the beard with both hands, hurled him to the floor, trampled him, repeating, with foam on his lips,-- “Thou wilt retract! thou wilt!” “I cannot!” answered Chilo from the floor. “To the tortures with him!” At this command the Thracians seized the old man, and placed him on the bench; then, fastening him with ropes to it, they began to squeeze his thin shanks with pincers. But when they were tying him he kissed their hands with humility; then he closed his eyes, and seemed dead. He was alive, though; for when Tigellinus bent over him and inquired once again, “Wilt thou retract?” his white lips moved slightly, and from them came the barely audible whisper,-- “I cannot.” Tigellinus gave command to stop the torture, and began to walk up and down in the atrium with a face distorted by anger, but helpless. At last a new idea came to his head, for he turned to the Thracians and said,-- “Tear out his tongue!” Chapter LXII THE drama “Aureolus” was given usually in theatres or amphitheatres, so arranged that they could open and present as it were two separate stages. But after the spectacle in the gardens of Cæsar the usual method was omitted; for in this case the problem was to let the greatest number of people look at a slave who, in the drama, is devoured by a bear. In the theatres the role of the bear is played by an actor sewed up in a skin, but this time the representation was to be real. This was a new idea of Tigellinus. At first Cæsar refused to come, but changed his mind at persuasion of the favorite. Tigellinus explained that after what had happened in the gardens it was all the more his duty to appear before the people, and he guaranteed that the crucified slave would not insult him as had Crispus. The people were somewhat sated and tired of blood-spilling; hence a new distribution of lottery tickets and gifts was promised, as well as a feast, for the spectacle was to be in the evening, in a brilliantly lighted amphitheatre. About dusk the whole amphitheatre was packed; the Augustians, with Tigellinus at the head of them, came to a man,--not only for the spectacle itself, but to show their devotion to Cæsar and their opinion of Chilo, of whom all Rome was then talking. They whispered to one another that Cæsar, when returning from the gardens, had fallen into a frenzy and could not sleep, that terrors and wonderful visions had attacked him; therefore he had announced on the following morning his early journey to Achæa. But others denied this, declaring that he would be all the more pitiless to the Christians. Cowards, however, were not lacking, who foresaw that the accusation which Chilo had thrown into Cæsar’s face might have the worst result possible. In conclusion, there were those who through humanity begged Tigellinus to stop persecution. “See whither ye are going,” said Barcus Soranus. “Ye wished to allay people’s anger and convince them that punishment was falling on the guilty; the result is just the opposite.” “True!” added Antistius Verus, “all whisper to one another now that the Christians were innocent. If that be cleverness, Chilo was right when he said that your brains could be held in a nutshell.” Tigellinus turned to them and said: “Barcus Soranus, people whisper also to one another that thy daughter Servilia secreted her Christian slaves from Cæsar’s justice; they say the same also of thy wife, Antistius.” “That is not true!” exclaimed Barcus, with alarm. “Your divorced women wished to ruin my wife, whose virtue they envy,” said Antistius Verus, with no less alarm. But others spoke of Chilo. “What has happened to him?” asked Eprius Marcellus. “He delivered them himself into the hands of Tigellinus; from a beggar he became rich; it was possible for him to live out his days in peace, have a splendid funeral, and a tomb: but, no! All at once he preferred to lose everything and destroy himself; he must, in truth, be a maniac.” “Not a maniac, but he has become a Christian,” said Tigellinus. “Impossible!” said Vitelius. “Have I not said,” put in Vestinius, “‘Kill Christians if ye like; but believe me ye cannot war with their divinity. With it there is no jesting’? See what is taking place. I have not burned Rome; but if Cæsar permitted I would give a hecatomb at once to their divinity. And all should do the same, for I repeat: With it there is no jesting! Remember my words to you.” “And I said something else,” added Petronius. “Tigellinus laughed when I said that they were arming, but I say more,--they are conquering.” “How is that? how is that?” inquired a number of voices. “By Pollux, they are! For if such a man as Chilo could not resist them, who can? If ye think that after every spectacle the Christians do not increase, become coppersmiths, or go to shaving beards, for then ye will know better what people think, and what is happening in the city.” “He speaks pure truth, by the sacred peplus of Diana,” cried Vestinius. But Barcus turned to Petronius. “What is thy conclusion?” “I conclude where ye began,--there has been enough of bloodshed.” Tigellinus looked at him jeeringly,--“Ei!--a little more!” “If thy head is not sufficient, thou hast another on thy cane,” said Petronius. Further conversation was interrupted by the coming of Cæsar, who occupied his place in company with Pythagoras. Immediately after began the representation of “Aureolus,” to which not much attention was paid, for the minds of the audience were fixed on Chilo. The spectators, familiar with blood and torture, were bored; they hissed, gave out shouts uncomplimentary to the court, and demanded the bear scene, which for them was the only thing of interest. Had it not been for gifts and the hope of seeing Chilo, the spectacle would not have held the audience. At last the looked-for moment came. Servants of the Circus brought in first a wooden cross, so low that a bear standing on his hind feet might reach the martyr’s breast; then two men brought, or rather dragged in, Chilo, for as the bones in his legs were broken, he was unable to walk alone. They laid him down and nailed him to the wood so quickly that the curious Augustians had not even a good look at him, and only after the cross had been fixed in the place prepared for it did all eyes turn to the victim. But it was a rare person who could recognize in that naked man the former Chilo. After the tortures which Tigellinus had commanded, there was not one drop of blood in his face, and only on his white beard was evident a red trace left by blood after they had torn his tongue out. Through the transparent skin it was quite possible to see his bones. He seemed far older also, almost decrepit. Formerly his eyes cast glances ever filled with disquiet and ill-will, his watchful face reflected constant alarm and uncertainty; now his face had an expression of pain, but it was as mild and calm as faces of the sleeping or the dead. Perhaps remembrance of that thief on the cross whom Christ had forgiven lent him confidence; perhaps, also, he said in his soul to the merciful God, “O Lord, I bit like a venomous worm; but all my life I was unfortunate. I was famishing from hunger, people trampled on me, beat me, jeered at me. I was poor and very unhappy, and now they put me to torture and nail me to a cross; but Thou, O Merciful, wilt not reject me in this hour!” Peace descended evidently into his crushed heart. No one laughed, for there was in that crucified man something so calm, he seemed so old, so defenceless, so weak, calling so much for pity with his lowliness, that each one asked himself unconsciously how it was possible to torture and nail to crosses men who would die soon in any case. The crowd was silent. Among the Augustians Vestinius, bending to right and left, whispered in a terrified voice, “See how they die!” Others were looking for the bear, wishing the spectacle to end at the earliest. The bear came into the arena at last, and, swaying from side to side a head which hung low, he looked around from beneath his forehead, as if thinking of something or seeking something. At last he saw the cross and the naked body. He approached it, and stood on his hind legs; but after a moment he dropped again on his fore-paws, and sitting under the cross began to growl, as if in his heart of a beast pity for that remnant of a man had made itself heard. Cries were heard from Circus slaves urging on the bear, but the people were silent. Meanwhile Chilo raised his head with slow motion, and for a time moved his eyes over the audience. At last his glance rested somewhere on the highest rows of the amphitheatre; his breast moved with more life, and something happened which caused wonder and astonishment. That face became bright with a smile; a ray of light, as it were, encircled that forehead; his eyes were uplifted before death, and after a while two great tears which had risen between the lids flowed slowly down his face. And he died. At that same moment a resonant manly voice high up under the velarium exclaimed,-- “Peace to the martyrs!”