Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (ebook reader macos TXT) 📕

is need to save even a few Romans,” remarked Petronius, with a smile.

“What care I for Rome and Romans?” complained Nero. “I should be obeyed

in Achæa. Here only treason surrounds me. All desert me, and ye are

making ready for treason. I know it, I know it. Ye do not even imagine

what future ages will say of you if ye desert such an artist as I am.”

Here he tapped his forehead on a sudden, and cried,—

“True! Amid these cares even I forget who I am.”

Then he turned to Petronius with a radiant face.

“Petronius,” said he, “the people murmur; but if I take my lute and go

to the Campus Martius, if I sing that song to them which I sang during

the conflagration, dost thou not think that I will move them, as Orpheus

moved wild beasts?”

To this Tullius Senecio, who was impatient to return to his slave women

brought in from Antium, and who had been impatient a long time,

replied,—

“Beyond doubt, O Cæsar, if they permit thee to begin.”

“Let us go to Hellas!” cried Nero, with disgust.

But at that moment Poppæa appeared, and with her Tigellinis. The eyes of

those present turned to him unconsciously, for never had triumphator

ascended the Capitol with pride such as his when he stood before Cæsar.

He began to speak slowly and with emphasis, in tones through which the

bite of iron, as it were, was heard,—

“Listen. O Cæsar, for I can say: I have found! The people want

vengeance, they want not one victim, but hundreds, thousands. Hast

heard, lord, who Christos was,—he who was crucified by Pontius Pilate?

And knowest thou who the Christians are? Have I not told thee of their

crimes and foul ceremonies, of their predictions that fire would cause

the end of the world? People hate and suspect them. No one has seen

them in a temple at any time, for they consider our gods evil spirits;

they are not in the Stadium, for they despise horse races. Never have

the hands of a Christian done thee honor with plaudits. Never has one

of them recognized thee as god. They are enemies of the human race, of

the city, and of thee. The people murmur against thee; but thou hast

given me no command to burn Rome, and I did not burn it. The people

want vengeance; let them have it. The people want blood and games; let

them have them. The people suspect thee; let their suspicion turn in

another direction.”

Nero listened with amazement at first; but as Tigellinus proceeded, his

actor’s face changed, and assumed in succession expressions of anger,

sorrow, sympathy, indignation. Suddenly he rose, and, casting off the

toga, which dropped at his feet, he raised both hands and stood silent

for a time. At last he said, in the tones of a tragedian,—

“O Zeus, Apollo, Here, Athene, Persephone, and all ye immortals! why did

ye not come to aid us? What has this hapless city done to those cruel

wretches that they burnt it so inhumanly?”

“They are enemies of mankind and of thee,” said Poppæa.

“Do justice!” cried others. “Punish the incendiaries! The gods

themselves call for vengeance!”

Nero sat down, dropped his head to his breast, and was silent a second

time, as if stunned by the wickedness of which he had heard. But after

a while he shook his hands, and said,—

“What punishments, what tortures befit such a crime? But the gods will

inspire me, and, aided by the powers of Tartarus, I will give my poor

people such a spectacle that they will remember me for ages with

gratitude.”

The forehead of Petronius was covered with a sudden cloud. He thought

of the danger hanging over Lygia and over Vinicius, whom he loved, and

over all those people whose religion he rejected, but of whose innocence

he was certain. He thought also that one of those bloody orgies would

begin which his eyes, those of an æsthetic man, could not suffer. But

above all he thought: “I must save Vinicius, who will go mad if that

maiden perishes”; and this consideration outweighed every other, for

Petronius understood well that he was beginning a game far more perilous

than any in his life. He began, however, to speak freely and

carelessly, as his wont was when criticising or ridiculing plans of

Cæsar and the Augustians that were not sufficiently æsthetic,—

“Ye have found victims! That is true. Ye may send them to the arena,

or array them in ‘painful tunics.’ That is true also. But hear me! Ye

have authority, ye have pretorians, ye have power; then be sincere, at

least, when no one is listening! Deceive the people, but deceive not

one another. Give the Christians to the populace, condemn them to any

torture ye like; but have courage to say to yourselves that it was not

they who burnt Rome. Phy! Ye call me ‘arbiter elegantiarum’; hence I

declare to you that I cannot endure wretched comedies! Phy! how all

this reminds me of the theatrical booths near the Porta Asinaria, in

which actors play the parts of gods and kings to amuse the suburban

rabble, and when the play is over wash down onions with sour wine, or

get blows of clubs! Be gods and kings in reality; for I say that ye can

permit yourselves the position! As to thee, O Cæsar, thou hast

threatened us with the sentence of coming ages; but think, those ages

will utter judgment concerning thee also. By the divine Clio! Nero,

ruler of the world, Nero, a god, burnt Rome, because he was as powerful

on earth as Zeus on Olympus,—Nero the poet loved poetry so much that he

sacrificed to it his country! From the beginning of the world no one

did the like, no one ventured on the like. I beseech thee in the name

of the double-crowned Libethrides, renounce not such glory, for songs of

thee will sound to the end of ages! What will Priam be when compared

with thee; what Agamenmon; what Achilles; what the gods themselves? We

need not say that the burning of Rome was good, but it was colossal and

uncommon. I tell thee, besides, that the people will raise no hand

against thee! It is not true that they will. Have courage; guard

thyself against acts unworthy of thee,—for this alone threatens thee,

that future ages may say, ‘Nero burned Rome; but as a timid Cæsar and a

timid poet he denied the great deed out of fear, and cast the blame of

it on the innocent!’”

The arbiter’s words produced the usual deep impression on Nero; but

Petronius was not deceived as to this, that what he had said was a

desperate means which in a fortunate event might save the Christians, it

is true, but might still more easily destroy himself. He had not

hesitated, however, for it was a question at once of Vinicius whom he

loved, and of hazard with which he amused himself. “The dice are

thrown,” said he to himself, “and we shall see how far fear for his own

life outweighs in the monkey his love of glory.”

And in his soul he had no doubt that fear would outweigh.

Meanwhile silence fell after his words. Poppæa and all present were

looking at Nero’s eyes as at a rainbow. He began to raise his lips,

drawing them to his very nostrils, as was his custom when he knew not

what to do; at last disgust and trouble were evident on his features.

“Lord,” cried Tigellinus, on noting this, “permit me to go; for when

people wish to expose thy person to destruction, and call thee, besides,

a cowardly Cæsar, a cowardly poet, an incendiary, and a comedian, my

ears cannot suffer such expressions!”

“I have lost,” thought Petronius. But turning to Tigellinus, he

measured him with a glance in which was that contempt for a ruffian

which is felt by a great lord who is an exquisite.

“Tigellinus,” said he, “it was thou whom I called a comedian; for thou

art one at this very moment.”

“Is it because I will not listen to thy insults?”

“It is because thou art feigning boundless love for Cæsar,—thou who a

short while since wert threatening him with pretorians, which we all

understood as did he!”

Tigellinus, who had not thought Petronius sufficiently daring to throw

dice such as those on the table, turned pale, lost his head, and was

speechless. This was, however, the last victory of the arbiter over his

rival, for that moment Poppæa said,—

“Lord, how permit that such a thought should even pass through the head

of any one, and all the more that any one should venture to express it

aloud in thy presence!”

“Punish the insolent!” exclaimed Vitelius.

Nero raised his lips again to his nostrils, and, turning his

near-sighted, glassy eyes on Petronius, said,—

“Is this the way thou payest me for the friendship which I had for

thee?”

“If I am mistaken, show me my error,” said Petronius; “but know that I

speak that which love for thee dictates.”

“Punish the insolent!” repeated Vitelius.

“Punish!” called a number of voices.

In the atrium there was a murmur and a movement, for people began to

withdraw from Petronius. Even Tullius Senecio, his constant companion

at the court, pushed away, as did young Nerva, who had shown him

hitherto the greatest friendship. After a while Petronius was alone on

the left side of the atrium, with a smile on his lips; and gathering

with his hands the folds of his toga, he waited yet for what Cæsar would

say or do.

“Ye wish me to punish him” said Cæsar; “but he is my friend and comrade.

Though he has wounded my heart, let him know that for friends this heart

has naught but forgiveness.”

“I have lost, and am ruined,” thought Petronius.

Meanwhile Cæsar rose, and the consultation was ended.