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

were cases when he gave command to beat the people with clubs; but even

he yielded most frequently. Nero, to whom plaudits were dearer than all

else in the world, never resisted. All the more did he not resist now,

when it was a question of mollifying the populace, excited after the

conflagration, and a question of the Christians, on whom he wished to

cast the blame of the catastrophe.

He gave the sign therefore to open the cuniculum, seeing which, the

people were calmed in a moment. They heard the creaking of the doors

behind which were the lions. At sight of the lions the dogs gathered

with low whines, on the opposite side of the arena. The lions walked

into the arena one after another, immense, tawny, with great shaggy

heads. Cæsar himself turned his wearied face toward them, and placed

the emerald to his eye to see better. The Augustians greeted them with

applause; the crowd counted them on their fingers, and followed eagerly

the impression which the sight of them would make on the Christians

kneeling in the centre, who again had begun to repeat the words, without

meaning for many, though annoying to all, “Pro Christo! Pro Christo!”

But the lions, though hungry, did not hasten to their victims. The

ruddy light in the arena dazzled them and they half closed their eyes as

if dazed. Some stretched their yellowish bodies lazily; some, opening

their jaws, yawned,—one might have said that they wanted to show their

terrible teeth to the audience. But later the odor of blood and torn

bodies, many of which were lying on the sand, began to act on them.

Soon their movements became restless, their manes rose, their nostrils

drew in the air with hoarse sound. One fell suddenly on the body of a

woman with a torn face, and, lying with his fore paws on the body,

licked with a rough tongue the stiffened blood: another approached a man

who was holding in his arms a child sewed up in a fawn’s skin.

The child, trembling from crying, and weeping, clung convulsively to the

neck of its father; he, to prolong its life even for a moment, tried to

pull it from his neck, so as to hand it to those kneeling farther on.

But the cry and the movement irritated the lion. All at once he gave

out a short, broken roar, killed the child with one blow of his paw, and

seizing the head of the father in his jaws, crushed it in a twinkle.

At sight of this all the other lions fell upon the crowd of Christians.

Some women could not restrain cries of terror; but the audience drowned

these with plaudits, which soon ceased, however, for the wish to see

gained the mastery. They beheld terrible things then: heads

disappearing entirely in open jaws, breasts torn apart with one blow,

hearts and lungs swept away; the crushing of bones under the teeth of

lions. Some lions, seizing victims by the ribs or loins, ran with mad

springs through the arena, as if seeking hidden places in which to

devour them; others fought, rose on their hind legs, grappled one

another like wrestlers, and filled the amphitheatre with thunder.

People rose from their places. Some left their seats, went down lower

through the passages to see better, and crowded one another mortally.

It seemed that the excited multitude would throw itself at last into the

arena, and rend the Christians in company with the lions. At moments an

unearthly noise was heard; at moments applause; at moments roaring,

rumbling, the clashing of teeth, the howling of Molossian dogs; at times

only groans.

Cæsar, holding the emerald to his eye, looked now with attention. The

face of Petronius assumed an expression of contempt and disgust. Chilo

had been borne out of the Circus.

But from the cuniculum new victims were driven forth continually.

From the highest row in the amphitheatre the Apostle Peter looked at

them. No one saw him, for all heads were turned to the arena; so he

rose and as formerly in the vineyard of Cornelius he had blessed for

death and eternity those who were intended for imprisonment, so now he

blessed with the cross those who were perishing under the teeth of wild

beasts. He blessed their blood, their torture, their dead bodies turned

into shapeless masses, and their souls flying away from the bloody sand.

Some raised their eyes to him, and their faces grew radiant; they smiled

when they saw high above them the sign of the cross. But his heart was

rent, and he said, “O Lord! let Thy will be done. These my sheep perish

to Thy glory in testimony of the truth. Thou didst command me to feed

them; hence I give them to Thee, and do Thou count them, Lord, take

them, heal their wounds, soften their pain, give them happiness greater

than the torments which they suffered here.”

And he blessed them one after another, crowd after crowd, with as much

love as if they had been his children whom he was giving directly into

the hands of Christ. Then Cæsar, whether from madness, or the wish that

the exhibition should surpass everything seen in Rome so far, whispered

a few words to the prefect of the city. He left the podium and went at

once to the cuniculum. Even the populace were astonished when, after a

while, they saw the gratings open again. Beasts of all kinds were let

out this time,—tigers from the Euphrates, Numidian panthers, bears,

wolves, hyenas, and jackals. The whole arena was covered as with a

moving sea of striped, yellow, flax-colored, dark-brown, and spotted

skins. There rose a chaos in which the eye could distinguish nothing

save a terrible turning and twisting of the backs of wild beasts. The

spectacle lost the appearance of reality, and became as it were an orgy

of blood, a dreadful dream, a gigantic kaleidoscope of mad fancy. The

measure was surpassed. Amidst roars, howls, whines, here and there on

the seats of the spectators were heard the terrified and spasmodic

laughter of women, whose strength had given way at last. The people

were terrified. Faces grew dark. Various voices began to cry, “Enough!

enough!”

But it was easier to let the beasts in than drive them back again.

Cæsar, however, found a means of clearing the arena, and a new amusement

for the people. In all the passages between the seats appeared

detachments of Numidians, black and stately, in feathers and earrings,

with bows in their hands. The people divined what was coming, and

greeted the archers with a shout of delight. The Numidians approached

the railing, and, putting their arrows to the strings, began to shoot

from their bows into the crowd of beasts. That was a new spectacle

truly. Their bodies, shapely as if cut from dark marble, bent backward,

stretched the flexible bows, and sent bolt after bolt. The whizzing of

the strings and the whistling of the feathered missiles were mingled

with the howling of beasts and cries of wonder from the audience.

Wolves, bears, panthers, and people yet alive fell side by side. Here

and there a lion, feeling a shaft in his ribs, turned with sudden

movement, his jaws wrinkled from rage, to seize and break the arrow.

Others groaned from pain. The small beasts, falling into a panic, ran

around the arena at random, or thrust their heads into the grating;

meanwhile the arrows whizzed and whizzed on, till all that was living

had lain down in the final quiver of death.

Hundreds of slaves rushed into the arena armed with spades, shovels,

brooms, wheelbarrows, baskets for carrying out entrails, and bags of

sand. They came, crowd after crowd, and over the whole circle there

seethed up a feverish activity. The space was soon cleared of bodies,

blood, and mire, dug over, made smooth, and sprinkled with a thick layer

of fresh sand. That done, Cupids ran in, scattering leaves of roses,

lilies, and the greatest variety of flowers. The censers were ignited

again, and the velarium was removed, for the sun had sunk now

considerably. But people looked at one another with amazement, and

inquired what kind of new spectacle was waiting for them on that day.

Indeed, such a spectacle was waiting as no one had looked for. Cæsar,

who had left the podium some time before, appeared all at once on the

flowery arena, wearing a purple mantle, and a crown of gold. Twelve

choristers holding citharæ followed him. He had a silver lute, and

advanced with solemn tread to the middle, bowed a number of times to the

spectators, raised his eyes, and stood as if waiting for inspiration.

Then he struck the strings and began to sing,—

“O radiant son of Leto, Ruler of Tenedos, Chilos, Chrysos, Art thou he

who, having in his care The sacred city of Ilion, Could yield it to

Argive anger, And suffer sacred altars, Which blazed unceasingly to his

honor, To be stained with Trojan blood? Aged men raised trembling hands

to thee, O thou of the far-shooting silver bow, Mothers from the depth

of their breasts Raised tearful cries to thee, Imploring pity on their

offspring. Those complaints might have moved a stone, But to the

suffering of people Thou, O Smintheus, wert less feeling than a stone!”

The song passed gradually into an elegy, plaintive and full of pain. In

the Circus there was silence. After a while Cæsar, himself affected,

sang on,—

“With the sound of thy heavenly lyre Thou couldst drown the wailing, The

lament of hearts. At the sad sound of this song The eye to-day is filled

with tears, As a flower is filled with dew, But who can raise from dust

and ashes That day of fire, disaster, ruin? O Smintheus, where wert thou

then?”

Here his voice quivered and his eyes grew moist. Tears appeared on the

lids of the vestals; the people listened in silence before they burst

into a long unbroken storm of applause.

Meanwhile from outside through the vomitoria came the sound of creaking

vehicles on which were placed the bloody remnants of Christians, men,

women, and children, to be taken to the pits called “puticuli.”

But the Apostle Peter seized his trembling white head with his hands,

and cried in spirit,—

“O Lord, O Lord! to whom hast Thou given rule over the earth, and why

wilt Thou found in this place Thy capital?”