_ ON leaving Caesar, Petronius had himself borne to his house on
the Carimr, which, being surrounded on three sides by a garden,
and having in front the small Ceciian Forum, escaped the fire
luckily. For this cause other Augustians, who had lost their houses
and in them vast wealth and many works of art, called Petronius
fortunate. For years it had been repeated that he was the first-born
of Fortune, and Caesar's growing friendship in recent times seemed
to confirm the correctness of this statement.
But that first-born of Fortune might meditate now on the fickleness
of his mother, or rather on her likeness to Chronos, who devoured
his own children.
"Were my house burnt," said he to himself, "and with it my gems,
Etruscan vases, Alexandrian glass, and Corinthian bronze, Nero
might indeed have forgotten the offence. By Pollux! And to think
that it depended on me alone to be pretorian prefect act this
moment. I should proclaim Tigellinus the incendiary, which he is
really; I should array him in the 'painful tunic,' and deliver him to
the populace, protect the Christians, rebuild Rome. Who knows
even if a better epoch would not begin thus for honest people? I
ought to have taken the office, simply out of regard for Viicius. In
case of overwork I could have surrendered command to bini, and
Nero would not have even tried to resist. Then let Vinicius baptize
all the pretorians, nay, Caesar himself; what harm could that be to
me? Nero pious, Nero virtuous and merciful, -- this would be even
an amusing spectacle."
And his carelessness was so great that he began to laugh. But after
a time his thoughts turned in another direction. It seemed to him
that he was in Antium; that Paul of Tarsus was saying to him, "Ye
call us enemies of life, but answer me, Petronius: If Caesar were a
Christian, and acted according to our religion, would not life be
safer and more certain?"
And remembering these words, he continued: "By Castor! No
matter how many Christians they murder here, Paul will find as
many new ones; for he is right, unless the world can rest on
scoundrelism. But who knows that this will not be the case soon? I
myself, who have learned not a little, did not learn how to be a
great enough scoundrel; hence I shall have to open my veins. But
in every case it must have ended thus, and if not thus, in some
other way. I am sorry for Eunice and my Myrrhene vase; but
Eunice is free, and the vase will go with me. Ahenobarbus will not
get it, in any event! I am sorry also for Vinicius. But, though I was
bored less of late than before, I am ready. In the world things are
beautiful; but people are so vile for the greater part that life is not
worth a regret. He who knew how to live should know how to die.
Though I belong to the Augustians, I was freer than they
supposed." Here he shrugged his shoulders. "They may think that
my knees are trembling at this moment, and that terror has raised
the hair on my head; but on reaching home, I will take a bath in
violet water, my golden-haired herself will anoint me; then after
refreshment we will have sung to us that hymn to Apollo
composed by Anthemios. I said once to myself that it was not
worth while to think of death, for death thinks of us without our
assistance. It would be a wonder if there are really Elysian fields,
and in them shades of people. Eunice would come in time to me,
and we should wander together over asphodel meadows. I should
find, too, society better than this. What buffoons, trieksters, a vile
herd without taste or polish! Tens of Arbiters Elegantiarum could
not transform those Trimalchions into decent people. By
Persephone! I have had enough!"
And he noted with astonishment that something separated him
from those people already. He had known them well earlier, and
had known what to think of them; still they seemed to him now as
farther away and more deserving of contempt than usual. Indeed,
he haed had enough of them!
But afterward he began to think over his position. Thanks to his
acuteness, he knew that destruction was not threatening him
directly. Nero had seized an appropriate occasion to utter a few
select, lofty phrases about friendship and forgiveness, thus binding
himself for the moment. "He will have to seek pretexts, and before
he finds them much time may pass. First of all, he will celebrate
the games with Christians," said Petronius to himself; "only then
will he think of me, and if that be true, it is not worth while to take
trouble or change my course of life. Nearer danger threatens
Vinicius!"
And thenceforth he thought only of Vinicius, whom he resolved to
rescue. Four sturdy Bithynians bore his litter quickly through ruins,
ash-heaps, and stones with which the Carimc was filled yet; but he
commanded them to run swiftly so as to be home at the earliest.
Vinicius, whose "insula" had been burned, was living with him,
and was at home, fortunately.
"Hast seen Lygia to-day?" were the first words of Petronius.
"I have just come from her."
"Hear what I tell thee, and lose no time in questions. It has been
decided this morning at Caesar's to lay the blame of burning Rome
on the Christians. Persecutions and tortures threaten them. Pursuit
may begin any instant. Take Lygia and flee at once beyond the
Alps even, or to Africa. And hasten, for the Palatine is nearer the
Trans-Tiber than is this place."
Viicius was, indeed, too much of a soldier to lose time in useless
queries. He listened with frowning brows, and a face intent and
terrible, but fearless. Evidently the first feeling of his nature in
presence of peril was a wish to defend and give battle.
"I go," said he.
"One word more. Take a purse of gold, take weapons, and a
handful of thy Christians. In case of need, rescue her!"
Vinicius was in the door of the atrium already.
"Send me news by a slave!" cried Petronius.
When left alone, he began to walk by the columns which adorned
the atrium, thinking of what had happened. He knew that Lygia
and Linus had returned after the fire to the former house, which,
like the greater part of the Trans-Tiber, had been saved; and that
was an unfavorable circumstance, for otherwise it would have
been difficult to find them among throngs of people. Petronius
hoped, however, that as things were, no one in the Palatine knew
where they lived, and therefore in every case Vinicius would
anticipate the pretorians. It occurred to him also that Tigellinus,
wishing to seize at one attempt as many Christians as possible,
would extend his net over all Rome. "If they send no more than ten
people after her," thought he, "that giant Lygian will break their
bones and what will it be if Vinicius comes with assistance?"
Thinking of this he was consoled. True, armed resistance to the
pretorians was almost the same as war with Casar. Petronius knew
also that if Vinicius hid from the vengeance of Nero, that
vengeance might fall on himself; but he cared little. On the
contrary, he rejoiced at the thought of crossing Nero's plans and
those of Tigellinus, and determined to spare in the matter neither
men nor money. Since in Antium Paul of Tarsus had converted
most of his slaves, he, while defending Christians, might count on
their zeal and devotion.
The entrance of Eunice interrupted his thoughts. At sight of her all
his cares and troubles vanished without a trace. He forgot Caesar,
the disfavor into which he had fallen, the degraded Augustians, the
persecution threatening the Christians, Vinicius, Lygia, and looked
only at her with the eyes of an anthetic man enamoured of
marvellous forms, and of a lover for whom love breathes from
those forms. She, in a transparent violet robe called "Coa vestis,"
through which her maiden-like form appeared, was really as
beautiful as a goddess. Feeling herself admired meanwhile, and
loving him with all her soul, ever eager for his fondling, she
blushed with delight as if she had been an innocent maiden.
"What wilt thou say to me, Charis?" asked Petronius, stretching his
hands to her.
She, inclining her golden head to him, answered, -- "Anthemios
has come with his choristers, and asks if 'tis thy wish to hear him."
"Let him stay; he will sing to us during dinner the hymn to Apollo.
By the groves of Paphos! when I see thee in that Coan gauze, I
think that Aphrodite has veiled herself with a piece of the sky, and
is standing before me."
"O lord!"
"Come hither, Eunice, embrace me with thy arms, and give thy lips
to me. Dost thou love me?"
"I should not have loved Zeus more."
Then she pressed her lips to his, while quivering in his arms from
happiness. After a while Petronius asked, --
"But if we should have to separate?"
Eunice looked at him with fear in her eyes.
"How is that, lord?"
"Fear not; I ask, for who knows but I may have to set out on a long
journey?"
"Take me with thee--"
Petronius changed the conversation quickly, and said, --
"Tell me, are there asphodels on the grass plot in the garden?"
"The cypresses and the grass plots are yellow from the fire, the
leaves have fallen from the myrtles, and the whole garden seems
dead."
"All Rome seems dead, and soon it will be a real graveyard. Dost
thou know that an edict against the Christians is to be issued, and a
persecution will begin during which thousands will perish?"
"Why punish the Christians, lord? They are good and peaceful."
"For that very reason."
"Let us go to the sea. Thy beautiful eyes do not like to see blood."
"Well, but meanwhile I must bathe. Come to the elzothesiwn to
anoint my arms. By the girdle of Kypris! never hast thou seemed to
me so beautiful. I will give command to make a bath for thee in
the form of a shell; thou wilt be like a costly pearl in it. Come,
Golden-haired!"
He went out, and an hour later both, in garlands of roses and with
misty eyes, were resting before a table covered with a service of
gold. They were served by boys dressed as Cupids, they drank
wine from ivy-wreathed goblets, and heard the hymn to Apollo
sung to the sound of harps, under direction of Anthemios. What
cared they if around the villa chimneys pointed up from the ruins
of houses, and gusts of wind swept the ashes of burnt Rome in
every direction? They were happy thinking only of love, which had
made their lives like a divine dream. But before the hymn was
finished a slave, the chief of the atrium, entered the hail.
"Lord," said he, in a voice quivering with alarm, "a centurion with
a detachment of pretorians is standing before the gate, and, at
command of Caesar, wishes to see thee."
The song and the sound of lutes ceased. Alarm was roused in all
present; for Caesar, in communications with friends, did not
employ pretorians usually, and their arrival at such times
foreboded no good. Petronius alone showed not the slightest
emotion, but said, like a man annoyed by continual visits, --
"They might let me dine in peace." Then turning to the chief of the
atrium, he said, "Let him enter."
The slave disappeared behind the curtain; a moment later heavy
steps were heard, and an acquaintance of Petronius appeared, the
centurion Aper, armed, and with an iron helmet on his head.
"Noble lord," said he, "here is a letter from Caesar."
Petronius extended his white hand lazily, took the tablet, and,
casting his eye over it, gave it, in all calmness to Eunice.
"He will read a new book of the Troyad this evening, and invites
me to come.'
"I have only the order to deliver the letter," said the centurion.
"Yes, there will be no answer. But, centurion, thou mightst rest a
while with us and empty a goblet of wine?"
"Thanks to thee, noble lord. A goblet of wine I will drink to thy
health willingly; but rest I may not, for I am on duty."
"Why was the letter given to thee, and not sent by a slave?"
"I know not, lord. Perhaps because I was sent in this direction on
other duty."
"I know, against the Christians?"
"Yes, lord."
"Is it long since the pursuit was begun?"
"Some divisions were sent to the Trans-Tiber before midday."
When he had said this, the centurion shook a little wine from the
goblet in honor of Mars; then he emptied it, and said, --
"May the gods grant thee, lord, what thou desirest."
"Take the goblet too," said Petronius.
Then he gave a sign to Anthemios to finish the hymn to Apollo.
"Bronzebeard is beginning to play with me and Vinicius," thought
he, when the harps sounded anew. "I divine his plan! He wanted to
terrify me by sending the invitation through a centurion. They will
ask the centurion in the evening how I received him. No, no! thou
wilt not amuse thyself overmuch, cruel and wicked prophet. I
know that thou wilt not forget the offence, I know that my
destruction will not fail; but if thou think that I shall look into thy
eyes imploringly, that thou wilt see fear and humility on my face,
thou art mistaken."
"Caesar writes, lord," said Eunice, "'Come if thou hast the wish';
wilt thou go?"
"I am in excellent health, and can listen even to his verses,"
answered Petronius; "hence I shall go, all the more since Vinicius
cannot go."
In fact, after the dinner was finished and after the usual walk, he
gave himself into the hands of hairdressers and of slaves who
arranged his robes, and an hour later, beautiful as a god, he gave
command to take him to the Palatine.
It was late, the evening was warm and calm; the moon shone so
brightly that the lampadarii going before the litter put out their
torches. On the streets and among the ruins crowds of people were
pushing along, drunk with wine, in garlands of ivy and
honeysuckle, bearing in their hands branches of myrtle and laurel
taken from Caesar's gardens. Abundance of grain and hopes of
great games filled the hearts of all with gladness. Here and there
songs were sung magnifying the "divine night" and love; here and
there they were dancing by the light of the moon, and the slaves
were forced repeatedly to demand space for the litter "of the noble
Petronius," and then the crowd pushed apart, shouting in honor of
their favorite.
He was thinking of Vinicius, and wondering why he had no news
from him. He was an Epicurean and an egotist, but passing time,
now with Paul of Tarsus, now with Vinicius, hearing daily of the
Christians, he had changed somewhat without his own knowledge.
A certain breeze from them had blown on him; this cast new seeds
into his soul. Besides his own person others began to occupy him;
moreover, he had been always attached to Vinicius, for in
childhood he had loved greatly his sister, the mother of Vinicius;
at present, therefore, when he had taken part in his affairs, he
looked on them with that interest with which he would have
looked on some tragedy.
Petronius did not lose hope that Vinicius had anticipated the
pretorians and fled with Lygia, or, in the worse case, had rescued
her. But he would have preferred to be certain, since he foresaw
that he might have to answer various questions for which he would
better be prepared.
Stopping before the house of Tiberius, he alighted from the litter,
and after a while entered the atrium, filled already with
Augustians. Yesterday's friends, though astonished that he was
invited, still pushed back; but he moved on among them, beautiful,
free, unconcerned, as self-confident as if he himself had the power
to distribute favors. Some, seeing him thus, were alarmed in spirit
lest they had shown him indifference too early.
Caesar, however, feigned not to see him, and did not return his
obeisance, pretending to be occupied in conversation. But
Tigellinus approached and said,--
"Good evening, Arbiter Elegantiarum. Dost thou assert still that it
was not the Christians who burnt Rome?"
Petronius shrugged his shoulders, and, clapping Tigellinus on the
back as he would a freedman, answered, --
"Thou knowest as well as I what to think of that."
"I do not dare to rival thee in wisdom."
"And thou art right, for when Caesar reads to us a new book from
the Troyad, thou, instead of crying out like a jackdaw, wouldst
have to give an opinion that was not pointless."
Tigellinus bit his lips. He was not over-rejoiced that Caesar had
decided to read a new book, for that opened a field in which he
could not rival Petronius. In fact, during the reading, Nero, from
habit, turned his eyes involuntarily toward Petronius, looking
carefully to see what he could read in his face. The latter listened,
raised his brows, agreed at times, in places increased his attention
as if to be sure that he heard correctly. Then he praised or
criticised, demanded corrections or the smoothing of certain
verses. Nero himself felt that for others in their exaggerated
praises it was simply a question of themselves, that Petronius
alone was occupied with poetry for its own sake; that he alone
understood it, and that if he praised one could be sure that the
verses deserved praise. Gradually therefore he began to discuss
with him, to dispute; and when at last Petronius brought the fitness
of a certain expression into doubt, he said, --
"Thou wilt see in the last book why I used it."
"Ah," thought Petronius, "then we shall wait for the last book."
More than one hearing this said in spirit: "Woe to me! Petronius
with time before him may return to favor and overturn even
Tigellinus." And they began again to approach him. But the end of
the evening was less fortunate; for Caesar, at the moment when
Petronius was taking leave, inquired suddenly, with blinking eyes
and a face at once glad and malicious, --
"But why did not Vinicius come?"
Had Petronius been sure that Vinicius and Lygia were beyond the
gates of the city, he would have answered, "With thy permission he
has married and gone." But seeing Nero's strange smile, he
answered, --
"Thy invitation, divinity, did not find him at home."
"Say to Vinicius that I shall be glad to see him," answered Nero,
"and tell him from me not to neglect the games in which Christians
will appear."
These words alarmed Petronius. It seemed to him that they related
to Lygia directly. Sitting in his litter, he gave command to bear
him home still more quickly than in the morning. That, however,
was not easy. Before the house of Tiberius stood a crowd dense
and noisy, drunk as before, though not singing and dancing, but, as
it were, excited. From afar came certain shouts which Petronius
could not understand at once, but which rose and grew till at last
they were one savage roar, --
"To the lions with Christians!"
Rich litters of courtiers pushed through the howling rabble. From
the depth of burnt streets new crowds rushed forth continually;
these, hearing the cry, repeated it. News passed from mouth to
mouth that the pursuit had continued from the forenoon, that a
multitude of incendiaries were seized; and immediately along the
newly cleared and the old streets, through alleys lying among ruins
around the Palatine, over all the hills and gardens were heard
through the length and breadth of Rome shouts of swelling rage, --
"To the lions with Christians!"
"Herd!" repeated Pctronius, with contempt; "a people worthy of
Cesar!" And he began to think that a society resting on superior
force, on cruelty of which even barbarians had no conception, on
crimes and mad profligacy, could not endure. Rome ruled the
world, but was also its ulcer. The odor of a corpse was rising from
it. Over its decaying life the shadow of death was descending.
More than once this had been mentioned even among the
Augustians, but never before had Petronius had a clearer view of
this truth that the laurelled chariot on which Rome stood in the
form of a triumphator, and which dragged behind a chained herd
of nations, was going to the precipice. The life of that world-ruling
city seemed to him a kind of mad dance, an orgy, which must end.
He saw then that the Christians alone had a new basis of life; but
he judged that soon there would not remain a trace of the
Christians. And what then?
The mad dance would continue under Ne:o; and if Nero
disappeared, another would be found of the same kind or worse,
for with such a people and such patricians there was no reason to
find a better leader. There would be a new orgy, and moreover a
fouler and a viler one.
But the orgy could not last forever, and there would be need of
sleep when it was over, even because of simple exhaustion.
While thinking of this, Petronius felt immensely wearied. Was it
worth while to live, and live in uncertainty, with no purpose but to
look at such a society? The genius of death was not less beautiful
than the genius of sleep, and he also had wings at his shoulders.
The litter stopped before the arbiter's door, which was opened that
instant by the watchful keeper.
"Has the noble Vinicius returned?" inquired Petronius.
"Yes, lord, a moment ago," replied the slave.
"He has not rescued her," thought Petronius. And casting aside his
toga, he ran into the atrium. Vinicius was sitting on a stool; his
head bent almost to his knees with his hands on his head; but at the
sound of steps he raised his stony face, in which the eyes alone had
a feverish brightness.
"Thou wert late?" asked Petronius.
"Yes; they seized her before midday."
A moment of silence followed.
"Hast thou seen her?"
"Yes."
"Where is she?"
"In the Mamertine prison."
Petronius trembled and looked at Vinicius with an inquiring
glance. The latter understood.
"No," said he. "She was not thrust down to the Tullianum 1 nor
even to the middle prison. I paid the guard to give her his own
room. Ursus took his place at the threshold and is guarding her."
"Why did Ursus not defend her?"
"They sent fifty pretorians, and Linus forbade him."
"But Linus?"
"Linus is dying; therefore they did not seize him."
"What is thy intention?"
"To save her or die with her. I too believe in Christ."
Viicius spoke with apparent calmness; but there was such despair
in his voice that the heart of Petronius quivered from pure pity.
"I understand thee," said he; "but how dost thou think to save her?"
"I paid the guards highly, first to shield her from indignity, and
second not to hinder her flight."
"When can that happen?"
"They answered that they could give her to me at once, as they
feared responsibility. When the prison will be filled with a
multitude of people, and when the tally of prisoners is confused,
they will deliver her. But that is a desperate thing! Do thou save
her, and me first! Thou art a friend of Caesar. He himself gave her
to me. Go to him and save me!"
Petronius, instead of answering, called a slave, and, commanding
him to bring two dark mantles and two swords, turned to
Vinicius,--
"On the way I will tell thee," said he. "Meanwhile take the
mantle and weapon, and we will go to the prison. There give the
guards a hundred thousand sestertia; give them twice and five
times more, if they will free Lygia at once. Otherwise it will be too
late."
"Let us go," said Vinicius.
After a while both were on the street.
"Now listen to me," said Petronius. "I did not wish to lose time. I
am in disfavor, beginning with to-day. My own life is hanging on a
hair; hence I can do nothing with Caesar. Worse than that, I am
sure that he would act in opposition to my request. If that were not
the case, would I advise thee to flee with Lygia or to rescue her?
Besides, if thou escape, Caesar's wrath will turn on me. To-day he
would rather do something at thy request than at mine. Do not
count on that, however. Get her out of the prison, and flee!
Nothing else is left. If that does not succeed, there will be time for
other methods. Meanwhile know that Lygia is in prison, not alone f
or belief in Christ; Poppaea's anger is pursuing her and thee. Thou
hast offended the Augusta by rejecting her, dost remember? She
knows that she was rejected for Lygia, whom she hated from the
first cast of the eye. Nay, she tried to destroy Lygia before by
ascribing the death of her own infant to her witchcraft. The hand
of Poppaea is in this. How explain that Lygia was the first to be
imprisoned? Who could point out the house of Linus? But I tell
thee that she has been followed this long time. I know that I wring
thy soul, and take the remnant of thy hope from thee, but I tell thee
this purposely, for the reason that if thou free her not before they
come at the idea that thou wilt try, ye are both lost."
"Yes; I understand!" muttered Vinicius.
The streets were empty because of the late hour. Their further
conversation was interrupted, however, by a drunken gladiator
who came toward them. He reeled against Petronius, put one hand
on his shoulder, covering his face with a breath filled with wine,
and shouted in a hoarse voice, --
"To the lions with Christians!"
"Mirmillon," answered Petronius, quietly, "listen to good counsel;
go thy way."
With his other hand the drunken man seized him by the arm, --
"Shout with me, or I'll break thy neck: Christians to the lions!" But
the arbiter's nerves had had enough of those shouts. From the time
that he had left the Palatine they had been stifling him like a
nightmare, and rending his ears. So when he saw the fist of the
giant above him, the measure of his patience was exceeded.
"Friend," said he, "thou hint the smell of wine, and art stopping my
way." Thus speaking, he drove into the man's breast to the hilt the
short sword which he had brought from home; then, taking the arm
of Vinicius, he continued as if nothing had happened, -- "Caesar
said to-day, 'Tell Vinicius from me to be at the games in which
Christians will appear.' Dost understand what that means? They
wish to make a spectacle of thy pain. That is a settled affair.
Perhaps that is why thou and I are not imprisoned yet. If thou art
not able to get her at once -- I do not know -- Acte might take thy
part; but can she effect anything? Thy Sicilian lands, too, might
tempt Tigellinus. Make the trial."
"I will give him all that I have," answered Vinicius.
From the Carinae to the Forum was not very far; hence they
arrived soon. The night had begun to pale, and the walls of the
castle came out definitely from the shadow.
Suddenly, as they turned toward the Mamertine prison, Petronius
stopped, and said,--
"Pretorians! Too late!"
In fact the prison was surrounded by a double rank of soldiers. The
morning dawn was silvering their helmets and the points of their
javelins.
Vinicius grew as pale as marble. "Let us go on," said he.
After a while they halted before the line. Gifted with an
uncommon memory, Petronius knew not only the officers, but
nearly all the pretorian soldiers. Soon he saw an acquaintance, a
leader of a cohort, and nodded to him.
"But what is this, Niger?" asked he; "are ye commanded to watch
the prison?"
"Yes, noble Petronius. The prefect feared lest they might try to
rescue the incendiaries."
"Have ye the order to admit no one?" inquired Vinicius.
"We have not; acquaintances will visit the prisoners, and in that
way we shall seize more Christians."
"Then let me in," said Vinicius; and pressing Petronius's hand, he
said,
"See Acte, I will come to learn her answer."
"Come," responded Petronius.
At that moment under the ground and beyond the thick walls was
heard singing. The hymn, at first low and muffled, rose more and
more. The voices of men, women, and children were mingled in
one harmonious chorus. The whole prison began to sound, in the
calmness of dawn, like a harp. But those were not voices of sorrow
or despair; on the contrary, gladness and triumph were heard in
them.
The soldiers looked at one another with amazement. The first
golden and rosy gleams of the morning appeared in the sky.
1 The lowest part of the prison, lying entirely underground, with a
single opening in the ceiling. Jugurtha died there of hunger. _