_ DARKNESS had not come when the first waves of people began
to flow into Caesar's gardens. The crowds, in holiday costume,
crowned with flowers, joyous, singing, and some of them drunk,
were going to look at the new, magnificent spectacle. Shouts of
"Semaxii! Sarmentitii!" were heard on the Via Tecta, on the bridge
of !Emiius, and from the other side of the Tiber, on the Triumphal
Way, around the Circus of Nero, and off towards the Vatican Hill.
In Rome people had been seen burnt on pillars before, but never
had any one seen such a number of victims.
Caesar and Tigellinus, wishing to finish at once with the
Christians and also to avoid infection, which from the prisons was
spreading more and more through the city, had given command to
empty all dungeons, so that there remained in them barely a few
tens of people intended for the close of the spectacles. So, when
the crowds had passed the gates, they were dumb with amazement.
All the main and side alleys, which lay through dense groves and
along lawns, thickets, ponds, fields, and squares filled with
flowers, were packed with pillars smeared with pitch, to which
Christians were fastened. In higher places, where the view was not
hindered by trees, one could see whole rows of pillars and bodies
decked with flowers, myrtle, and ivy, extending into the distance
on high and low places, so far that, though the nearest were like
masts of ships, the farthest seemed colored darts, or staffs thrust
into the earth. The number of them surpassed the expectation of
the multitude. One might suppose that a whole nation had been
lashed to pillars for Rome's amusement and for Caesar's. The
throng of spectators stopped before single masts when their
curiosity was roused by the form or the sex of the victim; they
looked at the faces, the crowns, the garlands of ivy; then they went
farther and farther, asking themselves with amazement, "Could
there have been so many criminals, or how could children barely
able to walk have set fire to Rome?" and astonishment passed by
degrees into fear.
Meanwhile darkness came, and the first stars twinkled in the sky.
Near each condemned person a slave took his place, torch in hand;
when the sound of trumpets was heard in various parts of the
gardens, in sign that the spectacle was to begin, each slave put his
torch to the foot of a pillar. The straw, hidden under the flowers
and steeped in pitch, burned at once with a bright flame which,
increasing every instant, withered the ivy, and rising embraced the
feet of the victims. The people were silent; the gardens resounded
with one immense groan and with cries of pain. Some victims,
however, raising their faces toward the starry sky, began to sing,
praising Christ. The people listened. But the hardest hearts were
filled with terror when, on smaller pillars, children cried with
shrill voices, "Mamma! Mamma!" A shiver ran through even
spectators who were drunk when they saw little heads and
innocent faces distorted with pain, or children fainting in the
smoke which began to stifle them. But the flames rose, and seized
new crowns of roses and ivy every instant. The main and side
alleys were illuminated; the groups of trees, the lawns, and the
flowery squares were illuminated; the water in pools and ponds
was gleaming, the trembling leaves on the trees had grown
rose-colored, and all was as visible as in daylight. When the odor
of burnt bodies filled the gardens, slaves sprinkled between the
pillars myrrh and aloes prepared purposely. In the crowds were
heard here and there shouts, -- whether of sympathy or delight and
joy, it was unknown; and they increased every moment with the
fire, which embraced the pillars, climbed to the breasts of the
victims, shrivelled with burning breath the hair on their heads,
threw veils over their blackened faces, and then shot up higher, as
if showing the victory and triumph of that power which had given
command to rouse it.
At the very beginning of the spectacle Caesar had appeared among
the people in a magnificent quadriga of the Circus, drawn by four
white steeds. He was dressed as a charioteer in the color of the
Greens, -- the court party and his. After him followed other
chariots filled with courtiers in brilliant array, senators, priests,
bacchantes, naked and crowned, holding pitchers of wine, and
partly drunk, uttering wild shouts. At the side of these were
musicians dressed as fauns and satyrs, who played on citharas,
formingas, flutes, and horns. In other chariots advanced matrons
and maidens of Rome, drunk also and half naked. Around the
quadriga ran men who shook thyrses ornamented with ribbons;
others beat drums; others scattered flowers.
All that brilliant throng moved forward, shouting, "Evoe!" on the
widest road of the grtrden, amidst smoke and processions of
people. Caesar, keeping near him Tigellinus and also Chilo, in
whose terror he sought to find amusement, drove the steeds
himself, and, advancing at a walk, looked at the burning bodies,
and heard the shouts of the multitude. Standing on the lofty gilded
chariot, surrounded by a sea of people who bent to his feet, in the
glitter of the fire, in the golden crown of a circus-victor, he was a
head above the courtiers and the crowd. He seemed a giant. His
immense arms, stretched forward to hold the reins, seemed to bless
the multitude. There was a smile on his face and in his blinking
eyes; he shone above the throng as a sun or a deity, terrible but
commanding and mighty.
At times he stopped to look with more care at some maiden whose
bosom had begun to shrink in the flames, or at the face of a child
distorted by convulsions; and again he drove on, leading behind
him a wild, excited retinue. At times he bowed to the people, then
again he bent backward, drew in the golden reins, and spoke to
Tigellinus. At last, when he had reached the great fountain in the
middle of two crossing streets, he stepped from the quadriga, and,
nodding to his attendants, mingled with the throng.
He was greeted with shouts and plaudits. The bacchantes, the
nymphs, the senators and Augustians, the priests, the fauns, satyrs,
and soldiers surrounded him at once in an excited circle; but he,
with Tigellinus on one side and Chilo on the other, walked around
the fountain, about which were burning some tens of torches;
stopping before each one, he made remarks on the victims, or
jeered at the old Greek, on whose face boundless despair was
depicted.
At last he stood before a lofty mast decked with myrtle and ivy.
The red tongues of fire had risen only to the knees of the victim;
but it was impossible to see his face, for the green burning twigs
had covered it with smoke. After a while, however, the light
breeze of night turned away the smoke and uncovered the head of
a man with gray beard falling on his breast.
At sight of him Chilo was twisted into a lump like a wounded
snake, and from his mouth came a cry more like cawing than a
human voice.
"Glaucus! Glaucus!"
In fact, Glaucus the physician looked down from the burning pillar
at him. Glaucus was alive yet. His face expressed pain, and was
inclined forward, as if to look closely for the last time at his
executioner, at the man who had betrayed him, robbed him of wife
and children, set a murderer on him, and who, when all this had
been forgiven in the name of Christ, had delivered him to
executioners. Never had one person inflicted more dreadful or
bloody wrongs on another. Now the victim was burning on the
pitched pillar, and the executioner was standing at his feet. The
eyes of Glaucus did nor leave the face of the Greek. At moments
they were hidden by smoke; but when the breeze blew this away,
Chilo saw again those eyes fixed on him. He rose and tried to flee,
but had not strength. All at once his legs seemed of lead; an
invisible hand seemed to hold him at that pillar with superhuman
force. He was petrified. He felt that something was overflowing in
him, something giving way; he felt that he had had a surfeit of
blood and torture, that the end of his life was approaching, that
everything was vanishing, Caesar, the court, the multitude, arid
around him was only a kind of bottomless, dreadful black vacuum
with no visible thing in it, save those eyes of a martyr which were
summoning him to judgment. But Glaucus, bending his head lower
down, looked at him fixedly. Those present divined that something
was taking place between those two men. Laughter died on their
lips, however, for in Chilo's face there was something terrible:
such pain and fear had distorted it as if those tongues of fire were
burning his body. On a sudden he staggered, and, stretching his
arms upward, cried in a terrible and piercing voice, --
"Glaucus! in Christ's name! forgive me!"
It grew silent round about, a quiver ran through the spectators, and
all eyes were raised involuntarily.
The head of the martyr moved slightly, and from the top of the
mast was heard a voice like a groan, --
"I forgive!"
Chilo threw himself on his face, and howled like a wild beast;
grasping earth in both hands, he sprinkled it on his head.
Meanwhile the flames shot up, seizing the breast and face of
Glaucus; they unbound the myrtle crown on his head, and seized
the ribbons on the top of the pillar, the whole of which shone with
great blazing.
Chilo stood up after a while with face so changed that to the
Augustians he seemed another man. His eyes flashed with a light
new to him, ecstasy issued from his wrinkled forehead; the Greek,
incompetent a short time before, looked now like some priest
visited by a divinity and ready to reveal unknown truths.
"What is the matter? Has he gone mad?" asked a number of voices.
But he turned to the mulitiude, and, raising his right hand, cried, or
rather shouted, in a voice so piercing that not only the Augustians
but the multitude heard him, --
"Roman people! I swear by my death, that innocent persons are
perishing here. That is the incendiary!"
And he pointed his finger at Nero.
Then came a moment of silence. The courtiers were benumbed.
Chilo continued to stand with outstretched, trembling arm, and
with finger pointed at Nero. AU at once a tumult arose. The
people, like a wave, urged by a sudden whirlwind, rushed toward
the old man to look at him inure closely. Here and there were
heard cries, "Hold!" In another place, "Woe to us!" In the throng a
hissing and uproar began. "Ahenobarbus! Matricide! Incendiary!"
Disorder increased every instant. The bacchantes screamed in
heaven-piercing voices, and began to hide in the chariots. Then
some pillars which were burned through, fell, scattered sparks, and
increased the confusion. A blind dense wave of people swept away
Chilo, and bore him to the depth of the garden.
The pillars began to burn through in every direction and fall across
the streets, filling alleys with smoke, sparks, the odor of burnt
wood and burnt flesh. The nearer lights died. The gardens began to
grow dark. The crowds, alarmed, gloomy, and disturbed, pressed
toward the gates. News of what had happened passed from mouth
to mouth, distorted and increased. Some said that Caesar had
fainted; others that he had confessed, saying that he had given
command to burn Rome; others that he had fallen seriously ill; and
still others that he had been borne our, as if dead, in the chariot.
Here and there were heard voices of sympathy for the Christians:
"If they had not burned Rome, why so much blood, torture, and
injustice? Will not the gods avenge the innocent, and what piacula
can mollify them now?" The words innoxia corpora were repeated
oftener and oftener. Women expressed aloud their pity for children
thrown in such numbers to wild beasts, nailed to crosses or burned
in those cursed gardens' And finally pity was turned into abuse of
Caesar and Tigellinus. There were persons, too, who, stopping
suddenly, asked themselves or others the question, "What kind of
divinity is that which gives such strength to meet torture and
death?" And they returned home in meditation.
But Chilo was wandering about in the gardens, not knowing where
to go or where to turn. Again he felt himself a weak, helpless, sick
old man.
Now he stumbled against partly burnt bodies; now he struck a
torch, which sent a shower of sparks after him; now he sat down,
and looked around with vacant stare. The gardens had become
almost dark. The pale moon moving among the trees shone with
uncertain light on the alleys, the dark pillars lying across them, and
the partly burnt victims turned into shapeless lumps. But the old
Greek thought that in the moon he saw the face of Glaucus, whose
eyes were looking at him yet persistently, and he hid before the
light. At last he went out of the shadow, in spite of himself; as if
pushed by some hidden power, he turned toward the fountain
where Glaucus had yielded up the spirit.
Then some hand touched his shoulder. He turned, and saw an
unknown person before him.
"Who art thou?" exclaimed he, with terror.
"Paul of Tarsus."
"I am accursed! -- "What dost thou wish?"
"I wish to save thee," answered the Apostle.
Chilo supported himself against a tree. His legs bent under him,
and his arms hung parallel with his body.
"For me there is no salvation," said he, gloomily.
"Hast thou heard how God forgave the thief on the cross who
pitied Him?" inquired Paul.
"Dost thou know what I have done?"
"I saw thy suffering, and heard thy testimony to the truth."
"O Lord!"
"And if a servant of Christ forgave thee in the hour of torture and
death, why should Christ not forgive thee?"
Chilo seized his head with both hands, as if in bewilderment.
"Forgiveness! for me, forgiveness!"
"Our God is a God of mercy," said Paul.
"For me?" repeated Chio; and he began to groan like a man who
lacks strength to control his pain and suffering.
"Lean on me," said Paul, "and go with me."
And taking him he went to the crossing of the streets, guided by
the voice of the fountain, which seemed to weep in the night
stillness over the bodies of those who had died in torture.
"Our God is a God of mercy," repeated the Apostle. "Wert thou to
stand at the sea and cast in pebbles, couldst thou fill its depth with
them? I tell thee that the mercy of Christ is as the sea, and that the
sins and faults of men sink in it as pebbles in the abyss; I tell thee
that it is like the sky which covers mountains, lands, and seas, for
it is everywhere and has neither end nor limit. Thou hart suffered
at the pillar of Glaucus. Christ saw thy suffering. Without
reference to what may meet thee to-morrow, thou didst say, 'That
is the incendiary,' and Christ remembers thy words. Thy malice
and falsehood are gone; in thy heart is left only boundless sorrow.
Follow me and listen to what I say. I, am he who hated Christ and
persecuted His chosen ones. I did not want Him, I did not believe
in Him till He manifested Himself and called me. Since then He is,
for me, mercy. He has visited thee with compunction, with alarm,
and with pain, to call thee to Himself. Thou didst hate Him, but He
loved thee. Thou didst deliver His confessors to torture, but He
wishes to forgive and save thee."
Immense sobbing shook the breast of the wretched man, sobbing
by which the soul in him was rent to its depths; but Paul took
possession of him, mastered him, led him away, as a soldier leads
a captive.
After a while the Apostle began again to speak: --
"Come with me; I will lead thee to Him. For why else have I come
to thee?
Christ commanded me to gather in souls in the name of love;
hence I perform His service. Thou thinkest thyself accursed, but I
say: Believe in Him, and salvation awaits thee. Thou thinkest that
thou art hated, but I repeat that He loves thee. Look at me. Before I
had Him I had nothing save malice, which dwelt in my heart, and
now His love suffices me instead of father and mother, wealth and
power. In Him alone is refuge. He alone will see thy sorrow,
believe in thy misery, remove thy alarm, and raise thee to
Himself."
Thus speaking, he lcd him to the fountain, the silver stream of
which gleamed from afar in the moonlight. Round about was
silence; the gardens were empty, for slaves had removed the
charred pillars and the bodies of the martyrs.
Chilo threw himself on his knees with a groan, and hiding his face
in his hands remained motionless. Paul raised his face to the stars.
"O Lord," prayed he, "look on this wretched man, on his sorrow,
his tears, and his suffering! O God of mercy, who hart shed Thy
blood for our sins, forgive him, through Thy torment, Thy death
and resurrection!"
Then he was silent; but for a long time he looked toward the stars,
and prayed.
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 toaeether. At the gate the Apostle blessed the old
man again, and they parted. Chslo himself insisted on this, for after
what had happened he knew that Caesar 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.
Caesar had gone to rest, but Tigellitius 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!" _