Quo Vadis - Henryk Sienkiewicz (best ereader under 100 .txt) 📗
- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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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!”
Deep silence reigned in the amphitheatre.
AFTER the spectacle in Cæsar’s gardens the prisons were emptied
considerably. It is true that victims suspected of the Oriental
superstition were seized yet and imprisoned, but pursuit brought in
fewer and fewer persons,—barely enough for coming exhibitions, which
were to follow quickly. People were sated with blood; they showed
growing weariness, and increasing alarm because of the unparalleled
conduct of the condemned. Fears like those of the superstitious
Vestinius seized thousands of people. Among the crowds tales more and
more wonderful were related of the vengefulness of the Christian God.
Prison typhus, which had spread through the city, increased the general
dread. The number of funerals was evident, and it was repeated from ear
to ear that fresh piacula were needed to mollify the unknown god.
Offerings were made in the temples to Jove and Libitina. At last, in
spite of every effort of Tigellinus and his assistants, the opinion kept
spreading that the city had been burned at command of Cæsar, and that
the Christians were suffering innocently.
But for this very reason Nero and Tigellinus were untiring in
persecution. To calm the multitude, fresh orders were issued to
distribute wheat, wine, and olives. To relieve owners, new rules were
published to facilitate the building of houses; and others touching
width of streets and materials to be used in building so as to avoid
fires in future. Cæsar himself attended sessions of the Senate, and
counselled with the “fathers” on the good of the people and the city;
but not a shadow of favor fell on the doomed. The ruler of the world
was anxious, above all, to fix in people’s minds a conviction that such
merciless punishments could strike only the guilty. In the Senate no
voice was heard on behalf of the Christians, for no one wished to offend
Cæsar; and besides, those who looked farther into the future insisted
that the foundations of Roman rule could not stand against the new
faith.
The dead and the dying were given to their relatives, as Roman law took
no vengeance on the dead. Vinicius received a certain solace from the
thought that if Lygia died he would bury her in his family tomb, and
rest near her. At that time he had no hope of rescuing her; half
separated from life, he was himself wholly absorbed in Christ, and
dreamed no longer of any union except an eternal one. His faith had
become simply boundless; for it eternity seemed something incomparably
truer and more real than the fleeting life which he had lived up to that
time. His heart was overflowing with concentrated enthusiasm. Though
yet alive, he had changed into a being almost immaterial, which desiring
complete liberation for itself desired it also for another. He imagined
that when free he and Lygia would each take the other’s hand and go to
heaven, where Christ would bless them, and let them live in light as
peaceful and boundless as the light of dawn. He merely implored Christ
to spare Lygia the torments of the Circus, and let her fall asleep
calmly in prison; he felt with perfect certainty that he himself would
die at the same time. In view of the sea of blood which had been shed,
he did not even think it permitted to hope that she alone would be
spared. He had heard from Peter and Paul that they, too, must die as
martyrs. The sight of Chilo on the cross had convinced him that even a
martyr’s death could be sweet; hence he wished it for Lygia and himself
as the change of an evil, sad, and oppressive fate for a better.
At times he had a foretaste of life beyond the grave. That sadness
which hung over the souls of both was losing its former burning
bitterness, and changing gradually into a kind of trans-terrestrial,
calm abandon to the will of God. Vinicius, who formerly had toiled
against the current, had struggled and tortured himself, yielded now to
the stream, believing that it would bear him to eternal calm. He
divined, too, that Lygia, as well as he, was preparing for death,—that,
in spite of the prison walls
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