Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖

what endurance and comfort that

religion gives in misfortune, how much patience and courage before

death; so come and see how much happiness it gives in ordinary, common

days of life. People thus far did not know a God whom man could love,

hence they did not love one another; and from that came their

misfortune, for as light comes from the sun, so does happiness come from

love. Neither lawgivers nor philosophers taught this truth, and it did

not exist in Greece or Rome; and when I say, not in Rome, that means the

whole world. The dry and cold teaching of the Stoics, to which virtuous

people rally, tempers the heart as a sword is tempered, but it makes it

indifferent rather than better. Though why do I write this to thee, who

hast learned more, and hast more understanding than I have? Thou wert

acquainted with Paul of Tarsus, and more than once didst converse long

with him; hence thou knowest better if in comparison with the truth

which he taught all the teachings of philosophers and rhetors are not a

vain and empty jingle of words without meaning. Thou rememberest the

question which he put thee: ‘But if Cæsar were a Christian, would ye not

all feel safer, surer of possessing that which ye possess, free of

alarm, and sure of tomorrow?’ Thou didst say to me that our teaching

was an enemy of life; and I answer thee now, that, if from the beginning

of this letter I had been repeating only the three words, ‘I am happy!’

I could not have expressed my happiness to thee. To this thou wilt

answer, that my happiness is Lygia. True, my friend. Because I love her

immortal soul, and because we both love each other in Christ; for such

love there is no separation, no deceit, no change, no old age, no death.

For, when youth and beauty pass, when our bodies wither and death comes,

love will remain, for the spirit remains. Before my eyes were open to

the light I was ready to burn my own house even, for Lygia’s sake; but

now I tell thee that I did not love her, for it was Christ who first

taught me to love. In Him is the source of peace and happiness. It is

not I who say this, but reality itself. Compare thy own luxury, my

friend, lined with alarm, thy delights, not sure of a morrow, thy

orgies, with the lives of Christians, and thou wilt find a ready answer.

But, to compare better, come to our mountains with the odor of thyme, to

our shady olive groves on our shores lined with ivy. A peace is waiting

for thee, such as thou hast not known for a long time, and hearts that

love thee sincerely. Thou, having a noble soul and a good one, shouldst

be happy. Thy quick mind can recognize the truth, and knowing it thou

wilt love it. To be its enemy, like Cæsar and Tigellinus, is possible,

but indifferent to it no one can be. O my Petronius, Lygia and I are

comforting ourselves with the hope of seeing thee soon. Be well, be

happy, and come to us.”

 

Petronius received this letter in Cumæ, whither he had gone with other

Augustians who were following Cæsar. His struggle of long years with

Tigellinus was nearing its end. Petronius knew already that he must

fall in that struggle, and he understood why. As Cæsar fell lower daily

to the role of a comedian, a buffoon, and a charioteer; as he sank

deeper in a sickly, foul, and coarse dissipation,—the exquisite arbiter

became a mere burden to him. Even when Petronius was silent, Nero saw

blame in his silence; when the arbiter praised, he saw ridicule. The

brilliant patrician annoyed his self-love and roused his envy. His

wealth and splendid works of art had become an object of desire both to

the ruler and the all-powerful minister. Petronius was spared so far in

view of the journey to Achæa, in which his taste, his knowledge of

everything Greek, might be useful. But gradually Tigellinus explained

to Cæsar that Carinas surpassed him in taste and knowledge, and would be

better able to arrange in Achæa games, receptions, and triumphs. From

that moment Petronius was lost. There was not courage to send him his

sentence in Rome. Cæsar and Tigellinus remembered that that apparently

effeminate and æsthetic person, who made “day out of night,” and was

occupied only in luxury, art, and feasts, had shown amazing industry and

energy, when proconsul in Bithynia and later when consul in the capital.

They considered him capable of anything, and it was known that in Rome

he possessed not only the love of the people, but even of the

pretorians. None of Cæsar’s confidants could foresee how Petronius

might act in a given case; it seemed wiser, therefore, to entice him out

of the city, and reach him in a province.

 

With this object he received an invitation to go to Cumæ with other

Augustians. He went, though suspecting the ambush, perhaps so as not to

appear in open opposition, perhaps to show once more a joyful face

devoid of every care to Cæsar and the Augustians, and to gain a last

victory before death over Tigellinus.

 

Meanwhile the latter accused him of friendship with the Senator

Scevinus, who was the soul of Piso’s conspiracy. The people of

Petronius, left in Rome, were imprisoned; his house was surrounded by

pretorian guards. When he learned this, he showed neither alarm nor

concern, and with a smile said to Augustians whom he received in his own

splendid villa in Cumæ,—

 

“Ahenobarbus does not like direct questions; hence ye will see his

confusion when I ask him if it was he who gave command to imprison my

‘familia’ in the capital.”

 

Then he invited them to a feast “before the longer journey,” and he had

just made preparations for it when the letter from Vinicius came.

 

When he received this letter, Petronius grew somewhat thoughtful, but

after a time his face regained its usual composure, and that same

evening he answered as follows:—

 

“I rejoice at your happiness and admire your hearts, for I had not

thought that two lovers could remember a third person who was far away.

Ye have not only not forgotten me, but ye wish to persuade me to go to

Sicily, so that ye may share with me your bread and your Christ, who, as

thou writest, has given you happiness so bountifully.

 

“If that be true, honor Him. To my thinking, however, Ursus had

something to do with saving Lygia, and the Roman people also had a

little to do with it. But since thy belief is that Christ did the work,

I will not contradict. Spare no offerings to Him. Prometheus also

sacrificed himself for man; but, alas! Prometheus is an invention of

the poets apparently, while people worthy of credit have told me that

they saw Christ with their own eyes. I agree with thee that He is the

most worthy of the gods.

 

“I remember the question by Paul of Tarsus, and I think that if

Ahenobarbus lived according to Christ’s teaching I might have time to

visit you in Sicily. In that case we could converse, in the shade of

trees and near fountains, of all the gods and all the truths discussed

by Greek philosophers at any time. To-day I must give thee a brief

answer.

 

“I care for two philosophers only: Pyrrho and Anacreon. I am ready to

sell the rest to thee cheaply, with all the Greek and Roman Stoics.

Truth, Vinicius, dwells somewhere so high that the gods themselves

cannot see it from the top of Olympus. To thee, carissime, thy Olympus

seems higher still, and, standing there, thou callest to me, ‘Come, thou

wilt see such sights as thou hast not seen yet!’ I might. But I

answer, ‘I have not feet for the journey.’ And if thou read this letter

to the end, thou wilt acknowledge, I think, that I am right.

 

“No, happy husband of the Aurora princess! thy religion is not for me.

Am I to love the Bithynians who carry my litter, the Egyptians who heat

my bath? Am I to love Ahenobarbus and Tigellinus? I swear by the white

knees of the Graces, that even if I wished to love them I could not. In

Rome there are a hundred thousand persons at least who have either

crooked shoulders, or big knees, or thin thighs, or staring eyes, or

heads that are too large. Dost thou command me to love these too?

Where am I to find the love, since it is not in my heart? And if thy

God desires me to love such persons, why in His all might did He not

give them the forms of Niobe’s children, for example, which thou hast

seen on the Palatine? Whoso loves beauty is unable for that very reason

to love deformity. One may not believe in our gods, but it is possible

to love them, as Phidias, Praxiteles, Miron, Skopas, and Lysias loved.

 

“Should I wish to go whither thou wouldst lead me, I could not. But

since I do not wish, I am doubly unable. Thou believest, like Paul of

Tarsus, that on the other side of the Styx thou wilt see thy Christ in

certain Elysian fields. Let Him tell thee then Himself whether He would

receive me with my gems, my Myrrhene vase, my books published by Sozius,

and my golden-haired Eunice. I laugh at this thought; for Paul of

Tarsus told me that for Christ’s sake one must give up wreaths of roses,

feasts, and luxury. It is true that he promised me other happiness, but

I answered that I was too old for new happiness, that my eyes would be

delighted always with roses, and that the odor of violets is dearer to

me than stench from my foul neighbor of the Subura.

 

“These are reasons why thy happiness is not for me. But there is one

reason more, which I have reserved for the last: Thanatos summons me.

For thee the light of life is beginning; but my sun has set, and

twilight is embracing my head. In other words, I must die, carissime.

 

“It is not worth while to talk long of this. It had to end thus. Thou,

who knowest Ahenobarbus, wilt understand the position easily. Tigellinus

has conquered, or rather my victories have touched their end. I have

lived as I wished, and I will die as pleases me.

 

“Do not take this to heart. No God has promised me immortality; hence

no surprise meets me. At the same time thou art mistaken, Vinicius, in

asserting that only thy God teaches man to die calmly. No. Our world

knew, before thou wert born, that when the last cup was drained, it was

time to go,—time to rest,—and it knows yet how to do that with

calmness. Plato declares that virtue is music, that the life of a sage

is harmony. If that be true, I shall die as I have lived,—virtuously.

 

“I should like to take farewell of thy godlike wife in the words with

which on a time I greeted her in the house of Aulus, ‘Very many persons

have I seen, but thy equal I know not.’

 

“If the soul is more than what Pyrrho thinks, mine will fly to thee and

Lygia, on its way to the edge of the ocean, and will alight at your

house in the form of a butterfly or, as the Egyptians believe, in the

form of a sparrowhawk. Otherwise I cannot come.

 

“Meanwhile let Sicily replace for you the gardens of Hesperides; may the

goddesses of the fields, woods, and fountains scatter