Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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water with a bucket, and weeping. Approaching him, I asked the cause of
his tears. When we had sat down on the steps of the fountain, he
answered that all his life he had been collecting sestertium after
sestertium, to redeem his beloved son; but his master, a certain Pansa,
when the money was delivered to him, took it, but kept the son in
slavery. ‘And so I am weeping,’ said the old man, ‘for though I repeat,
Let the will of God be done, I, poor sinner, am not able to keep down my
tears.’ Then, as if penetrated by a forewarning, I moistened my finger
in the water and drew a fish for him. To this he answered, ‘My hope,
too, is in Christ.’ I asked him then, ‘Hast thou confessed to me by that
sign?’ ‘I have,’ said he; ‘and peace be with thee.’ I began then to draw
him out, and the honest old man told me everything. His master, that
Pansa, is himself a freedman of the great Pansa; and he brings stones by
the Tiber to Rome, where slaves and hired persons unload them from the
boats, and carry them to buildings in the night time, so as not to
obstruct movement in the streets during daylight. Among these people
many Christians work, and also his son; as the work is beyond his son’s
strength, he wished to redeem him. But Pansa preferred to keep both the
money and the slave. While telling me this, he began again to weep; and
I mingled my tears with his,—tears came to me easily because of my kind
heart, and the pain in my feet, which I got from walking excessively. I
began also to lament that as I had come from Naples only a few days
since, I knew no one of the brotherhood, and did not know where they
assembled for prayer. He wondered that Christians in Naples had not
given me letters to their brethren in Rome; but I explained to him that
the letters were stolen from me on the road. Then he told me to come to
the river at night, and he would acquaint me with brethren who would
conduct me to houses of prayer and to elders who govern the Christian
community. When I heard this, I was so delighted that I gave him the
sum needed to redeem his son, in the hope that the lordly Vinicius would
return it to me twofold.”
“Chilo,” interrupted Petronius, “in thy narrative falsehood appears on
the surface of truth, as oil does on water. Thou hast brought important
information; I do not deny that. I assert, even, that a great step is
made toward finding Lygia; but do not cover thy news with falsehood.
What is the name of that old man from whom thou hast learned that the
Christians recognize each other through the sign of a fish?”
“Euricius. A poor, unfortunate old man! He reminded me of Glaucus,
whom I defended from murderers, and he touched me mainly by this.”
“I believe that thou didst discover him, and wilt be able to make use of
the acquaintance; but thou hast given him no money. Thou hast not given
him an as; dost understand me? Thou hast not given anything.”
“But I helped him to lift the bucket, and I spoke of his son with the
greatest sympathy. Yes, lord, what can hide before the penetration of
Petronius? Well, I did not give him money, or rather, I gave it to him,
but only in spirit, in intention, which, had he been a real philosopher,
should have sufficed him. I gave it to him because I saw that such an
act was indispensable and useful; for think, lord, how this act has won
all the Christians at once to me, what access to them it has opened, and
what confidence it has roused in them.”
“True,” said Petronius, “and it was thy duty to do it.”
“For this very reason I have come to get the means to do it.”
Petronius turned to Vinicius,—“Give command to count out to him five
thousand sestertia, but in spirit, in intention.”
“I will give thee a young man,” said Vinicius, “who will take the sum
necessary; thou wilt say to Euricius that the youth is thy slave, and
thou wilt count out to the old man, in the youth’s presence, this money.
Since thou hast brought important tidings, thou wilt receive the same
amount for thyself. Come for the youth and the money this evening.”
“Thou art a real Cæsar!” said Chilo. “Permit me, lord, to dedicate my
work to thee; but permit also that this evening I come only for the
money, since Euricius told me that all the boats had been unloaded, and
that new ones would come from Ostia only after some days. Peace be with
you! Thus do Christians take farewell of one another. I will buy
myself a slave woman,—that is, I wanted to say a slave man. Fish are
caught with a bait, and Christians with fish. Fax vobiscum! pax! pax!
pax!”
PETRONIUS to VINICIUS:
“I send to thee from Antium, by a trusty slave, this letter, to which,
though thy hand is more accustomed to the sword and the javelin than the
pen, I think that thou wilt answer through the same messenger without
needless delay. I left thee on a good trail, and full of hope; hence I
trust that thou hast either satisfied thy pleasant desires in the
embraces of Lygia, or wilt satisfy them before the real wintry wind from
the summits of Soracte shall blow on the Campania. Oh, my Vinicius! may
thy preceptress be the golden goddess of Cyprus; be thou, on thy part,
the preceptor of that Lygian Aurora, who is fleeing before the sun of
love. And remember always that marble, though most precious, is nothing
of itself, and acquires real value only when the sculptor’s hand turns
it into a masterpiece. Be thou such a sculptor, carissime! To love is
not sufficient; one must know how to love; one must know how to teach
love. Though the plebs, too, and even animals, experience pleasure, a
genuine man differs from them in this especially, that he makes love in
some way a noble art, and, admiring it, knows all its divine value,
makes it present in his mind, thus satisfying not his body merely, but
his soul. More than once, when I think here of the emptiness, the
uncertainty, the dreariness of life, it occurs to me that perhaps thou
hast chosen better, and that not Cæsar’s court, but war and love, are
the only objects for which it is worth while to be born and to live.
“Thou wert fortunate in war, be fortunate also in love; and if thou art
curious as to what men are doing at the court of Cæsar, I will inform
thee from time to time. We are living here at Antium, and nursing our
heavenly voice; we continue to cherish the same hatred of Rome, and
think of betaking ourselves to Baiæ for the winter, to appear in public
at Naples, whose inhabitants, being Greeks, will appreciate us better
than that wolf brood on the banks of the Tiber. People will hasten
thither from Baiæ, from Pompeii, Puteoli, Cumæ, and Stabia; neither
applause nor crowns will be lacking, and that will be an encouragement
for the proposed expedition to Achæa.
“But the memory of the infant Augusta? Yes! we are bewailing her yet.
We are singing hymns of our own composition, so wonderful that the
sirens have been hiding from envy in Amphitrite’s deepest caves. But
the dolphins would listen to us, were they not prevented by the sound of
the sea. Our suffering is not allayed yet; hence we will exhibit it to
the world in every form which sculpture can employ, and observe
carefully if we are beautiful in our suffering and if people recognize
this beauty. Oh, my dear! we shall die buffoons and comedians!
“All the Augustians are here, male and female, not counting ten thousand
servants, and five hundred she asses, in whose milk Poppæa bathes. At
times even it is cheerful here. Calvia Crispinilla is growing old. It
is said that she has begged Poppæa to let her take the bath immediately
after herself. Lucan slapped Nigidia on the face, because he suspected
her of relations with a gladiator. Sporus lost his wife at dice to
Senecio. Torquatus Silanus has offered me for Eunice four chestnut
horses, which this year will win the prize beyond doubt. I would not
accept! Thanks to thee, also, that thou didst not take her. As to
Torquatus Silanus, the poor man does not even suspect that he is already
more a shade than a man. His death is decided. And knowest what his
crime is? He is the great-grandson of the deified Augustus. There is
no rescue for him. Such is our world.
“As is known to thee, we have been expecting Tiridates here; meanwhile
Vologeses has written an offensive letter. Because he has conquered
Armenia, he asks that it be left to him for Tiridates; if not, he will
not yield it in any case. Pure comedy! So we have decided on war.
Corbulo will receive power such as Pompeius Magnus received in the war
with pirates. There was a moment, however, when Nero hesitated. He
seems afraid of the glory which Corbulo will win in case of victory. It
was even thought to offer the chief command to our Aulus. This was
opposed by Poppæa, for whom evidently Pomponia’s virtue is as salt in
the eye.
“Vatinius described to us a remarkable fight of gladiators, which is to
take place in Beneventum. See to what cobblers rise in our time, in
spite of the saying, ‘Ne sutor ultra crepidam!’ Vitelius is the
descendant of a cobbler; but Vatinius is the son of one! Perhaps he
drew thread himself! The actor Aliturus represented dipus yesterday
wonderfully. I asked him, by the way, as a Jew, if Christians and Jews
were the same. He answered that the Jews have an eternal religion, but
that Christians are a new sect risen recently in Judea; that in the time
of Tiberius the Jews crucified a certain man, whose adherents increase
daily, and that the Christians consider him as God. They refuse, it
seems, to recognize other gods, ours especially. I cannot understand
what harm it would do them to recognize these gods.
“Tigellinus shows me open enmity now. So far he is unequal to me; but
he is, superior in this, that he cares more for life, and is at the same
time a greater scoundrel, which brings him nearer Ahenobarbus. These
two will understand each other earlier or later, and then my turn will
come. I know not when it will come; but I know this, that as things are
it must come; hence let time pass. Meanwhile we must amuse ourselves.
Life of itself would not be bad were it not for Bronzebeard. Thanks to
him, a man at times is disgusted with himself. It is not correct to
consider the struggle for his favor as a kind of rivalry in a circus,—
as a kind of game, as a struggle, in which victory flatters vanity.
True, I explain it to myself in that way frequently; but still it seems
to me sometimes that I am like Chilo, and better in nothing than he.
When he ceases to be needful to thee, send him to me. I have taken a
fancy to his edifying conversation. A greeting from me to thy divine
Christian, or rather beg her in my name not to be a fish to thee.
Inform me of thy
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