Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz (detective books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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at once that whole crowds of people, while fleeing in one direction,
struck unexpectedly on a new wall of fire in front of them, and died a
dreadful death in a deluge of flame.
In terror, in distraction, and bewilderment, people knew not where to
flee. The streets were obstructed with goods, and in many narrow places
were simply closed. Those who took refuge in those markets and squares
of the city, where the Flavian Amphitheatre stood afterward, near the
temple of the Earth, near the Portico of Silvia, and higher up, at the
temples of Juno and Lucinia, between the Clivus Virbius and the old
Esquiline Gate, perished from heat, surrounded by a sea of fire. In
places not reached by the flames were found afterward hundreds of bodies
burned to a crisp, though here and there unfortunates tore up flat
stones and half buried themselves in defence against the heat. Hardly a
family inhabiting the centre of the city survived in full; hence along
the walls, at the gates, on all roads were heard howls of despairing
women, calling on the dear names of those who had perished in the throng
or the fire.
And so, while some were imploring the gods, others blasphemed them
because of this awful catastrophe. Old men were seen coming from the
temple of Jupiter Liberator, stretching forth their hands, and crying,
“If thou be a liberator, save thy altars and the city!” But despair
turned mainly against the old Roman gods, who, in the minds of the
populace, were bound to watch over the city more carefully than others.
They had proved themselves powerless; hence were insulted. On the other
hand it happened on the Via Asinaria that when a company of Egyptian
priests appeared conducting a statue of Isis, which they had saved from
the temple near the Porta Cælimontana, a crowd of people rushed among
the priests, attached themselves to the chariot, which they drew to the
Appian Gate, and seizing the statue placed it in the temple of Mars,
overwhelming the priests of that deity who dared to resist them. In
other places people invoked Serapis, Baal, or Jehovah, whose adherents,
swarming out of the alleys in the neighborhood of the Subura and the
Trans-Tiber, filled with shouts and uproar the fields near the walls.
In their cries were heard tones as if of triumph; when, therefore, some
of the citizens joined the chorus and glorified “the Lord of the World,”
others, indignant at this glad shouting, strove to repress it by
violence. Here and there hymns were heard, sung by men in the bloom of
life, by old men, by women and children,—hymns wonderful and solemn,
whose meaning they understood not, but in which were repeated from
moment to moment the words, “Behold the Judge cometh in the day of wrath
and disaster.” Thus this deluge of restless and sleepless people
encircled the burning city, like a tempest-driven sea.
But neither despair nor blasphemy nor hymn helped in any way. The
destruction seemed as irresistible, perfect, and pitiless as
Predestination itself. Around Pompey’s Amphitheatre stores of hemp
caught fire, and ropes used in circuses, arenas, and every kind of
machine at the games, and with them the adjoining buildings containing
barrels of pitch with which ropes were smeared. In a few hours all that
part of the city, beyond which lay the Campus Martius, was so lighted by
bright yellow flames that for a time it seemed to the spectators, only
half conscious from terror, that in the general ruin the order of night
and day had been lost, and that they were looking at sunshine. But
later a monstrous bloody gleam extinguished all other colors of flame.
From the sea of fire shot up to the heated sky gigantic fountains, and
pillars of flame spreading at their summits into fiery branches and
feathers; then the wind bore them away, turned them into golden threads,
into hair, into sparks, and swept them on over the Campania toward the
Alban Hills. The night became brighter; the air itself seemed
penetrated, not only with light, but with flame. The Tiber flowed on as
living fire. The hapless city was turned into one pandemonium. The
conflagration seized more and more space, took hills by storm, flooded
level places, drowned valleys, raged, roared, and thundered.
MACRINUS, a weaver, to whose house Vinicius was carried, washed him, and
gave him clothing and food. When the young tribune had recovered his
strength altogether, he declared that he would search further for Linus
that very night. Macrinus, who was a Christian, confirmed Chilo’s
report, that Linus, with Clement the chief priest, had gone to
Ostrianum, where Peter was to baptize a whole company of confessors of
the new faith. In that division of the city it was known to Christians
that Linus had confided the care of his house two days before to a
certain Gaius. For Vinicius this was a proof that neither Lygia nor
Ursus had remained in the house, and that they also must have gone to
Ostrianum.
This thought gave him great comfort. Linus was an old man, for whom it
would be difficult to walk daily to the distant Nomentan Gate, and back
to the Trans-Tiber; hence it was likely that he lodged those few days
with some co-religionist beyond the walls, and with him also Lygia and
Ursus. Thus they escaped the fire, which in general had not reached the
other slope of the Esquiline. Vinicius saw in all this a dispensation of
Christ, whose care he felt above him, and his heart was filled more than
ever with love; he swore in his soul to pay with his whole life for
those clear marks of favor.
But all the more did he hurry to Ostrianum. He would find Lygia, find
Linus and Peter; he would take them to a distance, to some of his lands,
even to Sicily. Let Rome burn; in a few days it would be a mere heap of
ashes. Why remain in the face of disaster and a mad rabble? In his
lands troops of obedient slaves would protect them, they would be
surrounded by the calm of the country, and live in peace under Christ’s
wings blessed by Peter. Oh, if he could find them!
That was no easy thing. Vinicius remembered the difficulty with which
he had passed from the Appian Way to the Trans-Tiber, and how he must
circle around to reach the Via Portuensis. He resolved, therefore, to
go around the city this time in the opposite direction. Going by the
Via Triumphatoris, it was possible to reach the Æmilian bridge by going
along the river, thence passing the Pincian Hill, all the Campus
Martius, outside the gardens of Pompey, Lucullus, and Sallust, to make a
push forward to the Via Nomentana. That was the shortest way; but
Macrinus and Chilo advised him not to take it. The fire had not touched
that part of the city, it is true; but all the market squares and
streets might be packed densely with people and their goods. Chilo
advised him to go through the Ager Vaticanus to the Porta Flaminia,
cross the river at that point, and push on outside the walls beyond the
gardens of Acilius to the Porta Salaria. Vinicius, after a moment’s
hesitation, took this advice.
Macrinus had to remain in care of his house; but he provided two mules,
which would serve Lygia also in a further journey. He wished to give a
slave, too; but Vinicius refused, judging that the first detachment of
pretorians he met on the road would pass under his orders.
Soon he and Chilo moved on through the Pagus Janiculensis to the
Triumphal Way. There were vehicles there, too, in open places; but they
pushed between them with less difficulty, as the inhabitants had fled
for the greater part by the Via Portuensis toward the sea. Beyond the
Septimian Gate they rode between the river and the splendid gardens of
Domitius; the mighty cypresses were red from the conflagration, as if
from evening sunshine. The road became freer; at times they had to
struggle merely with the current of incoming rustics. Vinicius urged
his mule forward as much as possible; but Chilo, riding closely in the
rear, talked to himself almost the whole way.
“Well, we have left the fire behind, and now it is heating our
shoulders. Never yet has there been so much light on this road in the
night-time. O Zeus! if thou wilt not send torrents of rain on that
fire, thou hast no love for Rome, surely. The power of man will not
quench those flames. Such a city,—a city which Greece and the whole
world was serving! And now the first Greek who comes along may roast
beans in its ashes. Who could have looked for this? And now there will
be no longer a Rome, nor Roman rulers. Whoso wants to walk on the ashes,
when they grow cold, and whistle over them, may whistle without danger.
O gods! to whistle over such a world-ruling city! What Greek, or even
barbarian, could have hoped for this? And still one may whistle; for a
heap of ashes, whether left after a shepherd’s fire or a burnt city, is
mere ashes, which the wind will blow away sooner or later.”
Thus talking, he turned from moment to moment toward the conflagration,
and looked at the waves of flame with a face filled at once with delight
and malice.
“It will perish! It will perish!” continued he, “and will never be on
earth again. Whither will the world send its wheat now, its olives, and
its money? Who will squeeze gold and tears from it? Marble does not
burn, but it crumbles in fire. The Capitol will turn into dust, and the
Palatine into dust. O Zeus! Rome was like a shepherd, and other
nations like sheep. When the shepherd was hungry, he slaughtered a
sheep, ate the flesh, and to thee, O father of the gods, he made an
offering of the skin. Who, O Cloud-compeller, will do the slaughtering
now, and into whose hand wilt thou put the shepherd’s whip? For Rome is
burning, O father, as truly as if thou hadst fired it with thy
thunderbolt.”
“Hurry!” urged Vinicius; “what art thou doing there?”
“I am weeping over Rome, lord,—Jove’s city!”
For a time they rode on in silence, listening to the roar of the
burning, and the sound of birds’ wings. Doves, a multitude of which had
their nests about villas and in small towns of the Campania, and also
every kind of field-bird from near the sea and the surrounding
mountains, mistaking evidently the gleam of the conflagration for
sunlight, were flying, whole flocks of them, blindly into the fire.
Vinicius broke the silence first,—
“Where wert thou when the fire burst out?”
“I was going to my friend Euricius, lord, who kept a shop near the
Circus Maximus, and I was just meditating on the teaching of Christ,
when men began to shout: ‘Fire!’ People gathered around the Circus for
safety, and through curiosity; but when the flames seized the whole
Circus, and began to appear in other places also, each had to think of
his own safety.”
“Didst thou see people throwing torches into houses?”
“What have I not seen, O grandson of Æneas! I saw people making a way
for themselves through the crowd with swords; I have seen battles, the
entrails of people trampled on the pavement. Ah, if thou hadst seen
that, thou wouldst have thought that barbarians had captured the city,
and were putting it to the sword. People round about cried that the end
of the world had come. Some lost their
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