Quo Vadis

“Dost know,” asked he, “that thou hast gray hairs on thy temple?”

“Perhaps I have,” answered Vinicius; “I should not be astonished were all my hair to grow white soon.”

Silence followed. Petronius was a man of sense, and more than once he meditated on the soul of man and on life. In general, life, in the society in which they both lived, might be happy or unhappy externally, but internally it was at rest. Just as a thunderbolt or an earthquake might overturn a temple, so might misfortune crush a life. In itself, however, it was composed of simple and harmonious lines, free of complication. But there was something else in the words of Vinicius, and Petronius stood for the first time before a series of spiritual snarls which no one had straightened out hitherto. He was sufficiently a man of reason to feel their importance, but with all his quickness he could not answer the questions put to him. After a long silence, he said at last, —

“These must be enchantments.”

“I too have thought so,” answered Vinicius; “more than once it seemed to me that we were enchanted, both of us.”

“And if thou,” said Petronius, “were to go, for example, to the priests of Serapis? Among them, as among priests in general, there are many deceivers, no doubt; but there are others who have reached wonderful secrets.”

He said this, however, without conviction and with an uncertain voice, for he himself felt how empty and even ridiculous that counsel must seem on his lips.

Vinicius rubbed his forehead, and said: “Enchantments! I have seen sorcerers who employed unknown and subterranean powers to their personal profit; I have seen those who used them to the harm of their enemies. But these Christians live in poverty, forgive their enemies, preach submission, virtue, and mercy; what profit could they get from enchantments, and why should they use them?”

Petronius was angry that his acuteness could find no reply; not wishing, however, to acknowledge this, he said, so as to offer an answer of some kind, – “That is a new sect.” After a while he added: “By the divine dweller in Paphian groves, how all that injures life! Thou wilt admire the goodness and virtue of those people; but I tell thee that they are bad, for they are enemies of life, as are diseases, and death itself. As things are, we have enough of these enemies; we do not need the Christians in addition. Just count them: diseases, Cæsar, Tigellinus, Cæsar’s poetry, cobblers who govern the descendants of ancient Quirites, freedmen who sit in the Senate. By Castor! there is enough of this. That is a destructive and disgusting sect. Hast thou tried to shake thyself out of this sadness, and make some little use of life?”

“I have tried,” answered Vinicius.

“Ah, traitor!” said Petronius, laughing; “news spreads quickly through slaves; thou hast seduced from me Chrysothemis!”

Vinicius waved his hand in disgust.

“In every case I thank thee,” said Petronius. “I will send her a pair of slippers embroidered with pearls. In my language of a lover that means, ‘Walk away.’ I owe thee a double gratitude, – first, thou didst not accept Eunice; second, thou hast freed me from Chrysothemis. Listen to me! Thou seest before thee a man who has risen early, bathed, feasted, possessed Chrysothemis, written satires, and even at times interwoven prose with verses, but who has been as wearied as Cæsar, and often unable to unfetter himself from gloomy thoughts. And dost thou know why that was so? It was because I sought at a distance that which was near. A beautiful woman is worth her weight always in gold; but if she loves in addition, she has simply no price. Such a one thou wilt not buy with the riches of Verres. I say now to myself as follows: I will fill my life with happiness, as a goblet with the foremost wine which the earth has produced, and I will drink till my hand becomes powerless and my lips grow pale. What will come, I care not; and this is my latest philosophy.”

“Thou hast proclaimed it always; there is nothing new in it.”

“There is substance, which was lacking.”

When he had said this, he called Eunice, who entered dressed in white drapery, – the former slave no longer, but as it were a goddess of love and happiness.

Petronius opened his arms to her, and said, – “Come.”

At this she ran up to him, and, sitting on his knee, surrounded his neck with her arms, and placed her head on his breast. Vinicius saw how a reflection of purple began to cover her cheeks, how her eyes melted gradually in mist. They formed a wonderful group of love and happiness. Petronius stretched his hand to a flat vase standing at one side on a table, and, taking a whole handful of violets, covered with them the head, bosom, and robe of Eunice; then he pushed the tunic from her arms, and said, —

“Happy he who, like me, has found love enclosed in such a form! At times it seems to me that we are a pair of gods. Look thyself! Has Praxiteles, or Miron, or Skopas, or Lysias even, created more wonderful lines? Or does there exist in Paros or in Pentelicus such marble as this, – warm, rosy, and full of love? There are people who kiss off the edges of vases, but I prefer to look for pleasure where it may be found really.”

He began to pass his lips along her shoulders and neck. She was penetrated with a quivering; her eyes now closed, now opened, with an expression of unspeakable delight. Petronius after a while raised her exquisite head, and said, turning to Vinicius, – “But think now, what are thy gloomy Christians in comparison with this? And if thou understand not the difference, go thy way to them. But this sight will cure thee.”

Vinicius distended his nostrils, through which entered the odor of violets, which filled the whole chamber, and he grew pale; for he thought that if he could have passed his lips along Lygia’s shoulders in that way, it would have been a kind of sacrilegious delight so great that let the world vanish afterward! But accustomed now to a quick perception of that which took place in him, he noticed that at that moment he was thinking of Lygia, and of her only.

“Eunice,” said Petronius, “give command, thou divine one, to prepare garlands for our heads and a meal.”

When she had gone out he turned to Vinicius.

“I offered to make her free, but knowest thou what she answered? – ‘I would rather be thy slave than Cæsar’s wife!’ And she would not consent. I freed her then without her knowledge. The pretor favored me by not requiring her presence. But she does not know that she is free, as also she does not know that this house and all my jewels, excepting the gems, will belong to her in case of my death.” He rose and walked through the room, and said: “Love changes some more, others less, but it has changed even me. Once I loved the odor of verbenas; but as Eunice prefers violets, I like them now beyond all other flowers, and since spring came we breathe only violets.”

Here he stopped before Vinicius and inquired, – “But as to thee, dost thou keep always to nard?”

“Give me peace!” answered the young man.

“I wished thee to see Eunice, and I mentioned her to thee, because thou, perhaps, art seeking also at a distance that which is near. Maybe for thee too is beating, somewhere in the chambers of thy slaves, a true and simple heart. Apply such a balsam to thy wounds. Thou sayest that Lygia loves thee? Perhaps she does. But what kind of love is that which abdicates? Is not the meaning this, – that there is another force stronger than her love? No, my dear, Lygia is not Eunice.”

“All is one torment merely,” answered Vinicius. “I saw thee kissing Eunice’s shoulders, and I thought then that if Lygia would lay hers bare to me I should not care if the ground opened under us next moment. But at the very thought of such an act a certain dread seized me, as if I had attacked some vestal or wished to defile a divinity. Lygia is not Eunice, but I understand the difference not in thy way. Love has changed thy nostrils, and thou preferrest violets to verbenas; but it has changed my soul: hence, in spite of my misery and desire, I prefer Lygia to be what she is rather than to be like others.”

“In that case no injustice is done thee. But I do not understand the position.”

“True, true!” answered Vinicius, feverishly. “We understand each other no longer.”

Another moment of silence followed.

“May Hades swallow thy Christians!” exclaimed Petronius. “They have filled thee with disquiet, and destroyed thy sense of life. May Hades devour them! Thou art mistaken in thinking that their religion is good, for good is what gives people happiness, namely, beauty, love, power; but these they call vanity. Thou art mistaken in this, that they are just; for if we pay good for evil, what shall we pay for good? And besides, if we pay the same for one and the other, why are people to be good?”

“No, the pay is not the same; but according to their teaching it begins in a future life, which is without limit.”

“I do not enter into that question, for we shall see hereafter if it be possible to see anything without eyes. Meanwhile they are simply incompetents. Ursus strangled Croton because he has limbs of bronze; but these are mopes, and the future cannot belong to mopes.”

“For them life begins with death.”

“Which is as if one were to say, ‘Day begins with night.’ Hast thou the intent to carry off Lygia?”

“No, I cannot pay her evil for good, and I swore that I would not.”

“Dost thou intend to accept the religion of Christ?”

“I wish to do so, but my nature cannot endure it.”

“But wilt thou be able to forget Lygia?”

“No.”

“Then travel.”

At that moment the slaves announced that the repast was ready; but Petronius, to whom it seemed that he had fallen on a good thought, said, on the way to the triclinium, – “Thou has ridden over a part of the world, but only as a soldier hastening to his place of destination, and without halting by the way. Go with us to Achæa. Cæsar has not given up the journey. He will stop everywhere on the way, sing, receive crowns, plunder temples, and return as a triumphator to Italy. That will resemble somewhat a journey of Bacchus and Apollo in one person. Augustians, male and female, a thousand citharæ. By Castor! that will be worth witnessing, for hitherto the world has not seen anything like it!”

Here he placed himself on the couch before the table, by the side of Eunice; and when the slaves put a wreath of anemones on his head, he continued, – “What hast thou seen in Corbulo’s service? Nothing. Hast thou seen the Grecian temples thoroughly, as I have, – I who was passing more than two years from the hands of one guide to those of another? Hast thou been in Rhodes to examine the site of the Colossus? Hast thou seen in Panopeus, in Phocis, the clay from which Prometheus shaped man; or in Sparta the eggs laid by Leda; or in Athens the famous Sarmatian armor made of horse-hoofs; or in Euboea the ship of Agamemnon; or the cup for whose pattern the left breast of Helen served? Hast thou seen Alexandria, Memphis, the Pyramids, the hair which Isis tore from her head in grief for Osiris? Hast thou heard the shout of Memnon? The world is wide; everything does not end at the Trans-Tiber! I will accompany Cæsar, and when he returns I will leave him and go to Cyprus; for it is the wish of this golden-haired goddess of mine that we offer doves together to the divinity in Paphos, and thou must know that whatever she wishes must happen.”

“I am thy slave,” said Eunice.

He rested his garlanded head on her bosom, and said with a smile, – “Then I am the slave of a slave. I admire thee, divine one, from feet to head!”

Then he said to Vinicius: “Come with us to Cyprus. But first remember that thou must see Cæsar. It is bad that thou hast not been with him yet; Tigellinus is ready to use this to thy disadvantage. He has no personal hatred for thee, it is true; but he cannot love thee, even because thou art my sister’s son. We shall say that thou wert sick. We must think over what thou art to answer should he ask thee about Lygia. It will be best to wave thy hand and say that she was with thee till she wearied thee. He will understand that. Tell him also that sickness kept thee at home; that thy fever was increased by disappointment at not being able to visit Naples and hear his song; that thou wert assisted to health only by the hope of hearing him. Fear no exaggeration. Tigellinus promises to invent, not only something great for Cæsar, but something enormous. I am afraid that he will undermine me; I am afraid too of thy disposition.”

“Dost thou know,” said Vinicius, “that there are people who have no fear of Cæsar, and who live as calmly as if he were non-existent?”

“I know whom thou hast in mind – the Christians.”

“Yes; they alone. But our life, – what is it if not unbroken terror?”