Chapter LXV
Evening exhibitions, rare up to that period and given onlyexceptionally, became common in Nero's time, both in the Circus andamphitheatre. The Augustians liked them, frequently because they werefollowed by feasts and drinking-bouts which lasted till daylight. Thoughthe people were sated already with blood-spilling, still, when the newswent forth that the end of the games was approaching, and that thelast of the Christians were to die at an evening spectacle, a countlessaudience assembled in the amphitheatre. The Augustians came to a man,for they understood that it would not be a common spectacle; they knewthat Caesar had determined to make for himself a tragedy out of thesuffering of Vinicius. Tigellinus had kept secret the kind of punishmentintended for the betrothed of the young tribune; but that merely rousedgeneral curiosity. Those who had seen Lygia at the house of Plautiustold wonders of her beauty. Others were occupied above all with thequestion, would they see her really on the arena that day; for manyof those who had heard the answer given Petronius and Nerva by Caesarexplained it in two ways: some supposed simply that Nero would give orperhaps had given the maiden to Vinicius; they remembered that she wasa hostage, hence free to worship whatever divinities she liked, and thatthe law of nations did not permit her punishment.
Uncertainty, waiting, and curiosity had mastered all spectators.Caesar arrived earlier than usual; and immediately at his coming peoplewhispered that something uncommon would happen, for besides Tigellinusand Vatinius, Caesar had with him Cassius, a centurion of enormous sizeand gigantic strength, whom he summoned only when he wished to have adefender at his side,--for example, when he desired night expeditionsto the Subura, where he arranged the amusement called "sagatio," whichconsisted in tossing on a soldier's mantle maidens met on the way.It was noted also that certain precautions had been taken in theamphitheatre itself. The pretorian guards were increased; command overthem was held, not by a centurion, but by the tribune Subrius Flavius,known hitherto for blind attachment to Nero. It was understood, then,that Caesar wished in every case to guard himself against an outburst ofdespair from Vinicius, and curiosity rose all the more.
Every eye was turned with strained gaze to the place where theunfortunate lover was sitting. He was exceedingly pale, and his foreheadwas covered with drops of sweat; he was in as much doubt as were otherspectators, but alarmed to the lowest depth of his soul. Petronius knewnot what would happen; he was silent, except that, while turning fromNerva, he asked Vinicius whether he was ready for everything, and next,whether he would remain at the spectacle. To both questions Viniciusanswered "Yes," but a shudder passed through his whole body; he divinedthat Petronius did not ask without reason. For some time he had livedwith only half his life,--he had sunk in death, and reconciled himselfto Lygia's death, since for both it was to be liberation and marriage;but he learned now that it was one thing to think of the last momentwhen it was distant as of a quiet dropping asleep, and another to lookat the torment of a person dearer to one than life. All sufferingsendured formerly rose in him anew. Despair, which had been set at rest,began again to cry in his soul; the former desire to save Lygia at anyprice seized him anew. Beginning with the morning, he had tried to go tothe cunicula to be sure that she was there; but the pretorians watchedevery entrance, and orders were so strict that the soldiers, even thosewhom he knew, would not be softened by prayers or gold. It seemed tothe tribune that uncertainty would kill him before he should see thespectacle. Somewhere at the bottom of his heart the hope was stillthrobbing, that perhaps Lygia was not in the amphitheatre, that hisfears were groundless. At times he seized on this hope with all hisstrength. He said in his soul that Christ might take her to Himself outof the prison, but could not permit her torture in the Circus. Formerlyhe was resigned to the divine will in everything; now, when repulsedfrom the doors of the cunicula, he returned to his place in theamphitheatre, and when he learned, from the curious glances turned onhim, that the most dreadful suppositions might be true, he began toimplore in his soul with passionateness almost approaching a threat."Thou canst!" repeated he, clenching his fists convulsively, "Thoucanst!" Hitherto he had not supposed that that moment when present wouldbe so terrible. Now, without clear consciousness of what was happeningin his mind, he had the feeling that if he should see Lygia tortured,his love for God would be turned to hatred, and his faith to despair.But he was amazed at the feeling, for he feared to offend Christ, whomhe was imploring for mercy and miracles. He implored no longer for herlife; he wished merely that she should die before they brought her tothe arena, and from the abyss of his pain he repeated in spirt: "Do notrefuse even this, and I will love Thee still more than hitherto." Andthen his thoughts raged as a sea torn by a whirlwind. A desire for bloodand vengeance was roused in him. He was seized by a mad wish to rush atNero and stifle him there in presence of all the spectators; but hefelt that desire to be a new offence against Christ, and a breach ofHis command. To his head flew at times flashes of hope that everythingbefore which his soul was trembling would be turned aside by an almightyand merciful hand; but they were quenched at once, as if in measurelesssorrow that He who could destroy that Circus with one word and saveLygia had abandoned her, though she trusted in Him and loved Him withall the strength of her pure heart. And he thought, moreover, thatshe was lying there in that dark place, weak, defenceless, deserted,abandoned to the whim or disfavor of brutal guards, drawing her lastbreath, perhaps, while he had to wait, helpless, in that dreadfulamphitheatre, without knowing what torture was prepared for her, or whathe would witness in a moment. Finally, as a man falling over a precipicegrasps at everything which grows on the edge of it, so did he grasp withboth hands at the thought that faith of itself could save her. That onemethod remained! Peter had said that faith could move the earth to itsfoundations.
Hence he rallied; he crushed doubt in himself, he compressed his wholebeing into the sentence, "I believe," and he looked for a miracle.
But as an overdrawn cord may break, so exertion broke him. The pallor ofdeath covered his face, and his body relaxed. He thought then that hisprayer had been heard, for he was dying. It seemed to him that Lygiamust surely die too, and that Christ would take them to Himself in thatway. The arena, the white togas, the countless spectators, the light ofthousands of lamps and torches, all vanished from his vision.
But his weakness did not last long. After a while he roused himself, orrather the stamping of the impatient multitude roused him.
"Thou art ill," said Petronius; "give command to bear thee home."
And without regard to what Caesar would say, he rose to support Viniciusand go out with him. His heart was filled with pity, and, moreover, hewas irritated beyond endurance because Caesar was looking through theemerald at Vinicius, studying his pain with satisfaction, to describeit afterwards, perhaps, in pathetic strophes, and win the applause ofhearers.
Vinicius shook his head. He might die in that amphitheatre, but he couldnot go out of it. Moreover the spectacle might begin any moment.
In fact, at that very instant almost, the prefect of the city waved ared handkerchief, the hinges opposite Caesar's podium creaked, and out ofthe dark gully came Ursus into the brightly lighted arena.
The giant blinked, dazed evidently by the glitter of the arena; then hepushed into the centre, gazing around as if to see what he had to meet.It was known to all the Augustians and to most of the spectators thathe was the man who had stifled Croton; hence at sight of him a murmurpassed along every bench. In Rome there was no lack of gladiators largerby far than the common measure of man, but Roman eyes had never seen thelike of Ursus. Cassius, standing in Caesar's podium, seemed puny comparedwith that Lygian. Senators, vestals, Caesar, the Augustians, and thepeople gazed with the delight of experts at his mighty limbs as large astree-trunks, at his breast as large as two shields joined together,and his arms of a Hercules. The murmur rose every instant. For thosemultitudes there could be no higher pleasure than to look at thosemuscles in play in the exertion of a struggle. The murmur rose toshouts, and e
ager questions were put: "Where do the people live whocan produce such a giant?" He stood there, in the middle of theamphitheatre, naked, more like a stone colossus than a man, with acollected expression, and at the same time the sad look of a barbarian;and while surveying the empty arena, he gazed wonderingly with his bluechildlike eyes, now at the spectators, now at Caesar, now at the gratingof the cunicula, whence, as he thought, his executioners would come.
At the moment when he stepped into the arena his simple heart wasbeating for the last time with the hope that perhaps a cross was waitingfor him; but when he saw neither the cross nor the hole in which itmight be put, he thought that he was unworthy of such favor,--that hewould find death in another way, and surely from wild beasts. He wasunarmed, and had determined to die as became a confessor of the "Lamb,"peacefully and patiently. Meanwhile he wished to pray once more to theSaviour; so he knelt on the arena, joined his hands, and raised hiseyes toward the stars which were glittering in the lofty opening of theamphitheatre.
That act displeased the crowds. They had had enough of those Christianswho died like sheep. They understood that if the giant would not defendhimself the spectacle would be a failure. Here and there hisses wereheard. Some began to cry for scourgers, whose office it was to lashcombatants unwilling to fight. But soon all had grown silent, for no oneknew what was waiting for the giant, nor whether he would not be readyto struggle when he met death eye to eye.
In fact, they had not long to wait. Suddenly the shrill sound of brazentrumpets was heard, and at that signal a grating opposite Caesar's podiumwas opened, and into the arena rushed, amid shouts of beast-keepers, anenormous German aurochs, bearing on his head the naked body of a woman.
"Lygia! Lygia!" cried Vinicius.
Then he seized his hair near the temples, squirmed like a man who feelsa sharp dart in his body, and began to repeat in hoarse accents,--
"I believe! I believe! O Christ, a miracle!"
And he did not even feel that Petronius covered his head that momentwith the toga. It seemed to him that death or pain had closed his eyes.He did not look, he did not see. The feeling of some awful emptinesspossessed him. In his head there remained not a thought; his lips merelyrepeated, as if in madness,--
"I believe! I believe! I believe!"
This time the amphitheatre was silent. The Augustians rose in theirplaces, as one man, for in the arena something uncommon had happened.That Lygian, obedient and ready to die, when he saw his queen on thehorns of the wild beast, sprang up, as if touched by living fire, andbending forward he ran at the raging animal.
From all breasts a sudden cry of amazement was heard, after which camedeep silence.
The Lygian fell on the raging bull in a twinkle, and seized him by thehorns.
"Look!" cried Petronius, snatching the toga from the head of Vinicius.The latter rose and bent back his head; his face was as pale as linen,and he looked into the arena with a glassy, vacant stare.
All breasts ceased to breathe. In the amphitheatre a fly might be heardon the wing. People could not believe their own eyes. Since Rome wasRome, no one had seen such a spectacle.
The Lygian held the wild beast by the horns. The man's feet sank in thesand to his ankles, his back was bent like a drawn bow, his head washidden between his shoulders, on his arms the muscles came out so thatthe skin almost burst from their pressure; but he had stopped the bullin his tracks. And the man and the beast remained so still that thespectators thought themselves looking at a picture showing a deed ofHercules or Theseus, or a group hewn from stone. But in that apparentrepose there was a tremendous exertion of two struggling forces. Thebull sank his feet as well as did the man in the sand, and his dark,shaggy body was curved so that it seemed a gigantic ball. Which of thetwo would fail first, which would fall first,--that was the question forthose spectators enamoured of such struggles; a question which at thatmoment meant more for them than their own fate, than all Rome and itslordship over the world. That Lygian was in their eyes then a demigodworthy of honor and statues. Caesar himself stood up as well as others.He and Tigellinus, hearing of the man's strength, had arranged thisspectacle purposely, and said to each other with a jeer, "Let thatslayer of Croton kill the bull which we choose for him"; so they lookednow with amazement at that picture, as if not believing that it could bereal.
In the amphitheatre were men who had raised their arms and remained inthat posture. Sweat covered the faces of others, as if they themselveswere struggling with the beast. In the Circus nothing was heard savethe sound of flame in the lamps, and the crackle of bits of coal asthey dropped from the torches. Their voices died on the lips of thespectators, but their hearts were beating in their breasts as if tosplit them. It seemed to all that the struggle was lasting for ages.But the man and the beast continued on in their monstrous exertion; onemight have said that they were planted in the earth.
Meanwhile a dull roar resembling a groan was heard from the arena, afterwhich a brief shout was wrested from every breast, and again there wassilence. People thought themselves dreaming till the enormous head ofthe bull began to turn in the iron hands of the barbarian. The face,neck, and arms of the Lygian grew purple; his back bent still more. Itwas clear that he was rallying the remnant of his superhuman strength,but that he could not last long.
Duller and duller, hoarser and hoarser, more and more painful grewthe groan of the bull as it mingled with the whistling breath from thebreast of the giant. The head of the beast turned more and more, andfrom his jaws crept forth a long, foaming tongue.
A moment more, and to the ears of spectators sitting nearer came as itwere the crack of breaking bones; then the beast rolled on the earthwith his neck twisted in death.
The giant removed in a twinkle the ropes from the horns of the bull and,raising the maiden, began to breathe hurriedly. His face became pale,his hair stuck together from sweat, his shoulders and arms seemedflooded with water. For a moment he stood as if only half conscious;then he raised his eyes and looked at the spectators.
The amphitheatre had gone wild.
The walls of the building were trembling from the roar of tens ofthousands of people. Since the beginning of spectacles there was nomemory of such excitement. Those who were sitting on the highest rowscame down, crowding in the passages between benches to look more nearlyat the strong man. Everywhere were heard cries for mercy, passionate andpersistent, which soon turned into one unbroken thunder. That giant hadbecome dear to those people enamoured of physical strength; he was thefirst personage in Rome.
He understood that the multitude were striving to grant him his lifeand restore him his freedom, but clearly his thought was not on himselfalone. He looked around a while; then approached Caesar's podium, and,holding the body of the maiden on his outstretched arms, raised his eyeswith entreaty, as if to say,--
"Have mercy on her! Save the maiden. I did that for her sake!"
The spectators understood perfectly what he wanted. At sight of theunconscious maiden, who near the enormous Lygian seemed a child, emotionseized the multitude of knights and senators. Her slender form, as whiteas if chiselled from alabaster, her fainting, the dreadful danger fromwhich the giant had freed her, and finally her beauty and attachment hadmoved every heart. Some thought the man a father begging mercy for hischild. Pity burst forth suddenly, like a flame. They had had blood,death, and torture in sufficiency. Voices choked with tears began toentreat mercy for both.
Meanwhile Ursus, holding the girl in his arms, moved around the arena,and with his eyes and with motions begged her life for her. Now Viniciusstarted up from his seat, sprang over the barrier which separated thefront places from the arena, and, running to Lygia, covered her nakedbody with his toga.
Then he tore apart the tunic on his breast, laid bare the scars left bywounds received in the Armenian war, and stretched out his hands to theaudience.
At this the enthusiasm of the multitude passed everything seen in acircus before. The crowd stamped and howled. Voices calling for mercygrew simpl
y terrible. People not only took the part of the athlete, butrose in defense of the soldier, the maiden, their love. Thousands ofspectators turned to Caesar with flashes of anger in their eyes and withclinched fists.
But Caesar halted and hesitated. Against Vinicius he had no hatredindeed, and the death of Lygia did not concern him; but he preferred tosee the body of the maiden rent by the horns of the bull or torn by theclaws of beasts. His cruelty, his deformed imagination, and deformeddesires found a kind of delight in such spectacles. And now the peoplewanted to rob him. Hence anger appeared on his bloated face. Self-lovealso would not let him yield to the wish of the multitude, and still hedid not dare to oppose it, through his inborn cowardice.
So he gazed around to see if among the Augustians at least, he couldnot find fingers turned down in sign of death. But Petronius held uphis hand, and looked into Nero's face almost challengingly. Vestinius,superstitious but inclined to enthusiasm, a man who feared ghostsbut not the living, gave a sign for mercy also. So did Scevinus, theSenator; so did Nerva, so did Tullius Senecio, so did the famous leaderOstorius Scapula, and Antistius, and Piso, and Vetus, and Crispinus, andMinucius Thermus, and Pontius Telesinus, and the most important of all,one honored by the people, Thrasea.
In view of this, Caesar took the emerald from his eye with an expressionof contempt and offence; when Tigellinus, whose desire was to spitePetronius, turned to him and said,--
"Yield not, divinity; we have the pretorians."
Then Nero turned to the place where command over the pretorians was heldby the stern Subrius Flavius, hitherto devoted with whole soul to him,and saw something unusual. The face of the old tribune was stern, butcovered with tears, and he was holding his hand up in sign of mercy.
Now rage began to possess the multitude. Dust rose from beneath thestamping feet, and filled the amphitheatre. In the midst of shouts wereheard cries: "Ahenobarbus! matricide! incendiary!"
Nero was alarmed. Romans were absolute lords in the Circus. FormerCaesars, and especially Caligula, had permitted themselves sometimesto act against the will of the people; this, however, called forthdisturbance always, going sometimes to bloodshed. But Nero was in adifferent position. First, as a comedian and a singer he needed thepeople's favor; second, he wanted it on his side against the Senate andthe patricians, and especially after the burning of Rome he strove byall means to win it, and turn their anger against the Christians. Heunderstood, besides, that to oppose longer was simply dangerous. Adisturbance begun in the Circus might seize the whole city, and haveresults incalculable.
He looked once more at Subrius Flavius, at Scevinus the centurion, arelative of the senator, at the soldiers; and seeing everywhere frowningbrows, excited faces, and eyes fixed on him, he gave the sign for mercy.
Then a thunder of applause was heard from the highest seats to thelowest. The people were sure of the lives of the condemned, for fromthat moment they went under their protection, and even Caesar would nothave dared to pursue them any longer with his vengeance.
Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero Page 65
