Quo Vadis, Henryk Sienkiewicz [e book reader android .TXT] 📗
- Author: Henryk Sienkiewicz
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the triumph of the ‘Beast.’ The Lord has not designated the limit of
John’s life; Paul is a Roman citizen, they cannot condemn him without
trial; but if the power of hell rise up against thee, O teacher, those
whose hearts are dejected will ask, ‘Who is above Nero?’ Thou art the
rock on which the church of God is founded. Let us die, but permit not
the victory of Antichrist over the viceregent of God, and return not
hither till the Lord has crushed him who shed innocent blood.”
“Look at our tears!” repeated all who were present.
Tears flowed over Peter’s face too. After a while he rose, and,
stretching his hands over the kneeling figures, said,—
“May the name of the Lord be magnified, and may His will be done!”
About dawn of the following day two dark figures were moving along the
Appian Way toward the Campania.
One of them was Nazarius; the other the Apostle Peter, who was leaving
Rome and his martyred co-religionists.
The sky in the east was assuming a light tinge of green, bordered
gradually and more distinctly on the lower edge with saffron color.
Silver-leafed trees, the white marble of villas, and the arches of
aqueducts, stretching through the plain toward the city, were emerging
from shade. The greenness of the sky was clearing gradually, and
becoming permeated with gold. Then the east began to grow rosy and
illuminate the Alban Hills, which seemed marvellously beautiful, lily-colored, as if formed of rays of light alone.
The light was reflected in trembling leaves of trees, in the dew-drops.
The haze grew thinner, opening wider and wider views on the plain, on
the houses dotting it, on the cemeteries, on the towns, and on groups of
trees, among which stood white columns of temples.
The road was empty. The villagers who took vegetables to the city had
not succeeded yet, evidently, in harnessing beasts to their vehicles.
From the stone blocks with which the road was paved as far as the
mountains, there came a low sound from the bark shoes on the feet of the
two travellers.
Then the sun appeared over the line of hills; but at once a wonderful
vision struck the Apostle’s eyes. It seemed to him that the golden
circle, instead of rising in the sky, moved down from the heights and
was advancing on the road. Peter stopped, and asked,—
“Seest thou that brightness approaching us?”
“I see nothing,” replied Nazarius.
But Peter shaded his eyes with his hand, and said after a while,
“Some figure is coming in the gleam of the sun.” But not the slightest
sound of steps reached their ears. It was perfectly still all around.
Nazarius saw only that the trees were quivering in the distance, as if
some one were shaking them, and the light was spreading more broadly
over the plain. He looked with wonder at the Apostle.
“Rabbi! what ails thee?” cried he, with alarm.
The pilgrim’s staff fell from Peter’s hands to the earth; his eyes were
looking forward, motionless; his mouth was open; on his face were
depicted astonishment, delight, rapture.
Then he threw himself on his knees, his arms stretched forward; and this
cry left his lips,—
“O Christ! O Christ!”
He fell with his face to the earth, as if kissing some one’s feet.
The silence continued long; then were heard the words of the aged man,
broken by sobs,—
“Quo vadis, Domine?”
Nazarius did not hear the answer; but to Peter’s ears came a sad and
sweet voice, which said,—
“If thou desert my people, I am going to Rome to be crucified a second
time.”
The Apostle lay on the ground, his face in the dust, without motion or
speech. It seemed to Nazarius that he had fainted or was dead; but he
rose at last, seized the staff with trembling hands, and turned without
a word toward the seven hills of the city.
The boy, seeing this, repeated as an echo,—
“Quo vadis, Domine?”
“To Rome,” said the Apostle, in a low voice.
And he returned.
Paul, John, Linus, and all the faithful received him with amazement; and
the alarm was the greater, since at daybreak, just after his departure,
pretorians had surrounded Miriam’s house and searched it for the
Apostle. But to every question he answered only with delight and
peace,—
“I have seen the Lord!”
And that same evening he went to the Ostian cemetery to teach and
baptize those who wished to bathe in the water of life.
And thenceforward he went there daily, and after him went increasing
numbers. It seemed that out of every tear of a martyr new confessors
were born, and that every groan on the arena found an echo in thousands
of breasts. Cæsar was swimming in blood, Rome and the whole pagan world
was mad. But those who had had enough of transgression and madness,
those who were trampled upon, those whose lives were misery and
oppression, all the weighed down, all the sad, all the unfortunate, came
to hear the wonderful tidings of God, who out of love for men had given
Himself to be crucified and redeem their sins.
When they found a God whom they could love, they had found that which
the society of the time could not give any one,—happiness and love.
And Peter understood that neither Cæsar nor all his legions could
overcome the living truth,—that they could not overwhelm it with tears
or blood, and that now its victory was beginning. He understood with
equal force why the Lord had turned him back on the road. That city of
pride, crime, wickedness, and power was beginning to be His city, and
the double capital, from which would flow out upon the world government
of souls and bodies.
AT last the hour was accomplished for both Apostles. But, as if to
complete his service, it was given to the fisherman of the Lord to win
two souls even in confinement. The soldiers, Processus and Martinianus,
who guarded him in the Mamertine prison, received baptism. Then came
the hour of torture. Nero was not in Rome at that time. Sentence was
passed by Helius and Polythetes, two freedmen to whom Cæsar had confided
the government of Rome during his absence.
On the aged Apostle had been inflicted the stripes prescribed by law;
and next day he was led forth beyond the walls of the city, toward the
Vatican Hill, where he was to suffer the punishment of the cross
assigned to him. Soldiers were astonished by the crowd which had
gathered before the prison, for in their minds the death of a common
man, and besides a foreigner, should not rouse such interest; they did
not understand that that retinue was composed not of sightseers, but
confessors, anxious to escort the great Apostle to the place of
execution. In the afternoon the gates of the prison were thrown open at
last, and Peter appeared in the midst of a detachment of pretorians.
The sun had inclined somewhat toward Ostia already; the day was clear
and calm. Because of his advanced age, Peter was not required to carry
the cross; it was supposed that he could not carry it; they had not put
the fork on his neck, either, so as not to retard his pace. He walked
without hindrance, and the faithful could see him perfectly.
At moments when his white head showed itself among the iron helmets of
the soldiers, weeping was heard in the crowd; but it was restrained
immediately, for the face of the old man had in it so much calmness, and
was so bright with joy, that all understood him to be not a victim going
to destruction, but a victor celebrating his triumph.
And thus it was really. The fisherman, usually humble and stooping,
walked now erect, taller than the soldiers, full of dignity. Never had
men seen such majesty in his bearing. It might have seemed that he was
a monarch attended by people and military. From every side voices were
raised,—
“There is Peter going to the Lord!”
All forgot, as it were, that torture and death were waiting for him. He
walked with solemn attention, but with calmness, feeling that since the
death on Golgotha nothing equally important had happened, and that as
the first death had redeemed the whole world, this was to redeem the
city.
Along the road people halted from wonder at sight of that old man; but
believers, laying hands on their shoulders, said with calm voices,—
“See how a just man goes to death,—one who knew Christ and proclaimed
love to the world.”
These became thoughtful, and walked away, saying to themselves, “He
cannot, indeed, be unjust!”
Along the road noise was hushed, and the cries of the street. The
retinue moved on before houses newly reared, before white columns of
temples, over whose summits hung the deep sky, calm and blue. They went
in quiet; only at times the weapons of the soldiers clattered, or the
murmur of prayer rose. Peter heard the last, and his face grew bright
with increasing joy, for his glance could hardly take in those thousands
of confessors. He felt that he had done his work, and he knew now that
that truth which he had been declaring all his life would overwhelm
everything, like a sea, and that nothing would have power to restrain
it. And thus thinking, he raised his eyes, and said: “O Lord, Thou
didst command me to conquer this world-ruling city; hence I have
conquered it. Thou hast commanded me to found here Thy capital; hence I
have founded it. This is Thy city now, O Lord, and I go to Thee, for I
have toiled greatly.”
As he passed before temples, he said to them, “Ye will be temples of
Christ.” Looking at throngs of people moving before his eyes, he said
to them, “Your children will be servants of Christ”; and he advanced
with the feeling that he had conquered, conscious of his service,
conscious of his strength, solaced,—great. The soldiers conducted him
over the Pons Triumphalis, as if giving involuntary testimony to his
triumph, and they led him farther toward the Naumachia and the Circus.
The faithful from beyond the Tiber joined the procession; and such a
throng of people was formed that the centurion commanding the pretonians
understood at last that he was leading a high-priest surrounded by
believers, and grew alarmed because of the small number of soldiers.
But no cry of indignation or rage was given out in the throng. Men’s
faces were penetrated with the greatness of the moment, solemn and full
of expectation. Some believers, remembering that when the Lord died the
earth opened from fright and the dead rose from their graves, thought
that now some evident signs would appear, after which the death of the
Apostle would not be forgotten for ages. Others said to themselves,
“Perhaps the Lord will select the hour of Peter’s death to come from
heaven as He promised, and judge the world.” With this idea they
recommended themselves to the mercy of the Redeemer.
But round about there was calm. The hills seemed to be warming
themselves, and resting in the sun. The procession stopped at last
between the Circus and the Vatican Hill. Soldiers began now to dig a
hole; others placed on the ground the cross, hammers, and nails, waiting
till all preparations were finished. The crowd, continuing quiet and
attentive, knelt round about.
The Apostle, with his head in the
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