Christianity now in the world which is accused of gross superstition, of
borrowing its rites and customs from the heathen, and of ascribing to
forms and ceremonies an occult virtue; a religion which is considered to
burden and enslave the mind by its requisitions, to address itself to
the weak-minded and ignorant, to be supported by sophistry and
imposture, and to contradict reason and exalt mere irrational faith; a
religion which impresses on the serious mind very distressing views of
the guilt and consequences of sin, sets upon the minute acts of the day,
one by one, their definite value for praise or blame, and thus casts a
grave shadow over the future; a religion which holds up to admiration
the surrender of wealth, and disables serious persons from enjoying it
if they would; a religion, the doctrines of which, be they good or bad,
are to the generality of men unknown; which is considered to bear on its
very surface signs of folly and falsehood so distinct that a glance
suffices to judge of it, and that careful examination is preposterous;
which is felt to be so simply bad that it may be calumniated at hazard
and at pleasure, it being nothing but absurdity to stand upon the
accurate distribution of its guilt among its particular acts, or
painfully to determine how far this or that story concerning it is
literally true, or what has to be allowed in candor, or what is
improbable, or what cuts two ways, or what is not proved, or what may be
plausibly defended; a religion such that men look at a convert to it
with a feeling which no other denomination raises except Judaism,
socialism, or Mormonism--namely, with curiosity, suspicion, fear,
disgust, as the case may be, as if something strange had befallen him,
as if he had had an initiation into a mystery, and had come into
communion with dreadful influences, as if he were now one of a
confederacy which claimed him, absorbed him, stripped him of his
personality, reduced him to a mere organ or instrument of a whole; a
religion which men hate as proselytizing, anti-social, revolutionary, as
dividing families, separating chief friends, corrupting the maxims of
government, making a mock at law, dissolving the empire, the enemy of
human nature, and a "conspirator against its rights and privileges"; a
religion which they consider the champion and instrument of darkness,
and a pollution calling down upon the land the anger of heaven; a
religion which they associate with intrigue and conspiracy, which they
speak about in whispers, which they detect by anticipation in whatever
goes wrong, and to which they impute whatever is unaccountable; a
religion, the very name of which they cast out as evil, and use simply
as a bad epithet, and which from the impulse of self-preservation they
would persecute if they could--if there be such a religion now in the
world, it is not unlike Christianity as that same world viewed it when
first it came forth from its divine Author.
BURNING OF ROME UNDER NERO
A.D. 64
SIENKIEWICZ TACITUS
Nero when a youth was placed under charge of the philosopher
Seneca, who carefully attended to his education. During Nero's
nonage he was persevering in his studies and made great progress in
Greek. By a subterfuge of his mother's he was proclaimed emperor in
the place of Britannicus, the real heir to the throne. In the early
part of his reign public affairs were wisely conducted, but the
private life of Nero was given up to vice and profligacy. His love
for Poppæa led him into the crime of matricide, for she, wishing to
share the imperial throne, and knowing it was impossible while his
mother, Agrippina, lived, induced him to authorize her
assassination. Strange that Seneca and Burrhus should have approved
of this, yet Tacitus admits that such was the case. In the eighth
year of his reign Nero divorced his wife, Octavia, and married
Poppæa.
Nero was an accomplished musician and sang verses composed by
himself. He eagerly sought the plaudits of the multitude by
reciting his compositions in public. Historians are divided in
opinion as to whether Nero was the cause of the burning of Rome.
During the conflagration, to court popularity he ordered temporary
shelters to be provided for the houseless; yet the people did not
acclaim this deed, as it was reported that Nero, at "the very time
Rome was in flames," sang the destruction of Troy in his private
theatre, likening the present disaster to that ancient catastrophe.
In order to divert the masses from what they believed the true
origin of the fire, Nero charged it upon the Christians, many
hundreds of whom were sacrificed to his fury. He was the last of
the Cæsars, and died by his own hand amid universal execrations, in
June, A.D. 68, four years after the destruction of Rome.
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ
The fire began at the Circus Maximus, in that section which touches the
Palatine and Cælian hill; it rushed on with inconceivable rapidity and
fastened upon the whole centre of Rome. Since the time of Brennus never
had the city witnessed such an awful catastrophe.
A freedman of Cæsar's, Phaon by name, ran panting into Nero's presence,
shrieking: "Rome is in flames! the conflagration is great."
All Cæsar's guests arose from their recumbent attitude. "Ye gods! I
shall see a burning city; now can I finish the _Troyade_," exclaimed
Nero, placing his lute aside. "If I go at once, can I view the fire?"
"My lord, the whole city is as a sea of flame; the smoke is
suffocatingly heavy and is destroying the people. The inhabitants faint
away or rashly cast themselves into the fire, maddened with terror. All
Rome perishes." And Nero raised his hands and cried, "Woe, woe to thee,
thou sacred city of Priam!"
Fires were frequent enough in Rome; during these conflagrations violence
and robbery were rampant, particularly so in those sections of the city
inhabited by needy half-barbarian peoples, a folk comprising rabble from
every part of the world. The fear of servile rebellion was like a
nightmare, which had stifled Rome for many years. It was believed that
hundreds of thousands of those people were thinking of the times of
Spartacus, and merely waiting for a favorable moment to seize arms
against their oppressors and Rome. Now the moment had come! Perhaps war
and slaughter were raging in the city together with fire.
It was possible even that the prætorians had hurled themselves on the
city and were slaughtering at command of Cæsar. And that moment the hair
rose on Vinicius' head from terror. He recalled all the conversations
about burning cities which for some time had been repeated at Cæsar's
court with wonderful persistence; well he recalled Cæsar's complaints
that he was forced to describe a burning city without having seen an
actual fire; his contemptuous answer to Tigellinus, who offered to burn
Antium or an artificial wooden city; finally, his complaints against
Rome, and the pestilential alleys of the Subura.
Yes; truly Cæsar has commanded the burning of the city! Only he could
give such a command, as Tigellinus alone could accomplish it. But if
Rome is burning at command of Cæsar, who can be sure that the population
will not be slaughtered at his command? The monster is capable of just
such a deed. Conflagration, a servile revolt, and slaughter! What a
horrible chaos, what a letting loose of destructive elements and horrid,
universal frenzy!
The night had paled long since, the dawn had passed into light, and on
all the nearer summits golden, rosy gleams were shining, which might
come either from burning Rome or the rising daylight. Vinicius ran to
the hill, the summit was reached, and then a terrible sight struck his
eyes.
All the lower region was covered with smoke, forming, as it were, one
gigantic cloud lying close to the earth. In this cloud towns, aqueducts,
villas, trees, disappeared; but farther beyond this gray, ghastly plain
the city was burning on the hills. The conflagration had not the form of
a pillar of fire, as happens when a single building is burning, even
when of the greatest size. That was a long belt, rather, shaped like the
belt of dawn. Above this belt rose a wave of smoke, in places entirely
black, in places looking rose-colored, in places like blood, in places
turning in on itself, in some places inflated, in others squeezed and
squirming, like a serpent which is unwinding and extending.
That monstrous wave seemed at times to cover even the belt of fire,
which became then as narrow as a ribbon; but later this ribbon
illuminated the smoke from beneath, changing its lower rolls into waves
of flame. The two extended from one side of the sky to the other, hiding
its lower part, as at times a stretch of forest hides the horizon. The
Sabine hills were not visible in the least.
It seemed at the first glance of the eye that not only the city was
burning, but the whole world, and that no living being could save itself
from that ocean of flame and smoke. The wind blew with increasing
strength from the region of the fire, bringing the smell of burnt things
and of smoke, which began to hide even nearer objects. Clear daylight
had come, and the sun lighted up the summits surrounding the Alban Lake.
But the bright golden rays of the morning appeared reddish and sickly
through the haze. Vinicius, while descending toward Albanum, entered
smoke which was denser, less and less transparent. The town itself was
buried in it thoroughly. The alarmed citizens had moved out to the
street. It was a terror to think of what might be in Rome, when it was
difficult to breathe in Albanum.
He met increasing numbers of people, who had deserted the city and were
going to the Alban hills; they had escaped the fire and wished to go
beyond the line of smoke. Before he had reached Ustrinum he had to
slacken his pace because of the throng. Besides pedestrians with bundles
on their backs he met horses with packs, mules and vehicles laden with
effects, and finally litters in which slaves were bearing the wealthier
citizens. The town of Ustrinum was so thronged with fugitives from Rome
that it was difficult to push through the crowd. On the market square,
under temple porticos, and on the streets were swarms of fugitives.
Here and there people were erecting tents under which whole families
were to find shelter. Others settled down under the naked sky, shouting,
calling on the gods, or cursing the Fates. In the general terror it was
difficult to inquire about anything. New crowds of men, women, and
children arrived from the direction of Rome every moment; these
increased the disorder and outcry. Some, gone astray in the throng,
sought desperately those whom they had lost; others fought for a camping
place.
Half-crazy shepherds from the Campania crowded to the town to hear news,
or find profit in plunder made easy by the uproar. Here and there crowds
of slaves of every nationality and gladiators fell to robbing houses and
villas in the town, and to fighting with the soldiers who appeared in
defence of the citizens.
Junius, a friend of Vinicius, said, after a moment's hesitation, in a
low voice: "I know that thou wilt not betray me, so I will tell thee
that this is no common fire. People were not permitted to save the
Circus. When houses began to burn in every direction, I myself heard
thousands of voices exclaiming, 'Death to those who save!' Certain
people ran through the city and hurled burning torches into buildings.
"On the other hand, people are revolting and crying that the city is
burning at command. I can say nothing more. Woe to the city, woe to us
all and to me! The tongue of man cannot tell what is happening there.
People are perishing in flames or slaying one another in the throng.
This is the end of Rome!"
Vinicius, nearing the walls, found it easier to reach Rome than
penetrate to the middle of the city. It was difficult to push along the
Appian Way, because of the throng of people. Houses, cemeteries, fields,
gardens, and temples, lying on both sides of it, were turned into
camping places. In the temple of Mars, which stood near the Porta Appia,
the crowd had thrown down the doors, so as to find a refuge within
during night hours. In the cemeteries the larger monuments were seized,
and battles fought in defence of them, which were carried to bloodshed.
Ustrinum with its disorder gave barely a slight foretaste of that which
was happening beneath the walls of the capital.
All regard for the dignity of law, for family ties, for difference of
position, had ceased. Gladiators drunk with wine seized in the Emporium,
gathered in crowds and ran with wild shouts through the neighboring
squares, trampling, scattering, and robbing the people. A multitude of
barbarian slaves, exposed for sale in the city, escaped from the booths.
For them the burning and ruin of Rome were at once the end of slavery
and the hour of revenge; so that when the permanent inhabitants, who had
lost all they owned in the fire, stretched their hands to the gods in
despair, calling for rescue, these slaves with howls of delight
scattered the crowds, dragged clothing from people's backs, and bore
away the younger women. They were joined by other slaves serving in the
city from of old, wretches who had nothing on their bodies save woollen
girdles around their hips, dreadful figures from the alleys, who were
hardly ever seen on the streets in the daytime, and whose existence in
Rome it was difficult to suspect.
Men of this wild and unrestrained crowd--Asiatics, Africans, Greeks,
Thracians, Germans, Britons--howling in every language of the earth,
raged, thinking that the hour had come in which they were free to reward
themselves for years of misery and suffering. In the midst of that
surging throng of humanity, in the glitter of day and of fire, shone the
helmets of prætorians, under whose protection the more peaceable
population had taken refuge, and who in hand-to-hand battle had to meet
the raging multitude in many places. Vinicius had seen captured cities,
but never had his eyes beheld a spectacle in which despair, tears, pain,
groans, wild delight, madness, rage, and license were mingled together
in such immeasurable chaos. Above this heaving, mad human multitude
roared the fire, surging up to the hill-tops of the greatest city on
earth, sending into the whirling throng its fiery breath, and covering
it with smoke, through which it was impossible to see the blue sky.
The young tribune with supreme effort, and exposing his life every
moment, forced his way at last to the Appian Gate; but there he saw that
he could not reach the city through the division of the Porta Capena,
not merely because of the throng, but also because of the terrible heat
from which the whole atmosphere was quivering inside the gate. Besides,
the bridge at the Porta Trigenia, opposite the temple of the Bona Dea,
did not exist yet, hence those who wished to go beyond the Tiber had to
pass through to the Pons Sublicius--that is, to pass around the Aventine
through a part of the city covered now with one sea of flame. That was
an impossibility. Vinicius understood that he must return toward
Ustrinum, turn from the Appian Way, cross the river below the city, and
go to the Via Portuensis, which led straight to the Trans-Tiber.
That was not easy because of the increasing disorder on the Appian Way.
At the fountain of Mercury, however, he saw a centurion who was known to
him. This man, at the head of a few tens of soldiers, was defending the
precinct of the temple; he commanded him to follow. Recognizing a
tribune and an Augustian, the centurion did not dare to disobey the
order.
He and his men were followed by curses and a shower of stones; but to
these he gave no heed, caring only to reach freer spaces at the
earliest. Still he advanced with the greatest effort. People who had
encamped would not move, and heaped loud curses on Cæsar and the
prætorians. The throng assumed in places a threatening aspect. Thousands
of voices accused Nero of burning the city. He and Poppæa were
threatened with death. Shouts of "Buffoon, actor, matricide!" were heard
round about. Some shouted to drag him to the Tiber; others that Rome had
shown patience enough. It was clear that were a leader found these
threats could be changed into open rebellion which might break out any
moment.
Meanwhile the rage and despair of the crowd turned against the
prætorians, who for another reason could not make their way out of the
crowd: the road was blocked by piles of goods, borne from the fire
previously, boxes, barrels of provisions, furniture the most costly,
vessels, infants' cradles, beds, carts, hand-packs. Here and there they
fought hand-to-hand; but the prætorians conquered the weaponless
multitude easily. After they had ridden with difficulty across the Viæ
Latina, Numitia, Ardea, Lavinia, and Ostia, and passed around villas,
gardens, cemeteries, and temples, Vinicius reached at last a village
called Vicus Alexandri, beyond which he crossed the Tiber. There was
more open space at this spot and less smoke. From fugitives, of whom
there was no lack even there, he learned that only certain alleys of the
Trans-Tiber were burning, but that surely nothing could resist the fury
of the conflagration, since people were spreading the fire purposely,
and permitted no one to quench it, declaring that they acted at command.
The young tribune had not the least doubt then that Cæsar had given
command to burn Rome; and the vengeance which people demanded seemed to
him just and proper. What more could Mithradates or any of Rome's most
inveterate enemies have done? The measure had been exceeded; his madness
had grown to be too enormous, and the existence of people too difficult
because of him. All believed that Nero's hour had struck, that those
ruins into which the city was falling should and must overwhelm the
monstrous buffoon together with all those crimes of his. Should a man be
found of courage sufficient to stand at the head of the despairing
people, that might happen in a few hours. Here vengeful and daring
thoughts began to fly through his head. But if he should do that?
The family of Vinicius, which till recent times counted a whole series
of consuls, was known throughout Rome. The crowds needed only a name.
Once, when four hundred slaves of the prefect Pedanius Secundus were
sentenced, Rome reached the verge of rebellion and civil war. What would
happen to-day in view of a dreadful calamity surpassing almost
everything which Rome had undergone in the course of eight centuries?
Whoever calls the _quirites_ to arms, thought Vinicius, will overthrow
Nero undoubtedly, and clothe himself in purple.
The Trans-Tiber was full of smoke, and crowds of fugitives made it more
difficult to reach the interior of the place, since people, having more
time there, had saved greater quantities of goods. The main street
itself was in many parts filled completely, and around the Naumachia
Augusta great heaps were piled up. Narrow alleys, in which smoke had
collected more densely, were simply impassable. The inhabitants were
fleeing in thousands. On the way Vinicius saw wonderful sights. More
than once two rivers of people, flowing in opposite directions, met in a
narrow passage, stopped each other, men fought hand-to-hand, struck and
trampled one another. Families lost one another in the uproar; mothers
called on their children despairingly. The young tribune's hair stood on
end at thought of what must happen nearer the fire.
Amid shouts and howls it was difficult to inquire about anything or
understand what was said. At times new columns of smoke from beyond the
river rolled toward them, smoke black and so heavy that it moved near
the ground, hiding houses, people, and every object, just as night does.
The fervor of a July day, increased by the heat of the burning parts of
the city, became unendurable. Smoke pained the eyes; breath failed in
men's breasts. Even the inhabitants who, hoping that the fire would not
cross the river, had remained in their houses so far, began to leave
them, and the throng increased hourly. The prætorians accompanying
Vinicius were in the rear. In the crush some one wounded his horse with
a hammer; the beast threw up its bloody head, reared, and refused
obedience. The crowd recognized in Vinicius an Augustian by his rich
tunic, and at once cries were raised round about, "Death to Nero and his
incendiaries!" This was a moment of terrible danger; hundreds of hands
were stretched toward Vinicius; but his frightened horse bore him away,
trampling people as he went, and the next moment a new wave of black
smoke rolled in and filled the street with darkness. Vinicius, seeing
that he could not ride past, sprang to the earth and rushed forward on
foot, slipping along walls, and at times waiting till the fleeing
multitude passed him. He said to himself in spirit that these were vain
efforts.
At times he stopped and rubbed his eyes. Tearing off the edge of his
tunic, he covered his nose and mouth with it and ran on. As he
approached the river the heat increased terribly. Vinicius, knowing that
the fire had begun at the Circus Maximus, thought at first that that
heat came from its cinders and from the Forum Boarium and the Velabrum,
which, situated near by, must be also in flames. But the heat was
growing unendurable. One old man on crutches and fleeing, the last whom
Vinicius noticed, cried: "Go not near the bridge of Cestius! The whole
island is on fire!" It was, indeed, impossible to be deceived any
longer. At the turn toward the Vicus Judæorum the young tribune saw
flames amid clouds of smoke. Not only the island was burning, but the
Trans-Tiber and the other end of the street on which he ran.
The thunder of the flames was more terrible than the roar of wild
beasts, and the hour had come now in which he must think of his own
safety, for the river of fire was flowing nearer and nearer from the
direction of the island, and rolls of smoke covered the alley almost
completely. The taper which he carried was quenched from the current of
air. Vinicius rushed to the street, and ran at full speed toward the Via
Portuensis, whence he had come; the fire seemed to pursue him with
burning breath, now surrounding him with fresh clouds of smoke, now
covering him with sparks, which fell on his hair, neck, and clothing.
The tunic began to smoulder on him in places; he cared not, but ran
forward lest he might be stifled from smoke. He had the taste of soot
and burning in his mouth; his throat and lungs were as if on fire. The
blood rushed to his head, and at moments all things, even the smoke
itself, seemed red to him.
Then he thought: "This is living fire! Better throw myself upon the
ground and quickly perish." The running tortured him more and more. His
head, neck, and shoulders were streaming with sweat, which scalded like
boiling water.
But he ran on as if drunk, staggering from one side of the street to the
other. Meanwhile something changed in that monstrous conflagration which
had embraced the giant city. Everything which till then had only
glimmered, burst forth visibly into one sea of flame; the wind had
ceased to bring smoke. That smoke which had collected in the streets
was borne away by a mad whirl of heated air. That whirl drove with it
millions of sparks, so that Vinicius was running in a fiery cloud, as it
were. But he was able to see before him all the better, and in a moment,
almost when he was ready to fall, he saw the end of the street. That
sight gave him fresh strength. Passing the corner, he found himself in a
street which led to the Via Portuensis and the Codetan Field. The sparks
ceased to drive him. He understood that if he could run to the Via
Portuensis he was safe, even were he to faint on it.
At the end of the street he saw again a cloud, as it seemed, which
stopped the exit. "If that is smoke," thought he, "I cannot pass." He
ran with the remnant of his strength. On the way he threw off his tunic,
which, on fire from the sparks, was burning him like the shirt of
Nessus, having only a _capitium_ around his head and before his mouth.
When he had run farther, he saw that what he had taken for smoke was
dust, from which rose a multitude of cries and voices.