"Love follows knowledge."
"Beauty above all beauty!"
– St. Catherine of Siena

Wednesday, May 29, 2024

Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero by Henryk Sienkiewicz, Part 10

This is the tenth post of Henryk Sienkiewicz’s historical novel, Quo Vadis.

You can find Post #1 here.  

Post #2 here

Post #3 here.  

Post #4 here

Post #5 here. 

Post #6 here.  

Post #7 here

Post #8 here

Post #9 here.   


 

Chapters 64 thru 71

Summary

One evening a Senator, Scevinus, visits Petronius and openly talks of the dissatisfaction in the Roman people over Nero, and of the potential of overthrowing the emperor.  Petronius warns him about such talk.  Scevinus tells him that the next day will be the last of the Christians to be slaughtered in the games.  Petronius realizes this could be the end of Lygia and decides to make one last effort on Nero.  That night at Nero’s feast, Petronius tells Nero that he will celebrate a wedding feast, the wedding of Lygia and Vinicius which the emperor himself had given permission.  Nero is a little surprised at this, but Tigellinus tells Nero she is still in prison on Nero’s command.  Nero plays along and says they will celebrate the wedding after the last of the games.

The Roman people, tired of the blood sport, still populate the theater knowing they will be coming to an end.  Everyone expects the death of the beautiful Lygia, but they do not know how she would be slaughtered.  Vinicuis, reconciled to her death, comes to perhaps see her one last time, but in his soul he rages for revenge against Nero and hopes for a miracle.  The spectacle begins with Ursus entering into the arena, and everyone marvels at the giant they had heard about.  Hoping to be crucified, Ursus stands in the middle of the arena looking at the crowd, then dropping to his knees to pray.  The crowd howls with disappointment.  The want to see him fight.  Then the trumpets blast and a bull is let into the arena with the unconscious body of Lygia strapped to the bull’s horns.  The crowd gasps, and Ursus in a rush runs to the bull and grabs him by the horns. The bull and the giant lock in a battle of strength, the bull trying to gore Ursus, Ursus trying to twist the bull’s neck.  The amphitheater is in an amazed silence as they watch the deadlock between the man and the beast, neither of the two pushing the other back, both straining to the limit of their strength.  When Ursus’s muscles are ready to yield, the bull’s neck slowly twists until his neck breaks and he dies.  The amphitheater is finally able to breath and then goes wild.  Ursus unties Lygia and carrying her still unconscious body to the podium in front of Nero begs mercy for her.  The crowd, clearly endeared to Ursus, roars and gives the sign for mercy.  Vinicius jumps into the arena and goes beside Ursus and Lygia and shows the scars on his body fighting for Roman wars.  Tigellinus tells Nero to have them slain.  Nero wants to have them slaughtered but becomes afraid of the vociferous crowd, and relents.

Lygia, still unconscious, is taken to Petronius’s house with Vinicius praising God the whole way.  A physician who was dispatched declares that once the fever passes, Lygia should recover.  That night Lygia’s consciousness returns for a moment and then falls back into a sleep.  Vinicius kneels by her all night long in prayer.

Petronius, wanting to find out if there were any further schemes from the palace, goes to visit Nero.  Nero, angry at how the events had turned, does not wish to speak to Petronius, but Petronius tells him to write a poem on the magnanimity of the emperor toward a young maiden.  Nero is pleased with the suggestion and plans to use the subject to glorify himself.  Still when he returns home advises Vinbicius to take Lygia to Sicily.  Vinicius agrees but plans to take her to Pomponia as she recovers.  Vinicius feels an immense happiness.

Christians from across the Rome visit Lygia at Petronius’s home.  The apostle Peter stops by one night.  Vinicius thanks him for all the prayers which led to Lygia’s being saved.  Peter tells him that he expects to be a victim of Nero’s continuing persecutions.  Vinicius implores him to leave Rome and save himself.  But Peter tells Vinicius how the Lord had predicted one day he would be crucified.  Days later, Petronius informs Vinicius that letters of Peter and Paul are found on a Christian soldier, and Tigellinus has set up a search to nab them.  Ursus and Vinicius rush to see Peter and tell him of a means to escape Rome.  Peter, unafraid, is undecided.  He wants to stay in Rome, but his followers have mostly been killed.  After days and nights in uncertainty Peter listens to Linus to leave and convert more followers elsewhere. 

The next day at dawn, two people are walking away from Rome.  One is Peter, who was persuaded to leave Rome, the other is Nazarius.   Peter sees a vague figure in the sunlight up ahead.  Nazarius sees nothing.  Suddenly Peter is astonished to recognize the vague figure as Christ and falls to the ground.  Peter in tears mutters the words, “Quo vadis, Domine?” which means, “where are you going, Lord?”  The answer which only Peter could hear is “If you desert my people, I am going to Rome to be crucified a second time.”  And Peter straightway turns around to return to Rome.  He tells the others that he has seen the Lord.  From then on he goes to the Christian cemetery to preach daily.

Two groups of soldiers are dispensed.  One group arrest Peter and the other Paul.  Even in prison, Peter converts two guards.  On the day before his crucifixion, Peter is flogged.  On the next day he was led to Vatican Hill.  He is too old to be made to carry a cross, but he walks with dignity and majesty.  Satisfied with his life’s work, Peter walks with joy.  As he walks, he envisions the future city that will be the center of the Christian world.  At last he reaches the destination and he prays and blesses the city and the world.  That evening another detachment of soldiers lead Paul outside the city.  He will have more respect since he is a Roman citizen.  He too walks with peace and tranquility.  He thinks back over his life as he walks.  When he reaches the destination of his execution, he places a veil around his head to cover his eyes.

With the Christians finally dispatched, the aristocrats of Rome hatch a plot to assassinate Nero, but Nero is ahead of them and has many of the highest nobles of Rome killed as well as their families.  Even Poppaea is killed.  The Senate trembles in fear.



###

Michelle Comment:

And Nero lost his city to St. Peter!

 

My Reply to Michelle:

Yes. I loved it!

 

Frances Comment:

Those with Bishop Robert Barron’s Word On Fire ministry will be aware that the Institute publishes a journal four times a year. The latest issue, titled ‘’Conversion,” contains a two-page article by essayist Joseph Susanka on Quo Vadis. Here are some lines which I think fit in well with our reading:

 

‘’The years Sienkiewicz spent researching the demise of the Julio-Claudian dynasty and his attentiveness to its chaotic detail give the book both focus and narrative precision. There is a power in the historical particulars that serve as the perfect backdrop to his characters’ lives. . .

 

‘’While the story of Marcus Vinicius’ journey toward the Catholic faith gives the work its narrative thrust, the most powerful image of conversion for me is that of Peter turning back toward Rome, both literally and figuratively. Petrus, the Rock, the leader of Christ’s earthly Church, must be reminded to abandon himself to divine providence, to turn back, to suffer and die, and to be transformed.

 

‘’Returning to Sienkiewicz’s work after years away, that is the most striking message the book offers me. If even St. Peter had strayed far enough from the path of truth to necessitate his Savior’s gentle chiding, how much more so must we answer Christ’s call to be renewed and transformed, again and again, day by day, until we come at last to our final home.

 

‘’Quo Vadis? Where are you going?’’

 

‘’Simon Peter answered him, ‘Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.’ ‘’

 

— Evangelization Culture, Issue No. 18, ‘’Conversion,’’ Winter, 2023, pages 21-23.

Michelle’s  Reply to Frances:

Thank you for posting this excerpt, Frances. That image from the book has really stayed with me.

My Reply to Frances:

Wonderful, Frances. I think I'm finally going to commit and subscribe to Bishop Barron's journal. I find him the most solid of the Catholic voices speaking out there, neither part of the hermeneutic of rupture of the liberals nor the hermeneutic of suspicion of the reactionary conservatives. He is what Catholicism should be.

Frances’s Reply to Me:

Well said, Manny. I agree. Candidly, I don’t know how Bishop Barron produces all that he does, and all of high quality. For those interested in joining the Word On Fire Institute, dues are $27 a month. But there are many low cost items available, too. Right now his Lenten booklet is being offered free of charge, with only a shipping fee.

My Comment:

I had no clue how the climatic scene of Lygia and Ursus in the arena would happen.  Normally I try to look ahead of a book and know the rough outline so that I can understand the writer as the scenes develop.  For this book, I’ve known nothing nor tried to read a summary somewhere.  The Ursus and Lygia scene in the arena with the bull was breathtaking.  I had no idea that was to develop, and I had no idea how it would resolve as I read.  In that moment of Ursus and the bull locked in a death struggle I was in stunned anticipation.  I could see it going in many directions.  When Ursus won and brought Lygia’s unconscious body to the emperor’s podium and begged for her mercy—not even his—I was literally in tears.  I had joined the Roman spectators in the amphitheater, totally rooting for Ursus.  What masterful writing! 

 

I have not finished the novel, but it seems to me the Ursus struggle with the bull scene was the climax of the story, and from there on a denouement to tidy up loose ends.  Peter and Paul’s executions are part of that “tidying up.” 

 

On the other hand, Peter seeing the Lord who speaks the words that would become the novel's title seems significant enough to be a climax.  But ultimately I would argue that it's not the climax.  The novel starts with Vinicius, Petronius, Lygia, and Ursus.  Peter is really a supporting role.

 

On that note, I was surprised that neither Peter’s nor Paul’s execution was narrated.  Sienkiewicz narrated all the way to the executions but he does not show them.  They were sort of off-stage.  Was that out of respect for the great apostles?  He narrated lots of other deaths and gore.  He wasn’t shy about it before this.  I was a little surprised actually.

 


The movies take great liberties with the novel, but I include video clips despite they are not truly reflective of how they are rendered.

###

The first excerpt is from that climatic scene where Ursus is pushed into the amphitheater and Lygia is let in unconscious strapped to a bull.  I cannot excerpt the entire scene since it is too long, but the beginning is so well written that I’ll start there and let you read how it concludes on your own.

 

Vinicius shook his head. He might die in that amphitheatre, but he could not go out of it. Moreover the spectacle might begin any moment.

 

In fact, at that very instant almost, the prefect of the city waved a red handkerchief, the hinges opposite Cæsar's podium creaked, and out of the dark gully came Ursus into the brightly lighted arena.

 

The giant blinked, dazed evidently by the glitter of the arena; then he pushed 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 that he was the man who had stifled Croton; hence at sight of him a murmur passed along every bench. In Rome there was no lack of gladiators larger by far than the common measure of man, but Roman eyes had never seen the like of Ursus. Cassius, standing in Cæsar's podium, seemed puny compared with that Lygian. Senators, vestals, Cæsar, the Augustians, and the people gazed with the delight of experts at his mighty limbs as large as tree-trunks, at his breast as large as two shields joined together, and his arms of a Hercules. The murmur rose every instant. For those multitudes there could be no higher pleasure than to look at those muscles in play in the exertion of a struggle. The murmur rose to shouts, and eager questions were put: "Where do the people live who can produce such a giant?" He stood there, in the middle of the amphitheatre, naked, more like a stone colossus than a man, with a collected expression, and at the same time the sad look of a barbarian; and while surveying the empty arena, he gazed wonderingly with his blue childlike eyes, now at the spectators, now at Cæsar, now at the grating of the cunicula, whence, as he thought, his executioners would come.

 

At the moment when he stepped into the arena his simple heart was beating for the last time with the hope that perhaps a cross was waiting for him; but when he saw neither the cross nor the hole in which it might be put, he thought that he was unworthy of such favor,—that he would find death in another way, and surely from wild beasts. He was unarmed, and had determined to die as became a confessor of the "Lamb," peacefully and patiently. Meanwhile he wished to pray once more to the Saviour; so he knelt on the arena, joined his hands, and raised his eyes toward the stars which were glittering in the lofty opening of the amphitheatre.

 

That act displeased the crowds. They had had enough of those Christians who died like sheep. They understood that if the giant would not defend himself the spectacle would be a failure. Here and there hisses were heard. Some began to cry for scourgers, whose office it was to lash combatants unwilling to fight. But soon all had grown silent, for no one knew what was waiting for the giant, nor whether he would not be ready to struggle when he met death eye to eye.

 

In fact, they had not long to wait. Suddenly the shrill sound of brazen trumpets was heard, and at that signal a grating opposite Cæsar's podium was opened, and into the arena rushed, amid shouts of beast-keepers, an enormous 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 feels a 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 moment with 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 emptiness possessed him. In his head there remained not a thought; his lips merely repeated, as if in madness,—

 

"I believe! I believe! I believe!"

 

This time the amphitheatre was silent. The Augustians rose in their places, as one man, for in the arena something uncommon had happened. That Lygian, obedient and ready to die, when he saw his queen on the horns of the wild beast, sprang up, as if touched by living fire, and bending forward he ran at the raging animal.

 

From all breasts a sudden cry of amazement was heard, after which came deep silence.

 

The Lygian fell on the raging bull in a twinkle, and seized him by the horns.

 

"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 heard on the wing. People could not believe their own eyes. Since Rome was Rome, no one had seen such a spectacle.

 

The Lygian held the wild beast by the horns. The man's feet sank in the sand to his ankles, his back was bent like a drawn bow, his head was hidden between his shoulders, on his arms the muscles came out so that the skin almost burst from their pressure; but he had stopped the bull in his tracks. And the man and the beast remained so still that the spectators thought themselves looking at a picture showing a deed of Hercules or Theseus, or a group hewn from stone. But in that apparent repose there was a tremendous exertion of two struggling forces. The bull 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 the two would fail first, which would fall first,—that was the question for those spectators enamoured of such struggles; a question which at that moment meant more for them than their own fate, than all Rome and its lordship over the world. That Lygian was in their eyes then a demigod worthy of honor and statues. Cæsar himself stood up as well as others. He and Tigellinus, hearing of the man's strength, had arranged this spectacle purposely, and said to each other with a jeer, "Let that slayer of Croton kill the bull which we choose for him"; so they looked now with amazement at that picture, as if not believing that it could be real.


 

###

For the second excerpt, I’m going to post the moment where Peter, trying to escape Rome, encounters Christ who asks him where he is going?  It is where the title of the novel comes.  Peter in remorse turns around and goes back to Rome to be with the remaining Christians and, of course, face martyrdom.  The short, staccato, mostly one sentence paragraphs in this scene hits the reader in the gut.   It’s a most moving scene.

 

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.

 

###

I wish I could excerpt the executions of Saints Peter and Paul, but that would be too long.  You will just have to read the novel on your own then.




Monday, May 27, 2024

Poetry Analysis: “Rouge Bouquet” by Joyce Kilmer

I post this poem in honor of Memorial Day.  I don’t think I have ever heard of the poet Joyce Kilmer.  But I stumbled across this poem and thought it fitting for a Memorial Day commemoration. 

According to Wikipedia, Kilmer was born in New Jersey, published several books of poetry, volunteered for World War I in the United States Army, and was killed by a sniper in France in July of 1918, some three and a half months before the war would end.  Though relatively forgotten today, he was a poet of some distinction in his day.  He wrote on his Catholic faith and was compared to his contemporary in England, G.K. Chesterton.  The one poem he is remembered for today is a poem called “Trees,” but frankly I thought “Rouge Bouquet” to be much better poem. 

 

Rouge Bouquet

By Joyce Kilmer

 

In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet

There is a new-made grave to-day,

Build by never a spade nor pick

Yet covered with earth ten metres thick.

There lie many fighting men,

    Dead in their youthful prime,

Never to laugh nor love again

    Nor taste the Summertime.

For Death came flying through the air

And stopped his flight at the dugout stair,

Touched his prey and left them there,

    Clay to clay.

He hid their bodies stealthily

In the soil of the land they fought to free

    And fled away.

Now over the grave abrupt and clear

    Three volleys ring;

And perhaps their brave young spirits hear

    The bugle sing:

“Go to sleep!

Go to sleep!

Slumber well where the shell screamed and fell.

Let your rifles rest on the muddy floor,

You will not need them any more.

Danger’s past;

Now at last,

Go to sleep!”

 

There is on earth no worthier grave

To hold the bodies of the brave

Than this place of pain and pride

Where they nobly fought and nobly died.

Never fear but in the skies

Saints and angels stand

Smiling with their holy eyes

    On this new-come band.

St. Michael’s sword darts through the air

And touches the aureole on his hair

As he sees them stand saluting there,

    His stalwart sons;

And Patrick, Brigid, Columkill

Rejoice that in veins of warriors still

    The Gael’s blood runs.

And up to Heaven’s doorway floats,

    From the wood called Rouge Bouquet,

A delicate cloud of buglenotes

    That softly say:

“Farewell!

Farewell!

Comrades true, born anew, peace to you!

And your memory shine like the morning-star.

Brave and dear,

Shield us here.

Farewell!”

The poem is wonderfully set to music in this video,  I really enjoyed this, and highlights the musicality of the poem.


The poem is divided into two halves.  The first half identifies the woods called Rouge Bouquet where a number of soldiers lost their lives in a battle.  The second half commemorates their sacrifice from the viewpoint of those in heaven.  Both halves end with a stream of bugle notes, endowing the melody with song lyrics.

The meter is roughly iambic, but the length of each line varies.  It has a ballad sense, coming I think from the alternating four and three feet lines.  I suspect the poem was written while Kilmer was a soldier and perhaps published posthumously without editing.  But I’m only speculating.  The poem is fine in its improvisational style.

The central image I think is the name given to the woods, Rouge Bouquet.  Rouge alludes to the red blood that is spilled, and bouquet imagines the trees of the woods as a bouquet of flowers, a bouquet that would be placed on grave sites.  So the woods become the cemetery of which the soldiers are buried.

The bugle plays two songs, one for each half of the poem.  Both are melancholic.  The first song coaxes the dead to eternal rest.

 

“Go to sleep!

Go to sleep!

Slumber well where the shell screamed and fell.

Let your rifles rest on the muddy floor,

You will not need them any more.

Danger’s past;

Now at last,

Go to sleep!”

The second song bids the fallen adieu and will be honored in our collective memory.

 

“Farewell!

Farewell!

Comrades true, born anew, peace to you!

And your memory shine like the morning-star.

Brave and dear,

Shield us here.

Farewell!”

Kilmer in the second half has St. Michael, the archangel, a sort of military angel himself, welcome the dead souls into heaven. 

I also loved this quatrain from the first half for its elegance:

 

For Death came flying through the air

And stopped his flight at the dugout stair,

Touched his prey and left them there,

    Clay to clay.

That is a nice, poetic way of saying unto dust you returned, the clay of flesh to the clay of earth. 

Perhaps the poem was apocryphal.  Joyce Kilmer himself would shortly be killed and returned to clay.


May we remember all those who have died for our country.





Sunday, May 26, 2024

Sunday Meditation: The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

The Easter season has ended and we are back into Ordinary Time.  [As an aside, Ordinary Time does not mean it is ordinary, but that it is numbered, as in ordinal numbers.  There is an ordinal number associated with each week.]  Technically I think we are in the eighth week of Ordinary Time, but the week after Pentecost is fixed for the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity.  The Gospel reading is quite short.  It’s the first mentioning of the Trinity in scripture.

 

The eleven disciples went to Galilee,

to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them.

When they all saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted.

Then Jesus approached and said to them,

"All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me.

Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations,

baptizing them in the name of the Father,

and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,

teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.

And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age."

~Mt 28:16-20

This is the homily I think most priests fear, trying to explain the Trinity.  It has been aid that if a priest speaks for more than ten minutes on the Trinity, he will slip unknowingly into heresy.  After scanning a dozen homilies and explanations of the Trinity, I’m not sure which one I should embed.  Let’s go with Bishop Barron.

 

 

Confused?  Perhaps Jeff Cavins makes it cleaner.

 



How about a third.  This is even simpler, from John Michael Talbot.

 


 

Sunday Meditation: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

 

Let’s not worried about understanding the Trinity.  Let’s just embrace Him.