THE BURNING OF ROME.*
The Burning of Blow is the most interesting and effective of those stories intended to illustrate the classical epoch of the ancient world, which Mr. Church pours forth in such pro- fusion, and with so keen an eye for the picturesque situations of Greek and Roman history. Whether Nero was or was not the Beast of the Book of Revelations, there certainly never was in the history of man a more vivid contrast between "the Prince of this world" who bad no share at all in the spiritual life, and the impersonation of that life; than that between the young but jaded sensualist who for fourteen years thrilled even the Roman world with disgust for its ruler, and the life of
• The Burning of Rome: a Story of Nero's Days. By the Rev. Alfred J. Church, M.A., lately Professor of Latin in University College, London. With 16 Illustrations. London : Seeley and Co.
`that infant Church which was the only serious competitor with the Roman government for supreme power. Mr. • Church's immediate purpose was perhaps rather to de- lineate the splendid decay of the Empire than to portray the spiritual life which was struggling up amidst the uni- versal rottenness. It is possible that he does not emphasise enough that almost exaggerated spirit of revolt against the hollow and splendid falsehoods of the external world which the Christian Church exhibited in the earlier centuries of its growth. It was no wonder that when such a man as Nero represented the " Prince of this world," the Church should turn away from the world with a sort of loathing, and try to cleanse its spirit thoroughly, before beginning to meddle with the intrigues of worldly motive. But Mr. Church's Christians seem to us somewhat too like the moderate and sober Christians of our own day for a time in which the spirit of the Christian Church was rather one of horror at the depths of degradation reached by human nature in its most worldly attitude, than one of mere anxious and scru- pulous conscientiousness. Whatever else the Book of Reve- lations shows, it shows that the sense of loathing for the.world had risen to a high pitch in the Christian Church when the Beast was portrayed as the true representative of worldly power, pride, and craft. Mr. Church reproduces vigorously enough the disgust with which the higher characters of Rome were filled at the depths of degradation to which more than one of the masters of the Roman Empire had fallen ; but he hardly attempts to depict the horror with which the Christian heart was filled at those manifestations of "the lust of the
flesh, and the lust of the eye, and the pride of life," which were set up on high on the seven hills apparently as a ghastly revelation of " the man of sin." We think that there should have been something more of intensity and passion in the picture of the life of the Christian Church convulsed at once by horror and hope as it beheld the evidence of the last final struggle which was to usher in the great catastrophe of human pageantry and pride.
But the picture of the better Roman scorn for Nero and his Court is quite adequate, though we are not sure that the respect with which Seneca is treated, is deserved. A tutor who had encouraged his pupil to put his own mother to death,—however evil that mother's influence might have been, —could hardly have expected a better end to that pupil's career than Nero actually met with. Nor do we think that the better Stoic teachers would have been likely to encourage Paulina in the voluntary suicide which Seneca applauded his wife for her determination to attempt. The doctrine that the duties of human life constitute a sentinel's post, which men are not to think themselves at liberty to abandon at pleasure, was held by many Stoics, and was a nobler doctrine than that which
Seneca seems to have approved, however difficult it may have been for the Stoic, with his shadowy theology, to have justified it theoretically.
In the description of Nero's ambitions, Nero's very moderate talents, his weak artistic temperament, his petty vanities, his recklessness of any one's welfare but his own, his wounded pride, his brutal violence, and his cowardly cruelties, Professor Church is at his best. We wish he had taken pains to distin- guish the more historical from the less historical elements of his story. The account of Poppasa's supposed interview with St. Paul is, of course, pure conjecture, and a conjecture of which we should probably have had some Christian record or tradition, if it had really taken place. On the other hand, Mr. Church seems to have followed the history tolerably closely in relation to the Piso conspiracy and its collapse. And he gives us also a picturesque and admirable account of the great conflagration which gives the name to his book, though he has assumed as an undoubted fact, the belief of some of the historians that Nero himself set Rome on fire, or, at all events, forbade for many days any energetic effort to put it out. As good a specimen as we can pick out of Mr. Church's work is the picture of " Nero fiddling while Rome was burning :"—
" The palace was not, it was found, in immediate danger. All the efforts of the Watch and of two cohorts of Praetorians, which had been called in to help them, had been directed to saving it. How long it would escape was doubtful. If the wind, which had lulled a little, were to rise again, its destruction was certain. The Emperor would have been disappointed if this destruction had been finally averted. We have seen that one of the great features of the new Rome that he had planned was an Imperial palace far larger and more splendid than anything that the world had ever seen before. Still he was glad of the respite, for it enabled him to put into execution a scheme, extravagantly strange, even for him, which he had conceived during his rapid journey from Antinm to Rome. 'A spectacle,' he thought to himself, and if so, why not a performance ? What a splendid opportunity ! We always feel that there is something of a sham in the scenery of a theatre, but here it will be real. An actual city on fire ! What could be more magnificent? I have it,' he went on after a pause. ' Of course it must be the Rack of Troy. What a pity it is that I did not think of it sooner, and I might have written something worthy of the occasion. The Lesser Iliad is but poor stuff, but we must make the best of it.' This grotesque intention was actually carried out. The first care of the Emperor on reaching the palace was to have a rehearsal of his contemplated performance. If there were any cares of Empire pressing for attention,—and it may be supposed that the ruler of the civilised world returning to his capital had some business to attend to,—they were put aside. The rest of the day Nero spent in practising upon the harp some music of his own composition, while a Greek freedman recited from the Lesser Iliad a passage in which the sack and burning of Troy were related. In the evening the performance took place. A large semicircular room in the upper storey of the palace, commanding from its windows a wide prospect of the city, was hastily fitted up into the rode semblance of a theatre. An audience, which mainly consisted of the Emperor's freedmen and of officers of the Praetorian Guard, sat on chairs ranged round the curve of the chamber. In front of them was the extemporised stage, while the burning city, seen through the windows, formed, with huge masses of smoke and flame, such a background as the most skilful and audacious of scene-painters had never conceived. The performance had been purposely postponed till a late hour in the evening, and no lights were permitted in the room. On the stage were the two figures, the reciter and the Imperial musician, now thrown strongly into relief as some great sheet of flame burst out in the background, and then, as it died away again, becoming almost invisible. An undertone of confused sound accompanied the music throughout. Every now and then the voice of the reciter and the notes of the harp were lost in some shrill cry of agony or the thunderous crash of a falling house. Seldom in the history of the world has there been a stranger mixture of the ludicrous and the terrible than when 'Nero fiddled while Rome was burning.' At one time it was not unlikely that this strange farce might have been turned into a genuine tragedy. Subrius was one of the Praetorian officers invited to witness the performance, and chance had placed him close to the stage. Again and again as the Emperor moved across it, intent upon his music, and certainly unsuspicious of danger, he came within easy reach of the Tribune's arm. Shall I strike ? ' he whispered into the ear of Lateranus, who sat by his side. I can hardly hope for a better chance.' Probably a prompt assent from his com- panion would have decided him ; but Lateranus felt unequal to giving it. He was staggered by the suddenness of the idea. The decision was too momentous, the responsibility too great. Was it right to act without the knowledge of the other conspirators ? Then nothing had been prepared. Nero might be killed, but no arrangements had been made for presenting a successor to the soldiers and to the people. Finally, there was the immediate danger to themselves. It would indeed be a memorable deed to strike down this unworthy ruler in the very act of disgracing the people, to strike him down before the eyes of the creatures who flattered and fawned on him. But could they who did it hope to escape ? The desire of escape,' says the historian who relates the incident, 'is always the foe of great enterprises.' and it checked that night a deed which might have changed the course of history. No ! ' whispered Lateranus in reply, • it is too soon ; nothing, you know, is ready. We shall not fail to find another opportunity.' Half reluctant, half relieved, Subrius abandoned his half-formed purpose. But he could not rid himself of the feeling that he had missed a great chance."
The description of Nero's deliberations with Poppma and Tigellinus is always vivid, and so, too, are the scenes in which Nero examines into the plots against his life, at first allowing himself to be deceived by the plausibility and audacity of the conspirators, and yet at last obtaining the clue by the steady use of which the whole Pig° conspiracy came to its tragic end, not without, however, exciting in the Emperor the deepest sense of dismay at the utter disgust with which his reign had inspired even the best amongst his early friends. In scenes of this kind, Tacitus has been not only a good but a picturesque guide, and Mr. Church has seized upon all the most impressive aspects of the vivid but revolting picture. Here is the catastrophe of a plot which so nearly anticipated the revolt of three years later :— "The Prefect had been bearing himself all the morning, as prisoner after prisoner was being examined, with more than his usual confidence. At last Screvinus, who was again being ques- tioned, when taunted with keeping back much of what he knew, turned upon his persecutor. No one knows more of these things,' he said with a meaning smile, than yourself, Frenius Rufus. You are very jealous for your Emperor ; don't you think that you can show your gratitude to him by making a confession of your own ? ' One would think that the man must have foreseen that, sooner or later, one of the accused would thus attack him. Yet he seemed as utterly unprepared for it as if such a contingency had never occurred to him. He might have flatly denied it; he might have passed over it with a pretence of silent contempt. He did neither. He hesitated, stammered, corrected and contradicted himself, in so manifest a condition of panic, that his very appear- ance was equivalent to a confession. The example once set, Scsevinus did not want for followers. Prisoner after prisoner stood up, and gave details so numerous, so minute, so consistent, as to put the fact of the Prefect's complicity beyond a doubt. Seize him,' cried Nero. • To think that this villain has been sitting unsuspected by my side for days !' A soldier, Cassius by name, a man of gigantic frame and vast strength, stepped forward, seized and bound him. And then,' cried one of the prisoners, `Caesar, there is another conspirator among your guards. I charge Subrius Flavius, Tribune of the Praetorians, with treason.' Nero started up in terror from his chair. His emotion was not mere terror. He knew the Tribune, knew him as a man of singular courage, and as he had always believed one who had always entertained a strong affection for himself. Say, Subrius, I implore you,' he cried, ' say that this is not true. I cannot believe that you, too, are among the traitors.'—' Is it likely, Caesar,' replied the Tribune, that I should league myself with cowards and traitors such as these ?'—The defence may have been serious ; more probably it was ironical. Anyhow it was soon thrown aside. The witnesses heaped up evidence on evidence, and the Tribune, standing calmly and contemptuously silent, tacitly admitted its truth.= Tell me, Subrius,' said the Emperor, and there was even a touch of pathos in his voice, tell me why you have forgotten your oath. You swore to be faithful to me. How is it, brave soldier as you are, that you have leagued yourself with traitors ? Listen, Caesar,' cried the Tribune, and hear the truth if for once only in your life. I conspired against you because I hated you. You had not a more faithful soldier while you deserved to be loved. But when you murdered your mother and your wife, when you became a charioteer, an actor, and an incendiary, then I began to hate you.'—These bold words struck the tyrant like a blow. He grew pale and shook with terror, and could not have been more utterly panic-stricken had the speaker been standing over him with a dagger. Away with him ! ' he cried, when he had recovered his voice ; and he was immediately
pinioned and dragged away. His daring had at least one result that a brave man would have desired. Possibly he had calculated upon it. He was not kept in suspense about his fate. A fellow- tribune was ordered to lead him off to instant execution. A pit was dug in the field where he was to suffer. Subrius looked on with unmoved countenance while the work was being done. When the Centurion in charge saluted and reported it as finished, Subrius looked at it with a critical eye. Too narrow, too shallow !' he said. `You can't even dig a grave according to regulations.'—` Hold out your head, and don't flinch,' said the Tribune, who had been charged to administer the fatal blow with his own hand.= Flinch you as little when you strike,' said Subrius, eyeing with scorn his pale face and trembling hand. And indeed it needed a second blow before the head was severed from the body."
Mr. Church has threaded together the supposed plot of Nero against Rome, and that of Popptea against the Christians, with the plots of the Roman nobles against the Emperor whom they loathed, into a very effective story, which will be read with intense interest by all who care to watch a hideous and cowardly tyranny tottering to its fall, even though we are not presented with any study of the final collapse itself.
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