Impossible. Passing his hand over his eyes, he looked again, trying to prove to himself it was not so. The Eternal City was
aflame. Huge pillars of the blackest smoke surged into the
sky. It seemed the entire city was enveloped in a fire unlike
any other. It cannot be real.
Even with the buildings he had seen aflame, and the
crowds of fleeing people, he never imagined it was a disaster
of this scale. His heart seemed to stop cold. Standing horror-
stricken, he could not grasp it. Sweat poured off his face.
Then hope sparked within him. He lifted his head toward
the south where his villa rested, tucked away in the country.
All is not lost. Turning back to the city, he wondered if his
cisterns were still intact.
The cistern! He beat a fist into his hand. Gallons of water
amid a burning city. I hold the key to save Rome!
Without another moment lost, he dropped his cloak
and rushed toward the fire. Dodging hundreds of destitute
citizens, he raced to reach the city before it was too late.
Many continued to flee, frustrating his journey and forcing
him to lose time.
As he neared the city, his heart raced. From a distance the
fire appeared as a mirage, or a fantasy. Now as he drew close,
and felt the heat of the flames, he was convinced it was real.
Flames consumed his homeland.
He pushed his way through the city, bound by urgency.
Many streets were impassable because of the throngs or the
fire itself. Scores of desperate souls poured from every corner,
running over each other. Old men and the weak struggled to
outrun the flames, while many fell never to rise again.
Smoke encompassed him like a dense fog, clouding his
sight and stifling his breath. Ripping his sleeve he held the cloth to his mouth and ran.
At last he came to the street where his cistern stood,
but the flames blocked every entrance. Rushing around the
corner, he found only one path that seemed passable. He
braced his feet and clenched his teeth. Taking a deep breath, he darted into the fiery street, jumping over burning heaps of wood. He leaped to the side just as flaming debris fell from a rooftop. His eyes widened as he confronted a wall of flames just ahead.
Suddenly, a hole opened itself in the far corner. He shot
straight for it, never stopping however intensely he wished to.
Holding his breath, he rushed through the burning wall. The
flames licked at his skin, yet he plunged out the other side,
alive.
As this excerpt from Maximus: The Quest for Greatness depicts, The Great Fire of Rome was a fire unlike any the city had ever known. It began on this day exactly 1,960 years ago on July 18th, 64 AD. From the shops below the Circus Maximus, the flames swept through the city like a river of fire, drowning anyone found in its wake. Like an untameable beast, it struck where it pleased. It lowered palaces, struck down insulae, burned temples, and brought a show to the theaters unlike any other. Rome was the World, and the World was on fire.
Roman historians and the common opinion of the people blamed Nero for the blaze. This was a man who had his own mother, wife, and many of his trusted advisers murdered. A maniacal Emperor was definitely capable of murdering his own citizens. Perhaps he wished to have a city built in his own likeness: Neropolis. Reports surfaced of men keeping anyone from extinguishing the fire. They claimed to have authority. While the city blazed below, Nero was said to be singing in jest of the destruction of Troy, comparing it to his own city in flames.
Modern politician Rahm Emmanuel said, “Never let a crisis go to waste”. Amidst the cleared rubble, Nero constructed a magnificent palace for himself called the Domos Aurea, or “Golden House”. His architects designed streets with wider roads and orderly street blocks. They built insulae stronger and safer with fewer stories, fountains in every courtyard, and front battlements for ease of fighting flames. However terrible the flames had been, their destruction paved the way for a grander city.
To please the populace during the fire, Caesar opened the field of Mars, and the imperial gardens as places of refuge. He distributed grain and a portion of his treasury to the people.
Despite Nero’s aid to the people of Rome, they turned against him. To sidestep his guilt, he chose a scapegoat. He threw all blame of the fire on an unlikely group called The Way. On July 24, he initiated the terrible scourge, the first systematic state-sponsored persecution of Christians. Although we don’t know how many believers Nero killed, their number likely included the Apostles Paul and Peter. Persecution of Christians would continue among future Caesars, but the Church grew steadily all across the Empire and the world.
