Quo Vadis: A Narrative of the Time of Nero

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  Produced by David Reed

  QUO VADIS

  A NARRATIVE OF THE TIME OF NERO

  by Henryk Sienkiewicz

  Translated from the Polish by Jeremiah Curtin

  TO AUGUSTE COMTE,

  Of San Francisco, Cal.,

  MY DEAR FRIEND AND CLASSMATE, I BEG TO DEDICATE THIS VOLUME.

  JEREMIAH CURTIN

  INTRODUCTORY

  IN the trilogy "With Fire and Sword," "The Deluge," and "Pan Michael,"Sienkiewicz has given pictures of a great and decisive epoch in modernhistory. The results of the struggle begun under Bogdan Hmelnitski havebeen felt for more than two centuries, and they are growing daily inimportance. The Russia which rose out of that struggle has become apower not only of European but of world-wide significance, and, to allhuman seeming, she is yet in an early stage of her career.

  In "Quo Vadis" the author gives us pictures of opening scenes in theconflict of moral ideas with the Roman Empire,--a conflict from whichChristianity issued as the leading force in history.

  The Slays are not so well known to Western Europe or to us as theyare sure to be in the near future; hence the trilogy, with all itspopularity and merit, is not appreciated yet as it will be.

  The conflict described in "Quo Vadis" is of supreme interest to a vastnumber of persons reading English; and this book will rouse, I think,more attention at first than anything written by Sienkiewicz hitherto.

  JEREMIAH CURTIN

  ILOM, NORTHERN GUATEMALA,

  June, 1896

  QUO VADIS

  Quo Vadis A Narrative of the Time of Nero

  Chapter I

  PETRONIUS woke only about midday, and as usual greatly wearied. Theevening before he had been at one of Nero's feasts, which was prolongedtill late at night. For some time his health had been failing. He saidhimself that he woke up benumbed, as it were, and without power ofcollecting his thoughts. But the morning bath and careful kneading ofthe body by trained slaves hastened gradually the course of his slothfulblood, roused him, quickened him, restored his strength, so that heissued from the elaeothesium, that is, the last division of the bath, asif he had risen from the dead, with eyes gleaming from wit and gladness,rejuvenated, filled with life, exquisite, so unapproachable that Othohimself could not compare with him, and was really that which he hadbeen called,--arbiter elegantiarum.

  He visited the public baths rarely, only when some rhetor happened therewho roused admiration and who was spoken of in the city, or when in theephebias there were combats of exceptional interest. Moreover, he had inhis own "insula" private baths which Celer, the famous contemporaryof Severus, had extended for him, reconstructed and arranged with suchuncommon taste that Nero himself acknowledged their excellence overthose of the Emperor, though the imperial baths were more extensive andfinished with incomparably greater luxury.

  After that feast, at which he was bored by the jesting of Vatinius withNero, Lucan, and Seneca, he took part in a diatribe as to whether womanhas a soul. Rising late, he used, as was his custom, the baths. Twoenormous balneatores laid him on a cypress table covered with snow-whiteEgyptian byssus, and with hands dipped in perfumed olive oil began torub his shapely body; and he waited with closed eyes till the heatof the laconicum and the heat of their hands passed through him andexpelled weariness.

  But after a certain time he spoke, and opened his eyes; he inquiredabout the weather, and then about gems which the jeweller Idomeneushad promised to send him for examination that day. It appeared that theweather was beautiful, with a light breeze from the Alban hills, andthat the gems had not been brought. Petronius closed his eyes again, andhad given command to bear him to the tepidarium, when from behindthe curtain the nomenclator looked in, announcing that young MarcusVinicius, recently returned from Asia Minor, had come to visit him.

  Petronius ordered to admit the guest to the tepidarium, to which hewas borne himself. Vinicius was the son of his oldest sister, who yearsbefore had married Marcus Vinicius, a man of consular dignity from thetime of Tiberius. The young man was serving then under Corbulo againstthe Parthians, and at the close of the war had returned to the city.Petronius had for him a certain weakness bordering on attachment, forMarcus was beautiful and athletic, a young man who knew how to preservea certain aesthetic measure in his profligacy; this, Petronius prizedabove everything.

  "A greeting to Petronius," said the young man, entering the tepidariumwith a springy step. "May all the gods grant thee success, butespecially Asklepios and Kypris, for under their double protectionnothing evil can meet one."

  "I greet thee in Rome, and may thy rest be sweet after war," repliedPetronius, extending his hand from between the folds of soft karbasstuff in which he was wrapped. "What's to be heard in Armenia; or sincethou wert in Asia, didst thou not stumble into Bithynia?"

  Petronius on a time had been proconsul in Bithynia, and, what is more,he had governed with energy and justice. This was a marvellous contrastin the character of a man noted for effeminacy and love of luxury; hencehe was fond of mentioning those times, as they were a proof of what hehad been, and of what he might have become had it pleased him.

  "I happened to visit Heraklea," answered Vinicius. "Corbulo sent methere with an order to assemble reinforcements."

  "Ah, Heraklea! I knew at Heraklea a certain maiden from Colchis,for whom I would have given all the divorced women of this city, notexcluding Poppaea. But these are old stories. Tell me now, rather, whatis to be heard from the Parthian boundary. It is true that they weary meevery Vologeses of them, and Tiridates and Tigranes,--those barbarianswho, as young Arulenus insists, walk on all fours at home, and pretendto be human only when in our presence. But now people in Rome speak muchof them, if only for the reason that it is dangerous to speak of aughtelse."

  "The war is going badly, and but for Corbulo might be turned to defeat."

  "Corbulo! by Bacchus! a real god of war, a genuine Mars, a great leader,at the same time quick-tempered, honest, and dull. I love him, even forthis,--that Nero is afraid of him."

  "Corbulo is not a dull man."

  "Perhaps thou art right, but for that matter it is all one. Dulness,as Pyrrho says, is in no way worse than wisdom, and differs from it innothing."

  Vinicius began to talk of the war; but when Petronius closed his eyesagain, the young man, seeing his uncle's tired and somewhat emaciatedface, changed the conversation, and inquired with a certain interestabout his health.

  Petronius opened his eyes again.

  Health!--No. He did not feel well. He had not gone so far yet, it istrue, as young Sissena, who had lost sensation to such a degree thatwhen he was brought to the bath in the morning he inquired, "Am Isitting?" But he was not well. Vinicius had just committed him to thecare of Asklepios and Kypris. But he, Petronius, did not believe inAsklepios. It was not known even whose son that Asklepios was, the sonof Arsinoe or Koronis; and if the mother was doubtful, what was to besaid of the father? Who, in that time, could be sure who his own fatherwas?

  Hereupon Petronius began to laugh; then he continued,--"Two years ago,it is true, I sent to Epidaurus three dozen live blackbirds and a gobletof gold; but dost thou know why? I said to myself, 'Whether this helpsor not, it will do me no harm.' Though people make offerings to thegods yet, I believe that all think as I do,--all, with the exception,perhaps, of mule-drivers hired at the Porta Capena by travellers.Besides Asklepios, I have had dealings with sons of Asklepios. WhenI was troubled a little last year in the bladder, they performed anincubation for me. I saw that they were tricksters, but I said tomyself: 'What harm! The world stands on deceit, and life is an illusion.The soul is an illusion too. But one must have reas
on enough todistinguish pleasant from painful illusions.' I shall give command toburn in my hypocaustum, cedar-wood sprinkled with ambergris, for duringlife I prefer perfumes to stenches. As to Kypris, to whom thou hast alsoconfided me, I have known her guardianship to the extent that I havetwinges in my right foot. But as to the rest she is a good goddess! Isuppose that thou wilt bear sooner or later white doves to her altar."

  "True," answered Vinicius. "The arrows of the Parthians have not reachedmy body, but a dart of Amor has struck me--unexpectedly, a few stadiafrom a gate of this city."

  "By the white knees of the Graces! thou wilt tell me of this at aleisure hour."

  "I have come purposely to get thy advice," answered Marcus.

  But at that moment the epilatores came, and occupied themselves withPetronius. Marcus, throwing aside his tunic, entered a bath of tepidwater, for Petronius invited him to a plunge bath.

  "Ah, I have not even asked whether thy feeling is reciprocated," saidPetronius, looking at the youthful body of Marcus, which was as if cutout of marble. "Had Lysippos seen thee, thou wouldst be ornamenting nowthe gate leading to the Palatine, as a statue of Hercules in youth."

  The young man smiled with satisfaction, and began to sink in the bath,splashing warm water abundantly on the mosaic which represented Hera atthe moment when she was imploring Sleep to lull Zeus to rest. Petroniuslooked at him with the satisfied eye of an artist.

  When Vinicius had finished and yielded himself in turn to theepilatores, a lector came in with a bronze tube at his breast and rollsof paper in the tube.

  "Dost wish to listen?" asked Petronius.

  "If it is thy creation, gladly!" answered the young tribune; "if not,I prefer conversation. Poets seize people at present on every streetcorner."

  "Of course they do. Thou wilt not pass any basilica, bath, library, orbook-shop without seeing a poet gesticulating like a monkey. Agrippa, oncoming here from the East, mistook them for madmen. And it is just sucha time now. Caesar writes verses; hence all follow in his steps. Only itis not permitted to write better verses than Caesar, and for that reasonI fear a little for Lucan. But I write prose, with which, however, I donot honor myself or others. What the lector has to read are codicilli ofthat poor Fabricius Veiento."

  "Why 'poor'?"

  "Because it has been communicated to him that he must dwell in Odyssaand not return to his domestic hearth till he receives a new command.That Odyssey will be easier for him than for Ulysses, since his wifeis no Penelope. I need not tell thee, for that matter, that he actedstupidly. But here no one takes things otherwise than superficially. Hisis rather a wretched and dull little book, which people have begun toread passionately only when the author is banished. Now one hears onevery side, 'Scandala! scandala!' and it may be that Veiento inventedsome things; but I, who know the city, know our patres and our women,assure thee that it is all paler than reality. Meanwhile every man issearching in the book,--for himself with alarm, for his acquaintanceswith delight. At the book-shop of Avirnus a hundred copyists are writingat dictation, and its success is assured."

  "Are not thy affairs in it?"

  "They are; but the author is mistaken, for I am at once worse and lessflat than he represents me. Seest thou we have lost long since thefeeling of what is worthy or unworthy,--and to me even it seems that inreal truth there is no difference between them, though Seneca, Musonius,and Trasca pretend that they see it. To me it is all one! By Hercules,I say what I think! I have preserved loftiness, however, because I knowwhat is deformed and what is beautiful; but our poet, Bronzebeard, forexample, the charioteer, the singer, the actor, does not understandthis."

  "I am sorry, however, for Fabricius! He is a good companion."

  "Vanity ruined the man. Every one suspected him, no one knew certainly;but he could not contain himself, and told the secret on all sides inconfidence. Hast heard the history of Rufinus?"

  "No."

  "Then come to the frigidarium to cool; there I will tell thee."

  They passed to the frigidarium, in the middle of which played a fountainof bright rose-color, emitting the odor of violets. There they sat inniches which were covered with velvet, and began to cool themselves.Silence reigned for a time. Vinicius looked awhile thoughtfully at abronze faun which, bending over the arm of a nymph, was seeking her lipseagerly with his lips.

  "He is right," said the young man. "That is what is best in life."

  "More or less! But besides this thou lovest war, for which I have noliking, since under tents one's finger-nails break and cease to be rosy.For that matter, every man has his preferences. Bronzebeard loves song,especially his own; and old Scaurus his Corinthian vase, which standsnear his bed at night, and which he kisses when he cannot sleep. He haskissed the edge off already. Tell me, dost thou not write verses?"

  "No; I have never composed a single hexameter."

  "And dost thou not play on the lute and sing?"

  "No."

  "And dost thou drive a chariot?"

  "I tried once in Antioch, but unsuccessfully."

  "Then I am at rest concerning thee. And to what party in the hippodromedost thou belong?"

  "To the Greens."

  "Now I am perfectly at rest, especially since thou hast a large propertyindeed, though thou art not so rich as Pallas or Seneca. For seest thou,with us at present it is well to write verses, to sing to a lute, todeclaim, and to compete in the Circus; but better, and especially safer,not to write verses, not to play, not to sing, and not to compete inthe Circus. Best of all, is it to know how to admire when Bronzebeardadmires. Thou art a comely young man; hence Poppaea may fall in love withthee. This is thy only peril. But no, she is too experienced; she caresfor something else. She has had enough of love with her two husbands;with the third she has other views. Dost thou know that that stupidOtho loves her yet to distraction? He walks on the cliffs of Spain, andsighs; he has so lost his former habits, and so ceased to care for hisperson, that three hours each day suffice him to dress his hair. Whocould have expected this of Otho?"

  "I understand him," answered Vinicius; "but in his place I should havedone something else."

  "What, namely?"

  "I should have enrolled faithful legions of mountaineers of thatcountry. They are good soldiers,--those Iberians."

  "Vinicius! Vinicius! I almost wish to tell thee that thou wouldst nothave been capable of that. And knowest why? Such things are done, butthey are not mentioned even conditionally. As to me, in his place, Ishould have laughed at Poppaea, laughed at Bronzebeard, and formed formyself legions, not of Iberian men, however, but Iberian women. And whatis more, I should have written epigrams which I should not have read toany one,--not like that poor Rufinus."

  "Thou wert to tell me his history."

  "I will tell it in the unctorium."

  But in the unctorium the attention of Vinicius was turned to otherobjects; namely, to wonderful slave women who were waiting for thebathers. Two of them, Africans, resembling noble statues of ebony,began to anoint their bodies with delicate perfumes from Arabia; others,Phrygians, skilled in hairdressing, held in their hands, which werebending and flexible as serpents, combs and mirrors of polished steel;two Grecian maidens from Kos, who were simply like deities, waited asvestiplicae, till the moment should come to put statuesque folds in thetogas of the lords.

  "By the cloud-scattering Zeus!" said Marcus Vinicius, "what a choicethou hast!"

  "I prefer choice to numbers," answered Petronius. "My whole 'familia'[household servants] in Rome does not exceed four hundred, and I judgethat for personal attendance only upstarts need a greater number ofpeople."

  "More beautiful bodies even Bronzebeard does not possess," saidVinicius, distending his nostrils.

  "Thou art my relative," answered Petronius, with a certain friendlyindifference, "and I am neither so misanthropic as Barsus nor such apedant as Aulus Plautius."

  When Vinicius heard this last name, he forgot the maidens from Kos for amoment, and, raising his head vivaciously, in
quired,--"Whence did AulusPlautius come to thy mind? Dost thou know that after I had disjointedmy arm outside the city, I passed a number of days in his house? Ithappened that Plautius came up at the moment when the accident happened,and, seeing that I was suffering greatly, he took me to his house; therea slave of his, the physician Merion, restored me to health. I wished tospeak with thee touching this very matter."

  "Why? Is it because thou hast fallen in love with Pomponia perchance? Inthat case I pity thee; she is not young, and she is virtuous! I cannotimagine a worse combination. Brr!"

  "Not with Pomponia--eheu!" answered Vinicius.

  "With whom, then?"

  "If I knew myself with whom? But I do not know to a certainty her nameeven,--Lygia or Callina? They call her Lygia in the house, for she comesof the Lygian nation; but she has her own barbarian name, Callina. It isa wonderful house,--that of those Plautiuses. There are many people init; but it is quiet there as in the groves of Subiacum. For a numberof days I did not know that a divinity dwelt in the house. Once aboutdaybreak I saw her bathing in the garden fountain; and I swear to theeby that foam from which Aphrodite rose, that the rays of the dawn passedright through her body. I thought that when the sun rose she wouldvanish before me in the light, as the twilight of morning does. Sincethen, I have seen her twice; and since then, too, I know not what restis, I know not what other desires are, I have no wish to know what thecity can give me. I want neither women, nor gold, nor Corinthian bronze,nor amber, nor pearls, nor wine, nor feasts; I want only Lygia. I amyearning for her, in sincerity I tell thee, Petronius, as that Dream whois imaged on the Mosaic of thy tepidarium yearned for Paisythea,--wholedays and night do I yearn."

  "If she is a slave, then purchase her."

  "She is not a slave."

  "What is she? A freed woman of Plautius?"

  "Never having been a slave, she could not be a freed woman."

  "Who is she?"

  "I know not,--a king's daughter, or something of that sort."

  "Thou dost rouse my curiosity, Vinicius."

  "But if thou wish to listen, I will satisfy thy curiosity straightway.Her story is not a long one. Thou art acquainted, perhaps personally,with Vannius, king of the Suevi, who, expelled from his country, spent along time here in Rome, and became even famous for his skilful play withdice, and his good driving of chariots. Drusus put him on the throneagain. Vannius, who was really a strong man, ruled well at first, andwarred with success; afterward, however, he began to skin not only hisneighbors, but his own Suevi, too much. Thereupon Vangio and Sido, twosister's sons of his, and the sons of Vibilius, king of the Hermunduri,determined to force him to Rome again--to try his luck there at dice."

  "I remember; that is of recent Claudian times."

  "Yes! War broke out. Vannius summoned to his aid the Yazygi; his dearnephews called in the Lygians, who, hearing of the riches of Vannius,and enticed by the hope of booty, came in such numbers that Caesarhimself, Claudius, began to fear for the safety of the boundary.Claudius did not wish to interfere in a war among barbarians, but hewrote to Atelius Hister, who commanded the legions of the Danube, toturn a watchful eye on the course of the war, and not permit them todisturb our peace. Hister required, then, of the Lygians a promise notto cross the boundary; to this they not only agreed, but gave hostages,among whom were the wife and daughter of their leader. It is known tothee that barbarians take their wives and children to war with them. MyLygia is the daughter of that leader."

  "Whence dost thou know all this?"

  "Aulus Plautius told it himself. The Lygians did not cross the boundary,indeed; but barbarians come and go like a tempest. So did the Lygiansvanish with their wild-ox horns on their heads. They killed Vannius'sSuevi and Yazygi; but their own king fell. They disappeared with theirbooty then, and the hostages remained in Hister's hands. The mother diedsoon after, and Hister, not knowing what to do with the daughter, senther to Pomponius, the governor of all Germany. He, at the close of thewar with the Catti, returned to Rome, where Claudius, as is known tothee, permitted him to have a triumph. The maiden on that occasionwalked after the car of the conqueror; but, at the end of thesolemnity,--since hostages cannot be considered captives, and sincePomponius did not know what to do with her definitely--he gave her tohis sister Pomponia Graecina, the wife of Plautius. In that house whereall--beginning with the masters and ending with the poultry in thehen-house--are virtuous, that maiden grew up as virtuous, alas! asGraecina herself, and so beautiful that even Poppaea, if near her, wouldseem like an autumn fig near an apple of the Hesperides."

  "And what?"

  "And I repeat to thee that from the moment when I saw how thesun-rays at that fountain passed through her body, I fell in love todistraction."

  "She is as transparent as a lamprey eel, then, or a youthful sardine?"

  "Jest not, Petronius; but if the freedom with which I speak of my desiremisleads thee, know this,--that bright garments frequently cover deepwounds. I must tell thee, too, that, while returning from Asia, I sleptone night in the temple of Mopsus to have a prophetic dream. Well,Mopsus appeared in a dream to me, and declared that, through love, agreat change in my life would take place."

  "Pliny declares, as I hear, that he does not believe in the gods, but hebelieves in dreams; and perhaps he is right. My jests do not prevent mefrom thinking at times that in truth there is only one deity, eternal,creative, all-powerful, Venus Genetrix. She brings souls together; sheunites bodies and things. Eros called the world out of chaos. Whether hedid well is another question; but, since he did so, we should recognizehis might, though we are free not to bless it."

  "Alas! Petronius, it is easier to find philosophy in the world than wisecounsel."

  "Tell me, what is thy wish specially?"

  "I wish to have Lygia. I wish that these arms of mine, which now embraceonly air, might embrace Lygia and press her to my bosom. I wish tobreathe with her breath. Were she a slave, I would give Aulus for herone hundred maidens with feet whitened with lime as a sign that theywere exhibited on sale for the first time. I wish to have her in myhouse till my head is as white as the top of Soracte in winter."

  "She is not a slave, but she belongs to the 'family' of Plautius; andsince she is a deserted maiden, she may be considered an 'alumna.'Plautius might yield her to thee if he wished."

  "Then it seems that thou knowest not Pomponia Graecina. Both have becomeas much attached to her as if she were their own daughter."

  "Pomponia I know,--a real cypress. If she were not the wife of Aulus,she might be engaged as a mourner. Since the death of Julius she hasnot thrown aside dark robes; and in general she looks as if, while stillalive, she were walking on the asphodel meadow. She is, moreover, a'one-man woman'; hence, among our ladies of four and five divorces, sheis straightway a phoenix. But! hast thou heard that in Upper Egypt thephoenix has just been hatched out, as 'tis said?--an event which happensnot oftener than once in five centuries."

  "Petronius! Petronius! Let us talk of the phoenix some other time."

  "What shall I tell thee, my Marcus? I know Aulus Plautius, who, thoughhe blames my mode of life, has for me a certain weakness, and evenrespects me, perhaps, more than others, for he knows that I have neverbeen an informer like Domitius Afer, Tigellinus, and a whole rabbleof Ahenobarbus's intimates [Nero's name was originally L. DomitiusAhenobarbus]. Without pretending to be a stoic, I have been offendedmore than once at acts of Nero, which Seneca and Burrus looked atthrough their fingers. If it is thy thought that I might do somethingfor thee with Aulus, I am at thy command."

  "I judge that thou hast the power. Thou hast influence over him; and,besides, thy mind possesses inexhaustible resources. If thou wert tosurvey the position and speak with Plautius."

  "Thou hast too great an idea of my influence and wit; but if that is theonly question, I will talk with Plautius as soon as they return to thecity."

  "They returned two days since."

  "In that case let us go to the triclinium, where a meal is now read
y,and when we have refreshed ourselves, let us give command to bear us toPlautius."

  "Thou hast ever been kind to me," answered Vinicius, with vivacity; "butnow I shall give command to rear thy statue among my lares,--just such abeauty as this one,--and I will place offerings before it."

  Then he turned toward the statues which ornamented one entire wallof the perfumed chamber, and pointing to the one which representedPetronius as Hermes with a staff in his hand, he added,--"By the lightof Helios! if the 'godlike' Alexander resembled thee, I do not wonder atHelen."

  And in that exclamation there was as much sincerity as flattery; forPetronius, though older and less athletic, was more beautiful than evenVinicius. The women of Rome admired not only his pliant mind and histaste, which gained for him the title Arbiter elegantiae, but also hisbody. This admiration was evident even on the faces of those maidensfrom Kos who were arranging the folds of his toga; and one of whom,whose name was Eunice, loving him in secret, looked him in the eyes withsubmission and rapture. But he did not even notice this; and, smilingat Vinicius, he quoted in answer an expression of Seneca aboutwoman,--Animal impudens, etc. And then, placing an arm on the shouldersof his nephew, he conducted him to the triclinium.

  In the unctorium the two Grecian maidens, the Phrygians, and the twoEthiopians began to put away the vessels with perfumes. But at thatmoment, and beyond the curtain of the frigidarium, appeared the headsof the balneatores, and a low "Psst!" was heard. At that call one ofthe Grecians, the Phrygians, and the Ethiopians sprang up quickly, andvanished in a twinkle behind the curtain. In the baths began a moment oflicense which the inspector did not prevent, for he took frequent partin such frolics himself. Petronius suspected that they took place; but,as a prudent man, and one who did not like to punish, he looked at themthrough his fingers.

  In the unctorium only Eunice remained. She listened for a short timeto the voices and laughter which retreated in the direction of thelaconicum. At last she took the stool inlaid with amber and ivory,on which Petronius had been sitting a short time before, and put itcarefully at his statue. The unctorium was full of sunlight and the hueswhich came from the many-colored marbles with which the wall was faced.Eunice stood on the stool, and, finding herself at the level of thestatue, cast her arms suddenly around its neck; then, throwing back hergolden hair, and pressing her rosy body to the white marble, she pressedher lips with ecstasy to the cold lips of Petronius.