ener es ee er eee ceo ane Pongts if erate bea Sobre cipbe ede hy tardy moa Hetrtosss rere bababtedbiny sete doary reser ere ares er haat fas st fen re packers er hbo oe ieee seiabih dodeabab cack arary He Sdbaasbaan hansen pte st Hea kabcras Ree denice ASE neath ang eshe Ciiphnner ett ait siehaeet eh Loner peprererrey paadire papa pe absasyeeereerserert ey et Meh ed peporenere risatoaia ase iia Traxeapiprnh era hee rae est Aburereay Peed sp Ceteet| Fibshsedatre medaka fatal =| Marsha: beeen f sree ee radi nie oe a INU esrabot gl reqtt artrcsberere seer ttt ey rere Preayererey iste rare ero i aur fare freee riorlaaherety ree Hay ae ipietsts iabst hahaha) Cretetety Falrara eraap rears ar it tetaterenaateten Siaeeep eee Coney Arann THe rererere ttt oes rebedrtnseegs piodechdoas fyetda seas uninereree # prseey anes eert Hetero pel ey rors! Metals arererere tet irate i eee dppescrtr arent ae ah ihre Mbrcitae Cornell University Library PG 7158 .S57Q9 1987 ni CORNELL UNIVERSITY | _. LIBRARY FROM G.5.“abine Popular Codition. QUO VADIS. BY HENRYK SIENKIEWICzZ. THE WORKS OF HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ —_¢— Bistorical Romances, Poland, Turkey, Russia, and Sweden. WITH FIRE AND SWORD, 1 vol. THE DELUGE. 2 vols. PAN MICHAEL, 1 vol. Rome in the Time of Nero. “Quo VADIS.” + vol. _o— Novels of fModern Iolanv. WITHOUT DOGMA. 1 vol. CHILDREN OF THE SOIL. 1 vol. —~~— YANKO THE MUSICIAN, and Other Stories. r vol. LILLIAN MORRIS, and Other Stories. 1 vol. 7 sew hy ty c Sevry Neinkiooes, oe “QUO VADIS.” Q@ farratibe of the Cime of Nero. BY HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, AUTHOR OF ‘WITH FIRE AND SWORD,’’ ‘THR DELUGE,” “PAN MICHAEL,’’ ‘‘ CHILDREN OF THE SOIL,”’ ETC. TRANSLATED FROM THE POLISH BY JEREMIAH CURTIN. BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 1897. US ey es eure Fy, (2.3 343 . From the author of *“QUO VADIS.’’ Mypin ditt Ayowu ao Coupany', Geulhemen Having conrelejed usith You au aaree mek Concerning my novel, Hausladd ky A. Jerenusivh Curfin, aud pusiske) by Jour Hawe, J hav Ye honede. to Declare, Mat bh- [us bijcation f there novels by olfer publi thee pou ll bev done agains iny util 2 detent. (03 pat, as J how, | Jf cannot pul a legal sop fo Fer [rubvabori 4 | obherc , bal J 4aink, Hat public Oplu row aie cet mig hf ry. this code Take be Jace ae LAince Md feeling of Comyesal hou ss So gh dev. lope Me the Uu'ked Sat, a. fee fyuly é . Seung Tt _— Copyright, 1896, 1897, ny Juremian Curtin. Aniversity Bress . Joun Witson anp Son, Campripes, U.S. A. TO AUGUSTE COMTE, @t San Francisco, Cal., MY DEAR FRIEND AND CLASSMATE, I BEG TO DEDICATE THIS VOLUME. JEREMIAH CURTIN ILLUSTRATIONS. Henryk SIENKIEWICZ . . . . . . . » . « «Frontispiece Lyeia AND VINICIUS IN THE GARDEN oF AULUS. Page 26 Drawn by Howard Pyle. CHILO UNDERTAKES TO FIND LyGiIA ...... “ 112 Drawn by Edmund H. Garrett. NERO « 4. % 4% = % & © # @ w@ a & we ow we 148 From an ancient sculpture in the Capitoline Museum. Tue Apprlan Way . . 1 6 ee we ew ew ew we HH 288 From the painting by G. Boulanger. Tue Curistilan Martyrs... .... + ss & 488 From the painting by Frangois Léon Benouville. THe STRUGGLE BETWEEN Ursus AND THE AUROCHS Drawn by Evert Van Muyden. Tue CHAPEL or DoMINE Quo VapDIS. . . .- «+ From a photograph. “ 498 540 INTRODUCTORY. ‘In the trilogy “ With Fire and Sword,” “The Deluge,” and “Pan Michael,” Sienkiewicz has given pictures of a great and decisive epoch in modern history. The results of the struggle begun under Bogdan Hmelnitski have been felt for more than two centuries, and they are growing daily in importance. The Russia which rose out of that struggle has become a power not only of European, but of world-wide significance, and, to all human seeming, she is yet in an early stage of her career. In “ Quo Vadis” the author gives us pictures of opening scenes in the conflict of moral ideas with the Roman Empire, —a conflict from which Christianity issued as the leading force in history. The Slavs are not so well known to Western Europe or to us as they are sure to be in the near future; hence the trilogy, with all its popularity and merit, is not appreciated yet as it will be. The conflict described in “Quo Vadis” is of supreme interest to a vast number of persons reading English ; and this book will rouse, I think, more attention at first than anything written by Sienkiewicz hitherto. JEREMIAH CURTIN. Inom, NorTHERN GUATEMALA, June, 1896. “QUO VADIS.” A NARRATIVE OF THE TIME OF NERO. CHAPTER I. Petronius woke only about midday, and as usual greatly wearied. The evening before he had been at one of Nero’s feasts, which was prolonged till late at night. For some time his health had been failing. He said himself that he woke up benumbed, as it were, and without power of collect- ing his thoughts. But the morning bath and careful knead- ing of the body by trained slaves hastened gradually the course of his slothful blood, roused him, quickened him, restored his strength, so that he issued from the eleeothe- sium, that is, the last division of the bath, as if he had risen from the dead, with eyes gleaming from wit and glad- ness, rejuvenated, filled with life, exquisite, so unapproach- able that Otho himself could not compare with him, and was really that which he had been called, — arbiter ele- gantiarum. He visited the public baths rarely, only when some rhetor happened there who roused admiration and who was spoken of in the city, or when in the ephebias there were combats of exceptional interest. Moreover, he had in his own ‘insula ” private baths which Celer, the famous contempo- rary of Severus, had extended for him, reconstructed and arranged with such uncommon taste that Nero himself acknowledged their excellence over those of the Emperor, though the imperial baths were more extensive and finished with incomparably greater luxury. 5 After that feast, at which he was bored by the jesting of Vatinius with Nero, Lucan, and Seneca, he took part in a diatribe as to whether woman has a soul. Rising late, he 1 2 QUO VADIS. used, as was his custom, the baths. Two enormous balnea- tores laid him on a cypress table covered with snow-white Egyptian byssus, and with hands dipped in perfumed olive oil began to rub his shapely body; and he waited with closed eyes till the heat of the laconicum and the heat of their hands passed through him and expelled weariness. But after a certain time he spoke, and opened his eyes; he inquired about the weather, and then about gems which the jeweller Idomeneus had promised to send him for exam- ination that day. It appeared that the weather was beauti- ful, with a light breeze from the Alban hills, and that the gems had not been brought. Petronius closed his eyes again, and had given command to bear him to the tepi- darium, when from bebind the curtain the nomenclator looked in, announcing that young Marcus Vinicius, recently returned from Asia Minor, had come to visit him. Petronius ordered to admit the guest to the tepidarium, to which he was borne himself. Vinicius was the son of his oldest sister, who years before had married Marcus Vinicius, aman of consular dignity from the time of Tiberius. The young man was serving then under Corbulo against the Parthians, and at the- close of the war had returned to the city. Petronius had for him a certain weakness border- ing on attachment, for Marcus was beautiful and athletic, a young man who knew how to preserve a certain sesthetic measure in his profligacy; this, Petronius prized above everything. ‘A greeting to Petronius,” said the young man, entering the tepidarium with a springy step. ‘‘May all the gods grant thee success, but especially Asklepios and Kypris, for under their double protection nothing evil can meet one.” “‘T greet thee in Rome, and may thy rest be sweet after war,” replied Petronius, extending his hand from between the folds of soft karbas stuff in which he was wrapped. ‘* What ’s to be heard in Armenia; or since thou 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 contrast in the character of a man noted for effeminacy and love of luxury; hence he was fond of mentioning those times, as they were a proof of what he os been, and of what he might have become had it pleased im. ““T happened to visit Heraklea,” answered Vinicius. QUO VADIS. 3 ‘¢Corbulo sent me there with an order to assemble rein- forcements.” ‘* Ah, Heraklea! I knew at Heraklea a certain maiden from Colchis, for whom I would have given all the divorced women of this city, not excluding Poppea. But these are old stories. Tell me now, rather, what is to be heard from the Parthian boundary. It is true that they weary me every Vologeses of them, and Tiridates and Tigranes, — those barbarians who, as young Arulenus insists, walk on all fours at home, and pretend to be human only when in our presence. But now people in Rome speak much of them, if only for the reason that it is dangerous to speak of aught else.” ‘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, hon- est, and dull. I love him, even for this, — 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 wisdow, and differs from it in nothing.” Vinicius began to talk of the war; but when Petronius closed his eyes again, the young man, seeing his uncle’s tired and somewhat emaciated face, changed the conversation, and inquired with a certain interest about his health. Petronius opened his eyes again. Health!—No. He did not feel well. He had not gone so far yet, it is true, as young Sissena, who had lost sensa- tion to such a degree that when he was brought to the bath in the morning he inquired, ‘‘ Am I sitting?” But he was not well. Vinicius had just committed him to the care of Asklepios and Kypris. But he, Petronius, did not believe in Asklepios. It was not known even whose son that Asklepios was, the son of Arsinoe or Koronis; and if the mother was doubtful, what was to be said of the father? Who, in that time, could be sure who his own father was? Hereupon Petronius began to laugh; then he continued, — ‘‘Two years ago, it is true, I sent to Epidaurus three dozen live blackbirds and a goblet of gold; but dost thou know why? I said to myself, ‘Whether this helps or not, it willdo me no harm.’ Though people make offerings to the gods yet, I believe that all think as I do, — all, with the 4 QUO VADIS. exception, perhaps, of muledrivers hired at the Porta Capena by travellers. Besides Asklepios, I have had deal- ings with sons of Asklepios. When I was troubled a little last year in the bladder, they performed an incubation for me. I saw that they were tricksters, but I said to myself: ‘What harm! The world stands on deceit, and life is an illusion. The soul is an illusion too. But one must have reason enough to distinguish pleasant from painful illu- sions.’ I shall give command to burn in my hypocaustum, cedar-wood sprinkled with ambergris, for during life I prefer perfumes to stenches. As to Kypris, to whom thou hast also confided me, I have known her guardianship to the extent that I have twinges in my right foot. But as to the rest she is a good goddess! I suppose that thou wilt bear sooner or later white doves to her altar.” ‘* True,” answered Vinicius. ‘‘ The arrows of the Parthians have not reached my body, but a dart of Amor has struck me — unexpectedly, a few stadia from a gate of this city.” ‘« By the white knees of the Graces! thou wilt tell me of this at a leisure hour.” ‘“‘T have come purposely to get thy advice,” answered Marcus. But at that moment the epilatores came, and occupied hemselves with Petronius. Marcus, throwing aside his tunic, entered a bath of tepid water, for Petronius invited him to a plunge bath. ‘‘ Ah, I have not even asked whether thy feeling is recip- rocated,” said Petronius, looking at the youthful body of Marcus, which was as if cut out of marble. © ‘« Had Lysippos seen thee, thou wouldst be ornamenting now the gate lead- ing 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 at the moment when she was imploring Sleep to lull Zeus to rest. Petronius looked at him with the satisfied eye of an artist. When Vinicius had finished and yielded himself in turn to the epilatores, a lector came in with a bronze tube at his breast and rolls of paper in the tube. ** Dost wish to listen?” asked Petronius. ‘If it is thy creation, gladly!” answered the young tri- bune; ‘‘if not, I prefer conversation. Poets seize people at present on every street corner.” ‘‘Of course they do. Thou wilt not pass any basilica, QUO VADIS. 5 bath, library, or book-shop without seeing a poet gesticulat- ing like a monkey. Agrippa, on coming here from the East, mistook them for madmen. And it is just such a time now. Cesar writes verses; hence all follow in his steps. Only it is not permitted to write better verses than Cesar, and for that reason I fear a little for Lucan. But I write prose, with which, however, I do not honor myself or others. What the lector has to read are codicilli of that poor Fabri- cius Veiento.” ‘¢ Why ‘ poor’?” ‘¢ Because it has been communicated to him that he must dwell in Odyssa and not return to his domestic hearth till he receives a new command. That Odyssey will be easier for him than for Ulysses, since his wife is no Penelope. I need not tell thee, for that matter, that he acted stupidly. But here no one takes things otherwise than superficially. His is rather a wretched and dull little book, which people have begun to read passionately only when the author is banished. Now one hears on every side, ‘Scandala! scan- dala!’ and it may be that Veiento invented some 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 is searching in the book, —for himself with alarm, for his acquaintances with delight. At the book- shop of Avirnus a hundred copyists are writing at 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 less flat than he represents me. Seest thou we have lost long since the feeling of what is worthy or unworthy, —~and to me even it seems that in real truth there is no difference between them, though Seneca, Musonius, and Trasca pretend that they see it. Tome it is all one! By Hercules, I say what I think! I have preserved loftiness, however, .because I know what is deformed and what is beautiful; but our poet, Bronzebeard, for example, the charioteer, the singer, the actor, does not understand ' this.” ““T am sorry, however, for Fabricius! He is a good companion.” a ‘* 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 in confidence. Hast heard the history of Rufinus? ” , : ‘¢ No.” 6 QUO VADIS. ‘¢ Then come to the frigidarium to cool; there I will tell thee.” They passed to the frigidarium, in the middle of which played a fountain of bright rose-color, emitting the odor of violets. ‘There they sat in niches which were covered with velvet, and began to cool themselves. Silence reigned for atime. Vinicius looked awhile thoughtfully at a bronze faun which, bending over the arm of a nymph, was seeking her lips eagerly 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 no liking, 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 stands near his bed at night, and which he kisses when he cannot sleep. He has kissed 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?” **T tried once in Antioch, but unsuccessfully.” ‘‘ Then I am at rest concerning thee. And to what party in the hippodrome dost thou belong?” ‘«To the Greens.” ‘¢Now I am perfectly at rest, especially since thou hast a large property indeed, 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, to declaim, 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 in the Circus. Best -of all, is it to know how to admire when Bronzebeard admires. Thou art a comely young man; hence Poppa may fall in love with thee. This is thy only peril. But no, she is too experienced; she cares for something else. She has had enough of love with her two husbands; with the third she has other views. Dost thou know that that stupid Otho loves her yet to distraction? He walks on the cliffs of Spain, and sighs; he has so lost his former habits, and so ceased to care for his person, that three hours each day suffice him to dress his hair. Who could have expected this of Otho?” QUO VADIS. qT ‘¢T understand him,” answered Vinicius; ‘‘ but in his place I should have done something else.” ‘What, namely?” ‘“¢T should have enrolled faithful legions of mountaineers of that country. They are good soldiers, — those Iberians.” “Vinicius! Vinicius! I almost wish to tell thee that thou wouldst not have been capable of that. And knowest why? Such things are done, but they are not mentioned even conditionally. As to me, in his place, I should have laughed at Poppa, laughed at Bronzebeard, and formed for myself legions, not of Iberian men, however, but Iberian women. And what is more, I should have written epigrams which I should not have read to any one, — not like that poor Rufinus.” ‘¢ Thou wert to tell me his history.” ‘¢ J will tell it in the unctorium.” But in the unctorium the attention of Vinicius was turned to other objects; namely, to wonderful slave women who were waiting for the bathers. Two of them, Africans, re- sembling noble statues of ebony, began to anoint their bodies with delicate perfumes from Arabia; others, Phry- gians, skilled in hairdressing, held in their hands, which were bending and flexible as serpents, combs and mirrors of polished steel; two Grecian maidens from Kos, who were simply like deities, waited as vestiplice, till the moment should come to put statuesque folds in the togas of the lords. “By the cloud-scattering Zeus!” said Marcus Vinicius, “‘ what a choice thou hast!” ‘¢T prefer choice to numbers,” answered Petronius. ‘* My whole ‘ familia’! in Rome does not exceed four hundred, and I judge that for personal attendance only upstarts need a greater number of people.” ‘‘ More beautiful bodies even Bronzebeard does not pos- sess,” said Vinicius, distending his nostrils. “Thou art my relative,” answered Petronius, with a certain friendly indifference, ‘‘ and I am neither so misan- thropic as Barsus nor such a pedant as Aulus Plautius.” When Vinicius heard this last name, he forgot the maidens from Cos for a moment, and, raising his head vivaciously, inquired, — “Whence did Aulus Plautius come to thy mind? Dost thou know that after I had disjointed my arm outside the 1 Household servants. 8 QUO VADIS. city, I passed a number of days in his house? It happened that Plautius came up at the moment when the accident hap- pened, and, seeing that I was suffering greatly, he took me to his house; there a slave of his, the physician Merion, restored me to health. I wished to speak with thee touching -this very matter.” ‘“‘Why? Is it because thon hast fallen in love with Pom- ponia perchance? In that case I pity thee; she is not young, and she is virtuous! J cannot imagine a worse com- bination. Brr!” ‘‘ Not with Pomponia — eheu!” answered Vinicius. ‘s With whom, then?” ‘“