[60] At Verus’s suggestion, Theron, the innkeeper, was called into the council. He, of course, had a very bad opinion of the Christians. “They are a very poor, mean-spirited lot,” he said; “if they had their way there would not be a tavern open in the Empire. I never see one of them inside my doors. Sometimes, when I have a late company here, I have seen them on their way to their meeting-place, one of the guildhouses in the cemetery here. They are a shabby lot, for the most parthalf of them slaves, I should think. I suspect an outdoor man of my own of being one of them. He never drinks, or gambles, or fights. I always suspect there is something wrong with a young fellow when he goes on like that. Yes, I should very much like to see the whole business put a stop to. If it is not, the world will soon be no place for an honest man to live in.”
A plan of action was agreed upon. A number of memorials were to be presented to the Governor, praying him to interfere with a certain unlawful society, bearing the name of Christians, or followers of Jesus, that was accustomed to meet in the neighborhood of Nic?a. Lucilius, Verus, and Arruns were each to send in such a document, and were to get others sent in by their friends. A number of anonymous memorials in various hand- [61] writings were also to be prepared. The more there were, the more likely was the Governor to be impressed.
When the party was separating, Arruns tried to do a little stroke of business on his own account. “This is an important undertaking,” he said, in his most professional tone, to Lucilius. “Don’t you think that it would be well to consult the gods?”
“My Arruns,” said Lucilius, who had no idea of spending his money in any such way, “when I make an offering, I prefer that it should be a thank-offering. When we have done something, I shall not be ungrateful.”
The soothsayer was not going to let himself be baffled. If he could get nothing out of the cupidity of Lucilius, he might be more successful in working on the fears of Verus.
“It would have an excellent effect, my dear Verus,” he said, “if people could see some proof of your piety. They know that you have been mixed up with these Christians, and they don’t all know that you have come out from among them. If there should be anything like a rising of the peoplethere was one in Galatia the other day, and half a dozen of these impious creatures were torn to pieces before the Governor’s guard could interferethere might be some awkward mistake. [62] We should have plenty of people protesting that they had never been Christians at all, or had left off being so, and you might not be believed, particularly if you had anything to lose. Now, if you were to offer a sacrifice, you would be perfectly safe. No one would dare to wag his tongue against you.”
Verus, who, if he had not learnt to believe Christianity, must have at least learned thoroughly to disbelieve the whole Pagan system, heard the suggestion with very little fervour, but felt too uneasy about his position to reject it. He knew that he had compromised himself, and that the danger which Arruns had pictured was not completely imaginary.
“There may be something in what you suggest,” he said, after a pause. “Perhaps a lamb to Jupiter or Apollo”
“A lamb!” interrupted Arruns, who was not disposed to be satisfied with so paltry an offering. “A lamb! The whole country would cry shame upon you. It ought to be nothing less than a hecatomb.”
“A hecatomb!” cried Verus, “what are you talking about? Am I the Emperor, that you should suggest such a thing?”
“Well,” returned the other, “a hecatomb [63] might, perhaps, be a little ostentatious for a man in your position. But I assure you that nothing less than a ‘swine, sheep, and bull’ sacrifice would be acceptable. It must be something a little out of the common, for yours is not a common case.”
“Well, let it be so,” said Verus, “only it must be done cheaply. No gilding of the bulls horns or expensive flowers; I really cannot afford it.”
“Leave it to me,” answered Arruns. “I will spare your pocket.”
With this they separated, the soothsayer chuckling over his success, and the prospect of a plenty which he had not enjoyed for some months, Verus ruefully calculating how many gold pieces the three animals, with the ornaments and the temple fees, would cost him.
PLINY AND THE CHRISTIANS
[64] CAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS, commonly known to posterity as the Younger Pliny, has just finished his day’s work as Propr?torthat is to say, Governorof the Roman province of Bithynia. It has evidently worn him out almost to the verge of exhaustion. He has, indeed, the look of feeble health. His gentle, delicate features are drawn as with habitual pain; his cheeks are pale, with just one spot of hectic colour in the middle; the lines on his forehead are deeper than befits his age, for he is but in his forty-seventh or forty-eighth year; his figure is bent and frail, and thin almost to emaciation.
The room shows evident signs of the occupation of a man of culture. Though it is his official apartment, and he has his study elsewhere, it has something of the look of a library. A little bookcase, elegantly made of ivory and ebony, stands [65] close to his official chair. Half a dozen rollsfor such were the volumes of those daysare within reach of his hand. He can refresh himself with a few minutes’ reading of on or other of them, when the tedium of his official duties becomes more than he can bear; using a writer’s privilege, we can see that Homer is one of the six, and Virgil another. The wall facing him is covered with a huge map of the province; and most of the available space elsewhere is occupied with documents, plans of public buildings, and other matters relating to the details of government; but room has been found for busts of eminent writers, for some tasteful little pieces of Corinthian ware, and for two or three statuettes of Parian marble. At a table in the corner a secretary is busy with his pen; but were we to look over his shoulder we should see that he is not occupied with the answer to a petition or with a report to the Emperor, but with the fair copy of a poem which the Governor has found time to dictate to him in the course of the day.
Pliny has just risen from his seat, after swallowing a cordial which his body physician has concocted for him, when the soldier who kept the door announced a visitor“Cornelius Tacitus, for his Excellency the Governor.” Pliny received the [66] new-comer, who, indeed, had been his guest for several days, with enthusiasm.
“You were never more welcome, my Tacitus,” he cried. “Either I am in worse trim for business than usual, or the business of the day has been extraordinarily tiresome. In the first place, everything that they do here seems to be blundered over. In one town they build an aqueduct at the cost of I don’t know how many millions of sesterces, and one of the arches tumbles down. Then, in Nic?a here, they have been spending millions more on a theatre, and, lo and behold ! the walls begin to sink and crack, for the wise people have laid the foundation in a marsh. Then everybody seems to want something. The number of people, for instance, who want to be made Roman citizens is beyond belief. If Rome were empty, we could almost people it again with them. But, after all, these things need not trouble me very much. One only has to be firm and say ‘No!’ But here is a more serious matter, upon which I should like to have your advice.”
The Governor handed to his friend two or three small parchment rolls, which he took from a greater number that were lying upon a table. As Tacitus read them, his look became grave, and even troubled.
“What am I to do in this matter?” said the Governor, after a short pause. “For the last two or three days these things have been positively crowding in upon me. You don’t see there more than half that I have had. They all run in the same style: I could fancy that a good many are in the same handwriting. ‘The most excellent Governor is hereby informed that there is a secret society, calling itself by the name of Christus, that holds illegal meetings in the neighbourhood of this city; that the members thereof are guilty of many offences against the majesty of the Emperor, as well as of impiety to the gods;’ and then there follows a long list of names of these same members. Some of these names I recognize, and, curiously enough, there is not one against which I know any harm. Can you tell me anything about this secret society which calls itself by the name of Christus?”