Chapter XIV

FOR a number of days after the interview, Chilo did not show himself

anywhere. Vinicius, since he had learned from Acte that Lygia loved him,

was a hundred times more eager to find her, and began himself to search.

He was unwilling, and also unable, to ask aid of Cæsar, who was in great

fear because of the illness of the infant Augusta.

Sacrifices in the temples did not help, neither did prayers and

offerings, nor the art of physicians, nor all the means of enchantment

to which they turned finally. In a week the child died. Mourning fell

upon the court and Rome. Cæsar, who at the birth of the infant was wild

with delight, was wild now from despair, and, confining himself in

his apartments, refused food for two days; and though the palace was

swarming with senators and Augustians, who hastened with marks of sorrow

and sympathy, he denied audience to every one. The senate assembled in

an extraordinary session, at which the dead child was pronounced divine.

It was decided to rear to her a temple and appoint a special priest to

her service. New sacrifices were offered in other temples in honor of

the deceased; statues of her were cast from precious metals; and her

funeral was one immense solemnity, during which the people wondered at

the unrestrained marks of grief which Cæsar exhibited; they wept

with him, stretched out their hands for gifts, and above all amused

themselves with the unparalleled spectacle.

That death alarmed Petronius. All knew in Rome that Poppæa ascribed it

to enchantment. The physicians, who were thus enabled to explain the

vanity of their efforts, supported her; the priests, whose sacrifices

proved powerless, did the same, as well as the sorcerers, who were

trembling for their lives, and also the people. Petronius was glad now

that Lygia had fled; for he wished no evil to Aulus and Pomponia, and he

wished good to himself and Vinicius; therefore when the cypress, set out

before the Palatine as a sign of mourning, was removed, he went to the

reception appointed for the senators and Augustians to learn how far

Nero had lent ear to reports of spells, and to neutralize results which

might come from his belief.

Knowing Nero, he thought, too, that though he did not believe in charms,

he would feign belief, so as to magnify his own suffering, and take

vengeance on some one, finally, to escape the suspicion that the gods

had begun to punish him for crimes. Petronius did not think that Cæsar

could love really and deeply even his own child; though he loved her

passionately, he felt certain, however, that he would exaggerate his

suffering. He was not mistaken. Nero listened, with stony face and fixed

eyes, to the consolation offered by knights and senators. It was evident

that, even if he suffered, he was thinking of this: What impression

would his suffering make upon others? He was posing as a Niobe, and

giving an exhibition of parental sorrow, as an actor would give it on

the stage. He had not the power even then to endure in his silent and as

it were petrified sorrow, for at moments he made a gesture as if to cast

the dust of the earth on his head, and at moments he groaned deeply; but

seeing Petronius, he sprang up and cried in a tragic voice, so that all

present could hear him,--“Eheu! And thou art guilty of her death! At thy

advice the evil spirit entered these walls,--the evil spirit which, with

one look, drew the life from her breast! Woe is me! Would that my eyes

had not seen the light of Helios! Woe is me! Eheu! eheu!”

And raising his voice still more, he passed into a despairing shout; but

Petronius resolved at that moment to put everything on one cast of the

dice; hence, stretching out his hand, he seized the silk kerchief which

Nero wore around his neck always, and, placing it on the mouth of the

Imperator, said solemnly,--“Lord, Rome and the world are benumbed with

pain; but do thou preserve thy voice for us!”

Those present were amazed; Nero himself was amazed for a moment.

Petronius alone was unmoved; he knew too well what he was doing. He

remembered, besides, that Terpnos and Diodorus had a direct order to

close Cæsar’s mouth whenever he raised his voice too much and exposed it

to danger.

“O Cæsar!” continued he, with the same seriousness and sorrow, “we have

suffered an immeasurable loss; let even this treasure of consolation

remain to us!”

Nero’s face quivered, and after a while tears came from his eyes. All

at once he rested his hands on Petronius’s shoulders, and, dropping his

head on his breast, began to repeat, amid sobs,

“Thou alone of all thought of this,--thou alone, O Petronius! thou

alone!”

Tigellinus grew yellow from envy; but Petronius continued,--

“Go to Antium! there she came to the world, there joy flowed in on

thee, there solace will come to thee. Let the sea air freshen thy divine

throat; let thy breast breathe the salt dampness. We, thy devoted

ones, will follow thee everywhere; and when we assuage thy pain with

friendship, thou wilt comfort us with song.

“True!” answered Nero, sadly, “I will write a hymn in her honor, and

compose music for it.”

“And then thou wilt find the warm sun in Baiæ.”

“And afterward--forgetfulness in Greece.”

“In the birthplace of poetry and song.”

And his stony, gloomy state of mind passed away gradually, as clouds

pass that are covering the sun; and then a conversation began which,

though full of sadness, yet was full of plans for the future,--touching

a journey, artistic exhibitions, and even the receptions required at the

promised coming of Tiridates, King of Armenia. Tigellinus tried, it is

true, to bring forward again the enchantment; but Petronius, sure now of

victory, took up the challenge directly.

“Tigellinus,” said he, “dost thou think that enchantments can injure the

gods?”

“Cæsar himself has mentioned them,” answered the courtier.

“Pain was speaking, not Cæsar; but thou--what is thy opinion of the

matter?”

“The gods are too mighty to be subject to charms.”

“Then wouldst thou deny divinity to Cæsar and his family?”

“Peractum est!” muttered Eprius Marcellus, standing near, repeating

that shout which the people gave always when a gladiator in the arena

received such a blow that he needed no other.

Tigellinus gnawed his own anger. Between him and Petronius there had

long existed a rivalry touching Nero. Tigellinus had this superiority,

that Nero acted with less ceremony, or rather with none whatever in

his presence; while thus far Petronius overcame Tigellinus at every

encounter with wit and intellect.

So it happened now. Tigellinus was silent, and simply recorded in his

memory those senators and knights who, when Petronius withdrew to the

depth of the chamber, surrounded him straightway, supposing that after

this incident he would surely be Cæsar’s first favorite.

Petronius, on leaving the palace, betook himself to Vinicius, and

described his encounter with Cæsar and Tigellinus.

“Not only have I turned away danger,” said he, “from Aulus Plautius,

Pomponia, and us, but even from Lygia, whom they will not seek, even

for this reason, that I have persuaded Bronzebeard, the monkey, to go to

Antium, and thence to Naples or Baiæ and he will go. I know that he has

not ventured yet to appear in the theatre publicly; I have known this

long time that he intends to do so at Naples. He is dreaming, moreover,

of Greece, where he wants to sing in all the more prominent cities, and

then make a triumphal entry into Rome, with all the crowns which the

‘Græculi’ will bestow on him. During that time we shall be able to

seek Lygia unhindered and secrete her in safety. But has not our noble

philosopher been here yet?”

“Thy noble philosopher is a cheat. No; he has not shown himself, and he

will not show himself again!”

“But I have a better understanding, if not of his honesty, of his wit.

He has drawn blood once from thy purse, and will come even for this, to

draw it a second time.”

“Let him beware lest I draw his own blood.”

“Draw it not; have patience till thou art convinced surely of his

deceit. Do not give him more money, but promise a liberal reward if he

brings thee certain information. Wilt thou thyself undertake something?”

“My two freedmen, Nymphidius and Demas, are searching for her with sixty

men. Freedom is promised the slave who finds her. Besides I have sent

out special persons by all roads leading from Rome to inquire at every

inn for the Lygian and the maiden. I course through the city myself day

and night, counting on a chance meeting.”

“Whenever thou hast tidings let me know, for I must go to Antium.”

“I will do so.”

“And if thou wake up some morning and say, ‘It is not worth while to

torment myself for one girl, and take so much trouble because of her,’

come to Antium. There will be no lack of women there, or amusement.”

Vinicius began to walk with quick steps. Petronius looked for some time

at him, and said at last,--“Tell me sincerely, not as a mad head, who

talks something into his brain and excites himself, but as a man of

judgment who is answering a friend: Art thou concerned as much as ever

about this Lygia?”

Vinicius stopped a moment, and looked at Petronius as if he had not

seen him before; then he began to walk again. It was evident that he

was restraining an outburst. At last, from a feeling of helplessness,

sorrow, anger, and invincible yearning, two tears gathered in his eyes,

which spoke with greater power to Petronius than the most eloquent

words.

Then, meditating for a moment, he said,--“It is not Atlas who carries

the world on his shoulders, but woman; and sometimes she plays with it

as with a ball.”

“True,” said Vinicius.

And they began to take farewell of each other. But at that moment a

slave announced that Chilo Chilonides was waiting in the antechamber,

and begged to be admitted to the presence of the lord.

Vinicius gave command to admit him immediately, and Petronius

said,--“Ha! have I not told thee? By Hercules! keep thy calmness; or he

will command thee, not thou him.”

“A greeting and honor to the noble tribune of the army, and to thee,

lord,” said Chilo, entering. “May your happiness be equal to your fame,

and may your fame course through the world from the pillars of Hercules

to the boundaries of the Arsacidæ.”

“A greeting, O lawgiver of virtue and wisdom,” answered Petronius.

But Vinicius inquired with affected calmness, “What dost thou bring?”

“The first time I came I brought thee hope, O lord; at present, I bring

certainty that the maiden will be found.”

“That means that thou hast not found her yet?”

“Yes, lord; but I have found what that sign means which she made. I

know who the people are who rescued her, and I know the God among whose

worshippers to seek her.”

Vinicius wished to spring from the chair in which he was sitting;

but Petronius placed his hand on his shoulder, and turning to Chilo

said,--“Speak on!”

“Art thou perfectly certain, lord, that she drew a fish on the sand?”

“Yes,” burst out Vinicius.

“Then she is a Christian and Christians carried her away.” A moment of

silence followed.

“Listen, Chilo,” said Petronius. “My relative has predestined to thee

a considerable sum of money for finding the girl, but a no less

considerable number of rods if thou deceive him. In the first case thou

wilt purchase not one, but three scribes; in the second, the philosophy

of all the seven sages, with the addition of thy own, will not suffice

to get thee ointment.”

“The maiden is a Christian, lord,” cried the Greek.

“Stop, Chilo. Thou art not a dull man. We know that Junia and Calvia

Crispinilla accused Pomponia Græcina of confessing the Christian

superstition; but we know too, that a domestic court acquitted her.

Wouldst thou raise this again? Wouldst thou persuade us that Pomponia,

and with her Lygia, could belong to the enemies of the human race, to

the poisoners of wells and fountains, to the worshippers of an ass’s

head, to people who murder infants and give themselves up to the foulest

license? Think, Chilo, if that thesis which thou art announcing to us

will not rebound as an antithesis on thy own back.”

Chilo spread out his arms in sign that that was not his fault, and then

said,--“Lord, utter in Greek the following sentence: Jesus Christ, Son

of God, Saviour.” [Iesous Christos, Theou Uios, Soter.]

“Well, I have uttered it. What comes of that?”

“Now take the first letters of each of those words and put them into one

word.”

“Fish!” said Petronius with astonishment. [Ichthus, the Greek word for

“fish.”]

“There, that is why fish has become the watchword of the Christians,”

answered Chilo, proudly.

A moment of silence followed. But there was something so striking in the

conclusions of the Greek that the two friends could not guard themselves

from amazement.

“Vinicius, art thou not mistaken?” asked Petronius. “Did Lygia really

draw a fish for thee?”

“By all the infernal gods, one might go mad!” cried the young man, with

excitement. “If she had drawn a bird for me, I should have said a bird.”

“Therefore she is a Christian,” repeated Chilo.

“This signifies,” said Petronius, “that Pomponia and Lygia poison

wells, murder children caught on the street, and give themselves up to

dissoluteness! Folly! Thou, Vinicius, wert at their house for a time, I

was there a little while; but I know Pomponia and Aulus enough, I know

even Lygia enough, to say monstrous and foolish! If a fish is the symbol

of the Christians, which it is difficult really to deny, and if those

women are Christians, then, by Proserpina! evidently Christians are not

what we hold them to be.”

“Thou speakest like Socrates, lord,” answered Chilo. “Who has ever

examined a Christian? Who has learned their religion? When I was

travelling three years ago from Naples hither to Rome (oh, why did I

not stay in Naples!), a man joined me, whose name was Glaucus, of whom

people said that he was a Christian; but in spite of that I convinced

myself that he was a good and virtuous man.”

“Was it not from that virtuous man that thou hast learned now what the

fish means?”

“Unfortunately, lord, on the way, at an inn, some one thrust a knife

into that honorable old man; and his wife and child were carried away

by slave-dealers. I lost in their defence these two fingers; since, as

people say, there is no lack among Christians of miracles, I hope that

the fingers will grow out on my hand again.”

“How is that? Hast thou become a Christian?”

“Since yesterday, lord, since yesterday! The fish made me a Christian.

But see what a power there is in it. For some days I shall be the most

zealous of the zealous, so that they may admit me to all their secrets;

and when they admit me to their secrets, I shall know where the maiden

is hiding. Perhaps then my Christianity will pay me better than my

philosophy. I have made a vow also to Mercury, that if he helps me to

find the maiden, I will sacrifice to him two heifers of the same size

and color and will gild their horns.”

“Then thy Christianity of yesterday and thy philosophy of long standing

permit thee to believe in Mercury?”

“I believe always in that in which I need to believe; that is my

philosophy, which ought to please Mercury. Unfortunately (ye know,

worthy lords, what a suspicious god he is), he does not trust the

promises even of blameless philosophers, and prefers the heifers in

advance; meanwhile this outlay is immense. Not every one is a Seneca,

and I cannot afford the sacrifice; should the noble Vinicius, however,

wish to give something, on account of that sum which he promised--”

“Not an obolus, Chilo!” said Petronius, “not an obolus. The bounty

of Vinicius will surpass thy expectations, but only when Lygia is

found,--that is, when thou shalt indicate to us her hiding-place.

Mercury must trust thee for the two heifers, though I am not astonished

at him for not wishing to do so; in this I recognize his acuteness.”

“Listen to me, worthy lords. The discovery which I have made is great;

for though I have not found the maiden yet, I have found the way in

which I must seek her. Ye have sent freedmen and slaves throughout the

city and into the country; has any one given you a clew? No! I alone

have given one. I tell you more. Among your slaves there may be

Christians, of whom ye have no knowledge, for this superstition has

spread everywhere; and they, instead of aiding, will betray you. It is

unfortunate that they see me here; do thou therefore, noble Petronius,

enjoin silence on Eunice; and thou too, noble Vinicius, spread a report

that I sell thee an ointment which insures victory in the Circus to

horses rubbed with it. I alone will search for her, and single-handed I

will find the fugitives; and do ye trust in me, and know that whatever

I receive in advance will be for me simply an encouragement, for I shall

hope always for more, and shall feel the greater certainty that the

promised reward will not fail me. Ah, it is true! As a philosopher I

despise money, though neither Seneca, nor even Musonius, nor Cornutus

despises it, though they have not lost fingers in any one’s defence, and

are able themselves to write and leave their names to posterity. But,

aside from the slave, whom I intend to buy, and besides Mercury, to whom

I have promised the heifers,--and ye know how dear cattle have become in

these times,--the searching itself involves much outlay. Only listen

to me patiently. Well, for the last few days my feet are wounded from

continual walking. I have gone to wine-shops to talk with people, to

bakeries, to butcher-shops, to dealers in olive oil, and to fishermen.

I have run through every street and alley; I have been in the hiding

places of fugitive slaves; I have lost money, nearly a hundred ases,

in playing mora; I have been in laundries, in drying-sheds, in cheap

kitchens; I have seen mule-drivers and carvers; I have seen people who

cure bladder complaints and pull teeth; I have talked with dealers in

dried figs; I have been at cemeteries; and do ye know why? This is why;

so as to outline a fish everywhere, look people in the eyes, and hear

what they would say of that sign. For a long time I was unable to learn

anything, till at last I saw an old slave at a fountain. He was drawing

water with a bucket, and weeping. Approaching him, I asked the cause

of his tears. When we had sat down on the steps of the fountain, he

answered that all his life he had been collecting sestertium after

sestertium, to redeem his beloved son; but his master, a certain Pansa,

when the money was delivered to him, took it, but kept the son in

slavery. ‘And so I am weeping,’ said the old man, ‘for though I repeat,

Let the will of God be done, I, poor sinner, am not able to keep down my

tears.’ Then, as if penetrated by a forewarning, I moistened my finger

in the water and drew a fish for him. To this he answered, ‘My hope,

too, is in Christ.’ I asked him then, ‘Hast thou confessed to me by that

sign?’ ‘I have,’ said he; ‘and peace be with thee.’ I began then to draw

him out, and the honest old man told me everything. His master, that

Pansa, is himself a freedman of the great Pansa; and he brings stones by

the Tiber to Rome, where slaves and hired persons unload them from

the boats, and carry them to buildings in the night time, so as not to

obstruct movement in the streets during daylight. Among these people

many Christians work, and also his son; as the work is beyond his son’s

strength, he wished to redeem him. But Pansa preferred to keep both the

money and the slave. While telling me this, he began again to weep; and

I mingled my tears with his,--tears came to me easily because of my kind

heart, and the pain in my feet, which I got from walking excessively.

I began also to lament that as I had come from Naples only a few days

since, I knew no one of the brotherhood, and did not know where they

assembled for prayer. He wondered that Christians in Naples had not

given me letters to their brethren in Rome; but I explained to him that

the letters were stolen from me on the road. Then he told me to come

to the river at night, and he would acquaint me with brethren who would

conduct me to houses of prayer and to elders who govern the Christian

community. When I heard this, I was so delighted that I gave him the

sum needed to redeem his son, in the hope that the lordly Vinicius would

return it to me twofold.”

“Chilo,” interrupted Petronius, “in thy narrative falsehood appears on

the surface of truth, as oil does on water. Thou hast brought important

information; I do not deny that. I assert, even, that a great step is

made toward finding Lygia; but do not cover thy news with falsehood.

What is the name of that old man from whom thou hast learned that the

Christians recognize each other through the sign of a fish?”

“Euricius. A poor, unfortunate old man! He reminded me of Glaucus, whom

I defended from murderers, and he touched me mainly by this.”

“I believe that thou didst discover him, and wilt be able to make use of

the acquaintance; but thou hast given him no money. Thou hast not given

him an as; dost understand me? Thou hast not given anything.”

“But I helped him to lift the bucket, and I spoke of his son with the

greatest sympathy. Yes, lord, what can hide before the penetration of

Petronius? Well, I did not give him money, or rather, I gave it to him,

but only in spirit, in intention, which, had he been a real philosopher,

should have sufficed him. I gave it to him because I saw that such an

act was indispensable and useful; for think, lord, how this act has won

all the Christians at once to me, what access to them it has opened, and

what confidence it has roused in them.”

“True,” said Petronius, “and it was thy duty to do it.”

“For this very reason I have come to get the means to do it.”

Petronius turned to Vinicius,--“Give command to count out to him five

thousand sestertia, but in spirit, in intention.”

“I will give thee a young man,” said Vinicius, “who will take the sum

necessary; thou wilt say to Euricius that the youth is thy slave, and

thou wilt count out to the old man, in the youth’s presence, this money.

Since thou hast brought important tidings, thou wilt receive the same

amount for thyself. Come for the youth and the money this evening.”

“Thou art a real Cæsar!” said Chilo. “Permit me, lord, to dedicate my

work to thee; but permit also that this evening I come only for the

money, since Euricius told me that all the boats had been unloaded, and

that new ones would come from Ostia only after some days. Peace be with

you! Thus do Christians take farewell of one another. I will buy myself

a slave woman,--that is, I wanted to say a slave man. Fish are caught

with a bait, and Christians with fish. Fax vobiscum! pax! pax! pax!”