They were ushered out, and no sooner had they left the room than Tigellinus rose, and impetuously exclaimed—‘I have it! Those Jews have taught me the secret. Strange that it never occurred to me before.’
‘What is the secret, Præfect?’ asked Poppæa.
‘The Christians! we must accuse them of being the incendiaries of Rome. Cæsar, dismiss your fears. The propitiated gods have found a victim, and the people will be satisfied.’
Nero’s spirits instantly rose. ‘Excellent!’ he exclaimed; ‘and thanks to that handsome Rabbi for the hint; but who will tell us something more about them?’
‘Aliturus will,’ said Poppæa. ‘As an actor he moves constantly among the people.’
Aliturus had hardly left the Palace when he was summoned back to the imperial conclave, and asked to tell what he knew about the Christians. He retailed all the vile calumnies which were current in antiquity about the ass-worship, the drinking of the blood of slain children, the promiscuous orgies of darkness, the deadly hatred to all mankind, the Thyestean banquets and Œdipodean unions. He told all these things because he had heard them from common report, and had never taken the trouble to ascertain the truth.
‘Have they any friends among the populace?’ asked the Præfect.
‘None,’ replied the actor. ‘The people hate them. They are foes to all pleasure: they will not enter a theatre. They spit when they pass a temple; they turn away with horror from sacrifices. They hate wine, and will never wear a garland. They are morose misanthropes, devoutly brutal, and capable of any crime.’
‘It would be a good thing to get rid of such enemies of gods and men,’ said Tigellinus. ‘Do you think they could have been the authors of the late conflagration?’
‘It is more than possible,’ answered Aliturus. ‘I hear that they often talk about the burning up of the world.’