“I’ve had enough,” my father went on, “of swallowing the waters of the Roman sewers so that they choke me. But now I shall bear witness that I myself was in Jerusalem and Galilee in the days of Pontius Pilate and saw with my own eyes Jesus of Nazareth being crucified, he who is not only called Christ, but who really is Christ and the Son of God, for I also saw with my own eyes that his tomb was empty and that he had risen from the dead on the third day, regardless of all the lies of the Jews.”
Many cried out that my father had gone mad, but the most inquisitive demantled that he should go on. In fact most of the senators bore a grudge against Nero and against the Imperial powers in general. Always remember that, Julius, my son.
So my father was allowed to continue.
“In silence,” he said, “and in all my human weakness, I acknowledged him as Christ long ago, although in my own life I have not been able to keep his message. But I think he will forgive me my sins and perhaps allow me a small place in his kingdom, whatever that kingdom looks like, and on that I am not yet clear. I think it is a kingdom of mercy, of peace and of clarity, here or there, or somewhere else. But this kingdom has no political significance. So the Christians have no political aims either, other than that they think that the only true freedom for a human being lies in Christ and by following his way. The ways can be many and I shall not become involved in their differences, but I believe that they all lead to his kingdom in the end. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, have mercy on my sinful soul.”
The Consuls interrupted him now, for he was wandering off the point and beginning to philosophize.
“I do not wish to try your patience with nonsense,” said Nero in his turn. “Marcus Manilianus has said what he has to say. On my part, I have always considered that my father, the god Claudius, was mad when he had his wife Messalina and so many noblemen executed that he had to fill the Senate with so many useless members. Marcus Manilianus’ own words prove that he is not worthy of his purple braid nor his red boots. Obviously his mind is confused and why this is so, I cannot guess. I suggest that in consideration for his bald head, we simply separate him from our circle and send him to some distant resort where his mental health will be restored. On this matter, we are presumably unanimous and need not vote.”
But several senators wished to annoy Nero, as long as someone else took the consequences. So they called on Marcus to continue, if he still had anything to say. Paetus Thrasea took the floor first.
“Naturally,” he said with feigned innocence, “we are all agreed that Marcus Mezentius is out of his mind. But divine madness sometimes makes people into seers. Perhaps he has this gift thanks to his Etruscan forefathers. If he does not believe that the Christians set fire to Rome, however probable this may seem from what we have heard, then perhaps he will tell us who the real instigators were?”
“Mock as you please, Paetus Thrasea,” said my father angrily, “but your end is also near. One does not need the gifts of a seer to see that I accuse no one of the fire of Rome, not even Nero, however much many of you would like to hear such an accusation made publicly and not merely in whispers. But I do not know Nero. I simply believe and assure you all that the Christians are innocent of the fire of Rome. I know them.”
Nero shook his head sadly and raised one hand.
“I made it quite clear that I do not accuse all the Christians in Rome of the fire,” he said. “I have condemned them as public enemies on sufficient grounds. If Marcus Manilianus wishes to claim that he himself is a public enemy, then the matter becomes serious and can no longer be defended on the grounds of mental derangement.”
But Nero was profoundly mistaken if he thought he could frighten my father into silence. My father was a stubborn man in spite of his good nature and quietness.
“One night,” he went on, “by the lake in Galilee, I met a fisherman who had been scourged. I have reason to believe that he was the risen Jesus of Nazareth. He promised me that I should die for the glorification of his name. I did not understand him then, but thought he was prophesying something evil. Now I understand and I thank him for his good prophecy. To the glory of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, I wish to state that I am a Christian and share in their baptism, their spirit and their holy meals. I shall be subjected to the same punishment as they. And further, I wish to tell you, respected fathers, in case you do not yet know it, that Nero himself is the greatest enemy of mankind. You too are enemies of mankind as long as you endure his insane tyranny.”
Nero whispered to the Consuls, who immediately declared the meeting secret, so that Rome should not be subjected to the shame of a member of the Senate being exposed by his hatred of mankind as a spokesman for a frightening superstition. My father had his own way. Considering a vote unnecessary, the Consul declared that the Senate had decided to strip Marcus Mezentius Manilianus of his broad purple band and his red laced boots.
In front of the assembled Senate, two senators appointed by the Consuls removed toga and tunic from my father, his red boots were drawn from his feet and his ivory stool was smashed to pieces. After this had taken place in complete silence, suddenly Senator Pudens Pub-licola rose to his feet and in a trembling voice announced that he too was a Christian.
But his elderly friends grabbed him and forcibly pulled him down into his place, covering his mouth with their hands as they shouted and laughed together to drown his words. Nero said that enough disgrace had already fallen on the Senate, that the meeting was now closed, and no notice need be taken of an old man’s gabbling. Pudens was a Valerian and a Publicolian. My father was only an insignificant Manilianus by adoption.
Tigellinus now called in the centurion who was on guard in the Curia arcade, told him to take ten Praetorians and remove my father to the nearest place of execution outside the city walls, avoiding attracting attention at all costs.
To be just, he should have been taken to the circus to be executed in the same way as the other Christians, but to avoid scandal, it was better to have him taken outside the city walls in secret. There he would be decapitated with a sword.
Naturally the centurion and his men were furious, for they were afraid they would be too late for the show in the circus. As my father was now quite naked, they snatched a cape from a slave who had been standing staring at the senators leaving the Curia, and flung it over him. The slave began running after my father, whimpering and trying to retrieve his only piece of clothing.
The wives of the senators were sitting waiting in their husbands’ sedans. Because of the long journey they had to make, the idea was that the procession, with senators and matrons separated, would form just outside the circus, to which the image of the gods of Rome had already been borne on their cushions. Tullia became impatient when nothing was heard of my father and stepped out of her sedan to go and find him. She had thought that he had behaved oddly in other ways the night before.
When Tullia asked after her husband, not one of the senators dared answer her, for that part of the meeting had been declared secret and they had sworn an oath on it. The confusion was increased when Pudens loudly demantled to be taken home since he did not wish to witness the infamous circus show.
Several senators who were secretly in sympathy with the Christians and hated Nero and respected my father’s manly behavior, although they thought him a little mad, were encouraged to follow Pudens’ example and stay away from the procession.
As Tullia scuttled back and forth outside the Curia like an agitated hen, loudly complaining about my father’s absentmindedness and dilatoriness, she caught sight of a plaintive slave and an old man with a slave cape over his shoulders being led away by some Praetorians. When she got nearer, she recognized my father and, utterly dumbfounded, stopped with her arms outstretched, barring their way.
“What on earth are you up to again, Marcus?” she asked. “Whatever is all this about? I’m not forcing you to go to the circus if you find it so distasteful. There are others here who are not going. Come, let’s go home quietly if you like. I won’t even quarrel with you.”
The centurion, in his haste, struck her with his stave and told her to be off. At first Tullia could not believe her ears, but then she was so angry she rushed at him in order to scratch the eyes out of his stupid head, at the same time crying out that he would immediately be clapped in irons for daring to touch the wife of a senator.
And so the scandal became public. Several women got out of their sedans, ignoring their husbands’ protests, and hurried to Tullia’s assistance. When this well-dressed group of women surrounded the Praetorians, all loudly asking what had happened and what it was all about, my father was troubled by the attention they were attracting and turned to speak to Tullia.
“I am no longer a senator,” he said. “I am going with the centurion of my own free will. Remember your rank and don’t shriek like a fishwife. As far as I am concerned, you can go alone to the circus. I don’t think there’s anything to stop you.”
