Those About to Die

describes the games as 'bloody and brutal'), but in other countries the games slowly gained a following, although they never enjoyed anything like the popularity they had in Rome. Egypt held out against them for a long time but at last had to yield— in every nation there is always a certain proportion of people who enjoy such sights. So all over the Roman world great amphitheatres appeared, hardly less magnificent than the ones in Rome itself: at Capus, Pompeii, Pozzuoli and Verona in Italy; at Aries and Nimes in France; at Seville in Spain; at Antioch in Palestine; at Alexandria in Egypt; at Silchester in Britain; at El Dien in Tunisia.

Many of these amphitheatres still remain. You can sit in the 'maeniana' (stands) with a cold chicken and a bottle of wine and speculate out of which door the animals were re­leased, where the inner barrier ran, and how they got the lions out of the 'cavea' (interior) into the arena. As your guess is probably as good as anyone's, it's an interesting way to spend an afternoon.

The largest amphitheatre remaining is, of course, the Colosseum. Although the prodigious structure has been used as a quarry for a thousand years and a large part of Mediaeval Rome was built with stone taken from it, much still remains. Byron wrote:

A ruin! Yet what ruin! from its mass

Walls, palaces, half-cities, have been rear'd;

Yet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass,

And marvel where the spoil could have appear'd.

You can crawl through the 'enormous skeleton' with a copy of J. H. Middleton's The Remains of Ancient Rome and go nuts trying to find all the places he mentioned. You can see the huge traventine blocks used in the construction, some seven feet long, and held together with iron clamps as mere mortar couldn't carry the fantastic strain put on them. In the Middle Ages when iron was desperately needed, people dug thousands of these clamps out of the stone, a murderously laborious job. Although as late as 1756, a French archaeologist computed that there was still 17,000,000 francs worth of marble remaining in the Colosseum, almost all of it is now gone. However, you can still see many of the carved marble curule chairs used by the patricians on the podium. They're in Italian churches being used as episcopal thrones.

Next to the Colosseum, the largest of the remaining amphi­theatres is in Verona, Italy. It is 502 feet long by 401 feet wide and 98 feet high. It held about thirty thousand people and is still used for the mild Italian bullfights. The next largest remaining circus is in Nimes, France. It measures 435 by 345 feet and held about twenty thousand people. It is two stories high with 124 entrances. The Pompeian amphitheatre is comparatively small but interesting because it is so well preserved and the gladiator barracks are nearby.

In the Middle Ages these amphitheatres were regarded with superstitious awe. People living in Pola, Italy, thought the amphitheatre there must have been built by supernatural beings as no mortal man could accomplish such a task. They claimed that the stadium was a fairy palace, built in a single night. They explained the fact that the building had no roof by saying that a cock was awakened by the hammering and crew: the fairies thought it was daybreak and left without finishing the job.

Many of the amphitheatres were used as fortresses during the Middle Ages. Some of them were used as barns and crops were planted in the arenas. The farmers were astonished at how well the crops grew, not knowing that the soil was well fertilized.

The ludi, as the Romans called the games, were not, of course, games in our modern sense. Nor were they merely spectacles or shows as we understand the terms. They were a vital and integral part of Roman life and psychology. The closest modern parallel would be the Spanish bullfight which to a Latin is an emotional experience rather than a sport or an exhibition of skill. For over five hundred years the ludi continued in one form or another. Hundreds of generations of Romans were born, grew up and died under their influence. At last, they came completely to dominate the life of the average inhabitant of Rome. His one interest—almost his one cause of living—was to attend the ludi.

The growth, character, and final degeneration of the ludi closely paralleled the growth, character and degeneration of the Roman empire. In the old, simple days of the republic, the games were simply athletic contests. As Rome became a conquering power, the games became bloody, ruthless and fierce, although still retaining a conception of fair play and sportsmanship. This was the era when Augustus had to pass laws forbidden patricians from jumping into the arena and fighting it out with professional gladiators, and a young noble would challenge a victorious German prisoner to a fight to the death. When Rome finished her conquests and became merely a despotic power, the games became pointlessly cruel. Toward the end they were nothing but sadistic displays. Shortly after this period, the empire collapsed.

Any modern promoter who cared to put on a series of shows duplicating the Roman games would easily be able to fill the house. Mickey Spillane could be Master of the Games. Bullfights, cockfights, dogfights, and the Indianapolis Speed­way (our closest approach to the chariot races) are all popular. I even find it hard to believe that all boxing fans are primarily interested in the fine points of the sport rather than in seeing two men half kill each other. If they knew that one man really would be killed, they'd enjoy it all the more. The most popular programmes on TV are the Westerns showing men shooting each other. The next most popular are the gangster films. Of course, the men don't actually kill each other—if they did you couldn't get people away from their sets.

The Roman games were probably the biggest argument against 'spectator sports' that can be advanced. As long as the Romans were themselves a nation of fighting men, there might have been some truth to the beliefs of Cato and Pliny that the games encouraged manly virtues. But there is a big difference between tough fighting men, appreciatively watching a struggle between equally matched opponents, and a de­praved crowd gloating over scenes of meaningless cruelty.

The same tendency can be seen today in rough sports. The spectator who hollers, 'Murder the bums! Knock his teeth out! Kill him!' is usually a meek little guy in a rear seat who has just got a bawling out from his boss and had to sneak out of the house when his wife wasn't home. He wants to see somebody else get hurt ... he doesn't care who.

the end

Author's Note

So many sources were used in preparing this volume that it would be impossible to name them all. In many cases, only a single reference was taken from a book. However, some of the main works dealing with the games are listed in the Bibli­ography. Some of the sequences, especially in the description of the shows at the time of Carpophorus, are a compendium of many sources. In describing how Carpophorus trained the animals that had relations with women, I used Apuleius and also the technique employed by a Mexican gentleman I met in Tia Juana who was making 16mm. stag films on the subject.

The description of the venatores' battle with the lions and tigers is a combination of original sources, J. A. Hunter's account of Masai warriors spearing lions, and comments from Mel Koontz and Marbel Stark, both of whom are professional lion tamers. The crocodile wrestling is described by Strabo, but I added material told me by a Seminole Indian who wrestled alligators in Florida. The gladiatorial combats are all taken from contemporary accounts or from graffiti (wall drawings) in Pompeii. The bullfights are from graffiti of the fights, con­temporary descriptions, the murals in Knossus, incidents I've observed in Spanish bullfights, and suggestions made by Pete Patterson, who is a rodeo clown.

The battle between the Essedarii and the Greek Hoplites is a combination of Tacitus' description of British war chariots, Hogarth's description of the Hoplite phalanx in Philip and Alexander of Macedon, extracts from Mason's Roping, and the manner in which a British square was handled in the early nineteenth century. The elephant fights come from con­temporary sources and Capt. Fitz- Barnard, who saw war elephants in action in India.

The description of Chilo's tavern is taken from Amedeo Maiuri's Pompeii and my own notes on a wine shop there. The conversation between the men is nearly all from Petronius' Satyricon. Although my account of Carpophorus' death is