The first show of gladiators in Rome was one given by Marcus and Decius Brutus, on the occasion of the death of their father, 264 B.C. Three pairs of gladiators fought in this first contest. This gladiatorial spectacle was continued on funeral occasions, but afterwards lost its religious character and became a popular amusement, there being schools for the training of gladiators, whose pupils were recruited from the captives of Rome, from condemned criminals, and from vigorous men desirous of fame.
As time went on the magnificence of these spectacles increased. Julius Caesar gave one in which three hundred and twenty combatants fought.
Trajan far surpassed this with a show that lasted for one hundred and twenty-three days, and in which ten thousand men fought with each other or with wild beasts for the pleasure of the Roman populace.
The gladiators were variously armed, some with sword, shield, and body armor; some with net and trident; some with noose or lasso. The disarmed or overthrown gladiator was killed or spared in response to signals made by the thumbs of the spectators; while the successful combatant was rewarded at first with a palm branch, afterwards with money and rich and valuable presents.
[Illustration: ROMAN CHARIOT RACE.]
The gladiators were not always passive instruments of Roman cruelty. We have elsewhere described the revolt of Spartacus and his brave struggle for liberty. Other outbreaks took place. During the reign of Probus a revolt of about eighty gladiators out of a school of some six hundred filled Rome with death and alarm. Killing their keepers, they broke into the streets, which they set afloat with blood, and only after an obstinate resistance and ample revenge were they at length overpowered and cut to pieces by the soldiers of the city. But such outbreaks were but few, and the Roman multitude usually enjoyed its cruel sports in safety.
We cannot here describe the many remarkable displays made by successive emperors, and which grew more lavish as time went on. Probus, about 280 A.D., gave a show in which the arena was transformed into a forest, large trees, dug up by the roots, being transported and planted throughout its space. In this miniature forest were set free a thousand ostriches, and an equal number each of stags, fallow deer, and wild boars. These were given to the multitude to assail and slay at their will. On the following day, the populace being now safely screened from danger, there were slain in the arena a hundred lions, as many lionesses, two hundred leopards, and three hundred bears.
The younger Gordian, in his triumphal games, astonished the Romans by the strangeness of the animals displayed, in search of which the whole known world was ransacked. The curious mob now beheld the graceful forms of twenty zebras, and the remarkable stature of ten giraffes, brought from remote African plains. There were shown, in addition, ten elks, as many tigers from India, and thirty African hyenas. To these were added a troop of thirty-two elephants, and the uncouth forms of the hippopotamus of the Nile and the rhinoceros of the African wilds. These animals, familiar to us, were new to their observers, and filled the minds of their spectators with wonder and awe.
Gladiators, as we have said, were not confined to slaves, captives, and criminals. Roman citizens, emulous of the fame and rewards of the successful combatant, entered their ranks, and men of birth and fortune, thirsting for the excitement of the arenal strife, were often seen in the lists. In the reign of Nero, senators, and even women of high birth, appeared as combatants; and Domitian arranged a battle between dwarfs and women. As late as 200 A.D. an edict forbidding women to fight became necessary.
The emperors, as a rule, were content with sending their subjects to death in those frightful shows; but one of them, Commodus, proud of his strength and skill, himself entered the lists as a combatant. He was at first content with displaying his remarkable skill as an archer against wild animals. With arrows whose head was shaped like a crescent, he cut asunder the long neck of the ostrich, and with the strength of his bow pierced alike the thick skin of the elephant and the scaly hide of the rhinoceros. A panther was let loose and a slave forced to act as its prey. But at the instant when the beast leaped upon the man the shaft of Commodus flew, and the animal fell dead, leaving its prey unhurt. No less than a hundred lions were let loose at once in the arena, and the death-dealing darts of the emperor hurtled among them until they all were slain.
During this exhibition of skill the emperor was securely protected against any chance danger from his victims. But later, to the shame and indignation of the people, he entered the arena as a gladiator, and fought there no less than seven hundred and thirty-five times. He was well protected, wearing the helmet, shield, and sword of the _Secutor_, while his antagonists were armed with the net and trident of the _Retiarius_. It was the aim of the latter to entangle his opponent in the net and then despatch him with the trident, and if he missed he was forced to fly till he had prepared his net for a second throw.
As may be imagined, in these contests Commodus was uniformly successful.
His opponents were schooled not to put forth their full skill, and were usually given their lives in reward. But the emperor claimed the prize of the successful gladiator, and himself fixed this reward at so high a price that to pay it became a new tax on the Roman people. Commodus, we may say here, met with the usual fate of the base and cruel emperors of Rome, falling by the hands of assassins.
The gladiatorial shows were not without their opponents in Rome. Under the republic efforts were made to limit the number of combatants and the frequency of the displays, and the Emperor Augustus forbade more than two shows in a year. They were prohibited by Constantine, the first Christian emperor, in 325 A.D., but continued at intervals till 404. In that year Telemachus, an Asiatic monk, filled with horror at the cruelty of the practice, made his way to Rome, and during a contest rushed into the arena and tried to part two gladiators.
The spectators, furious at this interruption of their sport, stoned the monk to death. But the Emperor Honorius proclaimed him a martyr, and issued an edict which finally brought such exhibitions to an end.
There was another form of spectacle at Rome, in its way as significant of cruelty and ruthlessness, the Triumph, each occasion of which signified some nation conquered or army defeated, and thousands slain or plunged into misery and destitution. The victorious general to whom the senate granted the honor of a triumph was not allowed to enter the city in advance, and Lucullus, on his return from victory in Asia, waited outside Rome for three years, until the desired honor was granted him.
Starting from the Field of Mars, outside the city walls, the procession passed through the gayly garlanded streets to the Capitol. It was headed by the magistrates and senate of Rome, who were followed by trumpeters, and then by the spoils of war, consisting not only of treasures and standards, but of representations of battles, towns, fortresses, rivers, etc.
Next came the victims intended for sacrifice, largely composed of white oxen with gilded horns. They were followed by prisoners kept to grace the triumph, and who were put to death when the Capitol was reached.
Afterwards came the gorgeous chariot of the conqueror, crowned with laurel and drawn by four horses. He wore robes of purple and gold taken from the temple of Jupiter, carried a laurel branch in his right hand, and in his left a sceptre of ivory with an eagle at its tip. After him came the soldiers, singing _Io triumphe_ and other songs of victory.
On reaching the Capitol the victor placed the laurel branch on the cap of the seated Jupiter, and offered the thank-offerings. A feast of the dignitaries, and sometimes of the soldiers and people, followed. The ceremony at first occupied one day only, but in later times was extended through several days, and was frequently attended with gladiatorial shows and other spectacles for the greater enjoyment of the Roman multitude.
_THE REIGN OF A GLUTTON._
The death of Nero cut all the reins of order in Rome. Until now, as stated in a preceding tale, some form of hereditary succession had been followed, the emperors being of the family of Caesar, though not his direct descendants. Now confusion reigned supreme. The army took upon itself the task of nominating the emperor, and within less than two years four emperors came in succession to the royal seat, each the general of one of the armies of Rome.
Galba, who headed the revolt against Nero, and succeeded him on the throne, reigned but seven months, being overthrown by Otho, who conspired against him with the Praetorian guards. The new emperor reigned only three months. The army of Germany proclaimed their general--Vitellius--emperor, marched against Otho, and defeated him. He ended the contest by committing suicide. Vitellius reigned less than a year. The army of the East rebelled against him, proclaimed their general--Vespasian--emperor, and a new civil war broke out, which was closed by the speedy downfall of Vitellius. It is the story of this man, emperor for less than a year, which we have here to describe.
The three men named were alike unfit to reign over Rome. Galba was very old and very incompetent, Otho was a declared profligate, and Vitellius was a glutton of such extraordinary powers that his name has become a synonyme for voracity. He had by his arts and his skill as a courtier made himself a favorite with four emperors of widely differing character,--Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, and Nero. The suicide of Otho had now made him emperor himself, and he gave way without stint to the peculiar vice which has made his name despicable, that of inordinate love of the pleasures of the table.
After the death of Otho, says Tacitus, "Vitellius, sunk in sloth, and growing every day more contemptible, advanced by slow marches towards the city of Rome. In all the villas and municipal towns through which he passed, carousing festivals were sufficient to retard a man abandoned to his pleasures. He was followed by an unwieldy multitude, not less than sixty thousand men in arms, all corrupted by a life of debauchery. The number of retainers and followers of the army was still greater, all disposed to riot and insolence, even beyond the natural bent of the vilest slaves.
"The crowd was still increased by a conflux of senators and Roman knights, who came from Rome to greet the prince on his way; some impelled by fear, others to pay their court, and numbers, not to be thought sullen or disaffected. All went with the current. The populace rushed forth in crowds, accompanied by an infamous band of pimps, players, buffoons, and charioteers, by their utility in vicious pleasures all well known and dear to Vitellius.
"To supply so vast a body with provisions the colonies and municipal cities were exhausted; the fruits of the earth, then ripe and fit for use, were carried off; the husbandman was plundered; and his land, as if it were an enemy's country, was laid waste and ruined."
[Illustration: THE COLISEUM AT ROME.]
The followers of Vitellius were many of them Germans and Gauls, so savage of aspect as to create consternation in Rome. "Covered with the skins of savage beasts, and wielding large and massive spears, the spectacle which they exhibited to the Roman citizens was fierce and hideous." They were as savage as they looked, and many conflicts took place both outside and inside of Rome, in which numbers of citizens were slaughtered. In fact, the march of Vitellius to Rome was almost like that of a conqueror through a captive province.
The conduct of Vitellius and his army in Rome was an abhorrent spectacle of sloth and licentiousness. All discipline vanished. The Germans and Gauls entered into the vilest habits of the city, and by their disorderly lives brought on an epidemic disease which swept thousands of them away. Vitellius, lost in sluggishness and gluttony, wasted the funds of the state on his pleasures, and laid severe taxes to raise new funds. "To squander with wild profusion," says Tacitus, "was the only use of money known to Vitellius. He built a set of stables for the charioteers, and kept in the circus a constant spectacle of gladiators and wild beasts; in this manner dissipating with prodigality, as if his treasury overflowed with riches."
While the Vitellian army was indulging in riot, bloodshed, and vice, and the populace was kept amused by the frightful gladiatorial shows, the emperor spent his days in a sloth and gluttony that stand unrivalled in imperial records. We may quote from Whyte-Melville's romance of "The Gladiators" a sketch of a Vitellian banquet whose characteristic features are taken from exact history:
"A banquet with Vitellius was no light and simple repast. Leagues of sea and miles of forest had been swept to furnish the mere groundwork of the entertainment. Hardy fishermen had spent their nights on the heaving wave, that the giant turbot might flap its snowy flakes on the emperor's table broader than its broad dish of gold. Many a swelling hill, clad in the dark oak coppice, had echoed to ringing shout of hunter and deep-mouthed bay of hound, ere the wild boar yielded his grim life by the morass, and the dark, grisly carcass was drawn off to provide a standing dish that was only meant to gratify the eye. Even the peacock roasted in its feathers was too gross a dainty for epicures who studied the art of gastronomy under Caesar; and that taste would have been considered rustic in the extreme which could partake of more than the mere fumes and savor of so substantial a dish. A thousand nightingales had been trapped and killed, indeed, for this one supper, but brains and tongues were all they contributed to the banquet; while even the wing of a roasted hare would have been considered far too coarse and common food for the imperial board.
"It would be useless to go into the details of such a banquet as that which was placed before the guests of Caesar. Wild boar, pasties, goats, every kind of shell-fish, thrushes, beccaficoes, vegetables of all descriptions, and poultry, were removed to make way for the pheasant, the guinea-hen, the capon, venison, ducks, woodcocks, and turtle-doves.
Everything that could creep, fly, or swim, and could boast a delicate flavor when cooked, was pressed into the service of the emperor; and when appetite was appeased and could do no more, the strongest condiments and other remedies were used to stimulate fresh hunger and consume a fresh supply of superfluous dainties."
Deep drinking followed, merely to stimulate fresh hunger. The disgusting story is even told that the imperial glutton was in the habit of taking an emetic to empty his stomach, that he might begin a fresh course of gluttony.
Certain artists in the preparation of original dishes employed themselves in devising new and appetizing compounds of food for the table of Vitellius. They were sure of an ample reward if they should succeed in pleasing the imperial palate. Failure, however, was attended by a severe penance. The artist was not permitted to eat any food but his own unsuccessful dish until he had atoned for his failure by a success.
While Vitellius was thus sunk in sloth and gluttony his destiny was on its march. A terrible and disgraceful retribution awaited him. He had never been emperor of all the Roman empire. The army of Syria had declared for Vespasian, its general; and while Vitellius had been wasting his means and ruining his army by permitting it to indulge in every vice and excess, his rival in the East was carefully laying his plans to insure success. He finally seized Alexandria, thus being able at will to starve Rome, by cutting off its food-supply; and sent Antonius Primus, his principal general, with a strong force to Italy.
The progress of Antonius in Italy was rapid. City after city fell into his hands. The fleet at Ravenna declared for Vespasian. The general of Vitellius sought to carry his whole army over to Antonius, but found his men more faithful than himself. The Vitellians were defeated in two battles; Cremona was taken and destroyed; all was at risk; and yet Vitellius remained absorbed in luxury. "Hid in the recess of his garden, he indulged his appetite, forgetting the past, the present, and all solicitude about future events; like those nauseous animals that know no care, and, while they are supplied with food, remain in one spot, torpid and insensible."
At length awakened from his stupor, Vitellius took some steps for defence. He was too late. His men deserted their ranks; the army of Antonius steadily advanced. Filled with terror, the emperor called an assembly of the people and offered to resign. The people in violent uproar refused to accept his resignation. He then proposed to seek a retreat in his brother's house. This the populace also opposed and forced him to return to the palace.
This attempted abdication brought civil war into the city. Sabinus, the brother of Vespasian, raised a force and took possession of the Capitol. He was besieged here, and in the conflict that ensued the Capitol was set on fire and burned to the ground. It was the second time this venerable edifice had been consumed by the flames. Sabinus was taken prisoner, and was murdered by the mob.
News of this revolt and its disastrous end hastened the march of Antonius. Once more, as in the far-off days of the Gaulish invasion, Rome was to be attacked and taken by a hostile army. It was assailed at three points, each of which was obstinately defended. Finally an entrance was made at the Collinian gate, and the battle was transferred to the open streets, in which the Vitellians defended themselves as obstinately as before.
And now was seen an extraordinary spectacle. While two armies--one from the East, one from the North--contended fiercely for the possession of Rome, the populace of that city flocked to behold the fight, as if it was a gladiatorial struggle got up for their diversion, and nothing in which they had any personal interest. Tacitus says,--
"Whenever they saw the advantage inclining to either side, they favored the contestants with shouts and theatrical applause. If the men fled from their ranks, to take shelter in shops or houses, they roared to have them dragged forth and put to death like gladiators for their diversion. While the soldiers were intent on slaughter, these miscreants were employed in plundering. The greatest part of the booty fell to their share. Rome presented a scene truly shocking, a medley of savage slaughter and monstrous vice; in one place war and desolation; in another bathing, riot, and debauchery. The whole city seemed to be inflamed with frantic rage, and at the same time intoxicated with bacchanalian pleasures. In the midst of rage and massacre, pleasure knew no intermission. A dreadful carnage seemed to be a spectacle added to the public games."
It was a spectacle certainly without its like in the history of nations.
The battle ended in the complete overthrow of the army of Vitellius. The camp was taken, and all that defended it were slain. And now took place a scene which recalls that of the last days of Nero. Vitellius, seeing that all was lost, was in an agony of apprehension. He left the palace by a private way to seek shelter in his wife's house on the Aventine.
Then irresolution brought him back to the palace, which he found deserted. The slaves had fled. The dead silence that reigned filled him with terror. All was solitude and desolation. He wandered pitiably from room to room, and finally, weary and utterly wretched, sought a humble hiding-place. Here he was discovered and dragged forth.
And now the populace, who had lately refused his deposition, turned upon him with the bitterest insults and contumely. With his hands bound behind him and his garment torn, the obese old glutton was dragged through crowds who treated him with scoffs and words of contempt, not a voice of pity or sympathy being heard. A German soldier struck at him with his sword, and, missing his aim, cut off the ear of a tribune. He was killed on the spot.
As Vitellius was thus dragged onward, his captors, with swords pointed at his throat, forced him to raise his head and expose his bloated face to scorn and derision. They made him look at his statues, which were being tumbled to the ground. They pointed out to him the place where Galba had perished. They pricked his body with their weapons. With endless contumely they brought him to the public charnel, where the body of Sabinus had been thrown among those of the vilest malefactors.
A single expression is recorded as coming from his lips. "And yet," he said, to a tribune who insulted his misery, "I have been your sovereign."
His torment soon ended. The rabble fell on him with swords and clubs and he died under a multitude of wounds. Even after his death those who had worshipped him in the height of his power continued to shower marks of rage and contempt upon his remains. Thus perished one of the most despicable of all the emperors who disgraced Rome, to make room for one whose wisdom and virtue would make still more contemptible the excesses of his gluttonous predecessor.