CHAPTER XVI
"Who knoweth the spirit of man that goeth upward, and the spiritof the beast that goeth downward to the earth."--ECCLESIASTESIII. 21.
Caius Julius Caesar Caligula was in excellent spirits, smiling andnodding to those around him and to his people all the time. His facecertainly looked sallow and his eyes were bloodshot, but this may havebeen due to ill-health, for without doubt his temper was of the best.Only once had he frowned, when, looking behind him, he saw that thepraefect of Rome had remained standing when everyone knelt to acclaimthe Caesar.
But even then the frown was quickly dissipated and he spoke quitepleasantly to the praefect later on. The Augustas grouped around himwere continually laughing as he turned to them from time to time with awitty sally, or probably with what was more in keeping with hischaracter--a coarse jest. And he watched the spectacle attentively fromend to end. Firstly the play in verse on the subject of the judgment ofParis, a perversion of the legend favoured by the Greeks--a travestywherein Paris--renamed Parisia--was a woman, and three gods were inrivalry for the golden apple, the emblem of her favours. Then the navalspectacle over the flooded arena, with ships and galleys executingcomplex manoeuvres on waters rendered turbulent by cleverly contrivedartificial means; then the wrestling and scenes of hunting with wolvesand boars specially brought from the Thracian forests for the occasion.
He watched the Numidian lions tearing one another to pieces, he exultedwith the audience over the fight between a pack of hyenas and somecrocodiles from the Nile. He encouraged the gladiators in their fights,and joined in the excitement that grew and grew with every item of aprogramme which had been skilfully arranged so that it began with simpleand peaceful shows, and gradually became more bloodthirsty and morefierce.
It seemed as if a cunning mind, alert to the temper of the people, hadcontrived the entertainment so that with every stage of the proceedingssomething of the lustful love of cruelty, inherent in every Romancitizen, would be gradually aroused. The hunting scenes were a preludeto the combat between the lions, and these again were the forerunners ofa more bloody bout between the hyenas and the crocodiles.
At last blood had begun to flow. The audience sniffed its sickeningodour with a thrill of nostril and brain, and tongues and lips becameparched with the fever of desire for more.
The other items--the play, the naval pageant, the scenes of hunting andcombat of beasts amongst themselves--these were only the prologue. Thereal spectacle was at last to commence. For this the Romansthirsted--patricians and plebs alike, rich and poor, man, woman andchild. These shows were their very life; they constituted the essence oftheir entire being; for these they rose at midnight and stood waiting,hour upon hour, that they might be near enough to smell the blood whenit reddened the sand of the arena, and to see the last throe of agony onthe face of those who fell in combat.
"Habet! Habet! Habet!"
The cry became more insistent and more hoarse. See the men and womenleaning over the edge of the tribunes, their eyes wide open, their handsoutstretched with thumb pointing relentlessly the way of death.
"Habet! Habet!" shrieked the women when a prostrate figure lay writhingon the ground, and the victor with head erect demanded the finalverdict.
And up in the imperial tribune the Caesar jested and laughed, thestandards waved above his head, the striped awning threw a cool blueshadow over his gorgeous robes and the jewel-crowned heads of theAugustas.
The rest of the gigantic arena was a blaze of riotous colour now, withthe mid-morning's sun darting its rays almost perpendicularly on thesouth side of the huge oval place. A sea of heads gold and brown, ruddyand black oscillating in unison to right or left like waters driven bythe tide, as the combatants down below shifted their ground across thefloor of the arena--fans of coloured feathers swinging, mantles caughtby a passing breeze, every grain of sand on the floor of the arena aminute mirror radiating the light, everything glowed with an intensityof colour rendered all the more vivid by contrast with the dense shadowsthrown against the marble walls.
On the south side every shade of russet and brown and green showed inthe mantles and the tunics of the plebs, and seemed flecked with vividgold under the light of the sun, whilst in the tribunes of the rich onthe opposite side cool tones of amethyst and chrysoprase were veiled intender azure by the shadow from the awning above. And at either end, toeast and west the massive copper portals, like gigantic ruddy mirrorsthrew back these tones of gold and blue as if through a veil ofsunset-kissed clouds.
Above, the sky of a vivid blue, translucent and iridescent with a myriadflecks of turquoise and rose and emerald that found their reflectionsin the marble walls of the arena or the shining helmets of thelegionaries guarding the imperial tribune; and over the whole scene animpalpable veil of gold, made of tiny, unseen atoms that danced in theheat, and merged into an exquisite glowing harmony the russets and thepurples, the emeralds and rubies and the trenchant notes of sardonyx andindigo that cut across the orgy of colour like a deep, gaping wound.
And through it all that sense of thrilling expectancy, so keen that italmost seemed palpable.
It vibrated in the air making every cheek glow with a crimson fire andkindling a light in every eye. It seemed to set every golden atomdancing, it was felt through every breath drawn by two hundred thousandthroats.
Over the Emperor's head the striped awning flapped weirdly in thebreeze, with strange insistent sound like the knocking of a ghostly handupon the doors of hell.
Not a few miserable wretches whom the summary justice of the Caesar's owntribunal had condemned to death were exposed to a band ofswordsmen--executioners really, since the fight was quite unequal. HugeAfrican giants with short naked swords pursuing a few emaciated wretcheswho ran howling round the arena, jumping improvised hurdles, roundingobstacles or crawling under cover, running, running with thatunreasoning instinct of self-preservation which drives even before thecertainty of death.
A hunting scene this, of novel diversion.
No one cared whether the victims were really guilty of crime, no onecared if they had been equitably tried and been justly condemned, allthat the public cared about was that the spectacle was new and amusing.The African giants were well-trained for their part, playing with themiserable victims like a feline doth with its prey, allowing them toescape, now and then, to see safety close at hand, to make a wild dashfor what looked like freedom, and then suddenly bounding on them withthat short wide sword that cried death as it descended.
Rapturous applause greeted this show, and loud immoderate laughterhailed the fruitless efforts of the hunted, their falls over theobstacles, their look of horror, and the contortions of their meagrebodies when they were caught at last.
"Habet! Habet! Habet!" everyone shouted when one of the unfortunatewretches brought to bay tried to turn on his pursuer, and to pit twofeeble arms against the relentless grip of well-trained giants, andagainst the death-dealing sword.
"Habet! Habet! Habet!"
"He has it!" they screamed. He has the hideous death, the gaping woundin the still panting chest. He has the final agony which helps to make aholiday for the great citizens of the world.
Now at last the sand of the arena has turned red with blood, the sicklyodour mounts to every nostril; shrieks become more wild, like those ofthousands of demons let loose. Anticipation and desire has been broughtto its wildest pitch, and Caligula has every cause to be satisfied.
Cries of "The lions! the lions! Slaves to the lions!" resounded fromevery side. Thousands of feet beat a tattoo on the floor, and frombehind the great copper gates a mighty roar filled the heat-laden airwith its awesome echo.
In his gilded cage supported by carved pillars and drawn by eightEthiopian slaves, the favourite of Caligula was slowly wheeled into thearena.
A huge sigh rose from every breast. The tumult was hushed; dead silencefell upon the vast concourse of people suddenly turned to stone, aliveonly by two hundred thousand pairs of eyes fixed upon the cage and itsoccupa
nt.
The black panther--with its sleek black coat on which the midday sunthrew tiny blotches of tawny lights--was cowering in a corner of itscage; its snake-like head, with the broad flat brow and wide curvedjaws, was drawn back between its shoulders, its small golden eyes,gleaming like yellow topaz, were half closed in wary somnolence.
Slowly the cage was wheeled round by the panting negro slaves, and thenit was brought to a standstill against the copper gates at the easternend of the arena.
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