Valeria, the Martyr of the Catacombs: A Tale of Early Christian Life in Rome

by W. H. Withrow

  CHAPTER XXV

  A ROMAN HOLIDAY.

  Early next morning the army of slaves who had charge of the Coliseum,under the direction of Fulvus, the freedman, were hard at work. Some atthe very summit of the building, with much shouting and pulling ofropes, were stretching the great _velarium_ or awning, as a protectionfrom the rays of the sun. Others were sweeping the sand of the arena toa smooth and even surface. Many cart loads of fresh sand were heapedaround the base of the podium, for the ghastly purpose of being spreadupon the blood-stained surface after each act of the sanguinary drama ofthe day. Others were decorating with garlands of flowers, and with goldand purple bannerets, the seats of the Emperors Diocletian and Galerius,and those of the senators and other persons of distinction. The greatstructure seemed even more striking in its vastness, as a few scorefigures crawled like flies over its empty seats, than when filled withits tumultuous throng of spectators. It was an immense oval six hundredand fifteen feet in its longer diameter, and five hundred and ten feetin the shorter. The circling seats rose tier on tier to the giddy heightof one hundred and fifty feet.

  INTERIOR OF THE COLISEUM, ROME.]

  As the present writer climbed those cliff-like walls, now crumbling intoruin, he tried to re-people those long-deserted seats with the eager andexcited throngs which had often filled them to overflowing, when twiceeighty thousand cruel eyes were wont to gloat upon the dying martyr'spang, "butchered to make a Roman holiday."[49] Then he wandered throughthe vast vaulted corridors and stairways, eighty in number, and bearingstill the old Roman numerals by which access was gained to the differentgalleries. These were so capacious that the whole multitude could in afew minutes disperse, and were thence called _vomitoria_. He thenexplored the dens and caves for the wild beasts, and the rocky chambersin which the gladiators and martyr victims awaited the signal thatcalled them to their doom. The row of seats just above the podium wasreserved for the equestrian order; those higher still, for the_populus_, or common people; and the highest of all, for persons of thelowest rank. Early in the day, multitudes of spectators began to arrive,mostly arrayed in gala dress, and many wearing the colours of theirfavourite gladiatorial champion. With a loud flourish of trumpets thegreat gates of the imperial entrance opened, and the chariots of theEmperors and their respective _suites_ entered and took their places inthe grand tribune reserved for these august occupants. It was noted withdissatisfaction by the multitude that neither of the Empresses Prisca orValeria, were present. But the withered old crone Fausta, mother ofGalerius, seemed to gloat like a foul harpy on the anticipated spectacleof blood, and near by was her sinister shadow, the black-browed priestof Cybele.

  Our old acquaintance, Burdo, the butcher, was rubicund with joy at theapproaching conflict, for which, he said, he long had hungered. "Butwhy," he asked, "are not their majesties, the Empresses, in the statetribune. 'Tis a contempt of a festival sacred to the gods."

  "Our dainty Empress," jeered Samos, the "Flat-nose," "has small stomachto see her friends the Christians given to the lions, and I suspect theold one is tarred with the same stick."

  "If I thought that I'd denounce her myself," growled Bruto, thegladiator; "Empress or slave, the crime of being a Christian levels allranks."

  "And lose your head for your pains," chimed in Piso, the barber. "Don'tyou know that she winds the Emperor round her finger like a silkenthread."

  "Does she favour the accursed Nazarenes?" croaked Ephraim the Jew. "Maythe same fate overtake her."

  "I thought they were friends of yours," said our old friend Max, who wasone of the soldiers on guard. "They say this Christus whom they worshipwas a Jew."

  We dare not repeat the wicked imprecation which burst from the lips ofthe exasperated Israelite. But it is notorious that the Jews were farmore malignant persecutors of the Christians than even the Pagansthemselves--as is apparent from the Acts of the Apostles and otherrecords of the early Church.

  The time for beginning the games having come, the priest of Neptunepoured a libation to the god, and heaped incense on his altar, placednear the Imperial tribune. In this act of worship--for these old godswere worshipped with the blood of men slain as a holiday pageant--he wasfollowed by the Emperors and their chief officers.

  Then with another peal of trumpets a procession of gladiators inburnished armour entered the arena and marched around its vast circuit.Pausing before the tribune of the Emperors they chanted with a loudvoice: "_C[ae]sares Augusti, morituri salutarus vos_--Great C[ae]sars, we whoare about to die salute you."

  First there was a sort of sham battle--_pr[ae]lusio_, as it was called, inwhich the gladiators fought with wooden swords. But the multitude werespeedily impatient of that, and demanded the combat _a l'outrance_--tothe death.

  "We came not here to witness such child's play as that," said Burdo, thebutcher. "I want to see the blood flow as it does in my own shambles;" abrutal sentiment which met with much favour from his neighbours.

  Soon their desires were gratified. First there was a combat of_Andabat[ae]_, that is, men who wore helmets without any aperture for theeyes, so that they were obliged to fight blindfold, and thus excited themirth of the spectators. Although they inflicted some ugly wounds uponeach other, none of these were mortal, and the mob called loudly for the_Hoplomachi_, who were next on the play-bill. These were men who foughtin a complete suit of armour. They were as completely encased as crabsin their shells, but as they could see each other through the bars oftheir visors, they were able skilfully to direct their weapons at thejoints of their antagonist's armour. Soon the arena was red with blood,and more than one victim lay dead and trampled on the sands.

  "Good! this is something like the thing," cried Burdo. "But thesefellows are so cased in their shells it is hard to get at them. Let ushave the _Retiarii_."

  "Yes, the _Retiarii_ and _Mirmillones_," shouted the mob; and they soonmarched upon the scene.

  This conflict promised abundance of excitement The _Retiarii_ wore noarmour, and their only weapons were a net (_rete_, hence their name) anda trident or three-pronged spear. The _Retiarius_ endeavoured to throwthe net over his antagonist, and then to despatch him with the spear. Ifhe missed his aim in throwing his net, he betook himself to flight, andendeavoured to prepare his net for a second cast, while his adversaryfollowed him round the arena in order to kill him before he could make asecond attempt. It was a cruel sport, and kindled to fury the fiercepassions of the eager spectators.

  Then came a conflict between skilled gladiators--the most accomplishedswordsmen of the gladiatorial school. The vast multitude watched withfevered interest the wary fencing, the skilful guard and rapid thrustand stroke of those trained butchers of their fellow-men. When aswordsman was wounded, the spectators rent the air with cries of"_Habet! Habet!_" and the one who was vanquished lowered his arms intoken of submission. His fate, however, depended upon the will of thepeople, who sometimes, when a vanquished swordsman had exhibitedespecial dexterity and skill, gave the signal to spare him bystretching out their hands with the thumbs turned down. But if, as wasmore frequently the case, their bloodthirsty passions were roused toinsatiable fury, they demanded his death by turning their thumbsupwards, and shouting, "_Recipe ferrum_!" Without a tremor the victimthen bared his breast to the sword, and the victor thrust it home to thehilt, while the cruel mob shouted their huzzas over the bloody tragedy.

  Such is the scene brought vividly before our minds by the matchlessantique statue of the Dying Gladiator, found in the Gardens of Sallust,now in the museum of the Capitol. As one gazes with a strangefascination on that wondrous marble, instinct, it seems, with mortalagony, callous must be the heart that is unmoved by its touching pathos.The exquisite lines of Byron nobly express the emotions which it awakensin every breast:--

  I see before me the Gladiator lie: He leans upon his hand--his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony, And his drooped head sinks gradually low-- And through his side the last drops ebbing slow From the red gash fall heavy,
one by one, Like the first of a thunder shower; and now The arena swims around him--he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.

  He heard it, but he heeded not--his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, _There_ were his young barbarians all at play, _There_ was their Dacian mother--he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday.

  An unwonted interest was given to this cruel scene in the Romanamphitheatre, by a novel and unheard of incident which occurred. Thebrilliant young Roman officer, Ligurius Rufus, we have said, wasannounced to take part in these games. It was no uncommon thing formilitary fops, eager to win the applause of the multitude, or to goadtheir jaded weariness of life into a momentary excitement by a spice ofreal danger, to enter the lists of the arena; and Ligurius was at oncethe most brilliant swordsman in the Twelfth Legion, and the most_ennuy[e/]e_ and world-weary man in Rome.

  He was pitted against a brawny Hercules, the strongest and hugest of thewhole school of gladiators--a British prisoner of war, who had been longthe pride and boast of the arena. As they stood face to face, the youngofficer in burnished armour, inlaid with silver and gold, and themighty thews of his opponent encased in leather and bronze, the bettingwas heavy in favour of the British giant. Each felt that he had a foemanworthy of his steel. They walked warily around each other, each watchingwith eager eye every movement of his antagonist. Every thrust on eitherside was skilfully parried, any advantage of strength on the part of theBritish warrior being matched by the superior nimbleness of the Romanofficer. At last a rapid thrust by Ligurius severed a tendon in thesword-arm of his foe, and it fell nerveless by his side. With a gianteffort the disabled warrior sprang upon the Roman as if to crush him bysheer weight; but Ligurius nimbly sprang aside, and his antagonist,slipping in the gory sand, fell headlong to the ground. In an instantthe Roman's foot was on his neck and his sword at his breast. With acourteous gesture, Ligurius raised his sword and waved it toward theEmperors' tribune and to the crowded seats of the podium, as if askingthe signal to spare the vanquished gladiator, while the despairing lookof the latter seemed with mute eloquence to ask for life. "_Habet!Habet!_" rang round the Coliseum, but not a single sign of mercy wasmade, not a single thumb was reversed. "_Recipe ferrum_," roared the mobat the prostrate giant; and then shouted to Ligurius, "_Occide!Occide!_--Kill! Kill!"

  The gallant Roman heeded them as he would heed the howl of wolves. "I amnot a butcher," he said, with a defiant sneer, and he sheathed his swordand, much to the surprise of his discomfitted foe, lent his hand toraise him from the ground.

  "You are a brave man," he said, "I want you as a standard bearer for theTwelfth Legion. That is better than making worm's meat of you. Rome mayneed such soldiers before long."

  The Emperors were not unwilling to grant this novel request of afavourite officer, and the grateful creature, in token of his fidelity,humbly kissed the hand of Ligurius, and followed him from the arena. Thecruel mob, however, angered at being deprived of their anticipatedspectacle of blood, howled with rage, and demanded the crowning scene ofthe day's sports--the conflict between the wild beasts and the Christianmartyrs.

  These hateful scenes had become the impassioned delight of all classes,from the Emperors to the "vile plebs" of Rome. Even woman's pitifulnature forgot its tenderness, and maids and matrons gloated on the cruelspectacle, and the honour was reserved for the Vestal Virgin to give thesignal for the mortal stroke. Such scenes created a ferocious thirstfor blood throughout society. They overthrew the altar of pity, andimpelled to every excess and refinement of barbarity. Even childrenimitated the cruel sport in their games, schools of gladiators weretrained for the work of slaughter, women fought in the arena or lay deadand trampled in the sand.

  It is to the eternal praise of Christianity that it suppressed theseodious contests, and forever averted the sword of the gladiator from thethroat of his victim. The Christian city of Constantinople was neverpolluted by the atrocious exhibition. A Christian poet eloquentlydenounced the bloody spectacle. A Christian monk, roused to indignationby the hateful scene, leaped over the barrier to separate the gladiatorsin the very frenzy of the conflict. The maddened mob, enraged at thisinterruption of their sport, stoned him to death. But his heroicmartydom produced a moral revulsion against the practice, and the lawsof Honorius, to use the language of Gibbon, "abolished forever the humansacrifices of the amphitheatre."

  It remains to notice in another chapter the last scene in the sterndrama of this "Roman holiday."

  FOOTNOTES:

  [49] On this very arena perished the venerable Ignatius, linked bytradition with the Saviour Himself as one of the children whom He tookin His arms and blessed. "Suffer me to be the food of wild beasts," heexclaimed, "by whom I shall attain unto God. For I am the wheat of God,and I shall be ground by the teeth of wild beasts, that I may become thepure bread of Christ."