by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER XII
The Circus at Antioch stood on the south bank of the river,nearly opposite the island, differing in no respect from theplan of such buildings in general.
In the purest sense, the games were a gift to the public; consequently,everybody was free to attend; and, vast as the holding capacity ofthe structure was, so fearful were the people, on this occasion,lest there should not be room for them, that, early the day beforethe opening of the exhibition, they took up all the vacant spacesin the vicinity, where their temporary shelter suggested an armyin waiting.
At midnight the entrances were thrown wide, and the rabble,surging in, occupied the quarters assigned to them, from whichnothing less than an earthquake or an army with spears couldhave dislodged them. They dozed the night away on the benches,and breakfasted there; and there the close of the exercises foundthem, patient and sight-hungry as in the beginning.
The better people, their seats secured, began moving towards theCircus about the first hour of the morning, the noble and veryrich among them distinguished by litters and retinues of liveriedservants.
By the second hour, the efflux from the city was a stream unbrokenand innumerable.
Exactly as the gnomon of the official dial up in the citadel pointedthe second hour half gone, the legion, in full panoply, and with allits standards on exhibit, descended from Mount Sulpius; and when therear of the last cohort disappeared in the bridge, Antioch was literallyabandoned--not that the Circus could hold the multitude, but that themultitude was gone out to it, nevertheless.
A great concourse on the river shore witnessed the consul comeover from the island in a barge of state. As the great man landed,and was received by the legion, the martial show for one briefmoment transcended the attraction of the Circus.
At the third hour, the audience, if such it may be termed, was assembled;at last, a flourish of trumpets called for silence, and instantlythe gaze of over a hundred thousand persons was directed towardsa pile forming the eastern section of the building.
There was a basement first, broken in the middle by a broad archedpassage, called the Porta Pompae, over which, on an elevated tribunalmagnificently decorated with insignia and legionary standards, theconsul sat in the place of honor. On both sides of the passage thebasement was divided into stalls termed carceres, each protectedin front by massive gates swung to statuesque pilasters. Over thestalls next was a cornice crowned by a low balustrade; back ofwhich the seats arose in theatre arrangement, all occupied by athrong of dignitaries superbly attired. The pile extended thewidth of the Circus, and was flanked on both sides by towerswhich, besides helping the architects give grace to their work,served the velaria, or purple awnings, stretched between them soas to throw the whole quarter in a shade that became exceedinglygrateful as the day advanced.
This structure, it is now thought, can be made useful in helpingthe reader to a sufficient understanding of the arrangement ofthe rest of the interior of the Circus. He has only to fancyhimself seated on the tribunal with the consul, facing to thewest, where everything is under his eye.
On the right and left, if he will look, he will see the main entrances,very ample, and guarded by gates hinged to the towers.
Directly below him is the arena--a level plane of considerableextent, covered with fine white sand. There all the trials willtake place except the running.
Looking across this sanded arena westwardly still, there is apedestal of marble supporting three low conical pillars of graystone, much carven. Many an eye will hunt for those pillars beforethe day is done, for they are the first goal, and mark the beginningand end of the race-course. Behind the pedestal, leaving a passage-wayand space for an altar, commences a wall ten or twelve feet in breadthand five or six in height, extending thence exactly two hundred yards,or one Olympic stadium. At the farther, or westward, extremity ofthe wall there is another pedestal, surmounted with pillars whichmark the second goal.
The racers will enter the course on the right of the first goal,and keep the wall all the time to their left. The beginning andending points of the contest lie, consequently, directly in frontof the consul across the arena; and for that reason his seat wasadmittedly the most desirable in the Circus.
Now if the reader, who is still supposed to be seated on theconsular tribunal over the Porta Pompae, will look up from theground arrangement of the interior, the first point to attracthis notice will be the marking of the outer boundary-line of thecourse--that is, a plain-faced, solid wall, fifteen or twentyfeet in height, with a balustrade on its cope, like that overthe carceres, or stalls, in the east. This balcony, if followedround the course, will be found broken in three places to allowpassages of exit and entrance, two in the north and one in thewest; the latter very ornate, and called the Gate of Triumph,because, when all is over, the victors will pass out that way,crowned, and with triumphal escort and ceremonies.
At the west end the balcony encloses the course in the formof a half circle, and is made to uphold two great galleries.
Directly behind the balustrade on the coping of the balcony isthe first seat, from which ascend the succeeding benches, eachhigher than the one in front of it; giving to view a spectacleof surpassing interest--the spectacle of a vast space ruddy andglistening with human faces, and rich with varicolored costumes.
The commonalty occupy quarters over in the west, beginning at thepoint of termination of an awning, stretched, it would seem, for theaccommodation of the better classes exclusively.
Having thus the whole interior of the Circus under view at themoment of the sounding of the trumpets, let the reader next imaginethe multitude seated and sunk to sudden silence, and motionless inits intensity of interest.
Out of the Porta Pompae over in the east rises a sound mixed ofvoices and instruments harmonized. Presently, forth issues thechorus of the procession with which the celebration begins;the editor and civic authorities of the city, givers of thegames, follow in robes and garlands; then the gods, some onplatforms borne by men, others in great four-wheel carriagesgorgeously decorated; next them, again, the contestants of theday, each in costume exactly as he will run, wrestle, leap, box,or drive.
Slowly crossing the arena, the procession proceeds to make circuitof the course. The display is beautiful and imposing. Approval runsbefore it in a shout, as the water rises and swells in front of a boatin motion. If the dumb, figured gods make no sign of appreciationof the welcome, the editor and his associates are not so backward.
The reception of the athletes is even more demonstrative, for thereis not a man in the assemblage who has not something in wager uponthem, though but a mite or farthing. And it is noticeable, as theclasses move by, that the favorites among them are speedily singledout: either their names are loudest in the uproar, or they are moreprofusely showered with wreaths and garlands tossed to them fromthe balcony.
If there is a question as to the popularity with the public ofthe several games, it is now put to rest. To the splendor ofthe chariots and the superexcellent beauty of the horses, thecharioteers add the personality necessary to perfect the charm oftheir display. Their tunics, short, sleeveless, and of the finestwoollen texture, are of the assigned colors. A horseman accompanieseach one of them except Ben-Hur, who, for some reason--possiblydistrust--has chosen to go alone; so, too, they are all helmetedbut him. As they approach, the spectators stand upon the benches,and there is a sensible deepening of the clamor, in which a sharplistener may detect the shrill piping of women and children; at thesame time, the things roseate flying from the balcony thicken into astorm, and, striking the men, drop into the chariot-beds, which arethreatened with filling to the tops. Even the horses have a sharein the ovation; nor may it be said they are less conscious thantheir masters of the honors they receive.
Very soon, as with the other contestants, it is made apparentthat some of the drivers are more in favor than others; and thenthe discovery follows that nearly every individual on the benches,women and children as well as men, wears a color, most fre
quently aribbon upon the breast or in the hair: now it is green, now yellow,now blue; but, searching the great body carefully, it is manifestthat there is a preponderance of white, and scarlet and gold.
In a modern assemblage called together as this one is, particularlywhere there are sums at hazard upon the race, a preference would bedecided by the qualities or performance of the horses; here, however,nationality was the rule. If the Byzantine and Sidonian found smallsupport, it was because their cities were scarcely representedon the benches. On their side, the Greeks, though very numerous,were divided between the Corinthian and the Athenian, leaving buta scant showing of green and yellow. Messala's scarlet and goldwould have been but little better had not the citizens of Antioch,proverbially a race of courtiers, joined the Romans by adopting thecolor of their favorite. There were left then the country people,or Syrians, the Jews, and the Arabs; and they, from faith in theblood of the sheik's four, blent largely with hate of the Romans,whom they desired, above all things, to see beaten and humbled,mounted the white, making the most noisy, and probably the mostnumerous, faction of all.
As the charioteers move on in the circuit, the excitement increases;at the second goal, where, especially in the galleries, the white isthe ruling color, the people exhaust their flowers and rive the airwith screams.
"Messala! Messala!"
"Ben-Hur! Ben-Hur!"
Such are the cries.
Upon the passage of the procession, the factionists take theirseats and resume conversation.
"Ah, by Bacchus! was he not handsome?" exclaims a woman, whoseRomanism is betrayed by the colors flying in her hair.
"And how splendid his chariot!" replies a neighbor, of the sameproclivities. "It is all ivory and gold. Jupiter grant he wins!"
The notes on the bench behind them were entirely different.
"A hundred shekels on the Jew!"
The voice is high and shrill.
"Nay, be thou not rash," whispers a moderating friend to the speaker."The children of Jacob are not much given to Gentile sports, which aretoo often accursed in the sight of the Lord."
"True, but saw you ever one more cool and assured? And what anarm he has!"
"And what horses!" says a third.
"And for that," a fourth one adds, "they say he has all the tricksof the Romans."
A woman completes the eulogium:
"Yes, and he is even handsomer than the Roman."
Thus encouraged, the enthusiast shrieks again, "A hundred shekelson the Jew!"
"Thou fool!" answers an Antiochian, from a bench well forward onthe balcony. "Knowest thou not there are fifty talents laid againsthim, six to one, on Messala? Put up thy shekels, lest Abraham riseand smite thee."
"Ha, ha! thou ass of Antioch! Cease thy bray. Knowest thou not itwas Messala betting on himself?"
Such the reply.
And so ran the controversy, not always good-natured.
When at length the march was ended and the Porta Pompae receivedback the procession, Ben-Hur knew he had his prayer.
The eyes of the East were upon his contest with Messala.
